by Debby Mayne
"If I wasn't before, I am now. You're awfully hard on me, Paula. I don't know what I did to deserve this."
"Mom, you know I'll be here for you if you really need me. But I can't solve every problem."
"I never asked you to."
"But you're here for a reason." Paula held her mother's gaze until she got a nod of confirmation. "Tell me what you need."
"A thousand dollars."
Paula's ears rang. "That's a lot of money."
"I know, but that's what I need." Her mother shrugged and looked down at the table before leveling Paula with a pitiful look. "If you don't have it—"
"Do you really need the money, or do you want it for something?"
"Um . . . I sort of need it, or I might have to turn the car back in."
Now Paula understood. "Do you have to have all of it right away?"
Her mother frowned as she glanced away. "I guess I can take half now and the other half next week. I'm two months behind on the payment."
"Does Mack know this?"
Her mother looked down at her hands and shook her head. When she glanced back up at Paula, all color had drained from her face. "I spent the money he gave me for the car payment."
"What did you spend it on?"
"I don't think it's any of your business, but since I have to beg for money, I'll tell you. I'm having some personal problems, and I've been seeing someone."
"A man?" Paula shrieked.
"Stop that nonsense, Paula. Yes, a man, but he's a shrink."
At least she knew she needed help. "Will you still be here next week?" Paula asked.
"No, of course not. I have to get back home. Mack doesn't even know I'm here."
Paula got up and crossed the room to get her checkbook. This wasn't the first time her mother had wanted money, but it had never been more than a couple hundred in the past, and it was always to catch up on some credit card payments she'd missed. She'd never even attempted to pay a dime of it back. When Paula tried to call her out on it, she sobbed about how much she'd sacrificed being a single mother—a situation forced on her. Maybe a shrink would help. At least he couldn't hurt. Her mother's willingness to get help made giving her money a little easier.
After Paula made out the check, she handed it to her mother. "I'll send the rest next week. I have to transfer some money from a savings account."
"At least you have a savings account." Her mother looked at the check, still frowning. "Oh, I need to give you the address to send the check to." She stuck the check in the corner of her handbag, pulled out a little slip of paper, and thrust it toward Paula.
"This is a P.O. box."
"Yes, I know. I just don't want Mack to know about this." She lifted her eyebrows. "If you ever talk to Mack, don't mention the shrink."
"First of all, I never talk to Mack. Second, don't you think you need to let your husband know these things?"
Her mother shrugged as she stood. "I used to tell your father everything, and look what happened."
Paula wasn't in the mood for one of her mother's rants about what an awful man her father was. She'd seen him a total of twice since he walked out on them nearly eighteen years ago, so all she had to go on was what she heard. And not a word of it had been good.
If she hadn't overheard her mother complaining about how difficult a child she was, she probably would have believed every rotten word about her father. But she didn't. Throughout her childhood, her goal was to keep her mother from falling into depression.
Without so much as a thank you, her mom walked toward the front door. "I'll look for the rest of the money in a few days, in case you're able to do something sooner."
Paula didn't budge from where she stood as she watched her mother leave. And it wasn't until she heard the sound of the car backing out of the driveway that she took a full breath and bowed her head.
If Nick hadn't promised to wait a couple of days before calling Paula, he would have called her first thing the next morning. He'd lain in bed all night staring at the ceiling fan, illuminated only by the sliver of light from the full moon creeping in between the shade and the windowsill.
He knew he still had it bad for Paula, but until he returned he hadn't realized just how intense the feelings were. The instant he spotted her mother, his armor of protectiveness for Paula emerged.
Stoic as ever, she pushed him away to face whatever problems her mother created. Bonnie Andrews—or whatever her last name was now—was the polar opposite of all the moms he'd ever known. Selfish, distant, and mean-spirited didn't come close to describing how he saw her.
Everyone else saw Paula as smart, witty, kindhearted, independent, and pretty, while he knew her as a woman who needed love but was too proud to ask for it—even from her own mother. He couldn't help smiling when he remembered how she'd finagled her position on the school paper in order to fit into the tight-knit community at Tarpon Springs High School. Other girls were trying out for cheerleading, dating jocks, hosting parties, and making friends with the movers and shakers. Paula never did anything the normal way, and that was exactly what attracted him in the first place. She even admitted that she applied for the newspaper job just to snag an interview with him. No one else would have come clean.
He'd always admired Paula because she was different. After high school, her honesty, integrity and beauty—both inner and outer—kept him close to home when other guys fled to the big cities. It's what kept him from joining the Air Force right after he graduated.
He'd held onto hope that eventually he and Paula would be together, but her mother told him she would probably never return to Tarpon Springs after college, so he followed his other dream and enlisted.
He should have known better than to listen to Bonnie Andrews. Nick kicked himself all over the place after he learned that Paula had not only returned to the area but established roots—something she'd never had before.
When his last opportunity came up to get out of the Air Force, he came home, only to discover Paula dating another man—Drew, the new associate pastor of their church. How could he compete with that?
