Cross Your Heart

by Layce Gardner

  “Now watch this and prepare to be awed,” Mabel said. She looked over at Allen and gave him a thumbs-up.

  He nodded. “Ready, set, go.” He clicked the stopwatch.

  Mabel whipped out her revolver and fired, ducked, ran into the partition, fired, rolled, fired, ran, fired, and sped back into the box where she’d started. Amy was awed. Mabel was spry and had quick reflexes, making the gunslingers in movies seem downright pokey. Mabel hadn’t even lost her cowboy hat.

  “Whoa,” Amy said. She felt dizzy just watching it.

  Allen handed Mabel a bottle of water. “I can’t wait for Clara to see me,” Mabel said with a sigh.

  They were quiet. Allen broke the silence. “How’s she doing?”

  “Best as can be expected,” Mabel said sadly. She forced a smile, saying, “Let’s try this again.”

  Mabel got through three more run-throughs before gray clouds gathered overhead. The clouds were flat bottomed and moving fast, looking like battleships plowing their way through the sky. Within minutes those clouds disappeared and low-lying, whitish-gray clouds took their place. A flash of cloud-to-cloud lightning lit up the sky.

  “Best call this a day,” Allen said, gathering up his camera equipment. “You gals should get going soon. The gravel road turns into a river once the rain starts. My bones tell me it’s going to be a deluge.” At that moment the sky rumbled and the rain started.

  “We’re out of here,” Mabel said. She and Amy ran for the car. Well, Mabel ran. Amy waddled as fast as she could. As soon as they got in the car the floodgates opened and the rain came down hard.

  Amy started the car and turned on the defroster and windshield wipers. “Holy crap, this is big,” she said. They listened as the wipers slapped against the windshield. She’d have to drive slowly and carefully. She knew Parker would be nervous.

  Mabel’s eyes sparkled and she sat up straight in the passenger seat. “I love storms. I remember one time Clara and I rented a cabin at Flathead Lake and it rained the whole week. Everyone around us grumbled and whined about how their vacation was ruined, but we liked it. The cabin had a tin roof and the rain drops danced across it like water drops wearing tap shoes. Reminded me of Ginger Rogers dancing with Fred Astaire. We read The Price of Salt in bed and did other things too,” she added. “It could’ve been a horrible vacation what with the rain and all, but Clara always made everything all right. I’m going to miss that about her.” Mabel stared out the car window. Rivulets of water ran down the glass.

  “We should go,” Amy said. She put the car in drive.

  “Yep. Or we’ll be rafting down the gravel road. Allen will have to get the road graded before the competition. Parker said she’d bring Clara up in her van. That’s one good woman you’ve got there.”

  “I know.” Amy carefully steered the car back toward town.

  “Do you?” Mabel squinted one eye as if she were peering into a telescope that could see directly into Amy’s heart.

  “Yes. I really do.”

  “Don’t ever take her for granted. That’s the worst thing you can do in a marriage. And always be kind. Don’t say things you can’t take back and don’t be like those couples who are snarky with each other once the honeymoon is over.”

  Amy knew at that moment that she and Parker would be having a cowboy-themed wedding. She wanted to make Mabel happy.

  “Mabel, I want to have that cowboy wedding. I’ll dress like a saloon girl and Parker can be a gunslinger or something,” Amy said.

  Mabel’s face lit up like the host of a party turning on the porch light just as the guests arrived. “You really like the idea?”

  “Are you kidding? I love the idea.” It was just a small white lie, Amy reasoned. And, besides, maybe she would grow to love it. Now, she’d just have to get Parker used to the idea.

  ***

  “You’re not mad?” Amy asked Parker.

  “Mad? I’m ecstatic.” She was washing Amy’s back as she sat in the tub.

  Parker was concerned she had caught a chill from being out in the rain. Actually the only rain she’d been in was running from her car to the house. Still, who turned down a hot bath on a rainy day? Parker had lit candles and put bath salts in. Not only was it a hot bath, it was a romantic one. Amy felt aroused. “Do you think we could both fit in the tub?”

  “We could try,” Parker said.

