Amanda held Haley’s gaze and didn’t respond. She didn’t know how to respond. She glanced away. That’s when she noticed the long streak of grease on the leg of Haley’s new dress.
“Haley!” she gasped. “Your dress!” She pointed to the dark line.
Leaning over, Haley eyed the stain. “How did that happen?” She touched it and rubbed her index finger and thumb together.
“Was Roger’s truck as junky as always?” Amanda questioned.
“Well . . .” Haley didn’t finish.
Amanda sighed and nearly gave up on trying to steer Haley from Roger. If she wanted to spend her whole life swathed in tractor grease and chicken feathers, then perhaps Amanda should let her. But a stubborn voice in the back of her mind hinted that Amanda should make light of this encounter with Roger and continue to search for a replacement.
“Roger said he was at the church Christmas party,” Haley continued and gave no more attention to the grease. She tilted her head and awaited Amanda’s response.
“Yes, he was.” Amanda nodded.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Haley pressed, a wrinkle forming between her brows.
“To be perfectly honest,” Amanda said and lifted her hand, “it never crossed my mind. That was at the same time we had the problem with M—” She stopped and squeezed the pen.
Haley looked down.
“I was so upset over all that trouble, I honestly didn’t think to mention Roger.” She stepped forward and gripped Haley’s hand to underscore her honesty.
“I understand,” Haley said and smiled.
Amanda sensed this would be the perfect opportunity to share Betty’s news. Still, she cringed and nearly backed away from telling all. Finally Amanda reminded herself that if she didn’t tell Haley, someone else would. Or even worse, Haley would see Mason with his new wife.
She cleared her throat. “Since we’re on the subject,” Amanda began, “I’ve got some really . . . disturbing news about Mason.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. He seems to have gotten himself a—” Amanda tucked her hair behind her ear and focused on the collage of pictures lining the wall. Squaring her shoulders, she swung her attention back to Haley and blurted, “He’s married.”
“Married?” Haley gasped as her fingers flexed against Amanda’s. “So quickly?”
“Yes. Betty just told me.”
Haley held Amanda’s gaze and shook her head back and forth. Then she released Amanda’s hand, moved to the sofa, and sat down. Haley stared straight ahead and hugged herself. The patter of rain on the picture window accompanied her gentle rocking.
“He’s really a fast mover, isn’t he?” she finally mumbled.
“Very fast,” Amanda agreed. Especially if his credit card bills are due. She stepped to Haley’s side and patted her back. “Are you okay, sister?” she asked.
Haley jerked her focus to Amanda. “You’ve never called me ‘sister’ like that before,” she said.
“I guess I haven’t. Really, I didn’t even realize I did then. It just came out,” Amanda said and was relieved to see the spark in Haley’s eyes. For two weeks after Christmas, there was a dull veil where life once reigned in a soul gentle yet passionate.
Rising, Haley wrapped her arms around Amanda for a tight hug. Amanda rested her head on Haley’s and hugged back.
“I don’t think Mason and I were ever meant to be,” Haley mumbled.
“I’m so glad you feel that way.” Amanda inched away and laid her hands on Haley’s shoulders.
“I do. I really do.” Haley nodded and smiled, although her eyes were misty.
“Will you just promise me one thing, Haley?” Amanda said and decided the time had come to get really honest with her friend.
“I’ll try.” Haley blotted the corner of her eye.
“Promise me you won’t decide on Roger just because you think he’s all you can get.”
Haley’s silent question hung between them.
“If you love him and really don’t mind breathing bird feathers and the fumes of cattle,” she wrinkled her nose, “then fine. But if you just care for him because you believe he cares for you,” Amanda shrugged, “that’s not love.”
Her eyes churning, Haley hugged herself again and stared toward the open window. Only the computer fan’s soft hum filled the contemplative silence.
“So how do I know if what I feel is really love?” Haley asked and searched Amanda’s face. “How will you know when you fall in love?”
