Boss Meets Her Match

by Janet Lee Nye

  “Lena. Wait a minute.”

  She stopped at the sound of her mother’s voice, but didn’t turn around. A moment later, Ana put her arm around Lena’s waist.

  “Hija, we didn’t mean to upset you. But all you do is work and go home. Come here a couple of times a month. We want you to be happy.”

  “That’s not all I do,” she said defiantly. “I have dinner with Sadie once a week. I’m working on a project for St. Toribio’s. I have a life, Mom.”

  Ana uttered a swift prayer in Spanish under her breath. “You sound like you are fifteen years old again.”

  “Treat me like a child, I’m going to act like one. Look. I know what’s going on. Sadie’s getting married. All my cousins are getting married. I want to meet a guy. I want to get married. I want to have three kids. But I also want the rush, the thrill of falling in love. This fixing-up stuff feels so clinical and cold.”

  “Only because you make it that way. If you were open to meeting men, you might actually fall in love with one. But you judge every one of them before you even get to know them.”

  Lena bit back a sarcastic comment. Trigger. Her conversation with Sadie had left this subject more than a little sore. Feel vulnerable? Go to attack mode. She drew in a breath. Counted to ten.

  “I’m working on this. I know I have trust issues, not with men, but trusting myself. I’m working on it. And y’all throwing strangers at me is not helping at all. Sorry I made the Aunties angry, but I really just need to go cool down.”

  Ana pulled Lena close for a hug. “Go cool down. We’ll talk later.”

  The narrow path at the back corner of the lawn led through the thick woods. She normally didn’t like to come back here because of snakes. And bugs. But none of that bothered her as she marched along the path, trying to sort out her feelings. Anger. Envy. Shame. She should be back there. She shouldn’t be feeling like this. But it was nothing but the truth. Her family saw her as a failure in the one thing that was important to them: continuation of the family. Sadie had beat her out in expanding the family. As Paula’s and Estrella’s sons and daughters were providing them with grandchildren, Ana was waiting patiently for Lena.

  The path widened to a clear patch at the edge of a tidal creek. There were camp chairs in a half circle where the men would gather with fishing poles and beer. She checked one over for bugs and sat down, leaning forward with her head in her hands. After all these years, now she was going to encounter sibling rivalry? Sadie was a sister to her. Lena sat up, crossing her arms against her chest. She heard a noise along the path and closed her eyes. She didn’t want to talk to anyone.

  She cut her eyes to the side as Wyatt slid into a chair beside her without saying anything. The shame of her thoughts burned hotter in his presence. He was a good guy. The kind of guy Sadie deserved. She was truly happy for them.

  “You didn’t even look,” she said. “You could have sat on a snake or something.”

  “You wouldn’t be here if there was a snake. You’d still be running away, screaming.”

  She felt a smile tug at her lips. If Sadie was the sister of her heart, Wyatt was the big brother she’d always wanted. “True.”

  They sat in silence for a bit. The marsh grass whispered in the wind. Birds chirped. Squirrels chittered. All the nature stuff that Lena hated. A loud splash from the creek made her jump. Wyatt laughed.

  “Probably just a mullet,” he said, leaning back and putting his hands behind his head.

  “Sounded like an alligator.”

  Wyatt shrugged. “Could be,” he said with a smile.

  “I’m so mean.”

  A long silence. “You can be.”

  “Gee. Thanks. Pretend to argue with me, huh?” She leaned forward again, elbows propped on her knees and chin in hands. She knew she was pouting. When had Sadie become the golden child and she the screwup? The thought hurt her. Was she that petty?

  “It’s okay,” Wyatt said.

  His gentle understanding undid her. Tears streamed down her cheeks. “I don’t want to be like this,” she stammered out.

  His hand came down on her back. “You aren’t like this. You’re just feeling like this right now.”

  “Everything is backward. My family is driving me insane. I just want to go away and eat ice cream until I’m fat.”

  Wyatt’s eyes shifted to the bottom of the chair. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that.”

