by Arlene James
“I think I’d dye my hair green, too,” Amy suggested drolly.
His look was first derisive, then discerning. “You don’t supposed she’ll actually stop that once I shape up, do you?”
Amy laughed. “Don’t underestimate what a little attention will do for a woman,” she quipped, not realizing how appropriate those words were in her own case until she’d already said them. Suddenly she understood what was happening to her, why he bothered her so, why she felt…more alive than she had in a long time and ashamed at what she’d let herself come to. He had noticed her as a woman, and she liked it. She liked it very much, so much that it frightened her, especially when she realized that she hardly even thought of herself as a woman anymore. She’d all but killed everything womanly in her, buried it in the grave with Mark, and yet something about her had, miraculously, caught his attention, however slightly. She knew suddenly why she’d taken the time to wash her hair and put on a little makeup. She hadn’t done that much before going out in public that afternoon! But in the middle of the night she’d slicked up to reprimand a teenager and confront her father! She was astounded at herself.
“Hey,” he said, his hands skimming her upper arms lightly. “Don’t go anywhere until I get back, will you? I want to speak with my daughter.”
Amy nodded as much from the need to send him off as understanding. The moment he was gone she blanked her mind, afraid even to consider any longer why she was here. Before long she was regretting that capitulation. She wanted desperately to run home and slam the door, to lock out the Kincaids with the rest of the world. She wanted a cigarette, but when her lungs sucked in reflexively, they got clean, fresh air. Her head started spinning, and for a moment she felt disoriented, lost. Then Evans was back, incongruously apologizing for being gone so long.
“I really owe you a debt of thanks,” he was saying. “I wish you could have seen her face when I complimented her on the job she’s been doing around the house. I’m taking tomorrow evening off, God willing, and we’re going to spend some quality time together, maybe take in a movie, talk. I—I’ve got to start opening my eyes to all she does around here, got to start appreciating her.” He lifted a hand and rubbed the back of his neck. “Just how do you go about that, appreciating someone, I mean?”
Amy tried to pull her thoughts together. “Well…you start just like you said, you notice, and then…you show that you approve.”
He nodded, smiling down at her. “I think I see what you mean. For instance, you did me a good turn tonight, handling this like you have.”
She felt a shyness steal over her. “Oh, no, I didn’t mean…that is, I wasn’t thinking about anything I might have done.”
“I am,” he said softly, curling his hand beneath her chin when she meant to look down. “I appreciate what you’ve done, and I won’t forget it.”
“It was nothing,” she muttered. “Now maybe I can listen to the TV at night.”
He chuckled. “You’re not as tough as you want people to think. In fact, you can be downright sweet when you want to be.” He bent his head, his nose nearly brushing hers. “I appreciate that, too,” he said, and then he laid his mouth over hers, keeping the touch feather light.
Amy was too stunned to react immediately, and before she could pull herself together to do so, it was all over, and he was smiling down at her again. She gulped, feeling flushed from head to toe, and quickly backed away. “I—I, um, have to go.”
“Okay,” he said. “See you.”
“S-see you.”
“Good night.”
She all but ran. Once safely inside her own house, she leaned against the door and pulled a deep, calming breath through her nostrils, only to curl her nose at the musty, acrid odor that permeated the place. It was with equal parts dismay and delight that she realized there was no going back now. She was awake. The long, dark coma of grief had lifted, and it was time to live again.
Evans prodded Mattie determinedly, his tongue clamped behind his teeth to avoid haranguing her about her hair and makeup. Where did she find these absurd shades? Where did one buy black lipstick? He trusted Amy not to say anything that would get Mattie’s back up. The last time he had dared to criticize her appearance, she had threatened to bleach that gorgeous black hair of hers. Sparkly hot pink highlights on bangs standing practically on end were not too much to bear when compared to bleach, and he could even stand the heavy eyeliner, but that black lipstick made him cringe every time he saw it. Nevertheless, he smiled and assured her that their next-door neighbor would be glad to see them. He hoped that he was right.
