Missy raised her eyes to the ceiling and sighed. It was.
“You probably didn’t hear the whole story.” Daddy rocked his chair back against the wall. “First time, after this loon parked in my hole, I took my gaff and pulled up his anchor. Then I set it on the bow of his boat and told him that if he parked so close to my boat again, I’d cut the rope. The fool floated downstream a ways, and before I knew it, he motored right back up and parked in my spot again.”
“You really did cut off his anchor?” Bill’s eyes twinkled.
“Yes. It was a pretty decent anchor too.”
Bill chuckled. “I’ll go on one condition—that I can bring my catalog.”
“I plan on bringing mine.” Daddy patted the Bible.
CHAPTER 31
Early Thursday morning, wearing her pink, fluffy house robe and her slippers with rubber soles, Missy robbed the hen house. She collected a half-dozen eggs in an old pastel-colored Easter basket. As she walked the gravel driveway back to the house, Robert’s white station wagon pulled up to the house.
“Oh . . . pickles!” What was he doing here at six-thirty in the morning?
As she considered hiding in the tall grass, Robert drove past the shop toward her, pulled up alongside of her, and rolled down his window.
“Kind of early, don’t you think?” She felt her cheeks burn bright pink. She hadn’t even looked at herself in the mirror yet, much less brushed her hair.
“I’m meeting a client for breakfast in Ridgefield this morning and I have a busy day.” He rested his elbow on the window casing. “Thought I’d drop dinner by for the guys while I can.”
“Well, you’re here awful early.”
“Blue eyes, pink robe, beautiful morning.” He smiled softly as he gazed up at her.
Her high school English teacher would have called his sentence structure fragmented. Mrs. Crisp might also have said his fragmented sentences had a poetic bent.
“I bought the guys Hungry-Man TV dinners so you won’t need to worry about cooking or dishes tonight.” He held a grocery sack out the window.
“You shouldn’t have done that.” She peeked in the bag. There were three boxes.
“Are you planning on being here too?”
“No. I got one for Gary.”
“That was nice of you.” So much had happened yesterday and the day before. Should she tell him about Gary?
“How’d it go with Bill Blanchard last night?”
“Okay. Daddy invited him fishing this Saturday, but Daddy talked so much about the Bible that I’d be surprised if Bill actually goes.”
“He did?” Robert grinned.
Missy looked toward the house and debated telling him about Gary.
“I should be going.” Robert glanced at his wristwatch.
“Well, this was awful kind of you.” She hugged the bag against her. “Thank you.”
“You shouldn’t have to worry about cooking tonight. You deserve the night off.” He shifted into reverse, and then worked on turning his vehicle around.
She stood in the knee-high grass and waved. She’d been so awful to Robert. He couldn’t possibly like her, could he?
Seated in her office chair, Missy stared at a blank sheet of paper. Sunlight filtered through the dusty, metal blinds, warming her back. She gripped a Bic pen and decided she’d write down all the sweet things Robert had ever said to her.
First, she wrote: “Blue eyes, pink robe, beautiful morning.” She bit her lower lip as she penned, “As blue as my mother’s cornflowers.” Her rib cage felt tight as she recalled his remark that first Sunday, “Pretty day, pretty dress.” It hadn’t meant much to her at the time, but on paper, Robert’s words moved her.
Over lunch, she finally asked Daddy what he meant by his comment on Sunday. “You said you had a lead the other day?”
He nodded and took a large swig of milk. “Mrs. Anderson’s daughter lost her husband a couple years ago.”
“Was she at church on Sunday?” Missy asked.
“No, she’s visiting relatives in Tacoma. But, she’ll be back this Sunday. Her name’s Rosie.”
“Rosie’s a pretty name.” Missy wondered what her future stepmother looked like. “Oh, I almost forgot. Robert dropped TV dinners by for tonight.”
“I didn’t see him,” Douglas said.
“It was early. He was on his way to have breakfast with a client in Ridgefield.”
