“Well, one of us is settling in,” Jenna said, twisting her hair into a knot. It was a good thing that ombré highlights were in style because her roots were taking over. “Sabrina’s still not happy in Wonderland. And she’s really not looking forward to church. The kids haven’t exactly been welcoming. I’m probably going to have to pry her out of bed with a crowbar.”
“Jealous girls?” Mel guessed.
“You got it.”
“Don’t give up. There’s bound to be a nice one in there somewhere.”
“I wish she’d show up pretty soon.”
“So, our baby’s not enjoying herself at all?”
“Oh, she is. As long as I’m spending money on her or doing something to keep her entertained. She’s not enjoying helping with cleanup. She’d as soon go live with Damien as stay here with me.” Jenna sighed. “If he wanted her...” Would she be able to part with her daughter if it made her happy? Yes, if that was what it took. The very thought made tears rush to her eyes.
“That’s a moot point, since he doesn’t have custody.”
He’d claimed he wanted to be able to spend time with his daughter, even made sure the court entitled him to do so, but his actions didn’t exactly speak louder than his words. She should give him the opportunity to prove it, call him and see if he could take Sabrina for a weekend visit. He could certainly manage that.
“Anyway, don’t give up,” Mel said. “She’ll adjust.”
“I wish I could make her transition easier.”
“It would be easier if she fixed her attitude. Maybe, instead of trying to make her happy, you suggest she try and make herself happy and then offer a bribe. Try to have a good attitude and I’ll...”
“Let you live another day?”
“That, too. Seriously, what’s she been wanting that you could dangle in front of her?”
As if Mom didn’t know. “Mom, she’s too young.”
“Honey, she’s fourteen.”
“Barely.”
“Barely counts. Anyway, there’s no school right now. You don’t have to worry about earning the PTO stamp of approval. Let her color her hair.”
“I don’t know,” said Jenna.
“Remember your twelfth birthday?”
“I know. You didn’t want me to get my ears pierced.”
“But we did it. You’d done all your chores without complaining for the whole month. It made a great reward and a perfect birthday present.”
That had been a memorable day of mother-daughter fun. Her mom had taken her to lunch at Red Robin first, and after the big ear-piercing event, they’d gone shopping for some pretty earrings with her birthstone. It had probably blown her mother’s budget for the month but the time together had been priceless.
“Ask Sabrina to try and be a cheerful helper for a week. If she can keep a smile on her face you’ll turn her hair purple. Or green. Or whatever.”
“Pink.”
“Oh, yes. Pink. Pink is nice. Think pink, pretty in pink, in the pink.”
“You’re right,” Jenna conceded. What did it matter if her daughter had pink hair for the summer?
“It’s a bargaining chip,” Mel said.
And Jenna could use all the bargaining chips she could get her hands on.
They chatted a few more minutes, then ended the call so each could get ready for the day.
Jenna finished putting on her makeup, mulling over behavior modification and bargaining chips. Hair was a good one, but the best reward of all would be a visit to Daddy. In fact, that shouldn’t be something to be earned; it should be something to be expected. Of course, when it came to Damien, expecting and getting were two different things. Still...
On impulse, Jenna put in a call to him. Spending time together would be as good for him as it would for Sabrina, and maybe if he began to act the part of good Dad he truly would become one.
It took several rings for him to answer with a sleepy hello.
Jenna didn’t bother with niceties like, “Did I wake you?” Instead, she plunged right in. “Sabrina misses you. Can we set up a weekend visit?”
“What? When?” He sounded panicked.
“Next weekend.” Why not? “I’ll bring her up.” She had a ton of things to do, but she’d carve out the time. A visit with her family and friends would do her good.
“I can’t.”
Balking, of course. She frowned. “Do you have an art show or something? She could come, you know.”
“No. But you know where I’m living.” He made it sound as if it were her fault he’d wound up in his parents’ basement...which had a bedroom, bathroom, minikitchen, TV, couch and pool table. Poor baby.
