Prints Charming

by Rebeca Seitz

  “Oh, Emmy. Has John—”

  “He hasn’t told her yet,” Lydia said. “He wanted to talk with you first. He thinks you might want to keep her in the dark until you have something sure to tell her.”

  Mari nodded. “Muy bien.” She sniffed and sat up a little straighter. “I need to go to Emmy.”

  “No rush. John’s outside on the swing set with her.”

  “Está bien. I’m okay now.” She took the tissue Jane offered and blew her nose. “Well, as okay as I can be, not knowing what’s happening with my daughter. You’re right, though, Mac.

  I’ve got to keep on for Emmy and for John.” She stood up and went to the window, opening the blinds.

  “They need me right now, and what kind of mommy would I be for Andrea if I let her familia down, right?”

  “Right.”

  “So what can we do for you?” Jane said.

  Mari smiled, sadness tugging part of her smile down. “You’ve done so much more than I deserve already. I can’t believe you all dropped what you were doing to come over here. How’d you even know what happened?”

  “John called me. That man loves you like the dickens.”

  Mari looked at their wedding picture on the wall by their bed. “He called you?”

  “Mm-hmm. Told me you’s sittin’ on your bed, starin’ at the wall and not sayin’ a word. He didn’t know what to do, but he’s smart enough to know when to call a woman.”

  Mari smiled again. “Thanks, Mac.”

  “Stop all this thankin’ business, now. I done told you. You’s a Sister. That means you ain’t doin’ life by yourself. You’re stuck with us.”

  Lydia walked over to Mari. “Thick or thin, good or bad. We’re in it together.”

  Jane joined them. “Because there’s nothing in the world like girlfriends.”

  Mac completed the circle. “Preach it, Sister.”

  chapter 24

  Two days later, Jane found herself once again sitting by the living room window in the early morning sunshine, wedding scrapbook in hand. They’d stayed by Mari’s side for two days, but no word had come from the agency worker. Mari had said not to come today, to give her some time with her family.

  Jane looked out the window. It almost seemed trivial to worry about her love life when Mari and John didn’t know if Andrea was dead or alive. Thoughts of Bill and Jake, though, wouldn’t leave her mind. I’ve got to decide this thing and get on with it.

  She turned a page in her scrapbook and looked at the smiling faces of her family and friends. Why didn’t I throw this out months ago? She turned another page and read the journaling in her own hand of the day’s events. It had been fun to marry Bill, to fulfill the expectations of everyone around them. After staying together through junior high, high school, and college, it was inevitable that they would get married. Their engagement announcement in the paper was met with not a ripple of surprise.

  Did I marry him because I was expected to? Or because I wanted to? When Bill proposed, refusing him was not an option. Saying yes to him was a habit by that point. Other guys had tried to come into her life through the years, and a few even succeeded in taking her out a couple of times, but she always ended up going back to Bill. His steady presence, demanding nothing of her, was easier to fit into her busy life than a man who wanted hourslong dates to sit around and talk about nothing or, worse, see how far she’d let him go.

  Wilson jumped up onto the footstool and nudged his wet nose under her legs. “Hey, buddy.” She reached down and scratched his ears. “Do you have an opinion to share? What should your momma do?” Wilson woofed at her and laid his head back down, tail wagging. “That’s no help, mister.”

  She looked out the window and saw Jake and Major Carter out by the lake. They hadn’t had a chance to talk since she ran out of his apartment to get to Mari’s. She’d gone by several times, but her knock went unanswered.

  Is he avoiding me? Or am I just being paranoid?

  “There’s one way to find out, right, Wilson? Let’s go outside.” At the word, Wilson leaped down and went to the closet. She got out his leash and slipped on her tennis shoes. She had no idea what she would say to him when they got out there, but two days was long enough to have this cloud over her head. Was he mad that she had talked to Bill?

  She opened the door and stepped into the breezeway, hearing a woman’s laughter. Ugh, these walls are thin. It was probably someone’s television turned up too loud. Wilson set off toward the lake, and she followed along, shooting a glance at Jake’s door. She stopped cold when the laughter sounded again.

