by Kim O'Brien
Rock rearranged a clump of Laney’s wet hair to the correct side of her part. “I knew you wouldn’t mind.”
“Oh,” Laney said. In fact, she did mind. She minded a lot. Her mouth opened and then closed. She would forgive Rock for his insensitivity and hoped that later, when he learned about what happened with Ty Steele, he’d forgive her.
“When Rock told me about that little mishap with the pastor, I knew I had to come right over and help,” Mother Tilly said. She took the shopping bag from her son’s arms. “I brought some things to help you ace that premarital test,” she said. “Rock can bring the rest of the bags from the car after dinner.”
“Rest of the bags?” Laney whispered.
“Mother brought her cookbooks, volumes one through five.” Rock blew a kiss at his mother. “She’s marked all my favorite recipes for you.”
“And I’m going to explain how to make each and every one,” his mother promised. Her gaze continued to rest lovingly on her son. “And I’ll make Laney copies so she can start her own notebook of Rock’s favorite foods.”
“Isn’t she great?” Rock said enthusiastically as he spontaneously threw an arm around his mother’s shoulder. “And that’s not the only surprise Mother has for you tonight.” He winked at Laney. “But I don’t want to give everything away at once.”
“Now you’ll have to excuse me,” his mother said, slipping out from under her son’s arm and smiling broadly at him. “I want to warm up dinner.”
Tilly’s black silk skirt swished around her legs as she crossed the small apartment to the kitchen.
Laney stared hard at Rock, wondering how he could stand there looking so satisfied. Every inch of her shrank at the prospect of his mother instructing her on how to please Rock.
“We were supposed to talk to each other tonight,” she whispered. She pointed to the dining room table where she had placed a yellow tablecloth and topped it with sky blue plates. “We need time alone together to discuss things.”
“I had a better idea,” Rock said. “After you told me about failing the premarital, I knew I had to do something.” He paused. “My mother is our secret weapon. I’ll eat my shirt if Pastor Bruce comes up with something about me on the exam that she won’t cover tonight.” He stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Maybe you should take notes.”
“Are you serious, Rock?” Laney asked. Her voice rose. “Why don’t we just have your mother stand outside the window with cue cards when we take the test?”
“Because we don’t know exactly what questions are going to be on the exam,” Rock replied patiently.
“Rock.” Laney lowered her voice, keenly aware of his mother in the kitchen. “I want to know the deep stuff about you. The things you never told anyone else. Your fears, your dreams, those kinds of things.”
Rock cocked his head at her as if unsure what had upset her. He gave her a small coaxing smile. “That stuff won’t be on the exam,” he said. “Mother can tell you everything you need to know.”
“ ‘Mother can tell you everything you need to know,’ ” Laney repeated in frustration, imitating Rock’s voice more closely than she’d known possible and drawing back when she saw the look of shock on Rock’s face.
“Mother,” Rock called loudly, “someone out here isn’t in a very cheerful mood tonight.” He raised his eyebrows as he always did when he was trying to convey a show of patience above and beyond human capability. “You’d better come right out here and give her the present.”
“I don’t want a present,” Laney protested. “And if I’m not cheerful,” she said, “it’s because—”
Laney’s words broke off as Tilly walked into the room and, without sparing Laney a glance, reached her son’s side. Her eyes gleamed with the pleasure of teaming with her only son.
“With that wet hair, she’s probably freezing,” Tilly explained, “or embarrassed because she wasn’t ready for us.” She flashed her son a smile that said she loved him despite his poor taste in women.
Frowning, Laney dragged her hand through her wet hair. She resisted with effort the urge to protest she was neither cold nor embarrassed and that Tilly could speak directly to her.
Tilly opened her purse and pulled out a large black velvet jewelry case. Laney couldn’t explain the sudden dread that shot through her at the sight of the velvet case.
“It’s the Weyeth lavaliere,” Tilly said lovingly, handing the box to Rock. “Every bride in the Weyeth family wears the necklace at her wedding.” Her fingers touched the gold chain as if remembering long ago wearing the lavaliere at her own wedding.
