[Meet Your Match 01.0] Prejudice Meets Pride

by Rachael Anderson

  Kevin searched his mother’s face. Underneath the schooled serenity, he knew she felt sadness, happiness, anxiety, and anger. Everyone did. But over the years, she’d become a master at hiding everything but a fake smile and a bland expression. It was no wonder that his parents had grown apart over the years. They were so good at presenting a strong union in public, but Kevin knew that at home, his dad disappeared in his study, and his mother went a different way.

  That wasn’t the type of relationship he wanted.

  “You’re right, Mom, anyone could have seen that. But you know what? I don’t care if they did. Yes, it ticked me off to get a pie thrown in my face, but now, looking back, I’m glad she did it.”

  “Excuse me?” His mother had never looked so confused. It was a nice break from her usual impenetrable mask.

  “Emma’s not stiff or formal. She yells and throws pie when she’s upset, she cries when she’s down, she laughs when something strikes her as funny, she kicks lawnmowers, fixes sprinklers, burns casseroles, speaks Spanish, and paints the most beautiful murals you’ve ever seen. She’s beyond prideful and stubborn, and she loves deeply. And until a few minutes ago, I was beginning to think that she might even love me, but now I’m not so sure, and that scares me more than anything. She’s the most genuine person I’ve ever met, and I adore her.”

  His mom’s gaze dropped to her hands, and she rubbed at a spot on one of her manicured nails. When she looked up again, her eyes were wet with tears. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen his mother cry. “There was a time when your father might have said those same things about me,” she said wistfully. Then she wiped at her eyes and smiled the most genuine smile he’d seen since he was a kid. “My son has finally fallen in love. It’s about time.”

  Kevin gave a mirthless chuckle. “Yeah, to a woman who now hates my guts, and for good reason. You should be really proud of me.”

  Silence. Followed by, “I am proud of you. I have always been proud of you.”

  Kevin shot her a look that said yeah right.

  She sighed and reached over to clutch his hand beneath hers. “All I’ve ever wanted for you was to be happy. There’s no denying you have it in you to become a wonderful political leader, like your father, and when you decided on dentistry—especially pediatric dentistry—I thought it was your way of rebelling. I thought the same thing about Emma. I’m not trying to control your life, but I know from experience that rebellion doesn’t lead to happiness, and I didn’t want that for you.” She paused, searching his face. “But I was wrong, wasn’t I? You are happy with the life you’ve chosen and the woman you’ve chosen. I can see that now.”

  “I’m not feeling that happy at the moment.”

  His mother laughed. It was a sound he hadn’t heard in a really long time. A sound he’d missed. She squeezed his knee. “Give her a day or two to cool off, and she’ll come around. You’ll see. No woman could resist you for long.”

  His mother obviously didn’t know Emma Mackie.

  “In the meantime,” she said, giving his knee a pat. “Why don’t you take me to your office and show me this amazing mural Emma has been painting. Then we can come back here and whip up another mud pie. I was looking forward to eating that other one.”

  Kevin gave her a look that said who-are-you-and-what-have-you-done-with-my-mother? “You’ve never had any desire to see my office before. And mud pie isn’t healthy, remember?”

  She stood and slung her purse over her shoulder. “I just traveled all the way from New Hampshire to save you from yourself. But now that I know you don’t need saving, I’m in the mood for a nice slice of homemade mud pie. Maybe even two. It’s been too long.”

  Yes, it had.

  “And of course I want to see your office.”

  The moment Kevin pulled open the door to his practice, a lethal, polyurethane-like smell gushed out at him, as though it had been trapped inside and couldn’t wait to get free.

  “Yowza,” said Kevin, waving his hand in front of his nose while his mother rolled her eyes at his word choice.

  “Honestly, Kevin. Yowza? What does that mean, anyway?”

  “It means I wasn’t expecting my office to reek this bad.” He held the door open for her, then followed her inside. His fingers groped the wall before finally finding the light switch. Moments later, the room came to life. Literally.

  Kevin’s jaw fell open.

