A Mother to Love
Page 4
“I get to pick them myself?”
Angie nodded. “I trust you’ll do a good job, and I’ll be right here.”
Rick’s head spun hearing the dialogue between the two. Carly moved up and down the lengthy row, studying the plants as if she’d been asked to make a necklace from the crown jewels.
Angie stood back, an amazing smile on her face, her rounded cheeks rosy. Even without lipstick, her lips were pink. They curved in a warm smile. “Look at her, Rick. She’s a little treasure.”
He agreed. “I wish her mom could see this. Glenda’s work keeps her busy, and sometimes I feel she pays little attention to Carly. I hope she doesn’t notice.” He lowered his head and faced his own weakness. “And sometimes I don’t think I’m much better.”
“Come on, Rick. You’re a loving person, and you dote on her when you talk about her.”
“I know. I love her more than I can say, but sometimes I’m at a loss. I never would have thought to let her select flowers for a garden or help plant them. It’s something a mother thinks about, I guess. Watching you, I feel inadequate.”
“Stop thinking like that. You’re creative. At Carly’s age, she’s learning all the time, and you can help teach her things she’ll remember always.”
“You’re giving me more credit than I deserve, but thanks. I hope you’re right.” He touched her arm, feeling her soft skin beneath his fingers. “I’m definitely learning from you.”
She gave a head shake and shifted her gaze to Carly, who’d begun to fill the flat with thoughtful choices.
“Angie.” He drew in a breath, not wanting to ruin the moment or the day. “You’d make a wonderful mother. I really can’t understand why some man hasn’t snapped you up before now.” The only thing that made him know she’d heard him was the expression on her face.
Her brow furrowed a moment before softening. “To be honest, Rick, I was never asked.”
He drew back, unable to grasp what she’d said. “You’re kidding. That can’t be.”
“But it is. I don’t tell people this. Once I thought I’d found my true love, but...” She shook her head. “It wasn’t meant to be, and after I looked back on it, I realized it would have been a mistake. I’ve never been open enough to arouse a man’s interest, since...since—”
“It was the motorcycle guy, wasn’t it?” He recalled the impact the man’s death had on her.
She nodded. “We were too different. He knew better than I did. I still thought he’d ask me, but he was killed before he might have.” She gave him a feeble grin. “But the ‘might have’ is unlikely. He loved his bike, camping and hanging out with the guys and their girls. That wasn’t me.”
“Then what was the attraction?” The image bogged in his mind. The picture she painted wasn’t the Angie he knew.
“I think it was the unknown, the surprise and unfamiliar. I was pretty straightforward. Raised to get an education and a good job. Do all the right things. Go to church. He lived on the edge, and I wished I could be more like that, but...”
“But it doesn’t suit you.” Angie had become a woman he admired, one who would be a wonderful mother and a loving wife, a wife who would pitch in and work toward their mutual dreams.
Dreams. The word stopped him. His dream, not hers, and he’d already warned himself. His heart sank.
“It didn’t suit me. Not at all. When I really thought about the lifestyle, it frightened me. Still, I wanted to do something to stimulate my very mundane life.”
“And your faith? Are you still a churchgoer?”
She looked away, tension tightening her jaw. “No, I drifted. Too far, I’m afraid.”
He slipped his arm around her shoulders. “It’s never too far or too late, Angie. God’s bigger than that. Your faith is still there. You just put it to sleep for a while, but with sleep comes renewed energy. Faith doesn’t stray too far.”
Angie nodded, her gaze shifting to Carly. “You’ve done a wonderful job with her, Rick.” She strode to Carly’s side and helped her set the flat of flowers on the bottom shelf of the cart. “Now, let’s look for some roses.”
Carly’s eyes widened. “Roses smell pretty, but they have thorns.”
Rick slipped behind Carly, his hands resting on her shoulders. “Sometimes beautiful things have thorns that scare you away, but if you’re really careful, they’re worth all the trouble.” His gaze slipped to Angie, and he sensed she’d caught the analogy. From her expression he’d surprised her as much as his admission surprised him. He caught the handle of the basket. “Which way?”
Angie pointed toward the outside, and when she turned, he followed her. They made their way down the rows and found the roses in an area close to the back of the nursery where many kinds and colors were on display. She and Carly studied the plants, and Angie settled on some Knock Out roses, which she said bloomed all summer. Carly picked out some long-stemmed blossoms.
“Good choice, Carly,” he said. Angie signaled him to lift the plants into the cart while she watched Carly study other ones. An expression on her face warned him she had something on her mind. “Are you sure you want all these?”
“I love them.” She smiled at Carly. “This young lady did a good job of choosing some beautiful roses. But...”
When she faltered, he knew he’d been right. “But what?”
Angie eyed Carly before answering. “It’ll take a long time to plant these, and I’m thinking that today may not be the best day.”
He raised an eyebrow, letting her know he suspected she had left some things unspoken. “How long can flowers sit without being planted?”
“No more than a day or so. I’ll need to keep them watered.”
