"You don't have to be so dramatic," Jayce grumbled.
Pointedly ignoring her, Edna squirted dish soap in the sink, ran the hot water and stacked the soiled plates so they clanked in a noisy chorus of disgruntlement. "Never appreciated, don't know why I stay for the abuse."
"I hardly think you're abused." The statement sounded flat, even to Jayce's ears. She couldn't work up enough energy to argue, let alone put any conviction in her words.
Edna jerked Jayce's plate off the table, the potato rolling precariously close to the edge of the plate until she clamped a thumb on it. She thrust her bony hip at an angle and gave Jayce her you-don'tunderstand look. She loved her aunt, but at moments like this, she didn't like her much. For a woman of average height, too skinny, dark haired, with Mansfield-blue-eyes, Edna had more gall than should fit into any one body. They both knew she didn't stick around for Jayce, but was waiting for Slim to make his move and seriously court her.
"There are different forms of abuse, Jayce." She flung her gaze to the ceiling, set her bottom lip to quivering, and added just the right touch of hurt, "This is emotional abuse."
Jayce groaned at her melodramatics. "If this is about supper, give it back and I'll eat every last morsel."
"No, it's not about supper. I doubt you'll wither away from one missed meal," then Edna picked up a fork and hit the tines on the top of Jayce's head.
"Ouch." Jayce rubbed her injured skull. "Then what is it about?"
Moving to the sink, her aunt scrubbed at a plate hard enough to take the porcelain design off it. Jayce got her first clue about what--who-- the charade really referred. In a wistful voice, Edna said, "Little Tiara is working so hard next door. Slim will like having her home, as do I." Her aunt had spoken tenderly and often of Red after she left with Angie, and asking questions that Jayce never had answers for.
The comment brought back so many memories, reminding Jayce of the history between Edna and Tiara. Any time Jayce had played a prank on Red, Edna washed Tiara up. Most times, Jayce would get her messy just so Edna would have more time with Tiara. Scraped knees and elbows cleaned and kissed; milk and cookies supplied to balm the heart, all courtesy of dear Aunt Edna--never Angie Summers. After the kiss in the barn, the friendship between her and Tiara grew strained, but Tiara still sought Edna's company. Jayce forced herself to think back to the specific time when that all stopped.
When Tiara had left with her mother? No, a little bit before then, Jayce remembered with clarity. It was in the beginning of that year; after a heavy snowfall, that Jayce had seen the real extent of Red's unhappiness, while they were sledding. Tiara had been unusually despondent after asking Jayce about Christmas. Jayce had teased, "Pouting over lousy gifts?" That had been Jayce's first mistake.
Tiara's eyes had filled with tears. "Am I that immature to you?"
Jayce had already recognized that Red didn't act like a typical "nuisance" kid for her age. Before she could muster a reply, or even shrug, Tiara had asked the whammy question. "Jayce, did your parents love you, before the car accident, I mean?"
She had discounted the question. "Yeah, why wouldn't they?" That had been her second mistake. Red had silently walked away; and, except for glimpses at school, she hardly saw Tiara after that--except for the kiss in the barn. The visits to Edna had completely stopped that winter.
Did Aunt Edna know the true cause of the abandonment of their relationship? Edna never questioned; at least not openly in Jayce's presence. Jayce propped her elbows on the table and dropped her head in her hands. She decided to set Edna straight before she got her hopes up. "She's only staying until Slim gets back. Whenever that is," she grumbled under her breath.
"Soon, dear," Edna stated matter-of-factly.
Jayce twisted her head and stared in shock at Edna's back. "You know when?"
Edna shook her head and the long braid swung like a pendulum. "Not specifically." Edna rinsed a plate, never turning to face her. "Maybe we could invite Tiara to dinner one night this week. Do you think she'd come?"
"With her friends staying there, I don't know." Her angry words this afternoon would assure a negative response to an invitation from her. Jayce still couldn't believe she'd said them, certainly never meant them; but after seeing that blonde kid kissing her, she'd wanted to hurt Tiara as badly as the double defection had wounded her. Not to mention, Jayce couldn't get a hold on the mood swings Tiara went through; and wondered if she was bi-polar. "You'd better do the asking. After today, I don't think I should show my face over there."
