by Arlene James
The girls, meanwhile, were discovering the joys of single-sex habitation. They were free to gather ruffles and tie bows at their leisure. The dolls came out, along with all their clothes and accessories. Cheap costume jewelry in pastel shades appeared around their necks. An inordinate amount of hair-brushing began. Mattie was bemused by the helpful eagerness with which it was all packed away again and shoved aside so the painting could begin.
Orren helped with that part of it. Mattie and the girls picked up paint samples from the local discount store and brought them home, where they pored over them endlessly before marking their choices. Orren stopped by the store on his way home from work the next evening and picked up the paint and necessary supplies. The next day was Sunday, his day off, and he used it to tape off the woodwork, light fixtures and ceiling and begin the painting. He finished up on Monday, removed the masking tape, made any necessary touch-ups and put away his materials. With all the furnishings piled beneath plastic in the center of the floor and the four walls painted pastel shades of lilac, rose pink and buttercup yellow, the room looked decidedly odd, but Mattie had plans.
On Tuesday, she brought with her a thin sheet of plastic, a ruler, a special knife with a razor-thin blade, and a coloring book of flowers. After relatively little discussion, the girls chose a tulip from the book of flowers. Using a pencil, Mattie carefully measured the flower and the sheet of plastic, calculated how many copies of the flower could be cut into the plastic, and with a pencil outlined the flower on the plastic sheet. After meticulously cutting out the shapes of the flower with the special knife, she had a stencil. Using a sponge and the same paint Orren had used on the walls, she carefully stenciled pink and yellow tulips on the lilac walls and lilac tulips on the pink and yellow walls. Then, using ink markers from the kids’ own art supplies, she carefully drew bows on each tulip stem and allowed the girls to color them in with crayons. The result was very “little girl” and quite delightful. The girls were clearly entranced.
But Mattie was nowhere near finished. After arranging the furniture so that the correct bed rested against the correct wall, mismatched twin beds for Jean Marie and Yancy and a crib, still, for Candy Sue, Mattie set about making them “fit.” Every piece was banged up and scraped, but they were solid and serviceable. Borrowing a little sandpaper from Chaz’s temporary room, Mattie lightly went over each piece, then painted and detailed the pieces with the same paint they’d used for everything else. She wound up with a yellow spindle bed trimmed in pink and lilac, a lilac four-poster trimmed in yellow and pink, and a pink crib trimmed in lilac and yellow. Suddenly the room was beginning to really pull together. Even Jean Marie was almost painfully excited.
The problem came the next day with the curtains. The curtains that Mattie had taken from Orren’s room simply did not fit the window in the girls’ room. Yet, she had promised Jean Marie that they would use them. Orren had given her permission to dye anything she wanted to dye and four bucks to do it with. The washing machine did the hardest part, but the curtains had to be put through twice before they approximated the color of the bedspread. They were all a bit darker than the lilac on the walls, but Mattie judged it the best they could do, and Jean Marie was, for once, completely tractable. Unfortunately the curtains were just completely wrong for the window.
After much trial and error, Mattie loaded the kids in the car and drove them to her father’s house. They were clearly intrigued by the house where Mattie lived and clearly intriguing to Mattie’s stepmother, Amy. They spent more time in the kitchen chatting with Amy and ruining their lunch with thick slices of angel food cake garnished with canned peaches than helping Mattie go through the carefully packed boxes of old curtains and linens in the attic. Mattie found what she needed, anyway, and loaded her treasures in the trunk of the car before buckling her wards into their seat belts.
