Cimarron Refuge

by Margaret Daley

  “Swinging may be your problem.” His regard lingered on a particularly long slash of paint on her yellow shorts.

  “Funny. Are you sure you want to ruin that outfit?” She let her gaze trek down him, much as he had done to her. Which proved to be a big mistake. His clothes fit him nicely—too nicely for her peace of mind. “Those jeans look pretty new to me,” she finally said, her throat dry, her voice raspy.

  He glanced down. “They are. I could help prep the house.”

  “Prep?”

  “Caulk, replace any rotten wood, scrape off old paint where needed.”

  “I think I forgot a step.”

  “You think?”

  His laughter filled the air and tempted Laura to join in. “Okay. I never said I was good at this.”

  “Where’s Sean?”

  “On the other side of the house, painting. Why?”

  “I’ll get him and we’ll go to the store and buy the necessary supplies to prepare the house. No more painting until I get back.”

  She saluted. “Yes, sir. But what do I do in the meantime?”

  “I’d take away the brushes from Joshua and Matthew first. The bushes in front look a little greener than an hour ago.”

  Laura rushed past him. “They weren’t supposed to paint. I may not know how to prep a house, but I do know the damage those two can do with paint and brushes. Where’s Alexa?”

  “She went inside to call Mindy.”

  When Laura reached her twins, they were brandishing the brushes like swords and flicking paint on everything—the flowers, the grass, the bushes and even on Lady—but the house. “Stop right now!”

  Joshua and Matthew froze. Amazed they had, Laura couldn’t think of anything to say for a few seconds. When Joshua finally moved, she hurried toward them. “Give me those brushes.”

  She should have known better. They both plunked them into her outstretched hand, covering it and her forearm with green paint. Their eyes widened.

  “Go around back and take off your shorts and shirts, then wash off with the hose. Take Lady and clean her up, too.” As they started toward the side of the house, she hastily added, “And don’t get into any more mischief.” When they were gone, she shook her head. “What am I gonna do?”

  “Leave it to me and Sean.”

  “No!” She was losing control of the situation.

  “Why not?”

  “This isn’t your problem.” She scanned the mess about her and had to laugh. Who was she kidding? She’d lost control before she had started. She didn’t know the first thing about painting the outside of a house.

  “Can’t I help a friend? Sarah can’t do this, and I’m sure living on a limited income as she does she can’t afford to pay someone to do it.”

  “Okay. You’ve made your point. Get the supplies you need, but I’m paying for them. That’s the least I can do.”

  His broad shoulders lifted in a shrug. “Of course. With you, me and Sean working, it won’t take too long. Maybe a week working in the evenings and on the weekend. I don’t think we need to worry too much about it raining. That hasn’t been in our forecast for a while. This time next week you won’t recognize the house.”

  She watched him go around and get Sean. After they drove off in his truck, she attacked the mess left by her two youngest. Most of it would have to be cut off, the grass, bushes and flowers. Then she went to check on Joshua and Matthew and thankfully found them following her directions.

  As they stomped into the house, leaving Lady to dry outside in the fenced backyard, Laura trailed behind her twins to make sure they didn’t get everything wet. She found Alexa still on the phone and motioned for her to end the conversation.

  “You were supposed to be the one painting out front, not Joshua and Matthew.” Alexa’s sheepish expression and dropped head almost made Laura laugh. She sighed. “Don’t let your brothers go back outside. I’m going over to see Aunt Sarah. I don’t want another mess out front or, for that matter, in the back.”

  Laura headed for the other duplex. Peter’s observation about Aunt Sarah’s finances only confirmed her determination that she would get hers under control and move to her own place. Her aunt needed the income from renting the duplex Laura and her children were living in rent-free.

  She knocked then let herself inside. Voices from the back floated to her, and she walked toward the sound. What she needed to make clear to the two ladies in the kitchen was that she and Peter were only friends and that was the way it was going to remain—no matter how her heart reacted when he was near her.

