Bless Her Heart

by Sally Kilpatrick

  He rewarded me with those dimples and nodded slightly to the left before talking out of the corner of his mouth. “See that man over there?”

  He could only be referring to the middle-aged man flipping through my books then pausing to eye the box John held. “Yeah?”

  “I’ve been going to a lot of yard sales over the past few months because I’m still trying to get what I need for the old house I bought.”

  “The old Busbee farmhouse?”

  “Yeah. Thank goodness that guy over there isn’t looking for furniture, or I wouldn’t have any. He’s worse than Mr. Ledbetter, going to sales and talking people into selling for cheap things that he then sells on eBay for a fortune. I don’t think that would be fair to you.”

  Someone cared about what was fair to me?

  “Are you sure they’re worth that much?”

  “At least.”

  “Okay, then.” Goodness knew, I could use the money. But did John have much more than I did?

  As he brought out his wallet, he continued, “That guy bragged about it to me one day when he stiffed Mrs. Morris on some antique dishes. Watch out for people like him. If someone’s insistent about lowering the price or how worthless something is, stand your ground and see if you can sell it online.”

  I swallowed hard and nodded. John handed me a stack of twenties.

  “But, John—”

  “They’re worth it. Promise. Who’s the rock and roll expert here?”

  He walked off with his box of records, and the man standing among my books shook his head in disgust and headed out across the yard. Guess I didn’t have anything else he was interested in buying.

  I was looking forward to watching John load the weights when someone tapped my shoulder and I turned around to see Miss Georgette and her constant companion, Miss Lottie. The latter sniffed as she thumbed through my CDs, but Miss Georgette had something to say.

  “I got a call from the Board of Education yesterday,” she said, her enthusiasm infectious. “I was happy to tell them that you would be the best little first grade teacher they could find. I mentioned that no-good Chad Love had up and left you—I still can’t believe he had us all fooled like that, the nerve!—and that you could really use the job. Imogene told me that her sister told her that you had the car repossessed. I saw the sign outside Love Ministries, and then I come over here and you are having to hold a rummage sale just to make some money, and it is a crying shame, I tell you.”

  She had to pause for more oxygen even while I held my breath because I was afraid of what might come next.

  “Just bless your heart.”

  Yes, bless it indeed.

  “You need to brush up on your methodology because I think they are going to call you on Monday. I know it’s just a supply position until the end of school, but you never know when they’re going to need someone for the next year, and supply positions are such a great way to get your feet in the door. Have you thought about being a substitute teacher? That’s another good way to get some experience while you wait for something over at the elementary school to open up. And this new principal is a real go-getter. She told me she’s ready to fill that position because there’s only so much a substitute can teach them, and—”

  “Miss Georgette, I thank you so much for all of your help and—”

  “How much for this?” Miss Lottie interrupted.

  It was an Alan Jackson CD full of hymns. Great songs, but I didn’t have a CD player anymore. “Fifty cents.”

  Without a word, the other lady dug into her coin purse and brought out two quarters then clutched Alan Jackson to her ample bosom as though she’d found the holy grail.

  “Lottie, I thought we’d agreed that we didn’t need to buy anything else at rummage sales,” Miss Georgette chided.

  “But look at that bedspread over there. Wouldn’t that go well in your guest bedroom?”

  Both ladies ambled off to take a look at the blue duvet, and I sighed in relief. If Miss Georgette had already received a call, then I needed to get a phone pronto just in case the go-getter principal called. Goodness knew I couldn’t afford to miss the opportunity.

  “Here, take the boy.”

  I opened my arms just in time to take Nathaniel. Judging by his heavy eyelids, Liza had just fed him.

  “Washing my hands, and I’ll be right back,” Liza called out.

  “Okay, I’ve loaded up the bench and weights. How much?”

  I looked straight up into John’s baby blues, and my mouth went dry. It ought to be a sin for a man to be so pretty. “I thought I told you twenty.”

