"Be of good courage, and He [God] shall strengthen your heart, all ye that hope in the LORD."
~ Psalm 31:24 ~
Sleep had been impossible. Beth had seen to that. The soft hand on his chest, the searing longing in her eyes, the penetrating words that had cut through his soul like a hot knife through butter. Man. He sure wished he had turned down her offer to bring over that meal, those chimichangas. Forget how good they were-- never had a guy paid so dear a price for Mexican food.
Like a total raving idiot, he had cried as she pulled away. Just one or two tears-- nothing she could have possibly noticed-- but it had been more than enough to get in the way of his self-respect. And Matt had decided, as he palmed his face dry, he had some self-respect left; Beth hadn't left him much, but what few shreds remained, were his.
There ought to be a law against women speaking their mind so bluntly, Matt thought, as he stared up at the bedroom ceiling, waiting for sleep. Some women knew how to talk, to make men say things they wished they hadn't. Beth was one of those women. So he had looked at her. Big deal. All she had to do was mention the fact, and he was spouting, "You feel it, too?" Matt rubbed his face hard, wishing desperately he could take back the day, do it over differently. It didn't matter how different, just not the way it had turned out.
Pushing onto his side, he stared at the bed beside his, envying Ethan and Ryan. They didn't have to go in to work in the morning, and face his boss.
His boss.
Wow, had she smelled good. Even at dinner, he could still detect the faint scent of jasmine she had worn that morning. That had been jasmine, hadn't it? Mrs. Lott had jasmine growing in her garden, though right now they didn't have any flowers. Matt wished he could compare the scents: on the plants, he hadn't thought about it much, but on Beth, it could stop him in his tracks.
Enough, Matt thought, flopping onto his other side to stare at the wall. He had to stop thinking about Beth. Even more importantly, he had to put a stop to her and her "fair warning."
How had he let it get that far, anyway?
Since sleep had abandoned him, Matt spent his wakeful night tossing in the sheets, thinking and punishing himself every time he thought of Beth in any other way than his boss.
Beth readied herself a full hour earlier than her usual morning routine, then drove to the nursery in Las Cruces. Seven-thirty could not come soon enough for her. At seven-thirty, the employees were supposed to arrive to help prepare the store for the eight o'clock opening. Beth expected Amy and Sylvia to be late, but not Matt. At seven-thirty on the dot, his pickup truck would pull into the parking lot. Any minute now, she expected to hear his footsteps, see his face.
But no one arrived at seven-thirty. Not even Matt. He wasn't late-- not technically-- but this was the first time she could recall when he wasn't as punctual as an atomic clock. Maybe that was carrying things a bit too far, but after last night, after that talk they'd had outside Matt's house, his absence this morning felt intentional. The thought stung her, but not enough to forget the promise she'd made to herself.
Five minutes before opening, Beth heard the tramp of Matt's boots as he entered the building. She stood up from her office chair, looked into the store to see he had brought her food carrier.
"In here, Matt," she called to him.
He moved past the checkout, made his way to the other side of the room without smiling.
The Stetson was pulled low over his face, and his eyes had trouble meeting hers when he came to the open office door. She noted he was very careful not to come inside.
Matt handed her the carrier, took a step back, looked over his shoulder at the empty aisles. He stood there, staring at nothing, while she opened the carrier and found her casserole dish.
"You didn't have to wash it, Matt. I would have done the dishes myself, if you had let me."
Matt tugged the work gloves out from his back pocket. "Want me to water the plants now?" he asked.
Beth closed the carrier. "I hope I didn't cause you too much trouble last night. It sounded as though you and Ethan were having quite a disagreement."
The cowboy hat hid Matt's features as he stooped to knock dust from his boots. "I almost forgot-- the garden hose needs to be replaced," he said, straightening, looking into the store as he spoke. "I can keep patching it if you want, but since you have so many hoses in stock, it doesn't make sense not to replace it. Either way, it's your call."
Beth set the carrier on the floor beside her desk. "I hope you enjoyed the meal. I have a tendency to cook Mexican food, because Luke said it reminded him of home. His father was born and raised in Southern California, and his mom came from Mexico."
"If you want me to water the plants, I should really get started, Mrs. Carter."