  “Child, what are you doing in here? I thought you were going to start painting. Alice said Peter came over to lend you a hand.” Aunt Sarah put her china cup down in its saucer.

  “Yeah, you should help Peter. It’ll get done twice as fast.” Alice winked at Laura’s aunt.

  She was in trouble if Alice had resorted to winking. What had they been concocting? “He and Sean went to get more supplies. I thought I would take a moment to come see how you two were doing and to make something clear.”

  “Oh, how sweet of you. We’re doing fine, dear.” Alice turned to Aunt Sarah. “You have a nice niece who has been very helpful to me. Today I tricked Peter into going by the post office on the way over here. He doesn’t know I mailed the More Than Dreams application.”

  Her aunt giggled as though she were a teenager again. “It’s our little secret. I won’t say a word.”

  Laura crossed her arms over her chest and strove to put a stern expression on her face. “Aunt Sarah. Alice.” When they finally looked at her, she continued in an equally stern voice. “Peter and I are just friends. Please don’t get any ideas about there being something more going on between us.”

  Aunt Sarah smiled so sweetly Laura was anticipating sugar dripping out of her mouth shortly. “Sure, Laura, whatever you say.”

  Alice perked up. “I think I hear a truck door. It’s probably Peter back. You’d better go help him and don’t worry about us. We’re catching up on gossip.”

  “I don’t hear anything.” Frustrated that the two ladies were ignoring what she’d said, Laura unfolded her arms and took a step farther into the kitchen.

  Alice waved her hand toward the door. “Oh, I’m sure he’s out front. He’ll need your help.”

  Giving up, Laura spun on her heel and stalked back through the house and out onto the porch. For someone who was hard of hearing, it was amazing Alice had heard Peter come back. But there he was with Sean unloading the truck.

  Sean was cooperating with Peter, but in her son’s eyes Laura could see a wariness that had been there for a long time. Didn’t the two ladies realize that, like Sean, she didn’t trust easily—not after what Stephen had done to her? Her deceased husband had torn their marriage and family apart. She would never place herself in that kind of situation again.

  Chapter Eight

  Cara, I know. I know. I had no business asking Peter out to dinner. But after all the work he did helping us to paint Aunt Sarah’s house, I had to do something special for him. The house is done today and it looks great, thanks to Peter.

  It did take a little longer than he’d anticipated because he hadn’t counted on Joshua and Matthew’s special kind of “help.” We only lost one gallon of paint—not even a whole gallon—when Matthew ran around the side of the house and right into the ladder Peter was standing on. Neither one of my twins ever looks where he’s going. I think their heads are actually in the clouds.

  Thankfully Peter wasn’t too high up when he came tumbling down. He landed on a bush that cushioned his fall some. After that little mishap, Peter clambered to his feet, a bit more slowly than usual, limped to the ladder and put it back in place. I gave him my paint can then proceeded to clean up the mess while he finished his area. It was dark by the time we put the last brushstroke to the wood, but Peter was on a mission to have it completed today.

  What amazed me, though, about the whole accident—and it really was one, everything is with my t
wins—was that Peter never yelled or got angry at Matthew. He laughed when he saw the paint dripping off the plants under the ladder. We have started a new decorating trend in the neighborhood! Our foliage matches our house—this must have been the reason I picked green. Anyway back to the point I wanted to make, Stephen would have screamed and screamed at Matthew. Come to think of it, with Stephen my twins would have been confined to the house until the project was finished, instead of being a part of it. They did fetch things for us, helped with the cleanup and mostly stayed out of trouble. What more can a mother ask for?

  I know you wanted me to tell you something funny and lighthearted, but I have to ask how Mason is holding up with the treatment. Are the newest antibiotics working yet? I continue to hope for the best.

  Love,

  Laura.

  WITH A HEAVY HEART Laura sent the email and hoped it cheered up her friend. In Cara’s posts she was trying to be upbeat, but Laura knew something was wrong. She wished Cara could confide in her, but she, of all people, knew how hard it was to tell another person her problems.