  Did that come from his apartment? “Hang on, Wilson.” A quick glance showed her Jake and Carter were on the far side of the water. She stepped back a bit so he couldn’t see her standing there and strained to hear. Bits of sentences floated through the doorway.

  “. . . fine . . . again . . . as last time . . . Carter.” There was silence and then the woman’s laughter again. What was a woman doing in Jake’s apartment? This was too much. First Bill makes a play for her; then she spends two days by the side of a woman whose child may or may not be alive, and now Jake is seeing someone else. She shook her head. Those things were not on the same playing level, but they all combined in one ball of stress that began pounding behind her left eye. She reached up and massaged her brow bone, hoping to stop the pain before it spread and turned into a migraine. Little white stars danced at the edges of her vision, though, telling her to get to a bottle of Midrin fast. Her feet felt sluggish as she walked to the edge of the concrete and let Wilson do his business. Jake was seeing someone else. She racked her pain-addled brain for another explanation but couldn’t come up with one.

  His business done, Wilson pulled on the leash toward the water and trees. She pulled back. “Not right now, buddy.

  Momma’s got a headache.” He came with her, glancing back to the trees, and she fumbled with the key in the doorknob. This one was coming on fast.

  Footsteps sounded on the concrete. Please don’t let it be Jake.

  “Hey, Jane.” His voice kicked her pulse up, and the pounding in her head increased. Stupid key. Come on!

  She turned her head a bit, not trusting herself to look at him. “Hi, Jake. Good to see you. Gotta run.” The key finally hit home and she turned it, falling into her apartment with Wilson in tow.

  “Hey, are you okay?”

  For a woman whose head is splitting open and whose boyfriend is seeing someone else and whose husband saw someone else and whose shoulder just rammed home onto her entryway, I’m groovy. “Fine, fine.” She squeezed her eyes shut against the light and scooted back across the floor. “Just a headache.”

  “Can I help?” Yeah, tell the chippy in your apartment to go home.

  “No, I’ll be fine, thanks.” She kicked the door closed, not caring that it was rude, and went to the bathroom. Some Midrin and a long nap might make her believe this had been a bad dream.

  Mac bustled around her kitchen, ignoring the angry looks Tabby sent her way. Morning was always the best time for cooking.

  “Momma, I didn’t do anything wrong. The officer told you so.”

  Mac pointed with a wooden spoon. “That officer told me you didn’t break the law. Don’t mean you didn’t do nothin’ wrong, chile.” She went back to stirring cookie dough.

  “So what’d I do wrong? Tell me.”

  “If I have to tell you, you think it’s gonna stick in your mind? You smarter than that, Tabitha Jones. Tell me why you ended up in a jail cell again.”

  “’Cause they brought everybody in, but I wasn’t doin’ nothin’.”

  “How many times I got to say it? ‘Nothin’ don’t land you in a jail cell.”

  “They only took me because I was with folks who—oh, you tryin’ to get me to say my friends are all bad. I get it.”

  “No, you don’t, but you’re gettin’ there.” She pulled out a cookie sheet.

  “Momma, how’m I supposed to walk away from all my friends?”
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  “Nobody said it would be easy, chile, but things that matter usually ain’t.” She dropped dough in rounded heaps on the pan. “Tabby, you got a baby girl to worry about now. You got to stop all this foolishness.”

  “Everybody’s got babies, Momma.”

  Mac put the sheet of dough in the oven. “Everybody ain’t you, Tabby. What do you want that baby to think of her momma when she’s big, hmm?” She pointed down the hallway to the nursery where Kesa slept. “Want her to tell everybody her momma runs around with dopeheads? How you gonna tell her to finish her education and go to college if you don’t?” Mac sighed and came over to the table. She sat down in the chair beside Tabby’s. “I know it’s hard, Tabby. Lord knows I do. But you got to get a new set of friends.”

  Tabby stood up from the table in a huff. “I got to go for a walk. You mind watchin’ Kesa for a while?”