“There’s no place for her here.”
“Your parents have a spare room.”
“It’s being used.”
Probably as his mom’s sewing room. What a flimsy excuse.
“Jenna, it won’t work right now. I want to see her but I need time to pull my life together.”
Ironic, considering he was the one who’d pulled it apart. Jenna felt her temper rising like the tide. “How much time do you need? When are you planning on seeing your daughter?”
“I’d have been able to see her anytime I wanted if you hadn’t moved to the other end of the world.”
Oh, yes. It was all her fault. She forced herself to calm down and stay on point. “I can bring her up anytime. We can stay at Mom’s and you can pick her up there and go do something.”
“Good idea. Later this summer. Okay? After I get settled.”
Who knew when that would be. “She misses you, Damien.”
“And I miss her.”
Yeah, Jenna could tell.
“But I’m in the middle of some things right now. I got a commission.”
Here was a surprise. “You did?”
“A new theater is opening up in Icicle Falls and they want something for the lobby.”
Icicle Falls was a cute German town in the Cascades. Were they aware of Damien’s medium? Was he going to make them something out of lederhosen and old tires?
Okay, she could be gracious. “That’s great.” And if he started getting enough commissions for his art maybe he could become self-sufficient and she could renegotiate the maintenance settlement. Go, Damien.
“Yeah, it is. My reputation is spreading.”
“I’m glad for you.” Sort of. Almost. “So, what can I tell Sabrina?”
“Hmm?”
He’d checked out of the conversation, moved on to envisioning himself as the next Dale Chihuly. “Your daughter,” she prompted.
“I know, I know. Just give me some time to adjust.”
He had to be kidding. What was he adjusting to besides having no responsibility? “I’m still adjusting, too, Damien,” she said irritably.
Wrong thing to say. “I’ll take her when I’m ready. Quit pushing.”
“I shouldn’t have to push.”
“And quit trying to guilt me into doing what you want. We’re not married anymore and I don’t have to put up with your bullshit.” And on that pleasant note he ended the call.
Bullshit! Really? How was it pushing trying to pin down a time for him to see his own daughter?
Jenna scowled at her phone. Any time she tried to get him to act like a grown-up he accused her of making him feel guilty. When he wasn’t accusing her of that he was complaining that she didn’t understand him, didn’t believe in him.
Okay, so maybe after a while she had stopped believing. Or maybe she’d simply gotten tired of being the only grown-up in the relationship. Obviously, he’d gotten tired of that, which was where Aurora had come in. Peter Pan had needed a new Wendy. No, Wendy had been responsible. He’d wanted a Tinkerbell and that was what he’d gotten. More like Tinkerboob. Tinkerboob and Peter Poop, Jenna thought in disgust.
What was she going to tell Sabrina next time she talked about wanting to see Daddy? Not the truth, that was for sure.
With a sigh, she made her way to her daughter’s room to see if Sabrina had managed to haul herself out of bed yet.
She hadn’t. In fact, she’d slipped farther under the covers and pulled them over her head.
“Come on, lazy daisy, time to get up,” Jenna said, forcing mommy good cheer into her voice. She pulled the covers from her daughter’s head and kissed her.
“I don’t want to get up.” Sabrina groaned. “I don’t want to go to church.” She’d said the same thing about school when she was eight and struggling with math.
“I know. But this isn’t optional.”
“You are so mean,” Sabrina informed her, pulling the covers back over her head.
“It’s in my job description.”
Jenna weighed her options. Be mean and drag the child out of bed. Threaten her with...what? No ice cream for a week? There would be no promise of a visit to Daddy to motivate an attitude adjustment. Okay, that left pink hair.
She sat on the edge of her daughter’s bed. “It’s a shame you’re not being more cooperative. I was thinking if you tried to be more positive I’d let you color your hair.”
Sabrina flung off the covers and sat up, her eyes bright. “Really?”