Edna spun around and flashed an antagonistic glare, but Jayce thought she recognized the real emotion behind the wet sparkle of the light blue eyes. "What did you say this time?"
The words confirmed her earlier question. Edna had probably blamed Jayce when Red never came back. She could tell a little lie, if the need suited her, to anyone but her aunt. Would Edna see through Jayce's attempt if she tried now?
"Don't even," Edna snapped. "The truth."
Honesty was a pain in the derrière. "Um...I told her she was a munchkin female without a clue, in front of her friends," she admitted grudgingly.
Wiping her hands on a towel, Edna sat at the table. "You can be so stupid sometimes. You're such a beast, Jayce."
Though Edna said the words lovingly, it irked Jayce that they were the very words Red had used to describe her. "That's what she said, too."
"Serves you right," Edna scolded. Then in a gentler tone, "Did she accept your apology?"
Jayce smirked. "Frankenstein wouldn't let me apologize."
"I beg your pardon?"
"One of her guys over there, he must be seven feet tall." Jayce released a sigh. "I wanted to apologize, really." The humiliation, not at being ordered home, but that she'd acted as she had toward Red, had forced Jayce to comply with the giant's demand.
"What provoked the argument this time?"
There was no way she'd tell Edna the truth. After all, Jayce had admitted that she needed Tiara, and then kissed her, only to be rejected for a male teenager. Jayce had her pride after all. "I don't really remember."
Edna nodded and then reached across the table and patted Jayce's hand. "Well, I'm sure it's for the best. Slim asked you to look after the property, not his daughter. Even he knows you have limitations." She returned to the dishes, the topic evidently closed with that harsh statement.
Jayce gawked at her aunt as Edna hummed and finished the clean up. She didn't know what to say or if she should attempt a vehement denial. He knows I have limitations. Did Edna mean it as a taunt for action or as a statement of fact?
THIS WAS AN uncomfortable situation to say the least--one entirely of Tiara's own making, so complaining wouldn't help. In her hasty decision to repair Slim's house, she'd failed to think about all the aspects of having her personal space invaded. Thank goodness this much change didn't riddle most construction projects, she thought dispiritedly. After her shower, she'd put on a fresh pair of jeans and a t-shirt. Tiara combed out her damp hair and twisted it into a hasty braid. "Now, to brave the folks downstairs," she whispered to her mirrored image. "I already miss my sweats."
The heavenly smell of fresh baked bread and frying chicken teased her nostrils the second she opened her bedroom door. Tiara skipped down the stairs and headed for the kitchen, quickly glancing into the living room to see Craig and Mark on the couch watching television. Had she forfeited remote control rights, too? It was doubtful the men would opt for old movies unless coerced. At least they weren't watching sports...yet. That would make the situation intolerable.
Darla stood by the stove with a pair of metal tongs in her hand, which she used to turn the chicken in the huge iron skillet. She looked so content, so happy. Tiara felt a pang of envy and wondered if Darla's mood was a natural side effect for expectant mothers or if she simply enjoyed cooking. She discounted cooking immediately--nobody could find that chore pleasurable, could they?
"Anything I can do to help?" Tiara asked, noting the table already set fo
r four.
Darla giggled and faced her. "Are you silently chanting 'please say no'?"
Tiara nodded vigorously. "You will, won't you?" They both laughed.
"Can I get you a cup of coffee? Wait, maybe a cola with ice?" Darla pointed to the long cabinet as if needing an exhibit for her question. "Hope you don't mind I snooped around."
"Hardly snooping, Darla. How else were you to know what I had and where everything is located? And, by the way," Tiara inhaled the delicious aroma filling the kitchen, "I know the contents didn't include the essentials for the marvelous smell of chicken and homemade bread, I'm sure. Remember to bill me for this."
After lowering the heat under the frying pan, Darla waved her into a chair. "Coffee or cola? No, no, I'll get it," she stated firmly. Tiara accepted coffee, which Darla retrieved and set in front of her, before she lowered herself into a chair. "You don't need to reimburse me. Right now, I'm in my element and loving it. You can pay for the groceries going forward if it makes you feel better." Darla shifted in her chair. "We have a few minutes until dinner. I could use a chat."