  Mac sighed, knowing where that walk would probably take Tabby. “You know I don’t.”

  Tabby stalked out of the room, and Mac went to the sink to wash up the dishes.

  The phone rang, and she snatched it up.

  “Hello?”

  “Mac? It’s Lydia.”

  “Hey, Sister. Any word from Mari and John?”

  “Nothing yet. What’s going on at your house?”

  “The usual, Tabby’s mad at me ’cause I told her to get new friends, and Kesa’s sleeping in the next room.” She plunged her hands into the soapy water. “How ’bout you?”

  “The usual. I’m sitting here wondering why I slept in bed by myself last night while my husband’s out in the living room snoring in his recliner.”

  Mac chuckled. “He slept there all night?”

  “He does it at least once a week now. He was watching some game, and I guess it went longer than his attention span. He was asleep when I got home from Mari’s. What am I gonna do, Mac? I feel like I’m losing my husband.”

  “You know, I just read a good book that might help you out. Hang on. Lemme run find it.” Mac laid the phone down on the kitchen island. Drying her hands on a kitchen towel, she went to the living room and snatched the book she’d been reading the night before up off the coffee table.

  Going back to the kitchen, she settled the phone between her ear and shoulder. “Here it is. The Five Love Languages by Dr. Gary Chapman.”

  “Love languages?”

  “Yeah, he talks ’bout how we all speak love in five dif ’rent ways.” She flipped through the book. “Acts of service, touch, words of affirmation, gifts, and quality time. Those are the languages.”

  “I don’t get it.”

  “Well, the way I understand it, everybody’s got one or two main ways they like to be told they’s loved. Me, I’m an acts-of-service kinda woman. I do stuff for people so’s they know I care about ’em. Like these cookies I’m makin’ right now for Alice Turnbow’s family. Now, if I just went and bought cookies and took ’em over to Alice, it might be more of giving a gift than doin’ a service since all’s I had to do was get some cookies when I was at the grocery store.”

  “Okay, I think I understand. So what were the other three?”

  “Words of affirmation. That’s for folks who need to hear praise, like “good job” and “I’m glad we’re together” and stuff.

  Quality time and touch are the other two.”

  “And you think this will help me how?”

  “Well, when I was readin’ this, I got to thinkin’ ’bout you and Dale and the rough time y’all headin’ into, and I thought maybe you and he ain’t speakin’ each other’s language.”

  “Hmm. You may have a point there. What do you think Dale’s language is?”

  “Sister, I don’t have any idea. How ’bout tryin’ each one out and seein’ which he responds to the best?”

  “Nothing ventured, nothing gained, I suppose.” Lydia sighed. “I think words of affirmation might be the easiest. I’ll start with that one.”

  “Look on the bright side. If none of ’em works, just cut off the cable.” There was silence on the line for a second, and Mac cackled with laughter. “You’re considerin’ it. Good for you!”

  “If I did that, would I have to pay a reconnect fee?”

  “Who cares, if it gets you some time with your husband?”

  “Good point. Maybe I should try both.”

  “Hedgin’ your bets?”

  “Something like that. I’m telling you, Mac, if this man doesn’t start paying more attention to me than that stupid television, I’m going to go nuts.”

  Mac chuckled. “Then cut off that cable, girl.”

  “Okay, Mac. I feel better now that I’ve got a plan.”

  “Call and let me know how it goes.”

  “Will do.”

  Mac hung up and smiled at the phone. Kesa’s cry sounded through the baby monitor. “I’m comin’, precious,” she called and left the dirty dishes soaking in the sink.

  Lydia stared in her own mirror and marveled at the difference a complete night of sleep could make on a person’s looks.

  “Can you believe they slept through the night, Dale?” she said as he joined her in the bathroom. “Isn’t that amazing? I feel like I could conquer the world!”

  “Mmm-hmm,” he mumbled and leaned over the sink to splash water on his face. “Think they’ll keep doing it?”

  “I don’t know. I sure hope so.” She looked across the mirror at him in his boxers. Maybe if she just jumped him right now, she could bring that spark back to life. “You know, I’ve got a ton of energy this morning. I’ve got to find some way to burn it off,” she hinted.