Beth reminded herself to keep breathing. "If you don't like Mexican food, I could try something else. Italian maybe? You guys like pizza, don't you?"
A groan strangled in Matt's throat. He swiped off the hat, vigorously rubbed his forehead with a gloved hand, then yanked the hat back on. His chest heaved in a long, slow sigh, and when it was over, she sensed he had calmed down. "If I don't get to the watering the first part of the day, some of the plants might wilt."
"I think I'll try pizza," Beth nodded, bending over her desk to make a note. "Although," she added, turning to smile at Matt, "you seemed to really enjoy the chimichangas. I won't cross Mexican food off the list just yet."
Matt squeezed his eyes shut.
"You'd better water those plants," Beth said, picking up her floppy sunhat. "I'm told they wilt without water."
He opened his eyes, glanced at her with a hint of a smile tugging at his mouth. It was so slight, so barely there, Beth wondered if she was falling prey to wishful thinking.
"Oh, and you'd better pull a new hose from inventory," she said, lightly brushing past him into the store. "Business might be bad, but if we look like we can't even afford a new garden hose, it'll won't help the nursery's image."
Matt moved away from her, half stumbling over the cast iron garden sculpture outside the office door in his escape. Beth turned to look at him, smiled when she saw the red blush of embarrassment creep up his neck.
"Do you need me to tell you where we keep the hoses?" she asked innocently. "They're on aisle--"
"I know where they're at," Matt said, regaining his balance as well as his composure. He flicked an annoyed glance at the sweet bunny statue that had gotten under his foot. "Stupid rabbit," he mumbled, then stalked off toward the garden hoses.
Beth pulled on her work gloves while she waited for Matt by the entrance. From the mild breeze, it promised to be another beautiful New Mexico day.
Matt stopped in his tracks when he saw Mrs. Carter, standing by the entrance with her gloves and that silly sunhat. Great. She was waiting for him. He shifted the garden hose to the other hand, lowered his chin, and plowed through the door as fast as he could without being obvious. He sure wished she'd go away.
Beth followed without a word of reproach. If he was hurting her feelings, she hid it well.
He tossed the new hose on the ground, then crouched to unscrew the old one from the faucet by the store wall. Beth pulled a box cutter from the pocket of her overalls, opened the blade, knelt to cut through the plastic ties binding the new hose. She unwound an end, then handed it to him so he could twist it into the faucet.
"May I ask you a personal question?" she asked as she stood up.
He squinted against the sunlight to look at her. "If I say 'no,' is it going to stop you from asking, anyway?"
"It would," she said with a smile. "Say the word, and I'll mind my own business."
Matt sighed inwardly. Why did she have to be so nice right now? Why couldn't she be gruff, make it easier for him to turn her down?
"What's the question?" he asked.
"Who's Helen?"
Matt didn't dare look at Beth. He kept his face down, his eyes on the new hose as he wound it into a neat circle.
"Where did you hear that name?" he asked quietly.
"When you and Ethan were fighting, I heard Ethan mention someone named Helen. Is she an old girlfriend of yours?"
Matt twisted on the spray nozzle. "I'm saying the word."
"Excuse me?" Beth asked.
Matt stood to his full height, faced Beth down without flinching a muscle. "I'm asking you to mind your own business."
"All right, Matt, if that's what you want."
He looked at Beth and she looked back.
The crazy thought came to him to ask if that scent she wore was jasmine. He fought it off, turned to get to work and water those plants.
To his relief, Beth went away. He didn't check to see where. It didn't matter. She no longer stood three feet away, slowly fogging his mind with perfume and the suggestions that came to him from just looking at her.
Matt realized he had to be more careful about that, more on guard. In his condition, it wasn't safe. He felt like an alcoholic craving booze. The thoughts, the suggestions made him feel sleazy, like he'd just crawled out from a sewer. Did he have any self-respect left? Maybe he didn't, maybe he'd spent it all on Helen.
The mere mention of Helen's name made him feel discouraged.
God, please give me grace, Matt prayed within himself. Don't let me give up. Not now.
Her eyes felt wet, and Beth hurried to dry them before Matt noticed. She took out the compact from her office desk, dabbed her eyes and cheeks with powder. Her disappointed reflection stared back from the small mirror. She hated those horrid freckles, her face. Her life. With a sigh of disgust, she snapped the compact shut. Dangerous thinking, she realized, and hurried back outside with her sunhat.