Back at the Ellis house, Mattie reshaped curtain rods, washed and pressed curtains and bedspreads and table covers, drove nails and twisted in screws, glued, taped, pinned, stapled, and thumbtacked until her hands were sore and finally stood back to apprise her efforts. It was brilliant, if she did say so herself. Jean Marie’s newly dyed lilac curtains, which had once belonged to her idolized mother, now draped the head of her bed and were tied back and pinned to the wall, creating what Jean Marie declared a “princess look.” Tiers of ruffled yellow café curtains covered the window. A flowered set of queen-size sheets became bedspread, pillow shams, lamp shade and table cover for Yancy’s bed and tiny side table. A fuzzy pink twin-size blanket performed a similar service for Candy Sue’s crib, which Mattie lowered as much as possible before letting down the side so that Candy Sue was able to climb in and out of her bed safely all by herself. A white bath mat became a suitable rug when pierced at measured intervals and scraps of cloth from the bed sheets and yellow, pink and lilac ribbons were threaded through the holes and tied like fringe. With a number of pretty pictures, from an oversize book of fairy tales that had come apart, tacked to the walls, some throw pillows scattered around, and their toys and clothing organized and stowed away in the closet and boxes under their beds, the room looked as fine as any Mattie had ever seen.
The girls were so thrilled that they clapped their hands, sang and danced around the room before throwing themselves at Mattie in exuberant joy. Even Jean Marie forgot her resentment long enough to join in covering Mattie’s face with kisses before crowing to anyone who would listen that her “princess” bed was the best of everything in the room. Chaz tried to dismiss it all as useless girl stuff, but he kept laughing and clapping with the rest of them.
Mattie could hardly wait for Orren to come home and see what wonders she had wrought, not only with the room but with his daughter. Tired as she was, she couldn’t help humming as she bathed the girls and then prepared a simple dinner of chili pie and salad. Chaz and Jean Marie set the table by themselves as the two younger girls were out of it. Candy Sue was practically asleep on her feet, having missed her usual afternoon nap, and Yancy simply couldn’t tear herself away from her yellow wall. She lay across her bed, her legs plastered to the wall, talking to her doll in whispers as her stockinged feet danced to a tune only they could hear.
When Mattie heard the sound of Orren’s truck, she left dinner on the stove and in the refrigerator, then ushered the children into a weary but happy line beside the dining table. Beside herself with anticipation, she stood with them, a great big smile on her face. Orren opened the door and stepped up into the kitchen, his steps dragging from tiredness. He shot them a smile and set his lunch kit on the counter.
“What’s this? I haven’t had a welcoming committee since the first day Mattie came.”
Mattie rocked up on her tiptoes. “We have something to show you.”
He didn’t have to think very hard to realize what it must be. “Can’t wait until after dinner, huh? Gotta show off the room right now?”
“Now, Daddy,” Jean Marie insisted, stepping forward to catch his hand while Yancy hopped in place and clapped her hands.
“Wait till you see my yellow wall!”
“My pink one!” Candy Sue yelled, popping her thumb from her mouth.
“It’s all girlie!” Chaz exclaimed, but his grin belied the scorn in his tone.
“I’ve got a princess bed!” Jean Marie was saying, tugging him along. They all turned and hurried through the living room along the hallway past the bath and to the door of the “new” room. Mattie’s hand went to the doorknob; she paused a moment to heighten the drama, then flung open the door. The girls burst into the room, laughing and screaming with anticipated delight. Chaz pushed Orren inside and followed after him, leaving Mattie to bring up the rear and stand, with arms folded, against the door frame.
Orren stopped in the middle of the floor and looked down at the rug on which he stood, stepped back hastily and turned his gaze slowly around the room. His jaw slowly dropped as he made the first circle, then clamped shut as he made the next. Finally he turned his gaze on Mattie
. Only then did she realize that he was not exactly pleased.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, straightening away from the door casing.
“What’s wrong?” he demanded. “What are you trying to do, break me?”
“No!”
“This must’ve cost a fortune!” Orren insisted, color rising in his face.
“But it didn’t! I didn’t spend any extra, I swear.”
“Then where did this all come from?” He gestured around him angrily, the children shrinking back in surprise.
“Most of it was already here,” Mattie said, determined to be reasonable. “Some of it is…was mine. I brought it over from my house.”
“And Mattie’s stepmother gave us cake and peaches!” Chaz put in helpfully.