“Now you won’t have to cook before you leave.” Daddy grinned.
She agreed it had been thoughtful of Robert.
With a heavy sigh, Douglas rose from the table and set his dirty plate on the counter near the sink.
“He may not be as obvious as Gary, Dad,” he said, “but he’s after Missy.”
“We want a husband for her, not just a brother-in-law,” Daddy said.
By the look of Douglas’ narrowed eyes, his brain didn’t fully wrap around what Daddy had said, but she’d heard it loud and clear; this was her decision, not Douglas’s.
Douglas flung the screen door open and let it bounce closed behind him like he always did.
Daddy paused between sips of lemonade to look at her. “Robert may not have liked you much at first, but there’s been a time or two since then that he’s seen you’re not as tough as you want everyone to think.”
He was referring to her two evenings of tears.
“Jesus wants us to love.” Daddy reached across the table for her hand. “In the Old TestAment, God gave us the Ten Commandments, and in the New TestAment Jesus gave us one more. Jesus said, ‘Love one another as I have loved you.’ He commands us to love one another.”
“Are you saying that I have to love Robert?”
“And everybody else.” Daddy nodded.
“Is all that in the Book of John?”
“I’m not sure. Robert explained it to me the other day.”
Daddy had changed. Even his voice had changed; it was rather smooth and almost sweet. When he spoke to her, it was like he was talking to a flower.
Rick Baker parked his dark blue Ford Bronco so that the back end sat a few feet shy of the office door. Sporting a red Hawaiian shirt with tropical flowers on it, he dropped the rear gate and pulled out a box of air filters and two water pumps. Missy left an oil mess in the first bay and entered the office in time to see him drop the product on top of Daddy’s desk.
Daddy continued writing up an invoice. No greetings were exchanged. Rick reached for the black rotary phone. Missy grabbed a roll of paper towels. Where had Baker been? He couldn’t possibly expect everything to be the same. Not after he’d dropped out of sight for weeks without a word or explanation.
“We’re still heavy on pumps because of that cruddy deal you made me,” Daddy said.
Rick gave him a blank look and set down the receiver.
“I told Anita filters—only filters. And that was last week,” Daddy said.
With a huff, Rick picked up the pumps and carried them back to his Bronco.
“What’s it been, a month?” Daddy bellowed. He looked at Missy. “I don’t want you to say a word.”
She nodded. She already knew that.
“Four weeks max.” Rick strolled back in, and picked up the phone.
“Been longer than that. Got a young rep from Columbia that I bought oil filters from, $1.34 each when I purchased a dozen.”
“Ten cents.” Rick shook his head. “You’re willing to end our friendship over ten cents?”
“No, you are.”
Rick picked up the receiver again, dialed seven digits, and looked at the ceiling. “Yeah, Fred... this is Baker. I’ll... get that order to you . . . uh . . . tomorrow instead. Thanks.” He hung up.
With his incessant pausing while he searched for the next word, it was a wonder he’d ever made it in sales. Daddy leaned back in his chair while Missy studied his old, best friend. His thick gray hair was slicked back Elvis style. His step was a little lighter, maybe his gut too. Baker was definitely dating again.
&
nbsp; “Missy, your old man wants a cup of coffee. So do I. Thanks, babe.” Rick winked and then glanced again at her hair. “Nice...” he said.
Gary was just like him. The wink, the charm, the babe. Her heart had wasted years of pitter-patter on someone who could very easily turn out like this.
“Jean called a while back,” Daddy said. “Wanted to know if I knew what you were up to. The alimony was finally over and you celebrated by having an affair.”
“Jean got her share. I was more than fair.”
“She’s devastated.”
“I gave her plenty of warning.”
Feeling sick to her stomach, Missy strode toward the house. It wasn’t Gary’s fault for having that type of role model, but it would be if he copied it. She poured two cups of coffee, added milk to one, and strolled back to the office. With a frown, she set the cups down on top of the desk.
“What’s the big account?” Daddy asked.