He hadn’t so much as caught a glimpse of Amy since that night she’d called him home and so easily pointed out what was right under his nose—since the night he’d kissed her. He still couldn’t quite believe he’d done that. Oh, she was attractive enough. In fact, her heart-shaped face was quite pretty with its big, bright blue eyes, little snip of a nose, and plump bow mouth. But Amy Slater just wasn’t his type. He usually liked the lean, leggy sort, the sleek, fit, healthy kind he saw out running at daybreak. Yet, standing there on his front porch that night, listening to Amy’s gentle explanation, he’d felt a compelling sense of rightness, a gentle contentment that had suddenly flared into physical need. He was glad he’d caught himself before he’d done something really stupid, something more than that light, almost friendly, kiss. He hoped that she hadn’t realized that it might have been more. Ah, no, she wouldn’t have done that, not when they’d fought almost every other time they’d met. Still, he felt it was his duty as her neighbor to keep an eye on her. She didn’t really seem to have anyone else, even though she’d mentioned family. He’d just take Mattie along, even though Mattie wasn’t as kindly disposed toward their only neighbor as he was, so Amy wouldn’t get any farfetched ideas about his intentions.
He literally herded Mattie across their respective lawns. She grumbled every step of the way, but Evans ignored her with an almost confusing cheerfulness. It was only as he stood on Amy’s front porch and knocked at her door that he began to feel misgivings. What if she slammed the door in their faces? She was fully capable of it. In fact, now that he thought about it, she was a strangely mercurial woman, shouting and scrabbling one minute, shy and quiet the next. She’d been patient and congenial and controlled the last time they’d met, but that didn’t mean she would be so now. He almost turned around and hurried away, but suddenly the door was open and Amy was there, surprised pleasure flashing across her upturned face.
“Oh, hi! How are you guys?”
Evans felt himself grinning. “Fine! We’re fine. How are you?”
“Oh, I’m all right. I’m…all right.”
He nodded, absurdly pleased, while Mattie rolled her eyes at his side. Only the fear that she might say something rude prompted him to speak again. “We, ah, we hadn’t seen you in a few days. We just wanted to check and be sure that everything’s—you know—”
Amy laughed. Her face, alight with pleasure, was quite lovely. Evans felt his chest tighten, and his palms begin to sweat.
“Won’t you come in?” she asked in a lilting voice.
He felt great relief, and only then realized that he’d feared she might not invite them in. He literally pushed Mattie through the door, whereupon she promptly wrinkled her nose and made a garish face.
“Ugh! It still smells.”
His hand rested just inside her elbow. He tightened his grip warningly, appalled when she automatically yanked away.
“Will you behave yourself?” he hissed. “It’s unbelievably rude to—”
“No,” Amy injected, her hand falling on his forearm, “she’s right. I realized it myself the other day. It’s the cigarette odor. I couldn’t smell it while I was smoking, but now…”
“Now your senses are no longer deadened by the smoke,” he said. “Your senses are cleansing, and they’re beginning to tell you what you’ve missed. That’s great. That’s really great.”
“Yeah, if I can stick to it,”
she said.
His gaze fell on the coffee table and an open pack of cigarettes and a lighter there. He lifted an eyebrow. “Slipping a bit, are we?”
She shook her head and wrapped her arms around her middle. “Not that I haven’t been tempted. I figure that as long as I can walk around them, I’m on the right track.”
“You’re still determined to quit then?” he asked softly.
She sucked a deep breath through her nostrils, her lips quirked up on one end, and she nodded emphatically.
He smiled. “Let’s just lighten the load a bit then, shall we?”
