by Kim Pritekel
Snapping on the light, she studied her reflection in the mirror above her sink, the matching mirrors cut into a modern, wavy pattern. Looking into her eyes, she saw that she looked as tired as she felt. She’d been called beautiful her entire life, and yes, she supposed that was true. Good genes certainly helped in that arena. She grabbed her brush to brush out her dark auburn hair, wincing as she caught a snag. She’d need to get an appointment with her hairdresser Sonia soon. It needed to be trimmed and set.
After her hair was brushed out and shining, Lysette set the brush down and gathered her hair back from her face and held it back with a strip of cloth so she could wash her face free of makeup. So many of her friends refused to let their husbands see them “without their face on,” something she never understood and thought absurd. From the beginning with Jim, it was imperative he understood what he was getting, both inside and out.
Well, all except one aspect of her, she thought, briefly looking into her own eyes.
Pushing that unwanted thought out of her head, she returned to her nightly ritual, expecting Jim to show up right about…now.
“Hey, honey. I thought you’d come down and watch Ed Sullivan with me.”
“Sorry, sweetheart,” she said, stepping over to where he stood leaning against the bathroom doorway and left a quick kiss to his cheek. “I’m so tired tonight and wanted to make sure I got to see the children before they turned in.”
He nodded, entering the bathroom behind her and walking over to his sink, unbuttoning his dress shirt as he did. “Everything went well tonight,” he said, turning on the faucet and rinsing his toothbrush for use.
“Thank you so much for going in my stead, Jim. I honestly appreciate it, and I know Jimmy did, too.”
He looked over at her and gave her the boyish smile that she loved. “Of course.” He leaned over, and this time, Lysette didn’t turn her head and accepted a kiss to the lips to show her gratitude. “It was fairly painless, really,” he continued, squirting some of the tooth goo onto the toothbrush. “She has her stuff together, that’s for sure.”
She smiled, following suit with her toothbrush. “Jimmy said you were taken with Miss Brannon.”
He chuckled, looking at his reflection as he brushed his teeth. He shrugged, glancing at her reflection. “I’ve learned to appreciate independent women,” he said around the toothbrush with a wink.
She rolled her eyes and shook her head with a smile as she finished up her own brushing. “Basically,” she said, putting her rinsed toothbrush away, and squirting some Jergens lotion into her palm before turning and breezing out of the bathroom, “you’ve had no choice,” she said over her shoulder. She heard Jim following, the bathroom light snapped off before he walked to the bench at the foot of the bed and moved her jacket and purse aside before sitting down. “Right?”
He spared a glance at her as he removed his socks, quiet for a moment as she rubbed the fragrant lotion into her skin. “Did Bronte tell you about her book reading award?”
“She did. I’m so proud of her. I told her we could do the picture thing with her and Lucy. In fact,” she said, walking over to him and looking down into his eyes. “Why don’t we make a date of it? You’re always saying we should do more. So why don’t we take the girls to the show and drop them off and we can grab some dinner, just the two of us?”
“When were you thinking?” he asked, second sock halfway pulled off his foot, the first tossed to the floor.
“Saturday.”
He cleared his throat and looked away. “I can’t. I have the Clarke case I need to do some work on.”
She rolled her eyes and walked back over to the bed.
“Lysette,” he began softly, glancing over his shoulder at her where she stood near her side of the bed. “Don’t you miss…I don’t know. Don’t you miss the days when it was just us?”
She looked at him with drawn eyebrows. “Just us? Before the kids?” She smirked. “Because that was about exactly nine months.”
He smiled, giving her a sheepish grin. “Yeah, a little oops on our wedding night for sure.”
“So what do you mean?” she pressed, removing her wedding ring and placing it in the jewelry box on the dresser—she was always concerned with the diamond getting caught in the sheets and blankets—and turned down the bed.