Amanda pondered Franklyn and the growing attraction she felt for him. She’d lain awake for a week wondering if this was the beginning of love, but she had no answer. Franklyn was certainly a striking man. He would be a doctor in the near future, so his profession was solid. He also made Amanda laugh. And Angie had hinted several times that she thought her stepson would make a fine husband.
But is any of that love? Amanda questioned.
As Haley patiently waited, Amanda scrambled for an answer. Finally she shrugged and said, “I guess I’ll just know.”
“A lot of help you are!” Haley teased.
Twenty-One
Saturday night Amanda sat at the piano playing one of her father’s favorite hymns, “The Love of God.” Her Siamese, Cuddles, sat beside her on the bench and occasionally offered an off-tune howl. After a particularly long yowl, Harold Priebe, lounging in his recliner, laughed.
“I believe the cat thinks she’s singing,” he said.
“At least my music inspires someone,” Amanda replied as she came to the hymn’s final chords.
“You shortchange yourself, m’dear,” Harold crooned. He closed his eyes, rested his head on the back of the recliner, and said, “Play it again.” His lips tilted into a mild smile.
“Again?” Amanda asked. “That will be three times.”
“Yes, again.” Harold rested his hands on his round belly and settled in for the next rendition. “What time did you say Franklyn was supposed to be here?” he asked.
“He didn’t say an exact time—just after dinner,” Amanda replied. Franklyn had called midafternoon and asked if he could come over this evening. Amanda had readily agreed. Upon arriving home, she told her father of the visit. His lack of response had left her a bit undone.
“If we aren’t careful,” Harold said and slid her a glance, “Franklyn will replace Nate. This is three times in two weeks that he’s been by. And I don’t even remember Nate showing up for Christmas—except at the family get-together.”
Amanda laid her hands on the smooth piano keys and recalled that impersonal shopping card he’d given her for Christmas. He hadn’t even bothered to buy her a present this year while she had at least presented him a non-red tie and matching shirt. “Nate has displaced himself.” She lifted her fingers from the keys and huffed. “You might as well know, Daddy,” Amanda crossed her arms and picked at the sleeve of her T-shirt. “Nate told me there’s a woman.”
“Another woman?” Harold sat up. He swiveled to face his daughter, and his Bermuda shorts twisted near his knees.
“Well,” Amanda hedged, “I wouldn’t exactly put it that way. But yes, he says there is someone. I think Nate has quit us, Daddy.” Amanda placed her fingers on the piano and pressed what she thought were the right keys to begin “The Love of God” only to discover she’d played a minor chord.
“Hmmm,” Harold mused and stared across the room. “I need a cup of coffee to think on this.”
“I’ll get it.” Amanda stood.
“Okay, if you insist, I’ll let you.”
“You’re so spoiled,” Amanda crooned and fondly touched her father’s arm on the way by.
“Yes, and I love it,” Harold replied. “Maybe it’s best that Nate has quit us. I’d be terribly lonely without you here.”
Amanda slowed her pace and didn’t give in to the urge to ask her father if he meant what she thought he meant. Surely her dad didn’t think there was anything but friendship between her and Nate. Amanda shook her hea
d and walked toward the dining room. Perhaps her father’s clarity of thinking was starting to decline.
But he really isn’t that old, she argued.
Amanda paused near the sideboard where Sarah always kept an urn of decaf coffee for Harold’s after-dinner indulgence. Near the urn sat a bowl of dark chocolates wrapped in golden foil. Amanda helped herself to one of the delicacies Franklyn had brought the last time he visited. He said they were for Amanda’s father, but she believed they were as much for her as not. Soon, one silken chocolate led to another. After she consumed the third chocolate, Amanda busied herself pouring her father’s coffee and wondered what Franklyn might bring her dad tonight.
Before she could deliver the fragrant brew to her father, the doorbell rang.
“I guess that’s Franklyn,” Harold grumbled. He scooted to the edge of the recliner and accepted his daughter’s offering. “You might as well know, I don’t like him nearly as much as Nate.” Harold looked up through his bushy brows. “I guess if this whole man business is inevitable, I’d rather have Nate hauling you off than Franklyn.”
