Limited Light

by Carla Rossi

  Good. I’ve been doing a little research myself and have some things to show you.

  He didn’t want to talk business. Especially not now that she was smiling. So what are you makin’ with the cocoa?

  Her nervous hand skimmed the handle on the cart as if she didn’t know how to answer. Brownies?

  He frowned. Are you asking or telling?

  The same hand moved to smooth a tendril of hair away from her eyes. Brownies. Definitely brownies.

  You like to cook? Jackpot !

  She took a step back and crossed her arms. All right. You found me out. A long pitiful sigh followed. I can’t cook. But I thought I’d try to make brownies to take to Kimmie’s. I remember my grandma using a recipe off a can of cocoa, but I can’t find it. I guess I could go online.

  She can’t cook ? Oh, man, he wasn’t expecting that. How could the granddaughter of the greatest cook in Texas--probably all of America--not know how to cook? The bigger question was: Why was he so disappointed?

  He was slow to recover from the shock as he pointed to the other side of the aisle. Just get one of those mixes.

  No way. I can’t bring a boxed mix of anything in the house. Grandma Rose would kill me.

  As well she should .

  He shrugged. Don’t worry about it. I’m sure your grandma has flour, eggs, vanilla, and sugar. Buy the cocoa. She’ll show you the right combination. And don’t forget the nuts.

  She pushed her cart further down the aisle and held up a bag of walnuts in one hand and a bag of pecans in the other. Which one?

  Are you kidding me? You’re livin’ in the land of pralines and pecan pie.

  Pecans it is.

  Warm and effortless, her smile reappeared. Then he heard it. The voice .

  Pastor James. I thought you did your grocery shopping on Tuesday mornings.

  Camille Peterson. He always thought she looked like some type of waterfowl with her beak-like nose and skinny neck. As usual, her jet-black hair sat perched on her head like a mushroom cap. It never changed or moved. It had to be a wig .

  Good, morning, Camille. What are you doing out in this rain?

  Daughter’s coming in for the weekend. Need to cook a pot roast.

  Jim glanced at Martha. She was derailed, thrown off the tracks by one of the biggest gossips in Madison. Of all people to run into, it had to be the one woman who single-handedly wreaked havoc on unsuspecting church members with her malicious tongue. Still, he had a commitment to love and tolerate her no matter how much weekly damage control he had to do because of her .

  Camille went right for the kill. Well, Marti Randolph. I heard you were back in town.

  Martha eked out a tight smile. Yes, Mrs. Peterson, visiting my grandmother.

  How have you been?

  Fine. And you? How is your family?

  Camille poured on the sugar. Just wonderful. All three daughters happily married and blessin’ me with a steady stream of grandchildren. What about you, Marti? Still single?

  Yep. Still single. She turned to Jim. I need to go, Pastor James. I guess we’ll have to finish exchanging brownie and salsa recipes another time.

  He caught the subtle twitch in her forced smile as she met his gaze and arched one of her perfectly shaped brows .

  Didn’t have to hit him over the head. No, don’t rush off. I want to finish what we started. I’m sure Camille needs to get her shopping done anyway. He pushed his cart alongside Martha’s and urged them both forward. See you on Sunday, Camille.

  After they safely disappeared around the corner, Martha took off. Her wobbly cart rattled and jerked as she pushed at breakneck speed. Unable to keep up without mowing someone over in the process, Jim abandoned his cart in the shoe department .

  She barreled through menswear, health and beauty, and the toy department, then flew out the door into the garden center. By the time he caught up, she was standing under a display of hanging baskets filled with Boston ferns .

  I’ve learned one thing today, he panted, when he finally reached her side .

  What’s that?

  Never try to keep up with a track star.

  She managed a tentative smile. One that at least stopped her from finishing the hole she’d started in her bottom lip .

  He maneuvered to follow her through the maze of five-gallon hibiscus plants that decorated the floor, and eventually got a hold of her sleeve. Don’t let her get to you.