  “Take off your clothes,” Amy growled sexily.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Tonight’s the night?” Steph asked, digging into her dessert. She and Ruth were having pie at Molly’s Café.

  Ruth nodded. She had a mouthful of lemon meringue pie. Tonight was the big night. She and Tamika were having dinner at Tamika’s apartment. It was a milestone in their courtship. They had been meeting out, not at home.

  So far, Tamika hadn’t met Cece. Tamika and Ruth had both agreed that getting Cece involved in their relationship was better left undone until they decided that they actually had a relationship. It only made sense. Love and lust did not operate on the same rational terms. If that was what happened—that fondness turned to love—then they both agreed Cece would be brought in.

  They hadn’t had dinner at Tamika’s apartment because the entire building was having its floors replaced. The workmen had finally finished laying the new carpet and now it was time for a romantic dinner. Ruth was both excited and nervous. “Do you think that Tamika and I are being too rational?” she asked Steph.

  Steph swallowed her bite of peach pie. “You mean like you’re over-analyzing everything and it’s killing desire—that kind of rational?”

  She’d nailed it. “Exactly.”

  “Lighten up, have fun, and stop worrying,” Steph said, stuffing another bit of pie into her mouth.

  “Easy for you to say.”

  Molly came over with the pie Ruth had ordered, neatly packaged in a white paper container with a red bow. “Ready for the hot date?” she asked.

  Molly looked like Mrs. Santa Claus and always had a nice word for all her customers. Her coffee was good, her pies were great, and her diner menu was a favorite with men over fifty-five who loved bacon and lard no matter what their wives or their cholesterol levels said. “How do you know I have a hot date?”

  “You ordered a pie to go. It means you’re taking dessert somewhere and you don’t allow Cece that much sugar,” Molly explained.

  “You’re like Sherlock Holmes,” Ruth said.

  “All I need is the hat and pipe.” Molly leaned down. “You’ll do fine. And pie is the perfect way to get the romantic part of the evening going.” She topped off their coffee, winked at Ruth and went back to the counter.

  Steph wiped her mouth with her napkin. “The boxed-up pie tells all.”

  “Too much information leaks out in this town.”

  “You knew that when you moved here.” Steph grabbed the check. “It’s a universal truth: bring dessert and you get laid.”

  “It’s not like that.” Ruth shoved her plate away. She hadn’t finished her pie.

  “You can’t leave that uneaten. You’ll hurt Molly’s feelings.”

  “My stomach is in knots and it’s only one o’clock. At this rate, I’ll be a mess by seven.”

  “You want me to help out?” Steph said.

  “How? You want me to meditate or something?”

  “No, I’m going to eat the rest of your pie,” Step said, reaching across the table and pulling Ruth’s plate toward her.

  “Big help you are.”

  “Who’s babysitting?” Steph asked, her upper lip now sporting a meringue mustache.

  “Millie and Bernie are coming over and they’re prepared to stay late. Cece will be in bed so she won’t know when I get home.”

  “Perfect, you’ll sneak in like an errant teenager. Makes it more interesting.”

  “You’re making me even more nervous.”

  “I’m just saying that you’re planning on ending up in bed, that’s all.”

  “I hope so. I really h
ope so,” Ruth said.

  “Make it so.”

  ***

  Ruth went running in Griffin Park to work off the pie. At least that’s what she told herself. It was more to calm her taut nerves. Why was she so nervous? It was silly, she thought, as her running shoes pounded on the paved trail that circled the entire park. The trail was a ten-mile loop if you did the entire path. Ruth didn’t intend to do that; she didn’t want to be too tired for tonight. Falling asleep on Tamika’s couch wasn’t what she wanted.

  As she ran, she ruminated on the real reason she was so nervous. Tamika was easy to talk to, funny, charming, and sexy. It wasn’t the date that made her nervous. It was the aftermath. Coming home after not having read Cece a bedtime story nor tucked her in.

  When she’d told Cece she was going over to Tamika’s place for dinner and wouldn’t be back until late, Cece had narrowed her eyes. “Dinner doesn’t take that long. Why can’t you come home and tuck me in like we always do?”