  She smacked him on the arm, laughing as she did so. “Shut up. Like I can’t see that pudge hanging over your belt there, mister.”

  Wyatt put a hand over his flat stomach. “Fat and blind is no way to go through life, Lena.”

  “Dad!”

  Wyatt turned to the path. “We’re back here, Jules.”

  “I really am happy for you guys. I am.”

  “I know. We know. Sadie feels guilty about your family ganging up on you.”

  “She shouldn’t. It’s not her fault. I’m being a bad sister right now.”

  “Nope. You’re being a real sister. It’s not always sunshine and happiness. Sometimes it’s open warfare and jealousy.”

  “I hope it doesn’t come to that.”

  “But it’s okay, Lena. It’s a complicated situation. It’s normal for you to have complicated feelings about it.”

  Feelings. Yeah. Added to the disastrous fix-ups, she was about done with feelings. She let her head fall back and looked up at the blue sky. Took in a deep breath, filling her lungs with the acrid tang of pluff mud. “Thanks. I’ll be okay. It’ll all work out.”

  “Good. Because Sam brought a buddy home with him. I think he’s your date.”

  “What?” Lena said, drawing the word out into at least six syllables. “This is like torture.”

  Jules hurried out of the woods with her hands clutched to her chest. “Dad, look what I found!” She held out her hands.

  “Wow. That’s a big one,” Wyatt said.

  A creepy-crawly feeling washed over Lena. “What in God’s name is that?”

  Jules turned to her and held out her loosely clasped hands. Something brown and fat and gross stared out from between the girl’s fingers. “It’s a toad! Biggest one I’ve ever seen.”

  Lena lurched back as the toad was thrust into her face. Wyatt laughed. “What’s that saying, Lena? You gotta kiss a lot of toads?”

  She bit back the profanity that flickered on the tip of her tongue. “Okay, Jules, just take it...”

  The rest was lost. The toad leaped from Jules’s hands, straight for her face. An echoing scream bounced back from the creek as Lena ungracefully fell out of the low chair and to the mucky ground. She rose to Jules’s and Wyatt’s laughter.

  “It won’t hurt you, Aunt Lena,” Jules said.

  Lena lifted a hand to scrub at the spot on her forehead where the disgusting thing had actually touched her flesh. “I don’t care,” she said. “Those things are full of diseases.”

  “No, they aren’t. I learned about them in science class.”

  Lena twisted and groaned at the sight of her skirt smeared with the dark black mud. “Fine, whatever. I’m going to go burn this skirt now.”

  She stomped away down the path to the sound of Wyatt telling Jules it was okay. She felt bad if she’d upset Jules—again—but she shuddered. That thing had touched her. And Wyatt was just letting her carry it around? Ugh.

  “Aunt Lena!”

  She ignored the call from the path. She needed to calm down and get cleaned up. She’d apologize later. And...oh Jesucristo. What fresh hell is this? Her cousin Sam stood in the yard, just outside the porch. With him was a man. She slowed her steps. Another fix-up. At least this one is hot. The two men watched her approach. Tall. Dark. Drop-dead gorgeous with a body to match. “Aunt Lena!”

  She stopped and looked
back. Facing Jules was the lesser of two evils at the moment. “It’s okay, Jules. I’m sorry I screamed. It just startled me.”

  As she spoke the words, she noticed with horror that the child had that...that...thing back in her hands.

  “I didn’t think he’d jump. I’m sorry. I thought I was holding on good enough. He’s not slimy and he doesn’t have diseases though.”

  “Okay. I believe you.”

  Jules held her hands up. “Touch him. You’ll see. He’s not slimy.”

  Lena looked down into the little girl’s earnest face. She’d rather touch Sass’s vomit with her bare hands. But she screwed up her courage and reached out to give the toad a quick tap on the head. Jules smiled up at her.

  “See? Told you.”

  “Okay. You’re right. I’m wrong. It’s not slimy.”

  Wyatt walked up behind Jules and put his hands on her shoulders. “Okay, little bit, you’ve had your fun. Go put Mr. Toad back where you found him and go wash your hands.”