  “Glad to hear it. Wish I could say the same. That recliner doesn’t sleep too well.” He stretched. “The garden’s got to get tilled if we’re going to plant it next month. Think you could get started on it this afternoon?” He walked behind her and turned on the shower.

  Okay, maybe subtlety wasn’t a great idea. Perhaps telling him in plain words how she felt would do the trick.

  “I’ll see if I can put some time into that, sure.” She turned from the mirror and watched him step under the hot spray of water, then close the clear glass shower door. “You know, you look really hot under all that water.” Not the best line in the world, but it was a start.

  “I like hot showers. You know that.” He began soaping up his hair.

  “Right, right.” She cast about for something else to say, but everything that popped into her mind sounded like it came from a cheesy X-rated film. Maybe words of affirmation weren’t his thing. He rinsed the suds from his hair and reached for the soap.

  “Lucky soap,” she said.

  “What?” He turned to look at her through the shower door, and she froze.

  “I said, ‘Lucky soap.’”

  “How’d you know that?”

  “What?” Now she was confused.

  “How’d you know this was my lucky soap?”

  Oh, great. “Um . . .”

  “I’ve been using this kind of soap ever since the Vols beat Alabama. How did you know?”

  “Lucky guess.”

  He looked at her warily. “You sure are talkative this morning.”

  “Guess it’s just from getting so much sleep. All that extra energy, you know.”

  “Yeah.” He rinsed and turned off the water. Stepping from the shower, he pulled the towel from its rack and began to dry off. “Maybe I’ll call the guys and we can go play some football or something at the park.”

  Perfect. Here she was trying to get him in bed and he was thinking of sweating it out at the park, fighting over a pigskin. She gave up. “Good idea. Well, I’m going to go check on the twins.” She felt him watching her back as she left the bathroom and put a little extra sway in her hips. It wasn’t words, but it was all she had at the moment.

  She was sitting in the rocker in the twins’ bedroom, playing smiley face with Olivia, when Dale hollered up the stairs, “Lydia! The cable’s out! Did we pay the bill?”

  With a grin, Lydia stood up and p
ut Olivia on the floor with Oliver. She blew her beautiful kiddos a kiss and went to see if she could find some other form of entertainment for her husband.

  The vibration of Jane’s cell phone woke her from a Midrin-induced sleep. She pulled it off her hip and looked at the caller ID. Ugh.

  “Jane Sandburg.”

  “Hey, Jane, it’s Bill.”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  “I’m sorry to bother you in the middle of the workday, but I was wondering if we could have lunch.” She sat up and looked at the clock on her nightstand. Yep, her “nap” had lasted four hours.

  “Oh, Bill, I don’t think I have time. I’ve been asleep— migraine, you know—and not gotten a thing accomplished all morning.”

  “What if I bring something over? I bet we could eat in fifteen or twenty minutes. Come on. You’ve got to eat anyway, right?”

  She thought about it. Jake might see him coming to her apartment, but who cared at this point? He was probably over there having fun with his floozy anyway. “Why not? Can you be here in about an hour?”

  “Sure, no problem at all. Anything in particular you want for lunch?”

  “No, whatever’s fine.”

  “Okay, then I’ll see you in an hour.”

  She hung up and stared at the phone. Did I just tell my ex-husband I’d have lunch with him?

  Her sock feet made a shuffling sound as she padded into the bathroom and splashed cold water on her face. The shock woke her up a bit. Should have done that before answering the phone.

  But this could be a good thing, in the end. Jake had moved on. There was no reason for her to ignore Bill’s offer of reconciliation. Even if Jake wasn’t in the picture, Bill’s words were deserving of at least a moment’s thought.

  A knock at the door caused Wilson to leap into frantic barking mode. “Hush, dog.” She walked to the door and peered through the peephole. Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of Jake standing there with his arm around a beautiful woman. Did he want to rub her face in his new romance? Was he that mad she had talked to Bill?