“That was just a line. I’ve been out of town. Puerto Vallarta.”
“Don’t tell me; all this time you’ve been drinking margaritas?”
“Not by myself.” Rick grinned.
Rick’s faithful bouts lasted about ten years.
“I met Barb at . . . well, you know . . . Charlie’s Auto Body in Washougal.”
Daddy closed his eyes and his chest expanded as he slowly inhaled.
“She’s their receptionist, a blonde with Monroe curves. Been married once, no kids and loves to—”
“She’s the reason for your divorce, isn’t she?”
“You know Jean and I were on our way out.”
“No, I didn’t see it coming.”
“I know what’s wrong with you, John.” Baker set down his cup of coffee and glanced at Missy then back at Daddy. “What’s it been, ten . . . eleven years?”
“Missy, go start dinner, and you will not be setting an extra plate.”
She started for the door.
“I came here with good intentions. I was going to ask you to be my best man. You’ll like Barb. She’s every bit as sweet as Jean, but in a brighter package.”
Missy paused at the threshold. This was good for her. This man was Gary’s role model and Martha’s... Crab! He was here to get Martha. Please, God, if you’re out there, keep Martha here. Find a way to keep Martha here.
Daddy took a sip of coffee—a long, slow, slurpy sip. Rick had been Daddy’s best man too, maybe because he didn’t know any better.
“Got a nice young rep from Columbia catering for my business. His business etiquette puts yours to shame. And Bill Blanchard was over for dinner last night.”
“What is it with you?” Rick rose to his feet.
“After Brenda, Jean was the second best thing that ever happened to you, but you didn’t see it that way because you’re on this thrill ride.”
“I’m going.”
“Take the filters with you.” Closing his eyes, Daddy remained seated
“I’ve heard Jean’s lost twenty pounds—been doing some Weight Watchers gig. If it’s her you’ve been waiting for all these years, I’m man enough to not let it ruin our friendship.”
Rick brushed past Missy on his way to his Bronco.
The spin of four tires going too fast in gravel echoed through the open bays and into the office. Daddy finally opened his eyes. Maybe he was praying or maybe he was just mad. The box of air filters still sat on the corner of his desk.
Missy remained in the doorway and savored the moment.
“He didn’t ask for Martha!”
“Don’t get your hopes up, honey. Baker’s good about remembering things you want him to forget.”
Missy felt like skipping as she strode across the driveway and eased the screen door closed behind her. She wouldn’t tell Martha who had just been here. She peeled potatoes for tomorrow’s potato salad, rinsed them, and set them in a saucepan. A vehicle drove up the driveway, and the gravel crunched outside her kitchen window as Baker parked his Bronco unusually close to the house.
“Pickles!” she said, but the word didn’t begin to match how she really felt.
Without knocking, Baker trudged into the kitchen and glanced from Missy to Martha’s cage in the corner. Missy set the pan on the preheated burner and spun the timer to twenty minutes.
“Martha,” Baker said, taking a step towards her. “Boy, have I missed you. It’s time to go home now. So I want you to say good-bye to Missy.” He cast a smile her direction. “Thanks for taking care of her, babe.”
“She likes it here.”
He took Martha’s cage off the pedestal and set it on the table.
The screen door creaked open as Daddy entered the house. “She’s like a member of our family now, Baker,” he said.
“You can come over and see her whenever you want. You still have a key. Don’t even have to knock.”
Tears welled up in Missy’s eyes as Baker carted Martha’s cage past Daddy and out the screen door. He set the cage in the backseat, and slammed the door. Right behind him, Missy reopened the door, stretched the seatbelt around Martha’s cage, and fastened it in place.
Baker slid behind the wheel. “Boy, Barb is going to like you,” he said, starting the engine.
Missy remained in the expanse of the open door. “When I picked her up, she was out of food and almost out of water. And, you should put a towel over the cage when she travels, so she won’t be alarmed. And—”
Daddy’s hands gently settled on Missy’s shoulders.