Until he met Paula, he'd only gone to the Greek Orthodox church with his family. Paula had been the one to invite him to her church back when he was doing everything he could to hold her interest. Mama said she didn't mind him going to church with Paula as long as he went to church with his family too. He smiled at the memory of his first time at Paula's church and how he'd met the woman who brought Paula to church her first time—a next-door neighbor who noticed that the middle school girl spent the entire weekend home alone while her mother was who-knows-where.
Yeah, he should have gone up to the college and talked to Paula face-to-face. She'd told him to let her get through school without any distractions, but this was bigger than a distraction. Too bad he didn't realize just how much of a distraction it was at the time.
"Nick!" The voice echoed up the stairs, snapping him from his thoughts. "Are you up there?"
"Hey, Mama! Yes, I'm up here." He hopped back into bed and pulled the covers over himself.
"You still in bed?" He heard the thudding of her footsteps. "You might be on vacation from work, but that doesn't mean you can sleep all day." She appeared at his door smiling, defying her tone.
She flinched as he tossed back the sheet. "What's the matter, Mama? I'm dressed."
"Ya never know about those things." She entered the room. "So when are you coming to stay with us?"
"Whenever my time's up here."
"It's up. I just spoke to Ophelia and let her know I wanted my boy back." She sat down on the edge of his bed and stared at his face. "I miss you, Nick."
"I miss you too, Mama, but that straw thing you women do trumps anything the rest of us want."
"It's an old tradition we started before you were even born. If I'd known then . . ." She looked toward the window before turning back to face him. "So what's going on between you and Paula? She's such a sweet girl."
"I have no idea what's goin
g on."
"Do you still love her?"
Nick didn't want to tell his mother before talking to Paula, but this was Mama. He nodded. "I don't think that's the kind of thing that just goes away."
"You should find a way to be together."
"You're forgetting one thing, though. We don't know if she still loves me."
"Oh, trust me, she does. How could she not? This is Nick Papadopoulos we're talking about."
Nick belted out a laugh as he sat up. "Thanks, Mama. You always did believe in me."
"That's because you've always been able to do anything you set your mind to."
"Most of the time."
"And you can this time too if you just talk to Paula and let her know how you feel."
"It's not that easy."
"And why not? Just because you're a man doesn't mean you can't communicate. Your father and I talk all the time."
She talked, and his father listened. It seemed to work for them, but that wouldn't work for him and Paula, who said what she thought but didn't say much about what she was really feeling.
"So when you gonna talk to her?"
"I don't know. You just sprang this on me, Mama."
She flipped her hand from the wrist as she stood back up. "Don't tell me you haven't been thinking about it. Don't forget, I know you better than you know yourself."
"That you do," Nick agreed. He went to the closet and pulled out a different shirt. "I'll get my stuff together and be at the house in about an hour, unless Aunt Ophelia has something for me to do around here."
"I'll have lunch ready when you get there."
After Mama left, he thought about what she'd said. Maybe she was right. And even if she wasn't, what would it hurt to have a heart-to-heart with Paula about where they stood?
He'd still have to wait a couple of days. Paula was adamant about keeping your word, and she'd had enough promises broken.
Paula walked into Paula's Natural Soap and Candle Shop, flipping on the lights as she passed through. Rather than one large, intruding light overhead, she used softer lighting throughout the store to add to the ambience. Her regular customers often came in just to get away from the hustle and bustle of life. For them, she kept a pot of tea on the hot plate in the back room.
She'd just gotten the store ready for opening and signed on to her register when the bell tinkled at the door. "Hey, Steph."
"Back atcha. So what's going on between you and Nick?"
"Have you talked to him lately?"
Steph laughed. "Not since yesterday. But I heard his mother and mine had a powwow about him moving."
"Everyone wants a piece of Nick."
"Yep. Seems everyone does but you." She lifted an eyebrow. "Or do you?"
Paula's hand stilled over the counter as her breath caught in her throat. She didn't have anything to say, but the air was heavy with a question.
"That's a moot point, Steph. He's going back to his Army base in Texas and—"
"Air Force base."
Paula closed her eyes and shook her head. "Okay, Air Force base—what does it matter? He's leaving, and I'm still here."
"It doesn't have to stay that way."
"C'mon, Steph, not now, okay?"
Steph held her hands up in surrender and stepped back. "Okay, okay, I'm just sayin'."
"So are you working today?"
"Yeah, Mama has me scheduled at the bakery this afternoon, and Aunt Phoebe asked if I could play hostess tonight at Apollo's."
"I might stop by after work," Paula said. "What time will you be there?"
"That's what I came to talk to you about. Uncle Apollo said to come see if you wanted to have dinner with me there before I start my shift."
Paula knew she was up to something, but she couldn't turn down a meal at her favorite restaurant in Tarpon Springs. "Isn't it moussaka night?"
Steph tilted her head back and howled. "When it comes to food, you have the memory of an elephant."
"Yeah, and I'll have a body like one if I don't get a grip on my appetite."