Rock lifted the necklace from the box reverently. He let it dangle from his fingers. “Isn’t it beautiful?”
Beautiful wasn’t the word that came to mind. Tacky, gaudy, and downright ugly described it better. Embedded in a patchwork of semiprecious stones was a series of small diamond chips that formed the letter W. It was the size of a silver dollar, and more than anything it looked to Laney like an oversized dog tag.
“I’m speechless,” Laney said at last.
Rock and Tilly let out their breath simultaneously and exchanged looks. “Put it on now,” Rock said. “I’ve been looking forward to seeing this on you all day.” He smiled with boyish excitement. “You can’t imagine how hard it’s been keeping it a secret from you.”
Laney swallowed. “I imagine it was.” And then because Rock was looking at her as if he had found pirate gold to lay at her feet, she added, “It really is incredible.”
Rock raised the necklace. Tilly’s hand slapped it down immediately. “She shouldn’t put it on with wet hair.” Her lips puckered. “And it would go better with a”—she paused—“a different outfit.”
Laney sighed with relief, despite the insult to her choice of clothing. Rock frowned thoughtfully. “You’re quite right, Mother.” His moustache drooped to reflect his disappointment.
“I’m sure Laney has lots of suitable outfits in her closet,” Mother Tilly continued. “We’ll just go and pick one out right now. How’s that, Rock?”
“Great idea,” Rock said, brightening immediately.
“No, really,” Laney said. “The necklace deserves nicer than what I have. Plus my hair is wet. Another time probably would be better.”
“No, no, no,” Mother Tilly said. She turned in the direction of Laney’s bedroom. “Nothing like the present for our present.” She smiled at her words. “Come on, dear,” she directed to Laney’s left ear.
As Tilly marched off to the bedroom, Laney tried to remind herself that, as Pastor Bruce said, some people were like heavenly sandpaper. She wondered what lesson Mother Tilly had to offer and what rough edges of her personality would be made smooth by her future mother-in-law. Ordering herself to hold on to her temper, Laney stepped inside her bedroom.
Twelve
Mother Tilly headed straight for Laney’s closet. Pulling the sliding door open, she gasped. “Is there any order to this closet at all?” She clucked her tongue as she sorted through the skirts and tops. “I group by designer,” she explained. “It’s a real time-saver. When Rock runs for mayor, you’ll see how this helps.”
Laney nodded, although she thought the day she alphabetized her clothes would be the day she checked herself into a mental hospital. Still she didn’t protest as Tilly plowed steadily through her closet.
The room, small to begin with, felt even tinier with Mother Tilly in it. Feeling as if she couldn’t breath, Laney swung open the sliding glass doors and stepped outside to the deck. The night air, though nearly the same temperature as inside, immediately seemed fresher, and she felt some of the tightness in her chest ease. How would she tell Rock the secrets of her heart with his mother there?
“Don’t you have any black silk?” Mother Tilly called from the closet.
“No, Mother Tilly,” she replied. In fact, she didn’t own many dressy clothes at all. She loved gauzy, light skirts of bright colors, knit tops, and oversized cotton shirts. She fervently hoped Tilly wouldn’t uncove
r one of the bridesmaid’s dresses she had stuffed in the back of her closet.
She didn’t want to go back inside her apartment. Not with Mother Tilly finding fault with every garment of clothing she owned. Strangely, she didn’t feel like spending time with Rock either. She felt like staring up at the night sky and trying to figure out why her life suddenly felt so out of control.
“I think I’ve found something.”
Laney cringed. She had the awful feeling Mother Tilly had just discovered the crimson taffeta dress she’d worn at Richard’s wedding.
Her fears were confirmed the minute she stepped back into the bedroom. “Here, dear,” Tilly said. “This will go well with the lavaliere.”
Laney shook her head. “I appreciate your help, Mother Tilly, but I think I’ll just keep what I have on.”
