“You’d better be as ready to back up your promises as I am,” Jesse shouted.
He watched Paul head back into the house, then studied the faint imprint of the pendant on his arm. Close, real close. Unfortunately, it would be faded by the time he got home.
Ever since they were kids, Paul had a snake-edged tongue, always slicing through where Jesse was most tender. But he felt in every cell of his body that Paul was the one who attacked Marti. Not that he had much proof, but he could take a smidgen of hope and turn it into something tangible, like he’d done with racing. He would do it here, too.
Chuck was kind enough to close Bad Boys for Thanksgiving. Then Marti learned that it wasn’t so much out of kindness, because most of Chattaloo’s businesses were closed for the holiday.
She searched for large pans and serving dishes in Jesse’s cabinets, stacking them up on the table for transport to Helen’s at two o’clock. When Jesse walked into the kitchen wearing a maroon dress shirt and black pants, she just stared at him. Not only because he looked so formal and handsome and—she clamped her mouth shut. “I thought we were eating at your mom’s house.”
“We are. Why?”
“You look … nice.” She resisted the temptation to say, Boy, you sure clean up nice.
He shrugged. “We always dress up for holiday dinners.” He looked down at himself and grinned. “Then we crowd into the kitchen and sweat and get food all over our nice clothes before dinner even begins. It always did seem silly to me, but Ma insists.”
Marti dropped a large, plastic spoon into the stacked metal bowls. She felt an expression of controlled panic seize her face. They all worked together in the kitchen? Doing what? Talking about what?
Jesse’s grin disappeared. “What’s the matter?”
“I don’t do family get-togethers. Traditional dinners were usually my mother’s latest lover trying to impress us by taking us to some fancy restaurant. Big dinners with everyone cooking together, chatting about what a wonderful year it’s been, that’s the stuff of commercials.”
He took her hands in his. She tried to avoid his gaze by staring at the hollow of his throat, but something made her meet his eyes.
“As long as you’re my wife, you are part of my family. There’s nothing to be afraid of, and believe me, it’s never as picture-perfect as a commercial. We usually have as much fun making the meal as we do eating it. You’ll be fine.”
She nodded, but inside was sure she’d fail at her part of the preparation and lively conversation.
Her mother’s voice echoed in her head: You’ll never be good at anything, Hallie. You think being a sexy, pretty young thing will be enough for someone quality to love you? Maybe for a time or two in the sack, but that’s it.
She wasn’t sexy or pretty anymore.
She remembered their dinner last week, the light-hearted conversation and smiles. That was an ordinary meal, though, and this was Thanksgiving.
The former Marti had few nice dresses. Still, she wanted to wear something special, so she slipped into a pink dress plastered with white tulips. She brushed her hair, surveying her reflection. Pretty enough, she supposed.
Hearing Jesse’s voice outside, she put on white sandals and headed toward the door. He was playing Frisbee with Bumpus. She watched as he reared back, then threw the disk to the dog that was crouched and ready to start the chase. Jesse’s hair was still wet; combed back, it looked slick with styling gel. He had nice hair, thick and wavy, and did little more than brush it.
He headed toward the truck, disk in hand. Bumpus watched intently, waiting for a signal.
“I hope you don’t mind if he comes along. He’d be heartbroken if I left him behind.”
Picturing him riding in the back of the truck, she said, “Well, I certainly don’t want to break his heart.”
Jesse helped her in the truck, then gave the signal Bumpus waited for: a wave of the disk. Bumpus took a running leap, lunging at the Frisbee. With it in his mouth, he landed on the seat next to her, upsetting the pile of cookware in her lap. She scrunched toward the door.
“Jesse, he’s in the truck! Get him out of here.”
Instead of telling the dog to get out, Jesse slid in next to him. “He always rides in the cab.”
“Can’t he ride in the back? I’ve seen dogs do that before.”
“Not mine. You don’t let your dog ride in back when you see a truck’s brakes slam and watch the dog in back fly through the air and into traffic. Luckily, he was able to limp away before he got run over.”
“What if I gave you an ultimatum? It’s either the dog or me.”
