Bossy Bridegroom

by Mary Connealy

  The Fourth of July celebration was coming at them like a freight train. The whole town was excited. Everyone was involved. Michael had yet to talk with Buffy and sign the adoption papers, but who could blame him?

  He’d found another inflatable bat, and Jeanie kept it behind the counter at her café, but she was too much in love to use it. They’d found posters and figurines of buffalo as well as some Western décor. Michael had insisted on offering buffalo burgers on the menu, although Jeanie knew Buffy hated the idea, and he’d had a sign made naming the place the Buffalo Café.

  He didn’t consult Jeanie about the sign, just presented it to her as a gift. He’d been calling it Jeanie’s Café up to now. She’d enjoyed having it named after her for some dumb reason. Why would her name sell food?

  Michael had hinted at doing the book work, and though that perturbed her and she’d teased him about the bat, he’d taken it over and she didn’t miss doing it.

  To thank him for helping, she decided to decorate herself a bit and had some highlights added to her hair and started wearing a little bit of makeup again. She’d really let herself go since they’d been apart.

  The café and Jeanie were both beginning to shine.

  “It’s this weekend.” Michael came home later these days, and Jeanie had remembered some old recipes that kept well on low heat. She’d quit offering him skimpy dinners.

  Smiling as he came in the kitchen, she said, “I can’t wait. You’ve got everything ready. It’s going to be huge success.”

  “This town is going to become a destination.” He slid into his place at the table. “We’re a great low-cost alternative for people wanting Mount Rushmore and the Black Hills. I’ve printed up some tourist information with all the places to drive in short trips. Everyone who comes to town over the Fourth will get one. We’re going to have to add cabins. Maybe I could even interest a chain in selling me a franchise.”

  Jeanie hurried to set a platter of lean roast beef in front of him and quickly drained the new potatoes she’d cooked; then she added a plate of fresh sliced tomatoes. Michael had encouraged her to hire more help at the café, and now she got home right after lunch.

  She should have dropped by the nursing home to visit with her last remaining patient, but instead, she’d driven to Rapid City to have her hair done and she’d wanted time to bake bread for supper. Tomorrow was Thursday, and the Fourth of July weekend began in earnest on Friday.

  When Michael had everything in front of him, she settled into her own place on the opposite side of the rickety white Formica-top table.

  After he’d eaten a few bites, he managed to look up. “I’m sorry. I’m eating like a hungry wolf, and I’ve barely spoken to you. I’m starving and this tastes great.” Then his eyes focused. “Hey, your hair. I like it.”

  Her heart gave a little extra leap of pleasure. “I had it cut. Lightened a little, too.”

  “You look terrific. You drove into Rapid City today, didn’t you?” He slid one hand over her hair and took a second to touch her dangling earrings playing peek-a-boo with her sassy, uneven cut.

  She’d told him she was going to, but it must not have registered until he saw her new hairdo.

  “Yeah, there’s a hairdresser in the mall I’d heard a lot about. The local beautician has a tendency to burn hair to a crisp with bleach.” She spent mornings at the café, but with the hired help there wasn’t a lot left for her to do except greet people. Michael had hinted that she should dress a little better for the job. She’d started wearing a skirt and heels to act as hostess. The shoes killed her feet, which made it all that much easier to hand the reins over to her very competent help.

  “I’d rather go with you when you drive in the city. The traffic is pretty heavy.”

  “I’d prefer it if you went with me, too. I haven’t done much city driving. I don’t need to go back for a while. Maybe after the Fourth we could visit Mount Rushmore.” She’d never owned a car since she’d moved to South Dakota. Hadn’t wanted one, hadn’t been able to afford one. So Rapid City was intimidating.

  Michael went back to his meal, filling her in on all the details of his day. When he finished eating, he headed straight for the office and his phone. He called over his shoulder as he left the room, “It was a delicious meal.”

  Jeanie watched him go. Their counseling sessions with Pastor Bert had been delayed for the last two weeks. They needed to get back to them. They hadn’t done their daily devotions for a few days either.