Holding the dress up to her, Tilly smiled coaxingly. “Come on, dear. Rock will be so pleased to see you looking so nice.”
Shaking her head, Laney took a step backward. “I don’t think so. Maybe another time.”
“Laney, as Rock’s wife, you’re going to have to get used to wearing formal clothing. Some day he could be the mayor, you know, or even a senator.”
“When the time comes,” Laney said, “I’ll deal with it.” She was having trouble breathing again and glanced longingly at the open sliders that led to her deck.
“Humor me, Laney,” Mother Tilly pressed. “Wear the dress.”
Laney felt the color drain from her face. First it would be wear this dress, and then it would be cut her hair and change her makeup. She saw her life as a series of compromises she would make until she was completely unrecognizable to herself.
“I’m not wearing the dress,” Laney heard herself say loudly. “And you can’t make me.”
Tilly wiggled her eyebrows at her the way Rock did when she displeased him. And as usual it sent a rush of irritation through her. As if she were standing outside her body, Laney watched herself take the dress from Tilly and rip it down the middle.
“I’m not wearing the dress.”
Eyes bulging, Mother Tilly clutched the Weyeth lavaliere to her breast. A small sound of distress squeezed through her throat like air released from the pinched neck of a balloon.
Suddenly there was a knock on the door. “You girls okay in there?” Rock’s voice rang with worry.
“We’re fine,” Laney shouted back.
“You sure?” Rock prodded. “I heard something tear.” There was a slight hesitancy, and then Rock chuckled. “Mother, you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Tilly called back in a strained voice. Her gaze fixed on the dress, which lay on the floor in a torn heap.
“Perhaps you were right, dear,” she said. “Trying out the Weyeth lavaliere is best left for another day.”
Laney smoothed her damp hair. What had gotten into her? Already she regretted her action. “Good idea, Mother Tilly,” she said. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what got into me.”
“I’d better go check my beef bourguignon,” Tilly said. “Rock will be disappointed if it burns. It’s his favorite, you know.”
❧
Afterward Laney couldn’t quite remember how she had gotten through the evening. Trying to make up for her inexplicably bad behavior, she’d done her best to follow Tilly’s instructions. Her nerves were jumpy, though, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t concentrate. She forgot to put the lid on the blender, and as a result, Rock’s fruit smoothie ended up on her ceiling.
When the door had finally closed behind Rock and Mother Tilly, she breathed a sigh of relief and stepped out on her deck.
To her surprise, she saw Ty Steele sitting on a bench in the sheltered garden just beyond the deck. She walked to the railing and put her hands on her hips. “What are you doing there?”
“Waiting for them to leave,” Ty said. “I didn’t think you’d appreciate another unwanted guest for dinner.”
Bracing herself against the railing, Laney crossed her arms. “I thought you left hours ago.”
Ty shrugged. “I would have, except I left my car keys on your coffee table.”
“You mean you’ve been here the entire evening?”
“Just some of it. I took a walk around the block after you ripped up the dress. Good going, by the way.”
He’d overheard her fight with Tilly? Laney felt her cheeks heat up. Only too well she remembered leaving the sliding door to the deck open.
“I’ll go get your keys,” she said.
When she returned, he had stepped out from under the trees and was looking up at the moon. It reminded her of how she had gazed up at it earlier. She wondered if he, too, recognized that something was wrong with his life but didn’t quite know how to fix it. He finally turned around.
“Sorry you had to wait so long for these,” she said and handed him the keys.
“No, I’m sorry for you,” Ty said.
“For me?”
“They were really on your case for failing that premarital exam. You should have told them it works both ways. He has to get to know your life as much as you have to get to know his.”
Laney sighed. “The least you could have done was put your fingers in your ears. That was supposed to be a private conversation.”
“Just you, Rock, and Mother Tilly,” Ty said agreeably. “You all make a great couple.”