“Oh,” Amanda answered. She started to tell her father that there really was nothing between her and Nate when the doorbell chimed again. Deciding to save the conversation for later, she said, “Well, I guess I’ll go get that.” She pointed toward the front of the house and avoided looking at her father again.
“Yes, all doorbells were meant to be answered,” Harold said, a smile coloring his voice. “Old ancient proverb, you know.”
Amanda chuckled as her father hoisted himself from the chair. “Such wisdom, such wisdom,” she chanted.
“Well, I try.” Harold planted a kiss on her forehead. “G’night, dear. Give my regards to Franklyn. Maybe this time he’ll be man enough to say the chocolates are for you.”
Amanda followed her father to the stairs and stood at the base while he ascended to his room. His shoulders were as broad as they’d been in her childhood, yet his graying hair and thickening midsection betrayed his senior status. So did the completely odd statements he was making about Nate.
Who knows what he’s thinking, Amanda thought and imagined Nate’s expression if he heard Harold’s assumptions. In light of his mystery woman, he’d probably fall on the floor laughing.
When the doorbell rang for the fifth time, Amanda decided to think about how best to end her father’s assumptions later. Franklyn was waiting.
Only after she opened the door and smiled into Franklyn’s enchanting blue eyes did she realize Cuddles was at her feet. Her hiss and growl mingled with Amanda’s cheerful “Hello!”
Franklyn’s attention shifted from Amanda to the feline. “Well, hello down there,” he called with British glee. “You are so cute with all your hissing. Quite an attack cat, aren’t you?” Franklyn mocked before stooping toward the feline.
“Don’t!” Amanda yelled, but she wasn’t swift enough. Cuddles lurched at Franklyn with all the focus of a tiger on a mission.
“Run!” Amanda commanded while groping for the feline. Ears flat, Cuddles slipped past her owner and hurled straight at Franklyn.
He jumped sideways and bellowed, “Olé!” before outwitting the cat and slithering into the villa.
Laughing, Amanda shut the door. Cuddles responded with a wail that was even less melodious than her singing.
“No, no, Cuddles,” Amanda called through the closed door. “Bad, bad kitty! You stay outside and think about what you’ve done now!”
“Quite a beast you’ve got there, no?” Franklyn quipped and rubbed his hands against his fashionably faded jeans.
“I found her as a stray. She feels threatened by any of my male friends,” Amanda said and slipped her hands into the pockets of her shorts.
“Really? I’d have never guessed.”
She cut him a droll stare.
“Where has she been the other times I’ve visited?”
“Upstairs in my room,” Amanda explained. “I forgot to lock her in there tonight.”
Cuddles’ mellow howling sounded like a sad, sorry soul who’d lost her mate.
“Poor thing,” Franklyn said and moved to the window beside the door. “Why not go ahead and put her upstairs where she belongs? If I’m forced to listen to her for very long, I say, I believe I would slit my wrists.”
Amanda chuckled. “Okay, okay,” she agreed.
“Besides, I’ve left something in the back of my car—or, Angie’s car, rather. Can’t believe I’d be so absentminded.” He placed his fingertips together and tapped them against each other. “Of course, I have much on my mind these days.” He stared into the distance, and a troubled mask cloaked his features. After several blinks, he shook his head.
“What was I saying? Oh, yes.” He lifted his finger. “I stopped by the market on my way here. Thought perhaps Sarah—that is your cook’s name?”
She nodded and soaked in the lilt of his beautiful accent.
“Yes, I thought she might be glad to place some fresh flowers on the dining table. You and your father and she could all enjoy them.”
“Of course we will,” Amanda answered and wondered what her father would think of this excuse for another gift.
As she retrieved Cuddles from the doorway and maneuvered past Franklyn, Amanda was certain the man must be courting her. She nuzzled Cuddles’ neck and enjoyed the smell of soft cat fur and the way it tickled her nose. By the time she’d climbed the stairs and reached her bedroom door, a giggle escaped Amanda. She’d never been in love before, and wondered if this bubbly, expectant feeling was the beginning of the real thing. If so, then she might be able to answer Haley’s question soon.