  She bit her bottom lip and tried to figure out how to remind Michael, but it just wasn’t fair to dump this all on him when he was so busy. But how was standing here feeling drab and afraid to drive fair to her?

  It wasn’t. She had let things slip, and she needed to stand up for herself again.

  Their marriage should come first. And it would—after the Fourth. Things would settle down then.

  The time was almost up on those adoption papers, too. By the end of summer, if Michael hadn’t formally protested, the adoption would go through with or without his signature. But until it was finished, Jeanie would worry. And she’d started ducking Buffy at church so she wouldn’t have to see her sister fume.

  As she cleaned up the kitchen, Jeanie heard Michael’s voice, that rise and fall, his wheeler-dealer voice. Somehow it seemed as if he’d sold her a bill of goods, too, but wasn’t that just her own sinful nature fretting, being dissatisfied?

  She took her Bible and went to her room. She preferred to stay in there most evenings so she wouldn’t have to see Michael and conjure up all the enthusiasm he expected for the changes he was making in Cold Creek.

  Sometimes he came to her room and held her, trying to sell her on the idea that all was well and their marriage should cease to be platonic. It reminded her of when they were dating.

  Hesitantly, feeling like a bother, she left her room and looked in on Michael, who was working on his computer. “Are you using the phone?”

  He looked up, a trace of annoyance on his face for being disturbed. “No, but isn’t it a little late to make a phone call?”

  “It’s just past nine. I think it’s okay.”

  “Who are you calling?”

  That bothered her. As if he was going to approve or disapprove of letting her make the call.

  “Emily.”

  Michael nodded, which Jeanie assumed meant she had permission.

  She took the handset off of its cradle. “I’ll make the call out here so I won’t distract you.”

  Settled back in her bedroom, sitting on the edge of her single bed, she dialed and Jake answered.

  “Is Emily there? I mean, don’t bother her if she’s sleeping or got her hands full with Logan.”

  “No, she’ll be glad to talk to an adult. She claims she’s reverting to baby talk herself.” Jake laughed.

  Jeanie realized that Jake’s little comment could have been taken as slightly insulting to Emily, but he sounded so kind. Did all husbands put their wives down? Did Jeanie just hear Michael’s perfectly innocent words and twist them into something darker? Was all her unhappiness coming from her own warped mind?

  “Hi, Jeanie. Thank you so much for calling. I’m desperate to talk to a grown-up.” Emily laughed. Jeanie knew how happy Emily was with Jake.

  “I’m coming out with dinner as soon as I can.”

  “Well, do it when you can stay awhile. I need to show off Logan to someone. He’s so beautiful.”

  “I—I need to talk to someone about Michael.”

  There was a stretched moment of silence. “Has something happened?”

  “No, well, kind of, not really. I—I drove to Rapid City today and got—got my hair colored.” Jeanie waited, wondering if Emily could possibly read her mind. This would be so much easier.

  “Did Michael order you to do it?”

  Maybe Emily could read her mind a little.

  “No, he’s never said a word. It’s me. I’ve just got this—this racket inside my head. Michael hasn’t done anyt
hing wrong, but I feel like such a failure. An embarrassment.”

  “But he’s never said a word?” Jeanie heard the doubt in Emily’s voice.

  “Well, nothing really critical. He wants me to dress better to hostess at the restaurant.”

  “Which you interpreted to mean you’re a failure and an embarrassment.”

  “Why do I do this? It’s not Michael’s fault if I’ve got critical voices inside my head telling me I’m not good enough.”

  “Did you have those voices before Michael came back?”

  “Well, yes, some.”

  “But they’re a lot louder now, right?”

  “A lot.”

  “But you don’t think that’s Michael’s fault, right?”

  “It doesn’t seem fair to blame him.”

  “So you blame yourself.” The silence stretched. At last Emily asked, “Do you want me and Jake to come in?”

  “No! It’s too late.”

  The silence returned as if Emily was trying to read the truth behind Jeanie’s words.

  “What you really need to do is tell Michael all of this. I think he’s really trying, but if he doesn’t know when his words hurt you, he can’t change.”