“I’m not wild about you doing this. Your hair is already gorgeous,” Jenna began, making her daughter’s mouth dip down at the corners. “But if you could work on improving your attitude...a little less complaining—”
“I can!”
“No complaints about going to church.”
For a moment, Sabrina looked dubious. But then she came to a decision and nodded. “Okay.”
“All right, then. Let’s see if you can make good on that promise.”
“I will! When can we do it?”
“When I see a change in your attitude.”
Sabrina frowned. “But when? Tomorrow?”
“Let’s give it a few days. This is a big deal, Sabrina. I want you to earn it.”
“Okay. You’re the best mom ever!” Sabrina cried, and hugged Jenna.
Yep, the best mom ever. For about two minutes.
Sabrina was true to her word. She was all smiles at breakfast, and set the table without being asked.
“What are you so happy about?” Pete asked her as they dug into pancakes.
“Mom’s gonna let me dye my hair.”
Pete rolled his eyes. “Why do women do that?”
“To look good, of course,” Aunt Edie told him.
“Men don’t care about stuff like that,” Pete said.
“Oh? Ever hear the saying ‘Gentlemen prefer blondes’ or ‘Blondes have more fun’?” Aunt Edie replied. “You don’t think Marilyn Monroe was born with that hair color, do you? Anyway, it’s fun. An artistic expression.” She smiled at Sabrina. “What color are you thinking of?”
“Pink.”
“Pink? You’ll look like you got cotton candy on your head,” Pete said in disgust. “Who dyes their hair pink?”
“Lots of girls these days,” Jenna said, coming to her daughter’s defense. Or maybe she was coming to her own. Good moms let their daughters go pink. Well, why not? Maybe she’d put some fun color in her hair...and embarrass her child.
“I think it’s great that your mother’s letting you do that,” said Aunt Edie, who had obviously gotten the bribe-the-kid memo.
“But remember, you have to hold up your end of the bargain,” Jenna reminded Sabrina.
“What’s that?” Pete wanted to know.
“She’s going to work on improving her attitude,” Jenna told him, making Sabrina blush and frown at her. Okay, she shouldn’t have shared.
“Ha! Good luck with that,” Pete said, and shoveled in another mouthful of pancake.
“Why’d you have to tell him?” Sabrina demanded once they were on their way to church.
“You’re right. My bad. Our deal was none of his business.”
“I don’t like him.”
“He’s a little lacking in social skills,” Jenna said.
“A little?”
“Okay, a lot. And just between us, I’m not real fond of him, either. But he’s been kind to Aunt Edie and she likes him, so let’s try to find the best in him.”
“Good luck with that,” Sabrina said.
And good luck with her daughter making any effort to make friends. She didn’t hang out in the foyer with Jenna, preferring to duck into the sanctuary and hide. Jenna watched her go with a sigh.
“It will get better,” Tyrella assured her.
“Only if you can birth an instant fourteen-year-old for her to hang out with.”
“She’ll find her feet. Transitions are tough on kids. It takes a while.”
“It’s my fault she’s here.”
“No, it’s thanks to you that she’s here. This will turn out to be a good thing for both of you. Wait and see.”
“How long do I have to wait?”
“For as long as it takes. Come on, let’s go in and keep her company.”
Pastor Paul Welch was in fine form that morning, and Jenna wished her daughter was paying attention. Even though Jenna had a no-iPod-in-church rule to cut down on distraction, she knew from experience that a kid could tune out adult talk even without the aid of technology.
“And so,” concluded Pastor, “if Abraham could strike out and leave behind his family and friends and way of life, surely we can be brave enough to tackle whatever challenge we’re being called to meet.”
Hmm. Had Pastor Paul read Muriel Sterling’s new-beginnings book?
“I think God gave Pastor that message just for you girls,” Tyrella said when the service was over and the congregation began to leave the sanctuary. “What do you think, Sabrina?”