  Lena turned to find Sam and his hot buddy had walked up behind her. “Lena,” he said, motioning with the red Solo cup he held. “This is my buddy Jake. He’s a Marine too.”

  “Hi, buddy Jake. I’d shake hands but I’m covered in toad germs right now.” She held her index finger up. Keeping it away from the other fingers.

  This was great. Someone in her family drags out a man she might actually be interested in and she’s covered in mud and toad slime.

  Sam lifted the cup again. “Your mom made sangria.”

  She looked at the cup. Stuck her contaminated finger in it. Stirred. “Thanks. That should kill off the toad diseases.”

  Sam shrugged. “Toads don’t have diseases.” He lifted the cup and drank.

  “Oh my God, you are so disgusting. Excuse me.”

  As she made her way to the porch, she heard buddy Jake. “Not exactly how you described her, dude.”

  * * *

  SHE STOMPED UPSTAIRS to her old bedroom where she kept some clothes for weekend visits. After scouring her hands and forehead with antibacterial soap, she found a pair of jeans and changed out of her muddy skirt. Flopping down on the bed, she wondered how long she could stay up here and ignore Hispanic Bachelor Number Three. Not long, her stomach answered as the smell of tomatoes and cheese drifted up to her. Whatever her faults, Aunt Paula did make a to-die-for lasagna.

  Of course, they’d seated her next to Mr. Marine Buddy. Jake. What kind of name was that for a nice Mexican boy? Fine. She’d make an effort.

  “So, Jake,” she said as she passed him the garlic bread. “What do you do in the Marines?”

  “I’m a member of the Marine Expeditionary Unit, ma’am.”

  She waited. Nothing. “And what does that entail?”

  “Lots of training, ma’am.”

  Sam leaned forward. “The MEU’s are the first wave of the force. They go in by sea. A pretty elite group.”

  Lena nodded. Okay. No more questions. He can just sit there and be hot. She locked eyes with Sadie for a moment before having to look away. Problem was they could read each other all too well. All bod, no brains. But her family was watching as if the fate of the world depended on the outcome.

  She looked around. Glared at her mother. What did they expect? Bring some random stranger home and throw him at her in front of everyone. She looked down the table. “Jules,” she called out, “did I hear you found your wedding dress?”

  Ha. That did it. The focus shifted from her shameful spinster status to the wedding of the century. And the bride was currently not blushing but promising a painful death with her eyes. Hot Marine dude was Sam’s guest. Sam could entertain him. Jules appropriated Wyatt’s phone and brought up the pictures of the dress she was going to wear for the wedding.

  That carried her for a few minutes. She kept her eyes studiously on the pictures on the phone, avoiding the entire conversation that was occurring between the women of the family. A conversation held entirely with glances, frowns, eyebrow raising and slight shakes of the head. Every woman in the room knew exactly what was being said and not a man noticed.

  After she’d strung out the dress conversation as long as possible, she looked over at Wyatt. Who was in full big-brother mode. He flicked his eyes in Jake’s direction, then waggled his eyebrows at Lena. She gave him her most lethal eyebrow raise and glare. He laughed. Until Sadie elbowed him in the side the same moment Lena kicked his shin.

  “Ow!” he exclaimed, rubbing his side.

  “Behave,” Sadie hissed at him.

  “You two are the ones beating up on an innocent man.”

  “Do you three need a children’s table?”

  Jake leaned closer to her. “Sorry about this. Sam didn’t say anything to me. I thought I was just coming for lunch,” he whispered.

  Maybe he wasn’t so bad. Except that he was a good five years younger than she was. And lived in a different city. And was in the military and probably one day from being shipped out to some distant land. She forked a mouthful of lasagna and sighed as she chewed.

  She escaped the table when she heard a car pulling into the driveway. That would be Hannah. Going over the package from Matt took up enough time to keep them out on the porch until Estrella opened the door and informed them that Hannah was late for lunch and Lena was being rude. “What’d you do?” Hannah asked as the door shut noisily.