“I gotta be somewhere.” Rick winked. “Thanks for taking care of her, babe.”
“You’re right, Martha... Rick stinks!” Closing the door, Missy stepped away from the vehicle. “I’ll miss you, Martha,” she whispered.
Daddy wrapped his arms around her shoulders as they watched Baker’s Bronco drive away.
“I know she’s just a bird, Daddy, but she’s sure special.”
“I know, honey. I’ll miss her too.”
CHAPTER 32
Robert sat in the office of Meyer’s Garage in Woodland, Washington, waiting for Carl, the owner, to finish a tune-up on a Buick Station Wagon. Carl was already twenty minutes late for their two o’clock appointment.
“Would it be all right if I used the phone?” Robert asked Joyce, the office secretary. “If another call comes through, I’ll get off immediately.”
Between bites of chewing gum, Joyce nodded and pushed the typewriter carriage from right to left.
He picked up the receiver and dialed the office. With his back to Joyce, Robert looked across the street at the Oak Tree Restaurant, right off of Interstate Five. It was unquestionably the best known landmark in town, not only for its towering sign, but also for its homemade pies.
“Columbia Auto Parts, how may I help you?” Their office secretary answered within two rings.
“Hi, Norma; it’s Robert checking in. Are there any messages for me?”
“Just one. Your mother called about two hours ago.”
His heart stopped. His mother never called him at work. Dear Lord, let everything be okay.
“Thanks, Norma. Did she say why?”
“No.”
As he dialed his home number, his mind wandered to his great uncle’s health, his sister’s baby...
“Hello.” His mother answered the phone.
“Mom, its Robert.”
“Hello, Robert. Hold on a second. Harold, can you hang it up for me when I get to the craft room?”
Dad was there. Dad was fine.
“Okay, you can hang up now. Thank you, sweetheart.”
On the other end of the line, the phone made a clicking noise.
“Are you still there, Robert?”
“Yes. What’s going on?”
“I needed to speak with you before I leave for Elderly Angels tonight.”
“Okay.” Robert inhaled deeply.
“Bertha called, and she thought I should know how serious you and Missy really are.”
“What?” He set his hand on his hip
.
“I’m trying to not jump to conclusions, but one thought keeps running through my head. Are you afraid we won’t back your marriage because she’s not a Christian?”
“Huh?” He tried to not burst out laughing.
“Is that why you’re talking about eloping?” she whispered. “Honey, we like Missy. Pastor Norris said her father recently accepted Christ, and he believes this will have a huge impact on her. And... your father and I have discussed it, and we’d rather have a large, family wedding than have you two run off to—”
“Wait a second, Mom. You talked to Pastor Norris about this?” It was audibly clear that Joyce’s typing speed had slowed to a crawl. He turned his back to the room.
“Your father drove to the church and spoke with him in private.”
“Mom, we’re not even a couple. I haven’t even held her hand or kissed her.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really.”
“I felt certain something was going on the other night when she was here. You know the way you responded to her hair. Plus, you’re there all the time. You don’t even mention Pauline anymore, which reminds me, honey, she called. She’s in town and wants to get together Saturday evening to talk. I told her you’d call.”
Pauline was the least of his worries.
“Where did Bertha hear all this?” he asked.
“Missy called her. Supposedly, she was distraught. Bertha said Missy confided that she’s liked you for a long time, that things were going very fast, and that you were talking about Las Vegas.”
“Las Vegas?” The receiver nearly slid out of Robert’s hand. He gripped it tight. Gary was talking about Las Vegas? Missy must have confided in Bertha because she had no one else to turn to. Gary was trying to get her to run away with him. Her new hairstyle had finally driven the man to his senses. She was quite the catch. Hard working. A little spitfire. Beautiful.
“Robert, are you still there, honey?”
His mouth felt dry. He managed to swallow.
“It’s not me. Bertha must have been mistaken. There’s this other fellow in the picture.”
Fried Chicken and Gravy - Christian Romance Page 18