Sabrina blushed, evidence that she hadn’t been listening. “I guess,” she said, not meeting Tyrella’s eye.
Tyrella chuckled. “Run home and collect your aunt,” she told Jenna. “Then you girls come on over to my place. I’ve got fried chicken, macaroni salad, green beans, and a key lime pie that will make you think you died and went to heaven.”
“Sounds great. What can I bring?” Jenna asked.
“Just your sweet little aunt and a big appetite,” Tyrella said. “And, of course, your darling girl,” she added, and gave Sabrina’s cheek a pat.
“Hear that?” Jenna said to Sabrina as they left. “You’re a darling.”
“I’m your darling,” Sabrina said, and linked arms with her.
With the promise of pink hair dancing on the horizon, yes. For the moment. No. Always, no matter what.
Tyrella’s snug little bungalow was a two-story affair with lots of windows and a long front porch. It was painted the same Creamsicle orange that was popular with some of the shops and other houses around town. Clumps of daisies and lavender hugged the porch and the front walk, and a big rhododendron with purple flowers made its presence known at one corner of the house. Wind chimes created from shells and beach glass and tiny bits of driftwood tinkled a welcome.
“Isn’t this adorable?” Aunt Edie gushed as they made their way to the front door. “Tyrella has such flair.”
“It makes me think of fairy tales,” Sabrina observed.
Her daughter was right. Jenna could almost imagine pixies hiding under the rhodie or envision Snow White inside, tidying up before the dwarfs came home. Tyrella did, indeed, have flair. “Welcome, ladies,” she said, throwing wide the door.
“This is really sweet of you to have us,” Jenna told her.
“I love having people over for Sunday dinner,” she said.
Obviously. They entered to discover they weren’t her only dinner guests. Tyrella had also invited the pastor. “I thought you two should get to kno
w each other,” she said to Jenna and Pastor Paul. “Seeing as how you’re new in town and all, Jenna,” she hastily added.
Too late. She’d already betrayed her ulterior motive. But seriously? As if the pastor would be interested in someone newly divorced. Or divorced at all. Pastors were supposed to have it together. The same thing held true for their wives. Jenna doubted she’d qualify, even if she wanted to.
“Nice to see you again,” he said politely after Tyrella had introduced everyone. “This was your second Sunday with us, wasn’t it?”
“As a matter of fact, it was,” Jenna said.
“I hope everyone’s making you both feel welcome,” he said.
Most everyone. “Yes,” Jenna answered for herself and her daughter.
“You’re not going to see me in church,” Aunt Edie informed him. “All the churches these days play the music way too loud.”
He took the scold with a good-natured smile. “I know.”
“But I think Jenna’s enjoying it,” Aunt Edie continued.
“Your sermon sure fit my life right now,” Jenna told him.
“I’m glad,” he said with a nod. “I just say what I think God wants me to say. So,” he continued, still smiling, “is your husband going to be coming down with you?”
Awkward as a fart in church. Silence, a pout from Sabrina, a flush across Jenna’s face and an uh-oh look on the pastor’s.
“They’re divorced,” Aunt Edie said.
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
“These things happen,” Aunt Edie said. “Tyrella, can we help you?”
Tyrella, who had been standing frozen, came to life. “You sure can. Sabrina, are you any good at cutting French bread?”
“I don’t know,” Sabrina said, still frowning.
“Come on. Let’s find out,” Tyrella said, and she and Aunt Edie escaped, herding Sabrina into the kitchen, leaving Jenna and Paul standing in the living room. He motioned to the sofa and she sat down.
He took a chair opposite. “I’m sorry I stepped in it just now. Tyrella didn’t tell me.”
“I guess she figured you’d find out. Anyway, it’s all good.” Or it would be. Eventually.
“You couldn’t pick a better place to hit Restart,” said Paul.
“You’re right, and I’m ready to. It wasn’t my idea to get divorced,” she couldn’t help adding. I’m not the sinner here.
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