The color abruptly drained from Orren’s face. He glared at Mattie, a vein pulsing in the hollow of his temple. “Get it out of here,” he said. “Take it all back.”
Predictably, Jean Marie stepped forward and objected. “No! You can’t do that! We want it! It’s our special room now!”
“We don’t take charity!” Orren thundered, but his gaze was fixed on Mattie.
Glancing reassuringly at the children, Mattie opened her mouth to explain, but he suddenly pushed past her and was gone. Yancy began to wail. Jean Marie threw herself facedown on her “princess” bed and began to sob. Candy Sue collapsed upon the floor and followed suit, while Chaz moved anxiously from Yancy to Candy Sue trying to calm and quiet them. Mattie looked around her at the fine room and the weeping children and felt her own expectations die. Her great accomplishment, it seemed, was a dismal failure.
Chapter Four
Orren slammed out of the house, stomped down the two steps to the floor of the carport and yanked open the pickup truck door, where he stopped, realizing only then that he didn’t have anywhere to go. Growling a favorite swearword around the shop, he slammed the door shut again and stalked over to the wall of storage units standing mere feet from the truck bumper. Fishing a key ring from his pocket, he selected the correct key and inserted it into the padlock that protected his tools. Opening the telescoping shelves wide, he selected a wrench, pulled a faded red shop rag from a bag on a hook and began to polish the already gleaming steel. Finding nothing to worry him, he hung up the wrench and selected another. He always kept his tools clean and properly stored. They were essential to his livelihood and too expensive to treat carelessly. And there was a certain peace to be found in the mindless action necessary to keep them well oiled and rust free.
As he rubbed a drop of clear oil into the adjustment mechanism, he blanked his mind to what had just taken place inside the house. He didn’t want to think about the amazing transformation Mattie had wrought in his daughters’ bedroom or how totally inadequate she had made him feel at the moment of revelation. All he’d done was paint four walls three different colors as he was told, and suddenly his house looked like a magazine layout. But even she couldn’t make such changes with the wave of magic wand. She had to go out begging trappings from her father’s house! He didn’t know quite why that rankled him so.
Maybe it had to do with the fact that he’d spoken to Evans Kincaid father-to-father that day on the telephone. Kincaid had sounded like a strong, conscientious father, the sort Orren wanted to be himself, the sort he tried to be. Come to think about it, he wanted his daughters to be like Mattie: sweet, wholesome, self-possessed, geniuses. Dang, she was smart! He would never have dreamed of doing up that room like she had. She could make a dollar go around the block twice while everyone else was just trying to stretch one to the end of the drive. If only she hadn’t taken things from Evans Kincaid’s house to fix up his, he could be happy for his girls. But he didn’t want them feeling like charity cases! One thing they had never done was accept charity, and they weren’t going to start now!
The sound of the door to the house opening set his teeth on edge, but he did his best to ignore it. He was hoping it was Chaz. Oh, how he was hoping those light, uncertain footsteps belonged to Chaz!
“Orren?”
Mattie’s voice shivered over him. Steeling himself, he hung up the wrench, wiped his hands on the rag, closed the swinging shelves and snapped the padlock into place. He stuffed the rag into his pants pocket and finally turned. “I meant it. The Ellis family doesn’t take charity. Take it all back home.”
She folded her arms and said flatly, “No.”
He was not a short-tempered man, but his temper ignited then. “Damn it, Mattie, do as I tell you! I don’t want that stuff in my house! You had no right to bring it here to begin with!”
“You told me I could redecorate the girls’ room.”
“I didn’t think you were going to go out and strip your father’s house in order to do it!”
She rolled her eyes. “Don’t be stupid! Those things came out of the attic. They were destined for a garage sale, at best!”
“All right, if you won’t take them back, then I’ll have to buy them from you.” He whipped out his wallet. “How much?”
Mattie stepped back, her mouth falling open. “How dare you? That’s the most insulting thing you’ve ever—”
“Insulting! Is it insulting to want to pay your own way? Is it insulting to want to do for your children yourself?”