  Laura heard the doorbell and glanced at her watch. Peter was right on time for their— What did she call this? It wasn’t a date. She didn’t date.

  * * *

  THE COOLING EVENING breeze after a warm day tickled her skin as Laura made her way up the walk toward her porch. “I’m not gonna let you pay for dinner, Peter Stone. This was my treat.” Still put-out with the man, she threw him a look she hoped conveyed her feelings. “That was underhanded to arrange with the restaurant ahead of time to pay for it.”

  “Because I knew you wouldn’t let me if I didn’t do it that way. When a man takes a woman out on a date, he pays for it. Chalk this up to I’m an old-fashioned kind of guy.”

  Date? No, that wasn’t what they had been doing! She was thanking him. That was all. Period!

  “Alice taught me well, and if she heard you paid for the dinner, she would have my head. Do you want to be responsible for that?”

  We were not on a date. She glanced down at her outfit, a black sundress with large turquoise, hot pink, lime-green and orange flowers on it. Granted it was one of her favorite dresses, and she had taken extra care with her makeup and hair, but this was not a date.

  Peter paused at the bottom step, worry pinching his lips together. “Say something.”

  How could she when the word date had robbed her of her reasoning? She turned away from his penetrating gaze and studied the darkness beyond the porch light. “We went to dinner, not on a date.”

  Silence greeted her declaration.

  She finally looked at him. Worry no longer lined his face. His expression gave no hint of his feelings. He was so good at that. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

  He raised his hands, palms outward.

  She started to step back, the memory of Stephen the last time she’d seen him raising his hand to her invading her thoughts. But she stopped when she heard Peter say, “Yes, you meant it, Laura. No, this wasn’t a date in the traditional sense, but it was a man and a woman going out, sharing a wonderful time together.” He pointed at her, then himself. “We’ve been skirting around our feelings for months now. I haven’t pushed because you’re as skittish as a yearling. But I think there’s more here than merely being friends.”

  His words hung in the air between them. “I don’t know what to feel. I didn’t come to Cimarron City to get involved with a man. I once let you think that my marriage was a good one and that I mourned my husband’s death. It wasn’t and I didn’t.” She held her breath, waiting to see disdain take over his expression.

  “I’m sorry.”

  There was no disdain, no questions about what had gone wrong. Surprise shook her composure. Whenever she had displeased Stephen—and she knew she had displeased Peter—she’d heard about it from her husband. His belittling remarks still needled her.

  Peter slowly reached for her hand, and when she didn’t pull away, he took it and urged her up the steps to the porch swing at the far end by Aunt Sarah’s duplex. “When my marriage fell apart, it left me devastated. I couldn’t figure out what I’d done wrong. I spent months beating myself up over it until I had to stop it or I’d be useless. It took Jacob, though, to make me see what I was doing to myself and the people around me. I hadn’t told anyone what had really gone on with Diana and I needed to. Sometimes you can’t do things alone.” He angled around so he faced her. “Sometimes you need someone to listen to your problems. Not necessarily to give you advice but to be a sounding board. Laura, when you are ready, I’ll be there for you. But if you don’t want to tell me, I’ll understand.”

  Tears choked her throat. Any anger she’d felt earlier toward this man melted at his declaration. Deep inside a small part of her wanted to blurt the whole story out to Peter. But old habits didn’t die easily, and she just couldn’t utter the words that she had been abused in her marriage, first verbally and in the end physically. She couldn’t shake the feeling of shame when she thought about it. Why hadn’t she been able to stop it? What had she done wrong?

  “You can call me anytime, Laura. Day or night. There were some nights it was hard to make it through.”

  Her tears rose, flooding her eyes. Glad for the darkness that shadowed them, she blinked them away and wiped her hand across her cheeks. “I appreciate the offer” was all she managed to say before her throat closed up.