With Cuddles secure in her bedroom, Amanda trotted back downstairs in time to hear Franklyn’s timid knock. She opened the door and motioned for him to come in.
“There was no need to knock!” she exclaimed. “You could have just stepped back in.”
“Oh no, never.” He shook his head as severely as if she’d asked him to rob a bank. “That would be the epitome of impoliteness.” Without further comment, he thrust forward a large bouquet of mixed wildflowers. “Here you are. These reminded me of you, but I’m at a loss as to why.”
“You’re so poetic.” Amanda fluttered her lashes, then accepted the offering.
“Yes, I am, even if I do say so myself,” Franklyn responded.
Amanda lifted the multicolored arrangement to her nose. “Mmmmm . . . fresh!” she enthused.
“Maybe that’s why they call them ‘fresh flowers.’” He drew invisible quotation marks in the air.
“You think?” Amanda replied in an exact replica of his voice.
“Now she’s mocking me!” Franklyn cried before they both laughed.
“Come on back to the living room,” Amanda invited and led the way. “Sarah’s still in the kitchen,” she said over her shoulder. “She’s already made decaf coffee, but she can make anything else you like. What will it be?”
“Nothing for me,” Franklyn said. “I’m not here for a long visit anyway. Just for a wee chat, that’s it.”
“Well, okay,” Amanda said and tucked her hair behind her ear in an attempt to mask some of her disappointment. She’d hoped Franklyn had planned to stay a couple of hours, as he’d done on his previous visits. But a “wee chat” was better than nothing for a woman who might be on the brink of love.
Sarah received the flowers with all the appropriate oohs and aahs and promised Amanda she’d have them in a vase in no time. At last Amanda faced Franklyn in the living room. He’d chosen her father’s recliner. She perched on the edge of the couch.
Franklyn rested his elbows on his knees, tapped his fingertips together, and stared at the floor. All his smiles and jesting were no more. Even his blond curls, once appearing carefree, now took on a serious swirl—that is, if curls could be serious.
“I’m about to go back home,” he said. “My aunt is terribly ill.”
“I’m sorry.” Amanda leaned forward. “Angie’s mentioned he
r sickness a few times, but I had no idea it was serious.” She didn’t add that her governess had hinted that she thought her husband’s sister was a hypochondriac.
“Well, it seems to come and go, you know. The doctors can’t seem to find out what’s wrong, if you want the truth.” He stopped tapping his fingertips and looked up at Amanda. “I think my stepmother believes she’s a hypochondriac.”
“Really?” Amanda said and didn’t blink.
“Absolutely.” He nodded. “But I just can’t believe that.” He scratched at his neck and stared out the window behind Amanda. “So I’ll be gone for a while, but I do have plans to come back as soon as I can. I’ve enjoyed being with my father.”
“And he’s enjoyed you,” Amanda affirmed.
“There was one other item I needed to discuss with you, Amanda dear,” he said and searched her eyes.
Amanda was too distracted over his calling her “dear” to read his expression.
“You see . . .” Franklyn stood and paced the room. “You’ve been such a good friend,” he said and stopped near the faux fireplace. Franklyn worked his mouth, picked up a brass fish, set it down, and picked the thing back up.
Amanda’s pulse began to thud as she imagined any number of things Franklyn might be working toward. In a panicked dither, she wondered if he was about to act like Mason and propose.
Please, not so soon! she thought and stood. While she was very much attracted to Franklyn, she was by no means ready to deal with a proposal. One per season was plenty for any woman. The least Franklyn could do was have the decency to wait until fall.
The doorbell’s unexpected ring sliced through Amanda’s anxiety, and her stiffened spine relaxed. “Who could that be?” she questioned.
“Ah, more guests.” Franklyn raised his hands and looked heavenward. “Maybe this is your way of saving me from myself,” he said toward the ceiling.
When the doorbell rang a second time, Amanda realized she was staring at Franklyn.
“Aren’t you going to get that?” he asked.
Amanda_A Contemporary Retelling of Emma Page 16