  She let out a low, agitated growl and stomped her foot among the fallen blossoms. Make one stupid mistake and someone is always going to be there to remind you. She stomped again and pressed her fingertips against her temples. You know Camille’s got secrets of her own. That first grandchild of hers was conceived out of wedlock.

  Jim glanced around to make sure they were alone--or alone as they could be in a department store. It wouldn’t do for Camille or anyone else to see them huddled together like this, even though every instinct in his body screamed to hold her in his arms and comfort her .

  He stepped in front of her and placed both hands on her upper arms. She was trembling. Do you want to go somewhere and talk about this?

  No, I’m fine.

  But she didn’t look fine, and she didn’t feel fine as she swayed in his arms, nearly pressing her head against his chest. It took everything he had not to bury his nose in her jasmine-scented hair .

  Listen, Miss Martha, he whispered softly, if Camille Peterson didn’t gossip all week, then come to church on Sunday and repent, she’d have absolutely nothing to live for. You can’t let her ruin your day.

  She gazed up at him from under long lashes. It doesn’t matter. Some mistakes are just too big to get past.

  That’s not true. I know you don’t really believe that, ‘cause if you did it would be the same as saying God wasn’t big enough to take care of it. And I know you know better than that.

  The deep crease in her forehead slowly disappeared. I didn’t mean to blurt that out about Camille’s grandbaby.

  I know you didn’t. Don’t worry, the secret’s safe.

  She stepped back. I have to finish up here and get back to job hunting. She looked around. Where is your cart, anyway?

  Aisle nine, shoe department.

  She giggled. Best go find it. I’ve heard a lot about your homemade salsa.

  Jim let out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding. With every step she took away from him, the blue ribbon from her hair drifted further down her back. He stayed a few steps behind as it hung limply for a second at her waist, then floated to the floor .

  He picked it up and stuffed it in his pocket .

  ****

  Marti sped past Kimmie’s house and stopped her car in the cul-de-sac at the end of the street. As much as she wanted to catch up with Kimmie and meet her family, the thought of putting on a smile and being sociable seemed monumentally hard, given her current emotional state. She flipped her phone open .

  Hey Kimmie, I’ve been thinking...I’m not really in the mood for game night. I think I need to stay home and continue to look for a job.

  Long pause. Marti?

  Yes?

  Did you really think we didn’t see you fly past the house? Your bright red sports car kinda stands out around here.

  Marti’s best response was Uh...

  And you do realize you’re sitting in a cul-de-sac and have to drive back this way.

  She clearly hadn’t thought this through. Everyone always said she was a book-smart genius, but that she could use a little more common horse sense. I’ll be there in a minute.

  She stood on the doorstep with her bright pink strappy sandals dangling from two fingers, and a bag of chips stuffed under her arm. With her free hand, she pressed on the tortoise shell combs on either side of her head .

  Pastor James answered the door. Why aren’t your shoes on your feet?

  Excuse me?

  I mean, hello. And why aren’t your shoes on your feet? Fire ants are crawling all over the place because of the rain.


  Why are you answering Kimmie’s door?

  They’re in the back squeezing the baby into some cute outfit we just have to see. He rolled his eyes. It’s amazing what I’ve had to witness since they found Baby Gap online.

  She handed him the chips and brushed past him into the foyer. I took my sandals off because there are still puddles from the rain and I didn’t want to get them wet.

  Oh. Where are my brownies?

  She dropped her gaze to the floor and solemnly shook her head. Don’t ask.

  Marti.

  She turned toward the voice and found herself in another one of Kimmie’s warm hugs.

  Marti, this is my husband Danny. She held out the baby. And this is Matthew in his new outfit.

  Poor Matthew was being swallowed by a pair of tropical print swimming trunks and a bright yellow baby-sized muscle shirt with the words Beach Bum across the front .

  Kimmie beamed. It’s for the summer when we go to Galveston .

  Marti glanced at Pastor James, who had turned his head away to keep from laughing .