He grinned. “I’d say, hope it’s not too breezy for you in the back. And don’t open your mouth or you might eat a bug.”
She crossed her arms in front of her. “Humph.”
No point in arguing, obviously. She stayed flat against the door. Bumpus turned toward her, sending a drop of drool hurtling through the air. She leaned to the side, and it barely missed her.Augh.
As Jesse headed down the road, she opened the glove box and found a package of tissues. She pulled out five and balled them up. Every time she saw the saliva forming on Bumpus’s lips, she swabbed it. He was too busy enjoying the ride to pay much attention.
“What are you doing to my dog?” Jesse asked, obviously more attentive.
“I’m mopping him up. He’s drooling all over.”
Jesse shook his head and returned his attention to the road. His light expression of earlier darkened. “I take care of my own. I’d never do anything to endanger my people, and Bumpus is my people, too.”
“All right,” she said slowly, missing the reason for his heartfelt statement.
“I wouldn’t make you ride back there either. Just so you know.” He flicked her a smile, the shadow on his face gone.
“Makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.” She kept swabbing Bumpus’s chin.
As soon as they turned on the road leading to Helen’s, Bumpus stood. His tail thumped Marti’s shoulder, his gaze going back and forth, making it harder to jab the tissues at his drooly mouth. When they turned onto Helen’s driveway, he went berserk, whining and dancing a jig on the front seat.
“Does he have to go to the bathroom?” she asked, ready to grab more tissues.
“No, he always goes nuts when he realizes we’re visiting grandma,” Jesse said.
“Ah. And how does Helen feel about being this… thing’s grandmother?”
He shrugged. “She doesn’t mind. What with Dad and his dogs, and Billy and me catching every kind of critter you could imagine, including baby raccoons and squirrels, she gave up being squeamish. Even now, Billy’s got a pet possum, and Caty’s got her rat. Ma’s easy going.”
“I can’t imagine getting used to those kinds of animals in the house.”
He cut the engine and turned to her. “You never had critters when you were a kid, did you?”
“No. My mother wasn’t into animals, or really anything that required work.” Including having a kid.
He nodded, as though that explained everything. “Animals teach you unconditional love. Give them food, water, and some attention, and they love you. Simple as that. You don’t have to look pretty or have a college education or money or anything else that people think gives them value.” He rubbed Bumpus’s head. The dog licked Jesse’s hand and actually seemed to smile. Then, as though he were full of love, he turned and licked her hand, too.
She pulled it back with a grimace and wiped it on her shirt. “How can you learn to be loved? I don’t even get that. I thought it came naturally, or maybe from growing up in a loving family. And is that the same as being lovable? I mean being loved for who you are, not what you are?” She shifted back a few inches when Bumpus tried to lick at her face. “By people. I think it’s something that gets turned on when you’re young … or not.”
Jesse took her in for a moment, probably trying to make sense of everything she’d bombarded him with. Finally, he said, “Start with
the dog.”
She blinked. “What?”
“Just let him love on you. Stop being so, ‘Oh, it’s gross!’” He’d mimicked a high-pitched voice on those words. Her voice, no doubt.
She gave him a You’ve got to be kidding look. “You want me to let a dog lick me to learn about being loved. Really?”
Jesse leaned forward, so close she thought he was going to kiss her. He stopped an inch in front of her. “Yeah, really. ‘Cause here’s the thing: you gotta love yourself before you can expect anyone else to. See, to Bumpus, you’re not pretty or ugly, important or insignificant. You’re one of his people, and that makes you significant. Start with that.”
He pushed open the door behind her. Bumpus jumped out and she heard dogs sniffing and scrabbling around in the dirt behind her. She was still looking at Jesse, who hadn’t moved back yet. Who, in fact, remained close enough that she felt the soft exhale of his breath on her chin.
She yearned to be significant to him, to hear that from him. A different kind of yearning had her wanting to touch her mouth to his, to feel her significance to him. Whoa. Wasn’t that her problem, needing to feel important to someone other than herself? Validation.