  “Because Mommy wants to,” she’d stopped. She needed to word this carefully. Should she say she wanted to spend more time with Tamika, or grown-ups get to stay out later, or they might watch a movie? She decided to go with the truth. “We’re having dinner and then we want to sit around and talk. Spend some alone time together.”

  “Why can’t you talk at dinner?”

  “Grown-up dinners are different.” Ruth had ended the conversation there. “Now, go get dressed for school.”

  Cece shuffled off, her Despicable Me slippers dragging down the hall. Ruth washed their cereal bowls. Part of her was annoyed, the other part guilty. This thing with Cece monopolizing her life made her feel like a dog chained to a tree. The dog had just enough chain to reach its food and water, but only it was only long enough to wear a path around the tree. The dog barked and snarled at passersby and dreamed of running free and exploring a cornucopia of smells. It was a cruel life for the dog. Was she that dog? Would she dream of freedom while Cece determined the length of the chain?

  Cece came out dressed in blue jeans and a checkered shirt and shouldered her backpack. She and Sam had a play-date. Jeb and Clementine were taking them to the Wild West reenactment festival held at Ghost Town every summer. Sam loved the Wild West and Cece liked anything Sam did. Ruth wondered if she had a crush on Sam.

  Ruth was thrilled to have the day off from work and alone time without feeling guilty. She always felt guilty not spending all her time with Cece when she was off her rotation.

  Ruth stopped running, took a long drink from her water bottle, and gazed out at the lake. Its surface was smooth and shiny. The sun glinted off the water, making it look more green than blue. Two little boys stood waist deep at the swimming beach playing with plastic motor boats. They were so carefree. Ruth wanted to feel that free again. She longed to be more than just Cece’s mother. It was like somewhere along the way she had lost her own identity. She was no longer Ruth. She was Cece’s mom. Would she ever get to be Ruth again?

  Tamika looked like her chance to find herself again. She took a deep, steadying breath and took off at a run.

  ***

  When she returned home, tired from her run, inspired by her resolution to take her life back, Ruth decided to have a relaxing bath. She eased her body into the tub. The hot water soothed the tension in her shoulders and back. Those were her known stress zones. Lactic acid seemed to lodge itself in those two spots. She sighed heavily. When was the last time she’d had a nice, relaxing bath? Not since Lil left.

  Taking a bath when Cece was younger and needed constant supervision was impossible. Ruth would sneak off to the bathroom, trying to get some much-needed alone time. It never lasted. Cece or Lil would appear at the bathroom door needing something. Ruth had no sooner got in the tub than she had to get back out. But now she had at least an hour before Cece would be home and she intended to enjoy every second of it.

  Her cell phone rang. She’d set it on the commode—close enough to answer but not enough to get dumped in the tub. It was Steph.

  “Make sure you shave your legs,” Steph said without preamble.

  “Oh my god, really? You’re checking up on my personal hygiene?”

  Steph sighed like she was dealing with a recalcitrant teenager who’d grown too lazy to take showers on a regular basis. “I’m just sayin’ that a gal’s hygiene changes when she’s single. You don’t have to shave all the time because you’re not getting laid.”

  “I’ll have you know that I shave every day.”

  The pregnant pause served as well as a questioning raised eyebrow. “All right, at least a couple times a week,” Ruth amended.

  “I pegged it.”

  “But I do plan on doing it daily from now on.”

  “Now that’s an optimist,” Steph said. “I want details tomorrow.”

  “Not happening.”

  “I won’t tell anyone.”

  Ruth did not respond. She studied her toenails as her feet rested on the tub. “Should I paint my toenails?” She’d never liked her feet, thinking her toes were too long and her feet too big.

  “If you do, make sure you take off the polish before you come to work or the boys will razz you to no end.”

  Ruth could just hear all the teasing cat calls. “I don’t know. I could see them wanting their own pedicures while they read your stash of lesbian romance novels.”

  “That might even make the paper,” Steph said. “Gotta go. I’m making homemade pesto. I’ve got fresh basil coming out of my wazoo.”

  Ruth was thankful for basil and pine nuts. She didn’t need Steph pepping her up for lovemaking when Ruth wasn’t sure that was going to happen. She shaved her legs just in case.