He turned on the bench so he could turn his head and look at her. “I mean, and I swear, this has nothing to do with Aunt Josie. I love her being here and could never live without her baked pears. But,” he scooted farther, resting his hands on the footboard as Lysette continued turning down both sides of the bed, fluffing first her pillow, then Jim’s two. “Don’t you miss when it was just the four of us? When we had dinner together—”
Hand on hip, she paused in her task and pinned him to the spot with a hard stare. “Reading between the lines,” she interrupted. “What you miss is me waking you in the morning with a smile and kiss. What you miss is me meeting you with a smile and a cup of coffee, as well as a large breakfast. What you miss is me wasting my day waiting by the phone just in case you decide to call before you head out on a business lunch with a dinner request. What you miss,” she continued, with a dramatic sigh, “is me waiting at the door with a smile and a rum and Coca-Cola. What you miss—”
“I get it, Lysette,” he growled, pushing to his feet and walking to the closet as he stripped.
“No, that’s just it, you don’t.” She walked over to him, standing with both hands on hips now and feet planted wide apart. “You miss having me here at your beck and call, full makeup and hair so you can come home to the perfect wifey who has magically created the perfect house with the perfect dinner and the perfectly washed and folded laundry, which,” she said, finger held up in emphasis, “I would hang in the closet and put in your drawers for you. You miss me being here every second of the day for every need you may have, including going on a Fashion Week Easter egg hunt to find every piece of clothing and accessories you leave littered all over the house!”
He looked down at the growing pile of clothing at his feet, as well as his necktie, earlier flung to land on a lampshade and his socks by the bench. Without a word, he gathered his discarded clothing.
Lysette felt bad at the look of shame on his face as he moved around the room, gathering everything and making sure it all ended up in the hamper, even as a shirtsleeve dangled, almost as though sticking its tongue out at her.
“Honey,” she said softly, very surprised that her emotions and temper had gotten completely out of hand.
Jim had been a good husband, a wonderful father, and good provider. For the most part, he’d given her latitude to follow her desires and dreams, far more than most men would with their wives. This had been a condition of their marriage, but still, he’d followed through on his part of the bargain as had she.
“Listen,” she said, walking back over to the bed where he stood on the opposite side, giving her a quick glance that broke her heart. He looked like a puppy who had been caught messing on the floor and wanted a way to make it up to its owner. As much as she felt bad for losing her temper, she had to continue her point. “Jim, you’ve been good overall about my work with the underprivileged kids and getting them the supplies they need. And I didn’t start my work outside of our local community until the children were a little older, able to do most things for themselves. And now with Aunt Josie here, she can be here that twenty percent that I’m not, or like tonight, the rare time you have to step in.”
He nodded, climbing into bed, stacking his two pillows as he liked them. “I know. I just miss you, I guess.”
Lysette switched on the bedside lamp before walking over to the overhead light switch on the wall and pushing it off. “You can’t have it both ways,” she said, climbing into her side. “You can’t crowd the plate on your weekends and then complain how I spend my weekdays.” She again pinned him to the spot with her gaze, he holding it for a moment before looking away with a nod. Their long-standing mutual understand
ing reaffirmed.
“Good night, Lysette,” he said, getting settled in.
“Good night.”
****
“Okay, girls,” Lysette said, a bucket of popcorn in hand to match those in Bronte and Lucy’s hands as she stood at the entrance of the small theater with about sixty seats. “Decide where you want to sit.” She glanced over her shoulder to see the two girls standing behind her, looking out over the darkened cinema. They’d arrived a little late as Lucy’s mother was late dropping her off at the Vaughn house.
“There’s three open down there,” Lucy said, a fat kernel of popcorn between her fingers as she used that hand to indicate the general direction.
Seeing the empty seats, Lysette hurried toward them, murmuring apologies and excusing herself as the three had to sidestep in front of those already seated to reach their seats.
She chose the seat closest to the wall with Bronte sitting next to her and Lucy on the other side of her. Setting her popcorn on the floor between her feet, Lysette shrugged out of her jacket. She turned around in the hard wood seat as best she could to try to place it against the back portion when something a few rows up caught her eye.