Laney bristled at his words, angry because he was right, frustrated because he understood something Rock hadn’t. “She was just trying to help, you know.”
“How do you stand it?” Ty asked suddenly. “They talk to you as if you are a total moron.”
“Rock adores me,” she said.
“Doesn’t it frighten you that you have to count the number of times you stir the coffee? ‘Steady hand, girl,’ ” Ty parroted imperfectly but effectively.
Laney waved her hand. “It’s just for the test,” she replied.
“No, it isn’t,” Ty warned. “They’re trying to turn you into a copy of his mother, and you don’t see it.”
“That isn’t true,” Laney protested.
“What you cook, how you arrange your clothes in the closet, what you wear. . .” Ty shook his head.
“This isn’t any of your business, is it?” She crossed her arms on her chest.
Ty’s gaze fixed on hers. He didn’t seem able to stop. “And that necklace she wants you to wear. The plug in my bathtub is more attractive.”
“That’s a family heirloom,” Laney snapped. “A symbol of love.”
“Symbol of love?” Ty’s smile had a fiendish air. “More like a symbol of service—a gold ball and chain to hang around your neck.”
“What right do you have to talk about my relationship?” Laney’s words flew off her tongue like arrows off a bow. “What do you know about love?”
Ty glared at her. “I know what love isn’t. It isn’t about lessons in making coffee or quizzes about favorite books and movies.”
His face, shadowed, looked even harsher than usual, almost in controlled anger. She saw the prominence of his facial bones, the lines fanning from his eyes, the scar near his hairline.
“Love isn’t two people in the same room with nothing to talk about. Love isn’t what someone can give you or what you can get from them.”
She couldn’t tell the exact moment when the anger in his eyes turned into something else. Only that it had. She looked away, not wanting to see that things had changed for him.
Laney took a step backward as he approached the deck, his hand on the railing, as if he would climb over it. She saw his purpose in the intensity of his gaze.
Her hands fumbled along the railing then closed around a plastic watering can. In one swift motion she emptied it down the front of his shirt.
They both stood, speechless, watching as water dripped onto the ground. Ty squeezed water out of his shirt.
“I’ve been punched, kicked, and shot at, but never watered down.” He shook his head as if in wonder. “You’re something, you know that
, Laney?”
Laney didn’t deserve his admiration. She was more than glad that Ty Steele no longer needed her help. He needed dry clothes, perhaps, but not her.
She, on the other hand, needed a lot of help. Heavenly Father, Laney prayed, somehow I misread signals and have been trying to help the wrong person. Please forgive me for following Ty Steele and now for ruining his clothing. Please give me a new plan, Lord, and another chance to make things right.
Thirteen
Laney’s new plan involved a stakeout. On Sunday morning at church, she watched the gymnasium fill. People she knew by sight but not by name smiled at her. She waved back, wondering if they had seen Rock in the parking lot greeting people.
Laney sat straighter in her seat, filled with a quiet pride in the knowledge that Rock could be counted on to do a job well. He gave new meaning to the word dependability.
Music soared through the gymnasium, announcing the beginning of the service. The last stragglers hurried to their seats, and a couple settled themselves into the very seats Laney had been watching.
She couldn’t believe her eyes when she recognized Terry and June Whitley, friends since high school. Although she and June had gotten a bit out of touch the last few years, Laney still counted June as one of her closest friends. It dismayed her to think her friend might have been the one to have written that sad note. At the same time, she wouldn’t repeat her last mistake. Before she confronted June about the note, she would do her best to find evidence that June or her husband had written it.
Two days later she found herself on June’s doorstep.
“I’m so glad you suggested getting together this evening,” June said. She held the door to her house wider. “And you brought Angel.” She bent to greet the dog. “How’s my best buddy?”
“He’s fine,” Laney said. “Hope you don’t mind that I brought him.”
“Don’t even worry,” June replied. “It’ll be great to spend time with both of you.” She smiled in apology. “Between the business and the kids and Terry, I don’t seem to have a minute to call my own.”