She cleared her throat and nodded. “Start with the dog.”
His gaze slid to her mouth. “The dog.”
She backed away, nearly falling off the edge of the seat.
He grabbed her arms and jerked her forward, right into him. “You okay?”
She’d gripped his shoulders, her cheek brushing his. “I’ve got my balance now.” You need to keep your balance, which means backing away from this very close position with Jesse … who smells so good, I want to eat him up.
She backed away at that crazy thought, her heart tripping. “We should go in, I suppose.”
“Yeah. I suppose.” Did he look a little shell-shocked, or was it her imagination? Probably the latter.
She followed him into the house, ducking under pilgrim and pumpkin decorations hanging over the door. A fat pumpkin squatted on the coffee table, surrounded by a variety of smaller squashes in wacky shapes. A football game blared on the television, and the aroma of roasting turkey filled the room. Marti couldn’t help but smile, feeling her anxiety slip away.
“Hi, Ma!” Jesse hollered.
“Hi, hon, Marti! Happy Thanksgiving!” Helen called from the kitchen. She appeared in the kitchen doorway. “Marti, why don’t you come in and help me get the feast process started? Caty’s helping Dr. Hislope with one of Nolen’s cows. Bessie Blue’s having a hard time calving, and Donna’s nowhere to be found.”
“I’d love to help. I will warn you, though, that I can’t cook.”
Jesse picked up one of the strangely shaped gourds and regarded it curiously. “Mom, give her a few lessons, will you? I can’t cook all the meals now, can I?”
Helen cocked her head at him. “Aw, that would be awful, wouldn’t it?”
He raised his hands in surrender. “I know when to exit gracefully. I’m going to see if Billy needs any help fishing. We’ll be in shortly to help.”
Helen headed back into the kitchen. “I didn’t raise my boys to depend on a woman to eat and have clean clothes.” She handed Marti a peeler and several potatoes and set her up in front of the sink.
“Jesse’s one of the neatest men I’ve ever met,” Marti said. “Most bachelor pads are pretty disgusting, but not his place. Not that I’ve seen a lot of bachelor pads,” she felt inclined to add.
“He’s always been that way. I hardly ever had to tell him to wash his hands before dinner either. Billy, unfortunately, was always a slob.” Helen whispered, “I even put him over my knee and spanked him once after he said it was a woman’s place to cook and clean. He was twenty-three years old.”
“That must have been a sight.”
Helen’s brown eyes twinkled with mischief. “It was. He never said anything like that again, at least in my presence.”
“I guess not. Well, it’s a good thing you taught Jesse to be independent, being that he’s not the marrying type.”
Helen’s laugh was more of a sputter. “What do you mean? He is married.”
“Yeah, but against his will. And I’ll be heading back to California soon, so he’ll be single again. According to him, he’ll be that way for a long time so he can concentrate on his racing.”
“Don’t let him send you away, hon. A good woman can bring happiness to a man whether he wants it or not. And vice-versa.”
“Oh, he’s not sending me away. I feel the same. We’re a perfect match, in that respect.”
Helen gave her an odd look, but Marti’s attention had been snagged by the scene outside the window: Jesse stealthily approached Billy from behind, then tossed a small rock into the water. The resulting splash made Billy perk up, then quickly reel in the lure and cast it in the area of the splash. After the third time, Billy turned around and pointed at Jesse with a menacing finger. The two wrestled for a few minutes. Oh, to have that kind of sibling camaraderie.
“Are they goofing around again?” Helen asked, basting the turkey with an oversized syringe.
“They were wrestling, but now they’re starting a game of horseshoes.”
“They never grow up. And frankly, I don’t want them to. They’re still my little boys when they wrestle and tease each other.” She smiled wistfully. “These are the times I miss Bernie the most. When you love someone, it doesn’t go away.”
Marti felt a twinge in her heart. She would probably never love someone like that. She’d end up hurting them, no doubt. “Doesn’t that make you wish you’d never felt that love if it hurts so much to lose it.”
Helen tilted her head, giving Marti a sad look. “Haven’t you ever loved someone fiercely?”