  “But he’s so busy.”

  “Too busy to be kind? Can anyone ever be that busy?”

  “Things will let up after the Fourth of July.”

  “Don’t wait until then to talk to him. Go talk to him now.”

  “He’s doing book work.”

  “Whack his keyboard with your bat.”

  Jeanie pictured it then started to laugh. Just talking to Emily, speaking of her fears aloud, helped ease them. She’d be able to sleep now. “Maybe I will.”

  “If you’re afraid to talk to Michael, that ought to tell you something.”

  “Yeah, it ought to. I’ll be more honest with him.”

  “Don’t twist what I’ve said into a criticism of your honesty, Jeanie.”

  “I’m not. I’m sorry.”

  Again there was silence. At last Emily said, “I’m going to be watching Michael. I’ll give you until after the Fourth to deal with him, and then I might just show up with a real bat. And I promise I won’t be taking my swings at you.”

  Jeanie laughed again. “Thanks, Em. It really helped to talk.”

  She didn’t go talk to Michael that night. She heard him heading for bed just as she was going and decided to wait until he wasn’t so tired.

  Complaining always made her feel so guilty. What business did she have complaining when she was so far from perfect herself? She was lucky a man like Michael wanted her. Lucky any man would want her after what she’d done.

  Settling into sleep, Jeanie asked God to forgive her for all her worrying when she’d made this mess out of her life. She was finally, really, fully able to love her husband.

  Dear God, thank You so much for loving me. And thank You that Michael loves me.

  It occurred to her to ask God to help her love herself, but she just couldn’t. It was too selfish.

  sixteen

  Michael was obviously thrilled with the turnout for the Independence Day weekend.

  Jeanie could see that the rest of the town was stunned. Not her, though. She’d expected Michael to make a huge success out of anything he tried.

  He’d had his back slapped and his hand shaken a hundred times since the first car pulled up Friday morning.

  The parade had been huge and flashy and stirring. Tourists lined the streets. The fireworks had been spectacular—Michael had seen to that. There was a hustle and bustle on Cold Creek’s Main Street that added up to financial success for everyone in town.

  By the time it was over, the cabins were rented for the rest of the summer and for a lot of weekends next year. A hunting and fishing magazine had sent a crew and were clearly excited about this untapped area for fall and spring outdoor sports.

  The buffalo were a smash. Jeanie had seen her sister looking jubilant, because keeping the buffalo ranch financially sound was always tricky.

  As the last car pulled out of Cold Creek midafternoon on Monday, the town leaders congregated in the Buffalo Café. Jeanie served coffee and donuts. Things were badly picked over thanks to hungry tourists.

  Michael went from table to table, full of plans for the future. The whole café buzzed with excitement.

  Jeanie brought coffee around and accepted kind words from her neighbors, too, though none of this was her doing.

  “Jeanie, have we stripped all the cupboards bare in this place?” Michael smiled at her and slung an arm around her shoulder.

  “I’m down to crackers and unopened cans of chili. Not exactly coffee break food.”

  Michael kissed her soundly.

  She loved him so much when he was happy. If only she could keep him happy.

  He reached for her hair and ran a gentle hand over it, tucking it behind her ears.

  “I’m sorry. I’ve just been running all day. I must be a mess.” Jeanie reached up to smooth her hair, wondering what it looked like. The pleasure of the day faded as she worried about shaming Michael. She saw that her nails were chipped. Her makeup must have melted off hours ago.

  “You’re fine. Stop worrying. Just go check in the mirror. Your mascara’s a little smeared.” Michael looked closer. “Or maybe you’ve got circles under your eyes. What an exhausting weekend for you.”

  “You, too.”

  “Yeah, but it’s like caffeine in my blood. Being around people energizes me. You’re happier when it’s quiet.”

  “I’ve been happy this weekend. I’ve loved the activity.”

  Michael relaxed his hold. “Go check in the mirror, okay?”