"Oh," escaped Tiara's lips before she could bite it back.
"A chat, not a lecture," Darla giggled, again.
With any other person, giggling would seem immature, but it sounded sweet coming from Darla. They'd established, upon first meeting a few years back, their only commonality a five-month age difference, Tiara the younger. Yet, it hadn't mattered in their becoming friends. At least as much as Tiara had ever considered a personal friendship with another female--not after Jayce's rejection so long ago. Physically, she and Darla were opposites. Darla stood barn pole straight at five-ten, had thin black hair, nutmeg colored eyes, and a pinched appearance to her long nose. Her long fingered hands, which looked to have seen their fair share of hard work, maintained an elegant flair when she gestured. Her rounded jutting chin had the look of clay pinched by the artist. To most people, Darla was homely; yet her gentle nature and caring heart had Tiara admitting beauty really did come from inside. Little wonder Mark was so in love with his wife. Moreover, Darla had the essential quality men loved in women--she could cook.
"So how did you manage to find food for supper? Or for the marvelous lunch today, for that matter?" Tiara asked.
Darla dropped her gaze to the table. "I knew it would be the last thing on Mother Hubbard's mind, so I brought a few groceries. Your father did have some basic staples, other than canned goods. Should I have whipped up a tuna casserole? Opened some canned spaghetti?"
"Heavens, no!" Tiara rolled her eyes. "Mark and Craig would waste away with canned food. I need the guys in peak condition to fix this place, and quickly."
"So this is a short stay?"
"An unexpected visit." Darla had a quizzical wrinkling on her forehead. Tiara smiled as she explained. "My father sent a box with a key and note saying he needed my help since he had a little trouble. Part of the trouble is the horse."
Darla nodded as if it clarified everything. "The loving daughter races to her father's rescue."
Staring into her coffee, Tiara grimaced. "Not exactly."
"You didn't race?'
"Not the loving daughter."
"He's your...stepfather...or something?" Darla's eyes appeared to convey confusion.
"No, he's my biological father. I'm not exactly a loving daughter as I haven't seen him in ten years."
"Oh, I see." Darla's tone suggested otherwise.
Tiara sipped her coffee. "I'd been a major disappointment, always proving he'd fathered a clumsy child. He never put up a fight when Angie took me away. Never came to see me. We aren't close, I guess."
"Still you came here for him, willing to help."
"Yeah, well," Tiara raised her hands and gestured outward, "he never showed. What's that tell you?"
"You love him."
The stove timer buzzed and Tiara controlled the urge to shout, "Saved by the bell." It halted any nudging of the dialogue along its current course, as had the entrance of Mark and Craig at a near run.
They consumed the meal in pleasant comfort, the focal topic of conversation being Mark's excitement and long-range prospects for Baby Chester. Having delved generously into the food portions provided, Tiara hadn't been surprised to find every edible morsel devoured. With nothing left to eat at the table, the men hastily returned to the living room couch and television. Tiara had commanded Darla to rest, and she did dishes and clean up duty. Tiara rinsed the dishcloth when she finished washing, and draped it over the faucet to dry. "That's all done," she proclaimed, swiping the damp hair from her forehead.
Darla presented her with a teasing grin and applause. "I could get used to this. I love cooking, hate cleaning."
"Well, don't worry--"
A knock at the back door filled Tiara with dread. She glanced at Darla, then at the door expecting to find Jayce casually standing as she had this morning. She wasn't. Slowly, Tiara walked forward, preparing for another verbal confrontation instead.
Tiara opened the screen door, looked left then right, and found no one. A mixture of elation and disappointment played tag in her stomach. Halfway through closing the screen door, Tiara stopped. A large purple plastic container lay on the back porch, a piece of paper taped to the lid. Tiara bent and picked it up, the plastic warm from the contents.
"What is it?" Darla asked excitedly.
Tiara let the screen door slam closed behind her and joined Darla at the table, almost giddy with bewilderment. She pulled the lid free and the enticing aroma of fresh chocolate chip cookies assailed her.
"What's the note say?" Darla inquired impatiently.