Eleanor sat in a chair about midway down the aisle looking relaxed and ready to enjoy the show. She was not alone. Sitting next to her was a pretty blonde who was talking to her, her hand reaching out to brush or touch Eleanor’s hand where it rested on the arm of the theater chair from time to time.
Lysette quickly turned back around in her seat, her heart racing. Yes, Eleanor could absolutely be there with a friend, but it was obvious there was history of some sort between the two women. There was intimacy either currently or at some time in the past.
“Mom?”
Lysette was…angry.
“Mom?”
How dare she!
“Mom!”
“What?” she snapped, glaring over at Bronte, who was glaring right back. She looked away for a moment to take a steadying breath, then turned back to the girl. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. What is it?”
“Will you please hold this so I can take my jacket off?”
“Of course.”
Lysette took Bronte’s popcorn and held it in her lap; her mind returned to where it had been headed moments before. Again, she could see Eleanor sitting there, looking so calm, so smug. She could see that woman sitting next to her. How dare she flaunt that in here? There were children present, for crying out loud!
“Mom?”
The blonde wasn’t even that pretty, she thought angrily.
“Mom?”
As a teacher, effectively a servant of the community, Eleanor should—
“Mom!”
“What?”
“Can I have my popcorn back?”
Lysette looked down into the bucket, which was a third eaten. She hadn’t even realized she’d been stuffing her mouth full with each angry thought. Without a word, she reached down and grabbed her untouched bucket, handing it over.
Chapter Nine
“Heads up!”
Lysette brought her hands up to instinctively cover her face, watching in shock between her fingers as Eleanor’s hand shot up and, like a magnetic pull, snatched the flying barrel lid out of the air. Huge aquamarine eyes met equally large violet ones.
“How did you do that?”
Eleanor laughed while holding the lid. Michael ran over and grabbed it from her before running back to his brother where they’d been tossing it back and forth through the air to each other.
“No idea.” Eleanor lifted up from where she’d been lying on the grass beneath the shade of a tree to watch the boys play. “What are they doing? They’re going to kill someone with that thing.”
Lysette chuckled, still lying on her back next to her friend, hands tucked beneath her head. “They call it the plate game. They picked it up from some kids on the beach last time we were in California.”
“The plate game?” Eleanor turned her focus to Lysette as she also lay back down. “Tell me they don’t use your mother’s good dishes.”
Lysette burst into laughter, her hand automatically shooting out to touch the soft skin of Eleanor’s forearm. “You’ve been staying here for almost two weeks. What do you think?”
Eleanor grinned. “True enough.”
The two grew quiet for a long moment, Lysette’s fingers continuing to absently trace patterns on Eleanor’s arm, something she’d grown fond of doing during their time together as unexpected roommates. She loved how soft her skin was. With very little hair on her forearms, Eleanor’s skin was nearly as soft as a baby’s bottom.
“Okay, so you were saying a turtle,” she said, gaze searching the clouds above for the object Eleanor had pointed out before the runaway flying disc had interrupted them.
Eleanor’s other arm raised, and she pointed a finger. “There. See it? Over by those trees? But…well, crud. Its legs fell off.”
Lysette laughed, moving her head to rest against Eleanor’s so she could try to look where she was. “Yeah, and its arms and its tail and its head…”
“Yeah, yeah,” Eleanor grumbled. “So it’s just a shell now.”
“It looks like a boob,” Lysette said absently, glancing over when she heard a shocked gasp. “What? Not like you don’t have them, too.” She was utterly charmed by the bright pink stain that worked its way up from the opened button collar of her dress. “Ohh,” she purred, snuggling up to her and giving her an exaggerated hug to get her giggling as she was pushed away.
“Stop it!”