  Just as proud, Danny stood by with a bandana wrapped around his head, and jeans slung so low she could see a little too much of his boxers. She wondered what happened to Kimmie’s sense of fashion .

  He’s a beautiful boy. I can see why you’re so proud.

  Here, Kimmie said, shoving the baby into her arms, take him while I put dinner on the table.

  The men followed them into the dining room, where Marti sat down on a chair and struggled to keep the squirming baby in her arms. She had little to no experience where babies were concerned, and it didn’t help that the guys were watching every clumsy move she made. And of course the kid was fussy because he had no idea who she was. While one miniature hand grabbed a wad of her hair, the other flailed in the air with tiny pointy fingers poised to poke her eye out. Then, he did that thing that babies do, arching his back and nearly sliding off her lap. Because of the enormous clothes, there was no way for her to get a good grip. He was about to be a Beach Bum splat on the floor .

  Danny came to the rescue and scooped him out of her arms. He’s really active, he said apologetically .

  No, it’s me. I haven’t been around babies much.

  She caught Pastor James staring at her from the corner as she attempted to refasten her hair in the comb. She’d only done it a million times, but with him scrutinizing her every move, it turned into a series of jerky, awkward movements--and it still didn’t stay in right. And why did he make her so nervous anyway? He was just a man. A man who made her smile for the first time in weeks. A man who came to her rescue in the supermarket. A man who sure did right by a pair of jeans and a polo shirt .

  She left the dining room and headed for the hall mirror. Knock it off, Marti. There’s nothing for you in Madison ...

  Once alone, the comb went into place in one fluid movement.

  Kim says dinner’s ready.

  She jumped and spun around. That was twice in one day he’d managed to sneak up on her .

  That reminds me. A soft tinkling sound came from her pocket as she fished around and pulled out a silver jingle bell. I went back to the arts and crafts department this morning to get this for you.

  She dropped the bell into his outstretched hand as they laughed.

  Thanks. I think.

  A gentle wave of electricity passed between them when his gaze met hers in the dim hallway. She immediately looked away .

  I have something, too. He reached in his pocket and pulled out her crumpled ribbon .

  She instinctively touched the back of her head, even though logically she knew it had been hours since she’d lost it. Where did you get that?

  You dropped it this morning. He started to thread the ribbon through the top of the bell. I was going to give it back to you, but now I need it. He tied a knot and held it up. See?

  The urge to counter with a playful and flirty response was suddenly overwhelming .

  Um...uh... She had nothing .

  He shoved his new necklace in his pocket and escorted her to the table .

  She took a seat across from him and tried to make it through dinner without dripping salsa down the front of her lavender shirt. It wasn’t easy, especially while trying to wedge big crunchy chips in her mouth sideways to keep from making so many embarrassing chewing noises. Mercifully, the baby put on a show that drew the attention away from her. When he’d had enough of his high chair, Pastor James confidently rescued him. He let him sit on his knee and gnaw on a flour tortilla so his parents could eat. Was there anything the man couldn’t do?

  After dinner, Danny pulled a board game out of the closet. I hope you don’t mind Monopoly. We took all the other games to the church for the youth.

  Marti smiled inwardly. It was only her favorite game. While other six-year-olds played Candyland, she’d been dealing in prime real estate on Boardwalk and Park Place .

  Not at all. It’ll be fun.

  Pastor James handed her a wad of well-used fake money. Then, he winked at her and smiled. You can be the banker.

  Marti choked on her own saliva as she drew in a sharp breath. Very attractive, she was sure. Did he really just wink at her? More importantly, did he realize how cute and charming he was when he did so? She narrowed her eyes. Of course he knew. It was part of his diabolical plan to throw her off balance before the big game. She wanted to ask him if he knew whom he was dealing with. Did he know he was about to be annihilated? We’ll see who’s smiling when the dust settles.. .

  Three hours into the game, Danny had lost big. Okay, he said raising his hands, I’m broke. Plus I‘ve been sitting too long.