  Jeanie nodded and practically ran out of the room. There was a small restroom in the kitchen for the help. She went there and fussed with her appearance, dallying, wishing everyone outside would go away before she had to come out. She’d forgotten how much she hated crowds. When she’d been in the restroom for half an hour, she peeked out the door and saw that things had calmed down. She swung the door open and was surprised to see Buffy waiting in the kitchen, her arms crossed. Beside her stood Emily Hanson, with Logan, just a couple of weeks old, held close against her chest.

  “We heard that.” Buffy scowled and studied Jeanie’s face as if she were a bug under a microscope.

  “H–heard what?”

  “What he said to you.” Emily patted Logan’s back. Emily had straight brown hair and sun-browned skin like Buffy. But Emily was taller. She was still rounded from having her baby. And Emily’s eyes were kind, whereas Buffy glared with anger.

  “Who?”

  Buffy snorted. “How long did it take him to put you back in your place? He’d been here, what—two weeks, maybe a month?—before you quit all your jobs and started wearing too much makeup, trying to be good enough for that worthless Michael Davidson.”

  “He’s not worthless. He’s done so much for this town.” Jeanie looked past Buffy’s shoulders into the dining room, terrified Michael would overhear.

  “He’s gone. Relax. He won’t catch you having an opinion. He hasn’t done half for this town of what you did.”

  “Are you kidding? He built these cabins.”

  “He closed the senior center.”

  “They eat here now for the same price. And he brought tourists to your buffalo ranch.”

  “He’s cut the hours the library is open.”

  “I didn’t know about that.” Jeanie rested one hand on her chest, surprised to learn of it. Keeping the library open as many hours as possible had been important to this town.

  “Julia can’t handle the extra hours, so she’s just closing it for the evening hours.”

  “That’s not Michael’s fault.” Jeanie needed to phone Julia. If there was no other way, Jeanie could go back to work. Except Michael wouldn’t like it.

  “The Russos are putting the mini-mart up for sale,” Buffy added.

  “They are?”

  “Tim thinks it’s too har
d on their kids to work such long hours. He’s hoping with the tourist rush he can unload the place on someone.”

  “Has he tried hiring teenagers? They usually need some spending money.”

  “There are three new patients at the nursing home that need hospice care. Someone is driving over from Hot Springs to take care of them.”

  Emily nudged Buffy, and the two of them exchanged another glance. Buffy rubbed her mouth as if she had to physically restrain the words.

  Jeanie bristled. “I’m not the only person in this town who could be a hospice volunteer. Michael needs me.”

  Buffy’s eyes narrowed, but she didn’t speak.

  Jeanie looked to Emily for support. Instead, she saw pity.

  “Didn’t you hear what he said to you, Jeanie?” Emily asked. “He’s unkind.”

  “He told me I looked tired.”

  Buffy shook her head, her jaw tense. “Another way of criticizing you.”

  “No, a way of protecting me. He’s taking care of me.”

  “It’s not just that. I’ve watched him.” Emily reached out and rested a hand on Jeanie’s arm. “He puts one of his little barbs into you, and you start trying to fix it, make him happy. You’ve changed since he came back, Jeanie. You’re not happy anymore.”

  “I wasn’t happy before.” Jeanie balled her fists. There was truth in what they said. And yes, Buffy had an old ax to grind, but Emily had no history with Michael.

  “When you phoned me the other night, you said you’d deal with this after the holiday rush,” Emily said. “Well, it’s after.”

  Emily and Buffy exchanged a long look. Jeanie ached inside for being on the outside of whatever passed between these two. They were her best friends.

  Then Buffy smiled. But the sadness in her eyes overruled the smile. “I want you to be happy, Jeanie.” Buffy rested one of her work-roughened hands on Jeanie’s arm.

  Jeanie remembered all the times she’d sneered at Buffy for the hard, dirty work of wrangling buffalo. Jeanie patted Buffy’s hand. “You know, don’t you, that all those times I was such a brat to you when we were kids and after Michael left me came from jealousy?”

  Buffy’s forehead wrinkled. “Jealousy? You were the one who was cool. You had so many friends. You were popular.”