She shrugged, and he bent to scoop up the cigarettes and lighter. His jeans were too tight to fit them in his pocket, so he simply lifted his T-shirt and tucked them behind the waistband of his pants. The look on Amy’s face made him wonder if she was quite ready to let them go, but he didn’t offer them back to her, and when she invited him and Mattie to have a seat, he considered the matter closed. Mattie sat down on the couch, and he dropped down next to her, stretching his arms out along its back. Amy took the chair opposite them and, drawing up a bare knee, linked her hands around it.
He noticed that the shorts she wore fit quite nicely and wondered if he’d seen her in them before. He couldn’t really remember, and he didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want to think about the way his heart was beating a little too quickly, either, or the twinge of victory he’d felt at tucking those cigarettes into his waistband. He was just being a good neighbor. That’s all it was. And the sooner he forgot about that meaningless little kiss, the better.
Chapter Four
Her heart was thundering. She wondered if he could tell. He had to have noticed how her breath had seized and she’d had to drag her gaze away from his abdomen when he’d lifted his shirt. She couldn’t think when she’d last seen a man’s bare middle, but whenever it had been, it couldn’t have hit her like the sight of his. The man was in excellent shape; she supposed he had to be, being a police officer. It occurred to her that she was stark raving mad to have entertained the idea, even momentarily, that he might be attracted to her, not that she’d really read anything into that brief, accidental kiss. Of course she hadn’t.
She realized suddenly that Evans was talking, but when she forced her gaze to focus, she found herself looking at Mattie. Where on earth did the kid get that lipstick, not to mention the pink hair spray, and why was she pouting like a truculent toddler? Amy forced herself to concentrate on Evans. “I’m sorry. Would you repeat that?”
He looked momentarily pained, but then his face smoothed into a smile. “I said, I imagine you’re wondering why we’re here.”
Amy made herself assume a pleasant expression. “Do neighbors need excuses to call on one another?”
“Uh, no. No, I don’t suppose they do,” he agreed.
Amy smiled. “Um, but you obviously do have a reason for coming over today.”
Evans’s smile faded slightly, but he sat forward and regarded her almost gravely. “I, um…” He paused and cleared his throat, but before Amy could offer him a glass of water, he went on. “Yes, we were wondering if you could recommend a local church to us.”
“A church?”
Evans smiled and sat back, seemingly pleased with himself. “Yes, you see, we’ve visited a couple of places already, but we weren’t completely comfortable. We just don’t seem to have found where we belong yet, and we thought you might have some recommendation for us.”
Amy felt absurdly out of her depth. A church? He wanted her to recommend a church? She hadn’t been inside a church since the day she’d buried Mark. On the other hand, her sister Joan was very happy with her church. Amy licked her lips and tried not to feel hypocritical. “Um, well, Bolton Charles’s church is a fine one. Even my brother-in-law regularly attends.”
“Oh, that’s right,” Evans said, looking to Mattie. “I forgot to tell you. Guess who Amy’s brother-in-law is?”
Mattie shrugged.
“Griff Shaw!” Evans announced. When she didn’t seem to recognize the name, he added, “The bull rider.”
Mattie said, “Oh,” and nodded her head, but Amy could tell that she didn’t really know who Griff Shaw was. Evans, however, seemed suitably impressed.
“We’ll certainly have to check it out,” he said. “This Bolton Charles, he’s your pastor?”
Amy couldn’t help fidgeting slightly. “Uh, not my pastor, exactly.”
“No?”
She felt a wave of embarrassment followed quickly by a flash of indignation. What business of his was it where or if she attended church? She had a right to her own convictions—or lack of them. She lifted her chin defensively. “I don’t attend church anymore.”
“Oh?” He cocked his head, and though his voice remained impassive, a flash of something very like disappointment came and went in his eyes. “You believe in God, don’t you?”
“Certainly.”
“Then perhaps you think Him unknowable?”
Her chin went up another notch. “Perhaps I do.”