  “I’ve insisted on finding my own husband.”

  Hannah laughed. “They did the same thing with me. The Parade of Suitably Brown Husbands. Ugh. I’m sorry. It was humiliating.”

  “If their taste wasn’t so horrible, it wouldn’t be quite as bad. I’ve been calling it the Hispanic Bachelor Auditions. How’d you get them to stop?”

  “Brought Rick home and told them to stop it.”

  Lena sat back in the rocker. Hannah’s husband was biracial. Half-Hispanic, half–African American. “How’d they take it?”

  “Dad was...unhappy. But Mom just said, ‘at least he’s not white.’ And that was that.”

  “What do they have against white guys?”

  Hannah shrugged as she tucked the file in her purse. “My dad. You know how he is. Can’t let anything go. And Mom is just as bad. Her default setting for white people is ‘shields up.’ Come on, I’m starving. Her taste in men is awful, but Aunt Paula’s lasagna is to die for.”

  Lena followed her back inside. She’d known Estrella didn’t like white people. She’d been the first to object to her friendship with Sadie so long ago. But her parents weren’t like that. She’d never heard either of them say a bad word about anyone really. She ignored Paula’s glare and went to the kitchen for a glass of sangria. So, it’s something her family did. Scours the woods for... What did Hannah say... The Parade of Suitably Brown Husbands. But they’d accepted Rick. So maybe... Shaking her head, she rejoined the family at the dining room table. Whatever you are thinking, just stop it right now.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  MATT UNLOCKED HIS bike from the rack in the hospital’s horseshoe driveway and walked it to Ashley Avenue. Straddling the bike, he strapped on his helmet and headed out into traffic. It was early afternoon and traffic wasn’t too bad. Some days, he felt like he was tempting the fates riding the bike around downtown. He followed Ashley to the end, looping around Hampton Park and gliding through backstreets to Moe’s Crosstown Tavern.

  It was a popular, noisy spot most of the time, but this early on a Monday, they had the place almost to themselves. He’d skipped lunch, so he ordered a burger while he waited on the rest of the artists he’d called to show up.

  Once they were settled, he quickly outlined the plan for the art room at St. Toribio’s. “What I’m thinking is an on-call list, so if someone has a question about some of the art a child creates, they can call us. Even send a picture of it, so we
can advise.”

  “How often is on-call going to be?”

  Matt shrugged. “Depends. There are six of us here now. The clinic is open six days a week. Everyone can claim a day. The more people we get on board, the less calls there’ll be.”

  “Good luck getting the private therapists in on this,” one of his fellow hospital therapists joked.

  “I’ve put out calls. We’ll see.”

  He had hoped to get more interest. Everyone at the table worked in a nonprofit of some sort. They were all struggling artists like him, piecing together part-time gigs. Art therapy was the ugly redheaded stepchild of therapy. Not even recognized by insurance, kids who needed it either had parents who couldn’t pay for it or ended up in the hospital, where it was part of the treatment team. It was one of the goals he had in starting his own nonprofit. Open to everyone, regardless of income.

  “I’ll be meeting with the planning committee on Saturday. I’ll be updating them on how we’ll put together the call days and turning in the list of supplies. You’ve seen the list. Anything I’m leaving out?”

  “Natural elements,” one of his Children’s Hospital coworkers, Megan, said. “Leaves. Twigs. Things like that.”

  “Can you get us some for the start-up?”

  “When do you need them?”

  “I’m assuming that shortly after this meeting, we’ll be going out to set up the room. So, a week from Saturday?”

  “Not a problem.”

  Over the next half hour, they refined the supply list and divided up the days for call. Matt had each of them promise to reach out to two other artists with therapy backgrounds. After everyone left, Matt ordered a beer to go with the remains of his burger. His phone vibrated on the table and he glanced down.

  Reyes Financial Management. He scooped it up with a smile. “Ms. Reyes. What a pleasure.”

  “Do you try that cheesy white-boy act on all women? Does it work?”