“What about tomorrow? Carly and I could come after church and finish the job.” His pulse skipped at his impulsiveness. She may have had enough of them. “That’s if you’d like us to.”
Her face brightened. “I’d love you to come if you really don’t mind.”
Carly’s eyes sparkled. “Can I help?”
“You sure can.” Angie slipped her arm around Carly’s shoulders and gave her a hug. “I’ve never had such a good helper in my whole life.”
“Daddy.” Carly bounced on her toes. “Can we come tomorrow?”
“If Angie wants to put up with us another day, we sure can.”
Carly clapped and twirled, then grabbed the handle of the cart and eyed Angie. “Are we done?”
“If you’re planting tomorrow, I have a few more ideas.” Angie chucked Carly under the chin. “What do you think?”
Carly gave a nod and waited for her to point the way.
They followed Angie down another row while his own excitement grew. With Angie’s willingness for them to return Sunday, he wanted to twirl down the rows as Carly had done. Two days with Angie felt like a gift to him as well as Carly. She made life fun and meaningful. Yet a flicker of concern tightened in his chest. He had to be careful. He’d already feared her hesitation to plant today was because of something he’d said.
“If we’re finishing the planting tomorrow...” She paused and looked at Carly. “We might have time to go to the park today.”
“The park? Really?” A gleeful giggle escaped Carly. “Can we, Daddy?”
“If we have time, why not?”
Carly jumped in place. “Why not?”
Angie gave him a wink, pleasure filling her face. She hurried down the row, selected a few more perennials, and after he loaded her choices in the cart, he pushed it toward the cashier. Many times things he longed to know flew into his head, but those kinds of questions needed time. Instead he trod lightly. A lifetime didn’t happen in a day. Angie clung to a private past she seemed unwilling to share. He could learn a lesson from her silence. Already he’d revealed too much.
Chapter Three
She swung open the front door, a smile on her lips, but her jaw dropped. “Rema.”
“Did I frighten you?” Rema stared at her, her hand on the screen door handle.
“No, not really.” She regained her senses and pushed open the door. “I wasn’t expecting anyone. I’m a mess.” She gestured to her dusty jeans and soiled knit top. “I’ve spent the day toting flower flats and plants. I was about to take a shower.”
Rema took a step deeper into the house. “I dropped by to give you some brochures about Owosso. Remember? You’d asked and I happened to be near the chamber of commerce, so I stopped.”
Angie grasped the stack of colorful leaflets, pleased Rema had remembered. “Thanks so much.”
“Happy to do it, and I also wanted to tell you how excited I was to see you bringing home all the new plants. They will really make a difference. The previous owner didn’t do much. I think last year he planted marigolds. Yellow ones. They remind me of dandelions.”
Angie chuckled, recalling her conversation with Carly. “They do resemble them a little, but some of the outside critters stay away from them. They don’t like the smell.”
“The critters have better taste than the grouchy neighbor. Now I look forward to seeing lovely flower beds.” Rema grinned, which looked strange on her since her brow was often furrowed with sadness. She took another step toward the living room as if she planned to stay.
Recalling the elderly neighbor’s comment about Rema, Angie didn’t have the heart to turn her out despite her need to shower and change her clothes. “Would you like to come in for a couple of minutes? As you can see, I really need a makeover.”
Rema didn’t respond. As if missing the hint, she took another step deeper inside, her eyes aimed at the living room.
“Let’s go to the kitchen. I hate to sit in there covered with dirt. Anyway, it’s closer to the coffeepot. Or would you prefer a glass of lemonade.”
“Lemonade sounds nice.”
Rema followed her into the kitchen and settled on one of the chairs. “I saw that man again. Your coworker.”
She nodded, not wanting to get into her relationship with Rick. She kept her back to Rema as she pulled glasses from the cabinet and lifted the lemonade pitcher from the refrigerator. When she filled the glasses, she carried them to the table and joined Rema.
“This time he had a little girl with him.”
“Carly. She’s five.”
A faint frown eased to her face. “Is he married?”
The question had a curious tone, not judgmental as much as troubled.
“He’s divorced. It was his wife’s decision, I believe.”
“Divorced.” She pressed her lips together. “I see.” She looked thoughtful for a moment. “It’s difficult when children are involved.” She glanced away. “It makes me happy I don’t have children even though I’d always wanted them.”
Angie gathered the puzzle pieces, hoping to decipher the message wrapped up in her comments. “But you’re not divorced, Rema, are you? I thought—”
“No.” She shook her head back and forth as if she forgot how to stop. “No, but I feel as if I am sometimes.”
Another puzzle piece. “I don’t understand.”
“My husband travels for the company, and he has late business meetings when he’s home. I spend much of my time...” She gave her head one more shake and stopped. “Sorry. You don’t want to hear my sad story.”
The comment made her think of Rick’s wife, who traveled for her career. “I have no advice, Rema, but I can listen.” As the words left her mouth, she wished she’d not spoken. But she’d said exactly what a caring person should say. Rick would have listened for hours. She wished she were more like him.