He nodded, and though she expected argument, he made none. Instead he said, “What about worship? I’ve always believed that worship is good for us. It certainly keeps me from believing that I am the center of the universe.” He smiled self-deprecatingly, but Amy sensed another purpose beneath his queries. Something told her that this was important to him—and perhaps to her. She tried to give the matter serious thought, but the whole situation had her so flustered that she could not think beyond something she’d once heard Bolton Charles say. She seized it and made it her own.
“I do believe that God is worthy of worship,” she said with satisfying dignity. “I just choose to worship in my own way.”
“Ah,” he said, “very commendable. Do you mind if I ask what you do, that is, how you worship?”
How? she thought, and of course there was no answer, for despite her statements, she had never really worshiped God on her own. But wasn’t appreciation a form of worship? She had fairly often appreciated God’s handiwork, such as a particularly lovely sunset, though silently, of course. In the same way she had occasionally given thanks, usually for escaping some accident or other. Surely everyone did that. She had even heard somewhere that unbelievers did it, too, that it was a sort of reflex, an impersonal thing. That couldn’t rate very high with God. But then, what did she have for which to be personally thankful? Her husband had died a long, ugly death that a genuinely loving God would surely have prevented. And yet, her conscience said, Evans Kincaid had lost his wife senselessly, and he was not bitter against God. Bitter against God. Was she bitter against God? The very question disturbed her—and she blamed Evans. “I don’t think my religion is any of your business,” she said rather more sharply than she’d intended.
Was it her imagination or did his leaf green eyes seem to dull?
He nodded and politely said, “You’re quite right. My apologies. Listen, I noticed recently that you seem to have some damage to the siding on your eaves. It’s not very extensive yet, but you might want to start thinking about having them scraped and painted. Of course, you could wait and replace them. I just thought I’d mention it in case you preferred the cheaper route of prevention.”
She seized gratefully upon the change of subject. “I—I’ll have it looked at. Ah, th-thank you for bringing it to my attention.”
He smiled perfunctorily. “What are neighbors for?”
“Oh. Yes. I agree. Neighbors really ought to…look out for one another.”
“Exactly. Well,” he said, sitting forward and sliding his hands down his thighs to his knees. “We have to be going now. Things to do. You know how it is.”
“Yes, of course.” She managed to get smoothly to her feet and smile at Mattie, who might have been somewhere else for all the attention she paid to what was being said and done around her. Evans had to reach down and catch her by the arm to make her realize that they were leaving. Then she leapt eagerly to her feet and made a smile for Amy.
“Well, goodbye!” she said brightly.
“Goodbye, Mattie.” Inspiration struck, and Amy decided to follow her impulse for once. She took Mattie’s hand. “Mattie, honey, if you should ever get—I don’t know—lonely or bored at night when your dad’s gone, why don’t you just come on over? I’m pretty much a night person myself, and…well, it gets pretty lonely in the wee hours. And to tell you the truth, I’d rather have company than ruptured ear drums!”
Mattie’s shock was obvious. “Really?”
“Absolutely.”
Mattie laughed and looked to her father, who flashed his gaze over Amy then shrugged. Mattie beamed. “Okay! Sure.”
“Great!” Amy said, realizing that she truly would welcome the company.
Evans was smiling, too, when he and Mattie took their leave. Amy found herself thinking that perhaps she had regained the esteem she had so recently lost in his eyes. Only then did she realize what she’d done—and why.
Mattie came over the very next evening. Amy was careful not to even mention Evans and to make only polite, meaningless comments whenever Mattie brought him up, which was too often for Amy’s comfort. They watched an old movie together and resorted to making fun of it when it became obvious that Mattie was having a pretty hard time relating. All in all, it was a pleasant evening, and Amy felt that she just might have made a friend by the time Mattie fell asleep on the couch. When daylight dawned and Evans came dragging home, Amy woke Mattie and sent her out to meet him. He looked in Amy’s direction and lifted his hand in a wave after greeting his daughter with an arm slung about her shoulders, but he did not come over or speak. Amy told herself that it was for the best as she readied herself for bed, but she couldn’t help feeling disappointed.