“You are doing for you children, Orren. You knock yourself out for your children. Don’t you think I see that?”
“I don’t know what you see, Mattie! Apparently, whatever it is, you don’t like it much, because you seem determined to change it!”
“That’s not true! I just want to help.” She stepped close, hands raised beseechingly, emerald eyes glowing. “You work so hard, Orren. Sometimes when you come in you look so tired I want to cry for you. I just want to make the place nice—for you and the kids.”
It was the kind of thing a wife might have said to her husband to justify blowing big bucks on something for the house, and it shook him right down to the soles of his feet. She was the baby-sitter, for pity’s sake, not his spouse! “I hired you to watch my kids and fix their meals, not to turn my house upside down!” he pointed out heatedly. “I don’t even recognize the place anymore!”
She looked as if he’d hit her, her emerald eyes wide and shimmering. “I—I see. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I’d overstepped. I’ll…I’ll just go now. Dinner’s on—” she gulped, and he realized belatedly that she was fighting back tears “—the s-stove!” She whirled away and made for the steps.
In less time than it took to snap his fingers, the anger drained away and regret poured in. Suddenly, he felt like the world’s worst ogre. “Mattie, stop!”
She did just as she was told, freezing in place.
“I didn’t mean to make you cry,” he told her, morosely confused himself.
“I understand,” she said, her voice thick with tears. “My fault. I tend to…t-take over.” She sniffed and swiped at her eyes, saying softly, “It’s all right.”
Now he really felt low. “No, it’s not. You didn’t mean any harm.”
She whirled back to him, fresh tears brimming in her eyes. “I really didn’t, Orren, I swear! I thought it would make the girls happy and give Chaz a place of his own and take the heat for it off you! I only wanted—” Her chin wobbled, and his heart turned over.
“I know, I know,” he crooned, stepping up close and wrapping an arm around her shoulders, much as he would one of the kids. “It’s all right. You were trying to help.” He brushed a tendril of dark, silky hair off her face. Awareness shivered up his spine. She was not, after all, a child, no matter how determined he might be to think of her as one. He thought he might be…No, he was definitely in trouble.
She turned her face up, and her small, strong hand cupped the knob of his shoulder. “Please don’t be angry with me,” she whispered, her full, pink lips forming each word perfectly.
He felt his hand warming the back of her neck and wondered how it had gotten there; then he forgot about it as his gaze targeted the luscious l
ips moving closer to his own. He dropped his eyelids—terrified by what he knew was coming and felt powerless to prevent—just as his mouth covered hers. She sucked in a quick breath through her nostrils and went absolutely still, as if stunned or dismayed by the turn of events. But then her hand slid upward into his hair at the back of his head, her mouth parting beneath his.
Heat exploded in his torso and radiated outward, warming his bones and sinews and finally popping through his skin in tiny bubbles that made him shiver as they cooled. Suddenly unsteady on his feet, he stumbled against her. She shifted her weight, her arm sliding about his waist, and pressed herself against him. Her breasts were surprisingly heavy and firm against his chest. He forgot that she was anything other than a very desirable, apparently willing woman. And it had been an eternity since he’d had a woman in his arms. He tightened the arm around her amazingly narrow waist, not quite certain when he’d placed it there, and felt her lift against him, moaning softly as she went up on tiptoe. Delighted, he slanted his head, grinding his mouth against hers and nuzzling her cheek. Her skin was smooth as silk, her breath hot and sweet. When her tongue licked shyly at the edges of his teeth, he stabbed his own into the damp, dark well of her mouth, shuddering with needs long subdued by the day-to-day difficulties of his life.
She trembled against him, straining ever upward, her fingertips pressing indentations into the skin of his back through the heavy, serviceable fabric of his uniform shirt, her breasts heaving against him as she struggled for breath. He dropped his hand from her nape to her back and slid it beneath her arm to boldly cup one full, firm breast, his own body leaping and swelling painfully at the contact. It was then that she suddenly wrenched away.