  The wall—his and Emma’s—looked exactly the way she’d said it would and nothing at all like he’d imagined. Gone was the ugly white primer, and in its place was floor-to-ceiling, painted-on, wooden slats that looked warped and aged. A thick, fraying rope hung down one side, adjacent to two portholes and an anchor.

  From each side, a vibrant, undersea world stretched out, with clear, turquoise waters, tropical fish—large and small—colorful coral and plant life, and even some sharks. Emma had captured light, shadows, and ripples in the water. The scene took Kevin’s breath away.

  He wandered around to the back, where he found the new train table, all set up and ready to go, as well as the small bookcase hidden behind the wall. Through the aquarium, he could see that she’d painted his large exam room as well. Only instead of everything, she’d painted the sea life swirling up and down his walls, like they were riding a current.

  Kevin stood there in a daze. Emma had done this. For him. For a bunch of kids she didn’t know. And for an office staff who’d never really accepted her.

  “Yowza,” his mother said at his side.

  Kevin would have smiled, but the stunning sight before him seemed to crumble into an aching sense of loss. He wanted Emma to be with him now, sharing this with him. He wanted to hug her close and tell her that she’d not only brought light and wonder to his office, she’d brought it to his life, and he wanted her back in it. He thought of the art gallery and how Emma loved finding the stories behind the pictures and how he wanted all of his pictures, from here on out, to have her in them. She’d opened his eyes, occupied his mind, and seized his heart. She was a part of him.

  His mother’s hand found his, and she gave it a squeeze. “I’m thinking we should make Emma a mud pie as well.”

  A rude ringing interrupted Emma’s sleep. She groped for her alarm clock, but when hitting it repeatedly didn’t make it stop, she opened her eyes and realized it was her cell phone instead. By the time she lifted it, the ringing stopped and a Missed Call message appeared. From Kevin.

  She glared at his name. Not only was he to blame for her lousy night’s sleep, but now he had to go and wake her up at—she squinted at her clock—eight o’clock in the morning. Okay, so maybe it was time to get up.

  When the phone started ringing again, she powered it off and slapped it on her nightstand. Go away, Kevin.

  Ten minutes later, when Emma was brushing her teeth, loud knocking sounded on the front door. With her mouth full of toothpaste, she sprinted to the front room to find Adelynn fisting the knob, ready to give it a turn.

  “Stop, Adi!” Emma called, splaying toothpaste everywhere. “Don’t answer that.” Adelynn scrunched her eyebrows, and Emma lifted a finger. “Just a sec,” she garbled before running to the kitchen sink and spitting out the remainder of her toothpaste. Thankfully, the door was still closed when she returned.

  Another knock sounded, followed by a muffled, “Emma, I know you’re in there. I heard you. Adi? Kajsa? Will you please open the door?”

  Adelynn stared at her in confusion, her little hand still resting on the handle. Emma shook her head and whispered, “No.”

  “Why can’t Uncle Kevin come in?” Kajsa asked from the couch.

  Emma looked from one girl to the other, trying to figure out how to explain. She finally settled on, “I just don’t want to talk to him right now, that’s all.”

  “Why not?” asked Adelynn.

  Emma bit her lip before responding. “Because he was mean to me.”

  “What did he do?” Kajsa asked.

  “I have a mud pie fo
r you! The first person to open the door gets it!” Kevin’s voice called through the door.

  Adelynn’s nose wrinkled in disgust, making Emma almost smile. “Mud pie is yucky!” she yelled back.

  “What?” answered Kevin. “It is not!”

  “Is too!”

  A pause, and then, “What about Skittles? I know you like those.”

  Adelynn’s eyes widened in delight, and her fingers tightened around the knob, ready to twist it open.

  “He doesn’t have Skittles,” Emma called, trying to stop her.

  Adelynn hesitated. “Do you have Skittles?” she yelled.

  “Why don’t you open the door and see?” came the muffled reply.

  Once again, Adelynn’s fingers tightened on the knob. Emma raced forward, pressing her shoulder into the door to keep it closed. “He’s trying to trick you, Adi. Don’t fall for it.”