"That's okay. Greek men like a little meat on their women's bones."
7
Go unpack, Nick. And bring me your nicest pants and shirt so I can make sure they don't have wrinkles."
Nick grinned. "I'm a grown man, Mama. I can take care of my own clothes."
"Indulge me, son. I miss having my boy around."
"So why do I need to worry about wrinkles anyway? Am I going somewhere?"
"We're going to Apollo's." She glanced down and picked up a pillow that apparently had some invisible lint. As she picked at it, she chattered about how much everyone in the family missed him while he stood there staring at her. When she finally slowed down, he stepped closer and placed his hand on her shoulder.
"Mama, what's going on?"
She looked him in the eye for a split second then smiled. "The family sure could use you around here. If you don't want to go out on the sponge boats, you can help out in the stores. Your father and his brothers have to move stuff all the time, and it would be nice—"
"What's really going on?"
Her shoulders slumped, and she sighed. "Nick, just bring me what you're wearing tonight. I've already said too much."
His mother seemed to have shrunk since he'd last seen her. "Mama, have you had a vacation lately?"
"I can't get your father to go away. He's been so busy."
"But you can take some time off and just relax. Do things you miss, like . . ." He tried to remember what she used to do for fun, but he couldn't think of anything besides baking. What kind of vacation would that be for a bakery owner?
She placed her hand on his and patted it. "I'll be fine, my sweet boy. Now go get me those clothes."
It went against everything Nick had become to bring his clothes to Mama, but he did as he was told. He vowed to do something even better for her in return.
As he handed them to her, he gestured toward the living room. "I overheard you telling Papa you wanted some furniture moved. Just tell me where, and I'll take care of it."
"Your father said he'd do it."
Nick tucked his fingers beneath her chin and tilted her head up so she looked him in the eye. "Mama, I want to do it, and I won't take no for an answer."
Two hours and half a dozen different arrangements later, Nick brushed his hands together. "Looks good, Mama, but it's not that different from how you had it."
"I know. I'm so sorry to put you to all that trouble."
"It's fine. I'm here, and you wanted to see how it looked."
She studied the room a few seconds then pointed to one of the chairs. "How about if we move that chair over beside the sofa? Do you think it would cut into the traffic flow too much?"
He laughed. "We can move it and see. If you don't like it, I'll put it back."
After all the furniture was rearranged, she shook her head and clicked her tongue. "Now the pictures don't make sense. I'll ask your father to help me move those later."
"I'll do that too."
When Nick removed the pictures, they noticed the marks on the walls. "Let's put all the pictures in the closet. I'll get your father to paint after you leave."
"Mama, you know Papa's too busy to paint the house. I'll do it while I'm here."
"I don't want you to work the whole time you're here. You should be spending time with friends, having some fun. It's your vacation."
The only person Nick really wanted to spend time with had him on hold for a couple of days. "They're all working, and I don't mind painting. What color do you want?"
"I don't know." She took a step back and studied the walls. "All I thought about was moving the furniture. It didn't cross my mind to change the wall paint."
"Why don't we go to the paint store and pick something you like?"
"We can do that tomorrow."
"Why not now?"
"I have to go to the bakery."
"You told me Aunt Ophelia has Steph working there this afternoon."
> "But—"
"I insist."
At that moment, Nick realized how much Paula was like Mama. He'd always heard that guys are attracted to girls with their mothers' traits. Both Paula and Mama were attached at the hip to their work.
Mama frowned. "Are you sure?"
"You were there earlier, Mama. Steph can handle whatever comes up."
Her eyes flickered around the room again, and she nodded. "Okay, but when we get back home, I want you to start getting ready for tonight."
Nick cut a glance around the room before settling his gaze on his mother. "Whatever you have up your sleeve for tonight must be a zinger."
She did an about-face and scampered toward the kitchen. "Let me get my purse, and we can go to the paint store."
Yep, she had big plans for him tonight, and Nick suspected somehow Paula might be part of them. He was okay with that, but he felt bad for Paula. She needed space—a concept his family didn't have a clue about.
"What's this for?" his mother asked as he handed her a sofa pillow on their way out the door.
"It'll help us pick a color to go with the furniture."
"My Nicholas is a smart man."
"You're the one who raised me." He winked at her then helped her into the car.
All the way to the store, she talked about which color she should paint the walls. "This one would look nice." She stabbed her finger at the pillow. "What do you think?"
He glanced at the color she indicated. "I think it would be perfect."
She held the pillow out and shook her head. "Nah, it's too dark. I don't like dark rooms."
They pulled into the parking lot and sat in the car for a few minutes, looking at all the colors on the pillow. "What color do you think we should paint?" she asked.
"Any color you want, Mama. And if you don't like the way it looks when we're done, we can do it over again until we get it like you want it."
"I don't want to do this twice. Let's go see what they got." Without another word, she got out of the car, clutching the pillow. He followed her inside.
"Ursa!" The paint store manager made a beeline toward them the instant they walked inside.