Lysette grinned and moved slightly away, though she stayed on her side, resting her cheek into an upturned palm. “What did you think of the chapters we read last night?” she asked. Somehow, over the past week and a half, the girls had migrated into sleeping in the same bedroom, the purple room, each in her own twin bed. But before sleep, they stretched out over the bed to laugh and giggle, play card games, or take turns reading out loud to each other.
Eleanor tucked a hand behind her head, her gaze still locked to the sky above. “I liked it, but I wasn’t sure why on earth the sister would end up going off with the lumberjack.” She scrunched her face up as she looked at Lysette. “And then when they kissed…”
A bark of laughter escaped Lysette’s lips as her head fell back in amusement. “It wasn’t that bad, Ellie.”
Eleanor looked at her with a raised eyebrow. “Did the author ever once mention Richard bathing after cutting down half the forest?”
“Somehow, I think Harris was more concerned about telling the story than pleasing a picky sophomore who would be reading his book thirty years after he wrote it.”
Eleanor chuckled. “Yeah, well, maybe he should have taken that into consideration.”
“Have you ever kissed anyone?” Lysette asked casually, smiling at the expression that earned her.
“Have you met my father?”
“Touché. Have you practiced?”
Eleanor’s eyebrows fell in confusion. “I essentially just told you I’d never kissed anyone before.”
“No, I know. But like on the mirror or on your arm. You know,” Lysette brought her arm to her face so the bend was at her mouth, leaving it there for a moment to give Eleanor the idea before dropping her hand back down to the grass beneath them, a bit scratchy as it wasn’t thick and lush like usual because of the drought.
“Ew! No!”
Lysette gave her a mischievous grin. “I have. I think my mom caught me by default one day. I was running late for school and forget to wipe my mirror off. She looked at me funny when I got home.”
“Can’t imagine why,” Eleanor said dryly.
“Stop!” Lysette swiped playfully at her. “How else are we supposed to learn? I mean, I tried it once with a boy, and trust me,” she said, making a face, “so not worth the price of admission.”
“Well,” Eleanor said stubbornly, “I’m never getting married, so it doesn’t matter.”
Lysette felt a little stab in her stomach, an
d she wasn’t sure what it was. Was it happiness that maybe she’d never lose who was quickly becoming her best friend to a man and the life of a wife and mother? Or was it disappointment that Eleanor never intended to let anyone get close to her heart?
“Boys! Get your gear into the car!” Davis Landon boomed, stepping out of the house carrying his fishing pole and a large tacklebox.
Lysette sat up fully, attention taken from the beautiful girl lying next to her. It was the last weekend before school started—and the last weekend Eleanor would be staying with them. Ed Landry and his handyman William Gabford, who everyone called Gabby, worked night and day on the farmhouse when not manning the store. Gabby had been extremely helpful, but there was something about him that made Lysette uneasy. She couldn’t put her finger on what it was, and though she wanted to talk to Ellie about it, she didn’t want to make her feel uncomfortable around the guy who was around her family so much.
Their plate game abandoned, Lysette’s brothers booked it to the house as their father walked over to the large tree.
“There’s my girls,” he said, giving the pair a wide, welcoming smile. “Your maman has a surprise for you two in the house.”
“What is it?” Lysette asked, bouncing up to her feet and accepting the warm hug he offered her. She adored her father, and when she saw the way that monster Ed Landry treated Ellie and Emma, it made her blood boil.
“Well, it wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you, now would it?” he asked, reaching up to tweak her nose. “Your brothers and I are heading up to Big Bear, and hopefully, we can bring back dinner for tomorrow. So,” he continued, glancing over at Eleanor, who had also stood. “You think you ladies can manage to not burn down the house for a night?”
Lysette glanced over at Eleanor, lips curling into a saucy grin. “I don’t know, Ellie. What do you think?”
“I don’t understand that concern, Mr. Landon,” Eleanor said sagely. “I’m just a good church-going girl who does nothing but read my Bible.” She punctuated her statement with an exaggeratedly innocent smile.