"Gosh. I bet you're truly fun to watch at Christmas." With a smile and shake of her head, Tiara tugged the paper free. "Hold on," she admonished when Darla tried to sneak a peek. She read the note in silence, then reluctantly aloud for Darla's benefit. "I hope these satisfy your appetite in a way my apology could never be enough to soften the hurt I've caused you. I'm truly sorry." Tiara blinked back the unexpected tears suddenly clouding her vision. "It's signed, J.M."
"Jayce Mansfield," Darla said with a blissful sigh.
"More like Jackass Monster."
Darla grunted her disapproval over Tiara's remark. "Just Misunderstood is more like it." Tiara stared at her. Darla waved a hand in a dismissive gesture. "Later, we'll talk. Now, eat quickly, before the guys get a whiff of your apology."
Chapter Eight
TIARA HAMMERED THE last nail of the replacement piece of wood. She couldn't believe how neglected the outside of the house had become over the years. It had been an old house during her childhood, but that had been part of the charm: old, big, and real wood.
Already well into the second full day of work, Tiara had little chance to agonize over her decisions. She'd also had little chance to wrestle with Jayce's apology, tasty as it was. With the zealous help of Craig and Mark, they'd managed to consume the entire bowl of cookies last night. All morning Tiara had wondered what to say to Jayce or if she should say anything at all. Tiara even had dreams--nightmares-- keeping her from another night of much needed sleep. Dreams of lying entwined on a warm bed of chocolate chip cookies, Jayce hungrily devouring her. When she finally did wake, Tiara felt both flustered and famished.
Tiara had been disheartened to come to the kitchen this morning, the hearty smells of breakfast dished out by Darla and no sign of Jayce. Not that Tiara didn't appreciate all the effort Darla put into making breakfast. She did. However, a huge part of her wanted to find Jayce standing beside the sink, or the back door, the sun casting shadows of her tall, beautiful body across the kitchen floor, a bag of Danish clutched temptingly in her hand. A hand she wanted to feel once again.
A shiver raced through Tiara's body. She spun around on the ladder and was precariously close to tottering over with the sudden movement. Someone was watching her. True to her clumsy nature, the hammer slipped and slammed into her shin before tumbling to the ground with a thud. Tiara pinched her lips tight to hold back t
he curse. She scanned the area with a scowl. No one appeared to be looking her way.
No one she could see, anyway.
The sudden image of gangsters filled her mind. This was the second day; the day the nasally voiced man warned he would come to take possession of Majestic. With all the work on the house, she'd forgotten about him. Had this Mister--she still couldn't remember his correct name--sent his goons to survey the area before making his appearance, see if she'd disposed of the horse?
Well, he'd find the horse where it had been since arriving that horrible morning. Tiara glanced toward the corral. Majestic munched on a patch of grass oblivious, so it seemed, to the noisy work going on nearby, the goose watched from the trough's corner where it had perched itself. She should probably feel guilty for ignoring the animals, having relinquished all duties to Jayce since the morning of arrival, their daily care not a chore Tiara relished. She knew Jayce was feeding them because she'd caught glimpses of her riding away. If Tiara had fed them, Majestic would probably chomp on her hand, decide Tiara wasn't a scrumptious enough morsel, and give his evaluation as "don't bite the hand that feeds you, because it's not at all tasty." Tiara snorted. "If it came to pass, Majestic would have firsthand knowledge," she said, stepping down the ladder to retrieve her hammer.
"Majestic would have knowledge of what?"
The question came from behind her, startling her into missing one rung, her chin slamming into another. She clutched at the ladder in a frantic attempt to prevent a free-fall to the ground. Reestablishing her balance, Tiara finished her descent without further incident. "Jayce, I knew it."
"If you knew, how'd I startle you?"
"I'm not startled," Tiara said defensively.
"Could've fooled me," Jayce said with a glance at the ladder. "You okay?"
Tiara bent to pick up the hammer, barely curbing the impulse to hit Jayce with it. Why damage a perfectly good hammer on her hard head, anyway? "Fine. Is there something I can do for you?" she asked, barely able to keep the petulance from her tone.
A Majestic Affair Page 6