  Your strategy was weak, Marti stated with great conviction .

  I didn’t have a strategy.

  That would explain why you’re broke.

  Ha-ha, Marti. It’s just a game.

  I haven’t really gained or lost money, Kimmie said. What is my problem?

  You stay even because you don’t take chances. You didn’t buy property when you could’ve. You played it safe.

  Safe is the operative word, Kimmie retorted. I’m not broke.

  Ah...but you’re not rich either. Bor - ing.

  Kimmie stood up and stretched. I’m putting the baby down. Danny can play for me. I don’t think he can mess me up too bad on one or two turns.

  I don’t want to play anymore, he said and stood up. Just skip over us. I’m helpin’ Kim with Matthew.

  Marti shook her head in dismay. Quitters. She was only half teasing .

  Pastor James went to the kitchen and got a diet cherry cola from the fridge. Want one?

  No, thanks. She repositioned herself in her chair and turned her head from side to side to work out the kinks. Looks like it’s just us. It’s your turn.

  I could roll, but there’s hardly any point. You and I are in a dead heat. We’re just traveling around the board and basically trading the same money back and forth.

  True. But at any minute someone will land on a bad space and the other will pull ahead.

  It’s late, he yawned. Can’t we just call it even?

  But who would be the winner?

  There doesn’t have to be a winner.

  Now he’s just talkin’ crazy . Of course there has to be a winner. There’s always a winner. Why else would we play?

  For the fun of it. Didn’t you have fun just being with friends?

  Yes, but we have to play ‘til there’s a winner.

  Why?

  Because. That’s the way it is.

  He was laughing at her. She could see it in his twinkling eyes and hear it in his voice. There was a definite hint of mischief in that drawl .

  Don’t get mad, Miss Martha, but tell me, suppose we play this through, no matter how many hours it takes, and suppose I win.

  She hadn’t really thought of that. She always won. Then I lose, I guess.

  And that would be okay with you? To lose? To me?

  She gnawed on that for a second. It would be okay.
<
br />   Oh really.

  Yes. It would be fine. She paused. One heartbeat...two heartbeats... Until the rematch.

  His laugh was so sudden that cola nearly spewed across the board. Thank goodness for his quick work with a napkin. Ah-ha! I knew it. You can’t play and not win.

  Yes I can.

  No. You can’t.

  I can.

  He leaned forward in his chair, a dare in his eyes. Prove it. Walk away. Let’s fold this game up and forget it. Call it a draw. It’s late, you’re tired, let’s go home without a winner.

  We can’t just fold it up, she argued .

  He placed his fingertips under the edges of the board. Sure we can.

  She glared back at him. Don’t do it Pastor James...if you fold that board up, I’ll never speak to you again.. .

  In an instant he slapped the board together. Phony money caught the wind and scattered into the air. All the pieces dropped to the center in one bulky pile, trapped and suspended as he held it up for her to see. When the sound of jumbled plastic hotels and houses hit her ears, she clenched her jaws so tight she thought her teeth would snap off .

  Her face had to be red. She counted the pounding heartbeats in her ears. Perhaps they were beating a little too fast .

  She took a deep cleansing breath. I guess that’s the game, then. She stood and walked toward the door, retrieving her shoes and purse along the way. Please tell Kimmie I’ll call her tomorrow.

  Ah, c’mon. Don’t be mad. Let’s take a walk or something and talk.

  She paused in the hall to fish for her keys. No, I have to go. You said yourself, it’s late.

  He tried to step between her and the door. Put your shoes on at least, it’s dark out there.

  Tell Kimmie thanks for dinner. She floated past him .

  You’re mad at me aren’t you? Please, Miss Martha, it’s just a game.

  She opened the front door. Well, then. Game over.

  Limited Light

  Chapter Four

  The squirrels were being particularly playful. Jim sat back in his chair and assumed his usual position with his feet propped up on the edge of the desk. He had a lot of thinking to do. A lot of thinking about Martha .