  After her bath, she dug out a bottle of fire-engine red nail polish that’d been a gift for her going away party two years ago. It was supposed to be a gag gift. She shook the bottle and opened it. The nail polish was still good. She sat on the commode and began painting her toenails when she heard the front door bang open.

  “Mommy, where are you?” Cece called out.

  “I’m in the bathroom.” She heard Cece’s backpack thump to the floor in the front hall and her sneakers slap on the tile hallway. She stopped abruptly when she saw Ruth painting her toenails.

  “What are you doing?” she said, coming closer and peering at Ruth’s feet.

  “Making my feet look nice.”

  “You’re doing a terrible job.”

  Ruth studied her toes. A lot of nail polish had ended up on her toes instead of her nails. What was she thinking? She should’ve gone to a nail salon. “You’re right.”

  “I’ll do it for you. Luke showed me and Sam how to do it. He paints his toenails because he’s a feminist and he says it makes his mutant feet look better. He’s got a deformed-looking pinky toenail. It looks like a claw.”

  “Thank you for sharing that with me.”

  Cece sat on the bathroom floor and took the bottle of polish from her mother. She examined Ruth’s botched job. “I think we need to start over.” She opened the cabinet and rummaged around until she found the nail polish remover. She got cotton balls and expertly removed the polish from Ruth’s toes. Once her canvas was blank, she set about carefully painting Ruth’s nails.

  Ruth watched her daughter who was turning from a child into a gangly girl—all legs and jutting elbows. She would be tall like Ruth. But pretty, Ruth was certain of that, and she feared it. She dreaded having a boy magnet. She envisioned herself sitting on the porch with a shotgun across her lap and warning off teenage boys, telling them she’d shoot off their peckers if they so much as went for anything more than a chaste kiss. Cece would be mortified.

  Cece looked up at her. “I love you, Mommy.”

  Ruth smiled. “I love you too, Baby.”

  They were silent as Cece concentrated on Ruth’s toe nails. When she finished, she sat back on her heels and surveyed her work. “See, they look nice now,” Cece said.

  Ruth wiggled her toes. “You did a very good job.”


  “You don’t have to pay me,” Cece said.

  “This is gratis?”

  “This time,” Cece said. She got up and put the nail polish and remover back into the cabinet. She turned to look at her mother. “Luke and Sam say that Tamika is real nice.”

  “She is.”

  “Do you like her a lot?”

  “I do.”

  “I hope she likes your toenails.”

  “She will,” Ruth said.

  She hoped this would open a dialogue about Tamika’s new place in their lives, but Cece only asked, “What’s for dinner?”

  “What would you like for dinner?” Ruth said, getting up. She tightened the sash of her bathrobe.

  “Pizza!” Cece made puppy dog eyes.

  “Oh, all right. Do you want to call in the order?”

  Cece looked fearful for a moment then gathered her courage. “Okay. Can I get all the things I like?”

  “Of course, it’s your pizza.”

  “What about Millie and Bernie? Maybe I should ask them what they like,” Cece said, scrunching up her face as she considered this. “Or I could ask them what they don’t like. That would be simpler.”

  “Smart girl.”

  “I’ll call them,” Cece said, snatching up Ruth’s phone and running to the kitchen.

  They grow up so fast, Ruth thought. Here Cece was ordering her own pizza and thinking of others. When had this happened? Cece had so many adventures ahead of her. Ruth just wished she could save her from the disappointments and heartbreaks. She sighed, knowing she couldn’t. She heard Cece talking on the phone sounding so grown-up as she went to her bedroom. She’d chosen casual—black jeans and a blue shirt with black loafers. She found matching blue socks. She couldn’t abide by the latest style of wearing no socks with loafers. Her feet felt sweaty and sticky in shoes without socks.

  She remembered when she was about twenty and had a pair of purple Converse high tops. For one whole summer she wore them sockless. They had ended up stinking so badly she’d had to throw them away. Shoes needed socks. Oh, to be twenty again. The things she’d do differently. The only thing she’d keep the same was having Cece. It was a love so strong that nothing could tear it apart, not even when those troublesome teenage years arrived.