  “Posey, please. That bench ain’t from Walmart.”

  “Fine. You negotiated so well for me last time, you tell me.”

  He bent over his phone, one strand of hair escaping from his ponytail. Thank goodness I was holding the baby because the urge to push that strand of hair back was strong.

  “Says here that bench probably cost about a hundred, another two for that set of weights—”

  “I’ll give you twenty if you’ll just take it off for me.” My eyes grew wide at the Freudian slip. “I mean, if you’ll carry off the heavy weights.”

  His grin widened as my voice trailed off. “I’m thinking fifty is fairer.”

  Heck, I’ll give you fifty dollars if you’ll let me watch while you work out.

  I shook my head. Where had that thought come from? I had to be losing my mind. Had my mother’s wild genes caught up with me? Heat surged through my body, followed by a chill. Maybe I had a fever. Maybe I had an ague of insanity.

  “You would know better than I do,” I managed.

  “Then sold,” he said as he held out a crisp fifty. “Don’t suppose you have a couch, do you?”

  “Sorry, I gave the couch to Liza.”

  “Although you can have mine if you’d like,” Liza said as she took her son from me. Now I didn’t know what to do with my hands. I needed to always be holding a baby when talking to John. That way I wouldn’t fidget so much.

  “Don’t do it,” I said. “It’s filled with rocks and hatred.”

  “I thought it was pebbles and loathing?”

  “Upon reflection, I’ve upgraded its contents.”

  John laughed out loud and rewarded me with dimples. My stomach bottomed out, and a blush crept into my cheeks.

  “Rocks and hatred might still be better than sitting on the floor. You serious, Liza?”

  “Yep, I will give it to you if you will take it off my hands.”

  John started backing up, but pointed as he said. “You’re on. Hey, I’ve got an appointment to tune the Frasiers’ piano, and I’ll see you ladies around.”

  “Bye,” Liza and I said together.

  He stopped and turned around. “I’m really going to miss those brownies.”

  “Maybe I’ll make you some anyway. Even if I don’t have a piano anymore.”

  “I’d like that.” With a wave, he was off, making long strides toward his truck, which now held all of the components of the weight bench. I allowed myself a minute to mourn the fact I’d been talking to Miss Georgette and had missed the heavy lifting that had required.

  “Still have a crush on O’Brien, eh?” Liza asked.

  “Come on!”

  “Maybe I’ll make you some brownies anyway,” Liza mimicked with exaggerated eyelash batting.

  “Oh, shut up!”

  “Man, I wish Owen and I could get more brownies. Wanna watch the baby tonight?”

  “Oh, my gosh, would you please stop?” Great. Now I sounded like my little sister. I walked into the garage for some shade and a quick search for wherever I’d left my composure.

  Liza followed me and lay a now sleeping Nathaniel in the pack-and-play. “I’m just saying you could do worse.”

  “I’m not even divorced yet, and I don’t think I ever want to get married again.”

  “Who said anything about dating or getting married? I was talking about hooking up.”

  Well, anyone
who cared about not taking advantage of me when buying a record collection at a yard sale would have to be a far better lover than Chad—not that I had much experience in that area, having gone to my wedding night a virgin. Of course, there was no way John O’Brien would ever want to slum it with a frump like me.

  Although he had told me that I was pretty just the way I was.

  He was just being nice.

  Whatever. I might be laying off the church, but that didn’t mean I needed to get wrapped up in fornication.

  It’s not like you’d get pregnant.

  “Oh, for crying out loud!”

  “What?” Liza asked.

  Apparently, I was thinking out loud again. “Just arguing with myself.”

  “Yeah, you were,” Liza said with a wicked grin. “You were arguing over whether or not you should make a move on John the Baptist. I vote yes.”

  “You got some last night, didn’t you?”

  “Yes. Finally, but who knows when this next drought may end, so please let me live vicariously through you.”