“I think sometimes I scare people away with my negative attitude.” Moisture formed in Rema’s eyes. “I have to learn to make the best of things and not be so suspicious.”
Suspicious. Angie could only guess what that meant, and she steered away from the topic. “Sometimes we spend our time with things that give us pleasure and then feel guilty.” Words flapped from her mouth without thought. She knew so little about being alone, because it didn’t usually bother her. She’d found comfort in the quiet. But had she really enjoyed being alone or only found it an easy answer to her singleness? “Do you have hobbies or activities that you enjoy?”
“No. Trey likes me home...” She faltered. “But a hobby is a good idea.”
Trey wanted her home. Why? The obvious answer made her sick—that he wanted to control his wife a little too much. “Community colleges provide classes for lifelong learning. Libraries offer fun classes—journaling and scrapbooking. Yarn shops teach knitting, and stained-glass stores often have classes. You can even learn to tap-dance.”
Rema chuckled. “I’ll have to give it some thought. Classes could fill up a lonely evening.”
Her heart in her throat, Angie managed a pleasant grin. “You can even learn a job skill. Have you ever thought of—” Her cell phone’s ringtone sounded, and she glanced at the ID. “It’s my mom, Rema. I should answer.”
“Take it and thanks for the ideas.” Rema rose and gave a wave as Angie hit the answer button. “Hi, Mom. My neighbor is just leav—”
“Connie said she called about a nice fellow she knows, but you said you’re dating someone. Why haven’t you told us about this? You know I want—”
“Mom, you want more grandkids, I know.” Angie rose and headed toward the front door to wave goodbye to Rema. “But please let me fall in love first.”
“Who is he? What’s his name?”
She saw Rema already across the street and heaved a sigh. “I’m not in love. I said I’d like to fall in love before having children.” Though no one was there to see her, she rolled her eyes.
“Remember, Angie, you’re thirty-three. Child bearing is—”
“Mom.” She tripped over her exasperation. “Let’s start with falling in love and getting married first. Okay?”
“But Connie said you’re dating someone.”
The lie bit her again. “I told her I was seeing someone. I didn’t say ‘dating.’”
“What’s the difference?”
Angie closed her eyes and drew in a lengthy breath. “Could we talk about this another time? I was at the nursery all day with Rick...for flowers for my garden, and—”
“Rick.” The sound of triumph flew through the phone. “So that’s his name. When can we meet him?”
“Not today. He’s gone, and I’m dirty from toting flower flats. How about if I talk with you tomor...another time. I can tell you more then.”
A puff of air traveled through the phone. “Finally, you’re willing to tell us about him. Okay, but don’t wait too long. Remember your age and—”
“Another time, Mom. I really have to take a shower. Love you.”
“Love you, sweetheart.”
She hit the end-call button before her mother could ask another question. Ignoring her dirty jeans, she plopped onto the sofa and eyed the carpet. She hated treating her mother that way, but Connie and their mom wouldn’t take no for an answer. Her mother still thought of her girls as teenagers, coming home after a date and facing a grilling session even though Connie was now a mom. Not that her mother didn’t trust them. She enjoyed hearing of their dates and made the reveries hers.
Angie pressed her back against the cushion, her mind knotted in her mother’s curiosity and Rema’s marriage struggle. She couldn’t help but think of the sweet elderly neighbor down the street, filled with more wisdom than anyone. His name had slipped
her mind, but his comment had stuck with her—many neighbors were nice. That was what he’d said, and she was certain he would put Rema on that list.
She smacked the side of her head. Elwood. That was his name. He’d said to call him El, and she would since she needed a wise friend on Lilac Circle. Maybe she could steer Rema down the block to talk with him. Everyone needed a special friend, a confidant, and especially a wise one.
She had Rick. She always felt wonderful when he was around, whether at work or even home. It had happened on his first visit when he’d helped her move. Rick had become a gift, a great friend she hoped to have always. She trusted him more than she’d trusted any man. Really trusted him. She loved the warm feeling that spread through her when he was near. Tomorrow she’d see him again, and she would tell him about her crazy family who wouldn’t listen. Maybe he would have the wisdom to offer her a solution.
* * *
Rick eyed the blinking voice-mail notification light on his home phone and frowned. He rarely had calls on the line and often thought he should have it disconnected. He hit the first message and was struck by his ex-wife’s irate voice. “This is Glenda. Please call me now.”
His back stiffened with her command. The next message followed.
“Where are you? I need to talk with you. It’s important.”
It’s important. His stomach knotted at the concern in her voice, and he glanced behind him to make sure Carly was preoccupied brushing her teeth and getting ready for bed.
Another message plowed through the line. “Richard. If you’re upset with me for some reason, can you forget it and call me? Stop being silly and playing games. Call me now.”
He bristled, angry at himself for allowing her to tear him to shreds. She had his cell phone number, but she never used it. A fourth message began and when he heard her voice he covered the receiver until the call ended and deleted all of them, irritated that she’d accused him of being angry and playing games. He rarely got angry at anyone but himself. Why would she think he was playing games? She knew him well enough to know he wasn’t a game player. Far from it.