“I’ve been in love, and I thought I loved someone, but turned out it wasn’t the real thing. I’ve never hurt the way you’re obviously hurting, so maybe that’s a good thing.”
Helen put her hand on Marti’s arm. “Surely you’ve heard the phrase, ‘It’s better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all’?”
“Yeah, but I figured it’s just a way to make yourself feel better, like sour grapes and all.”
Helen smiled, soft and sweet and a little sad. “To feel the real thing, whether it’s family love or friendship love or romantic, is worth every bit of heartache when it’s gone.” She fisted her hand at her chest. “Because it’s always here. It touches you and changes you, probably for the better. And it never goes away.” She sighed, bringing herself back to the task at hand. “Once we get the potatoes going, we’ll start the green beans and sweet potatoes. This kind of dinner is like orchestrating a production.”
Glad to be focusing on something other than love, Marti shook her head as she took in the steaming pots and piles of beans. “I could never do this. Cooking’s not in my genes.”
“Nothing to do with genes, hon. It’s a matter of learning. It’s a labor of love, an adventure.”
Marti watched as Helen deftly shaved the carrots clean. “Maybe if my mother had taught me how to cook. She was more of the Hamburger Helper type.” Even in a lacy apron, Helen didn’t visually fit in a kitchen. Yet, she worked like a pro. “Where are you from? Not here, right?”
Helen gave her a sheepish grin. “I’m still not Chattaloo’d, am I?”
“Well, I can tell you weren’t born in any small Southern town.”
“I was born in a prestigious Connecticut community. I went to private schools, attended the dances and all that social poopoo. I had fun, but it wasn’t me.”
Marti raised her eyebrows. “You look like you’d fit into that kind of world. I mean, you’re so pretty and classy.”
Helen curtsied, never missing a beat with her carrot peeling. “Why, thank you. Everybody thought I’d marry the senator’s son and have three bright, beautiful children, and live in a big white house. I did, too. But there was something inside me that was still searching. After I graduated from college, I drove down to the
Keys by myself.
“My Jaguar broke down here in Chattaloo. I thought I was going to get ripped, a young woman alone in a small town. Bernie gave me a reasonable estimate, and his Southern drawl made me melt. He had to order the part from the dealer, and it was going to take a day or two. He took care of me, making me dinner at his house, taking me horseback riding. When my car was ready to go, I wasn’t.”
Marti was trying to pay attention to how Helen was kneading the biscuit dough, but she was too entranced by her story. “It sounds so romantic.”
A melancholy haze fell upon her face. “It was, but it wasn’t perfect. I had hoped once Billy was born that Bernie would stop racing so much, but he didn’t. We had problems, and I made mistakes. By the time Jesse was born, we’d come to an understanding about the racing. And I’d learned an important lesson about the value of love.”
Marti blew out a long breath. “I know about making mistakes. I made a lot of them in my marriage to Jamie. I sure learned my lesson about love: I’m not good at it, and I don’t want to try anymore.”
Helen turned to her. “Surely you don’t mean that.”
“I do. I had my chance, and I blew it. If I couldn’t find love with Jamie, who was loving and tender, how can I find it with anyone else?”
“Oh, I think you’ll find it again. Or more likely, it will find you. Probably in the most unexpected place.”
Billy and Jesse busted through the door then, panting and slick with sweat. Billy stripped off his T-shirt, baring a tattoo of an eagle stretching from one shoulder to the other on his back.
“Billy, get your half-naked sweatiness out of here, wash up, and get back in here to help,” Helen said.
Jesse grabbed two bottles of beer from the fridge, pressed one to his flushed forehead, and walked out to hand one to Billy. He stood in the living room, his shirt stripped off, wide shoulders tapering to his waist and narrow hips. The black pants shaped his tight butt nicely. His damp hairs brushed the base of his neck as he moved. When her eyes felt locked to him, he turned and caught her staring. She couldn’t tear her gaze away, and a warm fire burned in her stomach.
Stranger in the Mirror [Shades of Heaven] (Soul Change Novel) Page 8