  He allowed the silence to lengthen while she frantically tried to compose herself. All she really wanted was for him to take her into his embrace, as he had at the stadium, and hold her. Just hold her. She kept the wish inside and sat stiffly on the swing, her fingers laced together in her lap.

  When he touched her, she gasped and jumped. He snatched his hand away. “I’m sorry I startled you. Are you okay?”

  The strain in his voice, his actions, finally focused her on Peter. He started to rise. She grabbed his arm to stop him. She was becoming good at pushing people away. She didn’t want to be alone with her thoughts. She’d been alone too long with them. “Please stay.”

  “Are you sure? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

  “It’s not you.” It’s me. “I—” She swallowed several times. “Will you hold me?”

  For a heartbeat he didn’t budge, then slowly he drew her into his arms. She laid her head on his shoulder, feeling the rise and fall of his chest, smelling his now-familiar scent that calmed her almost as much as his embrace. Peace settled over her, and her eyelids closed.

  “Mom! Mom, thank goodness you’re finally home.”

  The anger in her daughter’s voice jerked Laura up. The screen door slammed closed as she came to her feet. Words she uttered way too often tumbled from her mouth. “What’s wrong?”

  The second Alexa stepped into the circle of light Laura knew what was wrong and probably who had caused it. Her daughter had red, green, black and blue designs up and down both of her arms.

  “Joshua and Matthew did this to me when I fell asleep watching TV. They used permanent markers! Those don’t come off easily!”

  Laura sucked in a deep breath that did nothing to calm her building anger. Exhausted mentally after her conversation with Peter, she didn’t want to deal with her twins. But she had no choice. As a single mom there was no one else.

  Alexa pointed toward the house. “They’re in there laughing. They think this is funny. What if it won’t ever come off?”

  “Most of it will scrub off and the rest will wear off, honey. It won’t last long. I’ll be there in a sec, and I’ll take care of Joshua and Matthew.”

  “You better or I will.”

  After the screen door slammed shut again, Laura heaved a sigh. “The twins should have been in bed.” When Peter’s chuckle peppered the air, she spun on her heel and glared at him. “It’s not funny. Alexa is going to a birthday party tomorrow. Wearing a long-sleeved shirt in the summer isn’t the usual style.”

  He rose, moving into the light from the window as he struggled to contain
his laughter. “They’re quite a team.”

  “Yeah. Instead of sleeping, they are concocting a scheme to make their sister’s life miserable.”

  “Isn’t that the mission of all little boys?”

  “It is for Joshua and Matthew.” Through her weariness she began to see the humor in the prank. Not that she would ever say anything to Alexa. “Still, I can’t let them think they can get away with it without some kind of consequence.”

  “What are some things they hate to do?”

  “Doing their chores, cleaning their room.”

  “Then have them do Alexa’s chores for the time it will take for the markings to totally disappear.”

  “I like that.” Peter should be a father, she thought, not for the first time. “They won’t like that.”

  She strode toward the door with Peter following her into the house. Shouts from the kitchen quickened her steps. When she entered the room, she found Alexa shouting and squirting her brothers with a red liquid from a spray bottle as they ran around, giggling.

  “Alexa! Stop!”

  Red droplets covered her tile floor with a few dripping off her twins. Alexa’s wet hair—Laura hated to think what had made it wet—hung down into her face.

  Peter came up behind her and clasped her upper arms, squeezing them briefly, silently giving her support. “This, too, shall pass.”

  “I caught them sneaking up on me with this.” Alexa brandished the bottle. “They put red food coloring in some water. They wanted to see if my hair would turn red.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, Laura saw her twins creeping toward the door. She rounded on them. “Don’t you two move a muscle. Alexa, go on upstairs and clean up.”

  “But, Mom—”

  “I’ll take care of Joshua and Matthew.” She forced a sternness into her voice as well as into her expression.

  When her daughter had slunk from the room, Laura stared at her boys for a long, long moment, daring them to move. Like statues, they stayed still.