  Blessedly, Abigail Bolton motioned for me to come over. No way did I want to talk about sex with Liza. We were best friends and all, but she didn’t need to know about the wigs and ridiculous shoes and corner time. She wouldn’t understand how much I’d wanted to be pregnant or what I’d been willing to do to make it happen. She’d bless me out for kowtowing to Chad for all of those years—and she wouldn’t be wrong. I just wasn’t ready to hear it.

  I knew I was attracted to John, but I couldn’t go there, could I? I had more baggage than an airport carousel. And yet . . .

  I couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to make love, to be intimate with a man who wouldn’t ever send me to the corner, the kind of man who talked me up on yard sale prices because he was concerned about what was fair and just. It didn’t hurt that he was quite easy on the eyeballs, and I hadn’t been attracted to my husband for quite some time. Oh, I’d gone along with his shenanigans, and he’d made at least a little effort to take care of me, but, at the end of the day, sex was always about getting pregnant for me. For Chad, it was always about Chad.

  By this point, Mrs. Bolton had taken out every plate, bowl, tea cup, and saucer to inspect each piece for cracks. After a fair amount of haggling, I managed to unload my entire set of china for a tidy sum. As I was stacking it up to count the pieces, I noticed an LP at the bottom of a box. Considering how much John had paid, the only decent thing to do would be to take him the LP, right?

  Sure, and having an excuse to see him didn’t hurt, either.

  As I mindlessly wrapped china in newspaper, I thought of what it would be like to bring the album to him. He would toss it over his shoulder and kiss me and—

  “Posey? Don’t you have a gravy boat, too?”

  “No, ma’am. I’m afraid it got dropped early on in the marriage.” More like thrown at a wall because Chad said I’d been flirting with the sack boy at the grocery store, but no need to tell the whole truth and nothing but. After all, it had been dropped. On the floor after it hit the wall. With force. While full of gravy. I thought I’d never find the last of the gravy splatters.

  Such violence was a good reason to rein in my imagination. John O’Brien was not interested in me like that and, even if he was, I obviously wasn’t a good judge of male character. Besides, I wouldn’t do anyone any favors jumping into one relationship before I managed to get out of the other. We would have to be brownie buddies.

  Of course, thanks to Liza, even “brownie” had a suggestive connotation.

  Great. Now I was craving brownies.

  Looked like my Saturday night would be spent with a pan of brownies and another one of Rain’s romance novels, and I was okay with that. Looking forward to it, even. I could be relatively sure neither the brownies nor the book would let me down, and there was something to be said for that.

  * * *

  Rain showed up as we were packing the last of the things to take to Goodwill. We’d sold more than I had hoped, and Liza had kindly offered to take a load since she had the van. Rain poked around the boxes of what was left, her expression suggesting she saw nothing that interested her.

  “Hey, Rain, think you could help me pick out a new phone?”

  “Sure,” she said. “Want to go tonight?”

  It was either that or my plan of books and brownies. The more I thought about it, the more appealing brownies and a book sounded, but I really needed to get a new phone since Miss Georgette had already been called to give a reference for me. “Sure.”

  “Yay! Maybe we can get you some new clothes.”

  “With what? Do I have a money tree in the backyard that I somehow missed?”

  “No, but I did find this in a box I was breaking down—it’d slipped under a flap.” Rain held up a credit card.

  I walked closer, recognizing it almost immediately. “I can’t use Chad’s credit card. He’s probably already canceled it anyway.”

  Actually, he probably hadn’t. That was his special credit card, the one he used for “adult” purchases that he made sure would be sent to the house in plain brown wrapping.

  “I really think the least he owes you is a little shopping,” Rain said as she dangled the card in front of me the way Eve probably offered Adam the ill-fated apple.

  I took the card and put it in my back pocket.

  “So what’s the deal with these angels?” Rain asked as she kicked the box.

  “Hey! Those are fragile,” I said.

  She took out her phone and started looking things up. “Do you have all of the figurines that go in the nativity set?”

  “I think so?”