  “I heard that,” said Kevin, sounding so close. Too close. Emma’s heart pounded.

  “Emma, please open the door.” His voice sounded louder, as though he was talking through the crack between the door and the frame. “Please,” he added more quietly.

  Tears began to blur Emma’s vision, and her heart tried its hardest not to melt. For a moment, she was tempted to open the door, to see his face, to forgive him. But then all those painful words and memories came rushing back. She wasn’t good enough. She never would be. It was math 101. A struggling artist and a successful dentist didn’t add up.

  Adelynn’s big blue eyes stared up at her. “He said please.”

  “I know,” said Emma quietly. Her heart continued to pound, and when it felt like it would implode from the pain, she firmed up her voice and said, “Go away, Kevin. I don’t want to talk to you.”

  Her plea was met with silence, followed by something sliding through the door. An envelope.

  “It’s amazing, Emma,” he said. “Way beyond anything I could have hoped for. Please cash that check. You’ve earned it.”

  More silence, then footsteps walking away.

  Emma looked at the envelope, almost afraid to take it. She stood still, plastered to the door as she gulped in air and willed her heart rate back to a normal level. When she caught Kajsa looking at her with a sad expression on her face, Emma snatched the envelope and forced a smile. “What do you say we make pumpkin pancakes to celebrate your dad coming soon? Thanksgiving is just around the corner.”

  The girls smiled and raced for the kitchen, and Emma took a moment to peek out the front window, watching as Kevin strode back to his house, empty-handed. Once he’d disappeared inside, she cracked the door and found a beautiful pie sitting on her doormat, along with a handwritten note. She picked up both.

  Feel free to throw this in my face, too. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m sorry.

  She looked from the note to the pie. Puffed, white shells of whip cream bordered perfectly smoothed mousse, and a large, beautifully sculpted dollop adorned the center. A raised clear, plastic lid covered it, making it look as though Kevin had purchased it at an expensive bakery. It was too beautiful to eat.

  Emma quickly walked into the kitchen and slid it on the bottom shelf in her fridge, rearranging things so she could push it as far back as possible. She couldn’t bring herself to throw it away, but she didn’t want to see it either. Then she closed the door on the bitter reminder of yet another difference between her and Kevin. He was professional. She was homemade.

  That night, after the girls were already in bed, Noah called to break the news that the buddy passes had fallen through. With a sad voice, he told her that he wouldn’t be coming for Thanksgiving after all—and possibly not Christmas either. Regular priced tickets were just too expensive, and he didn’t have the time to drive. He couldn’t bring himself to tell the girls when he couldn’t be there to hold them close and squeeze away their sorrows. Would she please do it?

  Emma said yes, then ended the call and crumpled. Her world had officially soured, and it didn’t feel like there was any sugar left to find.

  Emma had to lean hard against her door to get it to close all the way. A bruising November windstorm raged outside, churning up leaves and dust and whatever else it could lift, and mixing it with frigid air. It was the precursor to a huge snowstorm that should be arriving later on. Emma hoped the girls’ bus would drop them off before it did.

  Dirt and dried leaves pattered against the windows, and the muffled whooshing and wailing of wind filled the quiet of the house. Emma looked around, feeling hollow inside—a shell of her real self.

  She should be happy and relieved. She’d just had a great interview and had basically been told she’d gotten the job. They’d call her Monday to let her know for sure, but they were impressed. It would mean going back to mundane things like answering phones and filing, but at least it paid a little higher than minimum wage, at least the hours worked with the girls’ schedule, and at least they actually needed her.

  But it still wasn’t teaching. It still wasn’t painting. It still wasn’t her.

  As fast as those thoughts came, Emma shoved them away. She could always spruce up the bland desk with pictures of Adi and Kajsa. She could redesign all the forms and applications into something a little less boring. And maybe, once she’d gained the trust and friendship of her new boss, she could coerce him into letting her add some color to those depressing white walls. A dusty blue would look lovely in that office.

  Emma tossed her purse onto the couch and moved toward the kitchen, only to realize she’d forgotten to check the mailbox. With her luck, the storm would scatter it all around Colorado Springs. Tugging the door open, she braved the wind once again, fought her way to the mailbox, and grabbed the small stack of envelopes it contained. Her hair whipped at her face, leaving a stinging sensation wherever it touched.

  She raced back inside, running with the wind this time, and pushed the door closed once again. She plopped down next to her purse on the couch and sifted through the letters. Advertisement. Bill. Bill. Another advertisement. And finally, a small envelope with Emma scrawled across it. Her heart gave a little skip.

  Over the past week, ever since that first note with the pie, Kevin had surprised her with others here and there. She’d walked out to her car one morning and found one taped to the window.

  Sunshine works for you. It’s beauty driving the beast. I miss you.

  Another had been taped to the outside of the garbage lid.

  Don’t be mad, but I shut off your stop and waste valve and unscrewed your hoses from the house. It’s supposed to drop below freezing this week, and I didn’t want any pipes to burst. I miss you.

  Then there was the one on her window above her kitchen sink.

  A dozen of my patients had to be dragged out of my office today after their appointments. They didn’t want to leave the “awesome underwater room.” Believe it or not, Janice loves it too. So does my mom. She wants to meet you—but only if you promise not to throw pie at her.

  I miss you.

  Similar notes were found on her front door, on the seat of her car when she’d forgotten to lock it one night, and now, inside her mailbox.

  Emma fingered the envelope, a small smile playing on her lips. With every note, her resolve to protect her heart and keep her distance slipped further away. She and Kevin were from such different worlds, but maybe that didn’t matter. Maybe his mom’s opinion didn’t matter. And maybe…

  She tore it open and pulled out a single sheet of square paper.

  Life sucks without you. I miss you.

  She brought the note to her lips and inhaled, wishing it smelled like Kevin’s freshly laundered clothes or aftershave. I miss you, too, she thought.

  A muted ringing came from her purse, the sound nearly swallowed by the wind. Emma set the note aside and pulled it out, seeing an unfamiliar number on the screen. She answered.

  “Is this Emma Mackie?” came a breathless, feminine voice.

  “Yes.”

  “Oh, good. I’m so glad I cau
ght you. We’re leaving to go out of town on Monday, and I wanted to talk to you before we left. My name is Madelyn Jones, and I just came from Northwest Pediatric Dentistry. I saw those gorgeous murals you painted, and Dr. Grantham gave me your business card. He told me you’re a popular artist, so I needed to call soon if I wanted the room done in time.”

  “Um…” Business card? Book up fast? Done in time? What was she talking about?

  “My husband and I—we’re having a baby. It’s our first—a boy—and I don’t want wallpaper or borders or a single paint color on the walls. I want something different. Something unique. Something like what you did to Dr. Grantham’s office. Please tell me you can squeeze me in sometime during the next four months. I know the holidays are coming, but I’ll gladly pay extra. I just want it done by you.”

  Emma forced her jaw to close. Her thoughts awhirl, she scrambled for an appropriate response. “Um… what did you have in mind?”

  “I honestly don’t know. I’m not artistic at all. What do you think would look good?”

  Put on the spot like that, Emma had no idea. She didn’t know this woman’s taste or what the room looked like. “I’d have to see the room to tell you that. If you’re around, I could drop by tomorrow morning if you’d like.”

  “Tomorrow? Are you serious? You’re free that soon?” She sounded shocked and a little awed.

  Emma scrambled for a reason. “I, uh, had a cancellation.”

  A happy squeal sounded in Emma’s ear. “That’s perfect. Just tell me what time, and I’ll be here.”

  Emma worked out the arrangements, then slowly set the phone down, glancing once again at the note on the armrest. As the frigid air careened outside, a warmth oozed into her body and filled her up. Maybe it was time to write a note of her own.

  Emma snuggled with the girls in bed until their bodies stopped fidgeting and their breathing evened out, just like she had every night since they found out their dad couldn’t come for Thanksgiving or Christmas. She’d cried with them, held them close, and tried to make up for the absence of their beloved father in their life. But no matter how much she tried, she knew it wasn’t the same. They missed their father. They needed their father.