  She sighed in exasperation. “Just let me sell these on eBay, okay? I’ll give you the money when it’s done.”

  “Sure,” I said. Miss Georgette had bought one angel of the collection of seventy or more, but no one else had shown any interest in them. Not even the guy John pointed out as someone who liked to sell things for a profit. Of course, I didn’t take him for the kind of person who was interested in faceless angels.

  Rain hoisted the large box on one hip. “I’m taking these to the house. You make sure you’re showered and ready to go by six thirty. Put some makeup on and do your hair, while you’re at it.”

  “Why? I’m just going to get a phone.”

  She grinned. “No, no. I have a surprise for you.”

  “Rain, you know how I feel about surprises—especially after the week I’ve had.”

  “You’ll like mine,” she called without even looking back.

  chapter 13

  Rain’s big surprise was that she had decided it was time for me to take on gluttony in the form of bottomless nachos and a margarita. Once we’d gone through the exhausting process of getting the best deal on a smartphone, Rain dragged me to a Mexican restaurant on the far side of Jefferson.

  “I can’t drink this.”

  “Of course you can,” she said. “One margarita isn’t going to hurt you.”

  “What if I’m allergic to tequila?”

  “You aren’t.” Rain dragged her tortilla chip through the mixture of chicken, beans, and the good Lord only knew what else. At least she’d wisely ordered the chips on the side. The waiter had looked at her as though she were nutty, but her genius showed in the fact the chips never got soggy when served her way.

  “I’m not drinking it.” I carefully pushed the drink away from me.

  “Fine.” She pulled the drink closer and took a sip from the straw.

  “You can’t do that! You’re underage!”

  She rolled her eyes. “Way to tell everyone in the restaurant, Posey. Gosh. Look, the drinking age in Mexico is eighteen. I am an eighteen-year-old half-Mexican in a Mexican restaurant, I think that counts.”

  I took the drink from her. At the very least, I was legal. “Have you been drinking?”

  She slow-blinked at me. “I go to a Catholic Church. I have Catholic friends. What do you think?”

  �
�Fine. Don’t tell me any more.” Before I could think about it further, I put my lips to the straw and sucked up way too much margarita. The sweet and salt and fire caught in my throat and caused me to cough.

  “Way to go,” Rain said while I hacked. “My big sister is brave.”

  Brave? No one had ever called me brave. Cautious? Sure. Pragmatic? All the time. But no one had ever called me brave.

  “Just sip it,” my sister said. “Nurse it.”

  When I sipped the margarita, I found I liked it. I really liked the warm glow that began to emanate from the inside out despite the fact the drink itself was frozen. “This is really good!”

  “Would I lie to you?”

  “No. Not unless I was a school nurse.”

  Rain laughed, a golden sound similar to her laughter as a child.

  Gluttony might be my favorite.

  My little sister wiped away a tear of laugher. “I think we need to get you a new wardrobe after this.”

  “No, I can’t use Chad’s credit card like that. It would be wrong.”

  She held up index finger over thumb. “Not even a little bit?”

  Well, I did need new underwear. One of the pairs from Walmart already had a hole in it. I was half tempted to take it back, but who wanted to take holey underwear to the service desk? Not I. My week had provided more than enough opportunities for embarrassment, thank you very much.

  “You know what you need? Cowboy boots.”

  “What? Have you been in the tequila?”

  “Nope, but you have.”

  A cursory glance at my margarita showed I’d almost drained it. “That’s entirely too easy to drink,” I said before carefully navigating a chip full of chicken and beans to my mouth.

  “She’ll have another,” Rain said to the waiter who’d appeared out of nowhere. I waved my arms and tried to tell him no, but only succeeded in choking a little bit on the too large bite of nacho I’d just eaten.

  “And maybe a glass of water,” Rain added.

  Once I’d managed to get my nachos down the right pipe, I turned on my little sister. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “One margarita does not gluttony make. Nor does the paltry amount of chips you’ve eaten. So, get to work.”