Thankfully, Matt hadn't fled the nursery after that miserable attempt to get to know him better. She found him behind the store, crouched over the potted geraniums, busily pinching out green shoots of grass.
She took a deep breath, moved to a nearby potting table to keep her hands busy. "I should have Amy doing that," Beth said, as Matt acknowledged Beth's return with a quick glance. "She spilled a bag of grass seed all over the place, and some of it scattered into the pots. It's made a terrible mess of things."
Out of the corner of her eye, Beth watched Matt. He said nothing.
"It's sometimes hard to know how to handle messes, isn't it?" Beth asked, her heart hopelessly lodged in her throat. "You do one thing, then suddenly, things don't turn out as you'd hoped they would."
The Stetson turned away from her, and Beth braced herself with a silent prayer.
"As I said, I should really be getting Amy to pull out all that grass."
Again no answer, not even the smallest of glances in her direction. This couldn't be a good sign. Beth didn't know how she could take Matt's silence to mean anything but, "go away." Plunging her trowel into the potting soil, Beth turned, leaned against the table to look at Matt. She might be taking a terrible risk by speaking now, but she didn't see any other way.
"Matt?"
He looked up, the hat shading his eyes from the sun, as well as her. "What do you want?" he asked, his voice dull, discouraged.
"Do I have your permission to speak to you as a friend, and not your employer?"
He shrugged halfheartedly. "I suppose. It's kind of tough to forget you're my boss, though."
"For just a few minutes, let's pretend you don't work for me, and we're not at the nursery."
In obvious skepticism, Matt looked about the nursery, then at her.
Beth folded her arms. "Humor me."
He shrugged, went back to his weeding without further comment on her sanity.
"I think," Beth said, trying to speak her mind, but not her heart, "if our friendship is going to last for very long, we need better communication."
Matt gave her a sidelong glance.
"No," Beth persisted courageously, "I mean it. We seem to get our signals crossed so much of the time, I think it would help if we talked about our expectations from this relationship."
Matt immediately straightened. "What relationship?"
"Friendship is a type of relationship," she insisted, hoping she hadn't said too much.
"Maybe it is," Matt said, folding his arms across his chest, "but you seem to take your friendships more seriously than I take mine. When I'm friends with someone, I'm simply that -- just friends. I don't bat my eyes at them, drown them in jasmine until they can't think straight."
They faced each other, arms crossed, very serious and both a little tense.
"I don't bat my eyes," Beth said a little defensively. "And I'm not trying to drown anyone in jasmine, let alone you."
Matt raised his brows. "So it is jasmine?"
"I think if we expect too much from our friendship," Beth pressed on, this time careful to avoid the "r" word, "then someone will very likely be disappointed-- probably, me."
"Is it?" he asked.
"Is it what?"
"Is it jasmine?" For some ridiculous reason, Matt seemed to need to know.
"Yes, I suppose it is. As I was saying, we're going to be disappointed if we expect too much--"
"Hold on there, you were the one who was going to be disappointed, remember? I don't expect anything but a whole lot of trouble. That's what I've been expecting, and so far I haven't been disappointed."
Beth looked at him, noticed the fear in his voice, in his eyes. She was beginning to feel some of that fear, herself. "Have I been very much trouble, Matt?"
He lifted a shoulder, suddenly hesitant. "Yeah, I suppose."
"Is it because of the the night I lost Bailey?" She didn't want to know, and yet she had to ask. "Am I giving you so much trouble because you're afraid of what I might do to myself?"
The strained tension between them pulled even tighter, and Matt looked as though the words were being dragged out of him, almost against his will. "That was trouble, sure, but that's not exactly what I'm talking about."
Evidently, something else was bothering him even more. What that could be, Beth had no way of knowing unless she asked.
"Have I asked anything from you besides friendship, Matt?"
"Not in so many words," he said, shifting in his scuffed boots. "It's what you've left unsaid, that bothers me."
"What are you afraid of, Matt?"
A look of manly defiance immediately crossed his face. "Who said I was afraid?"
"You did -- just now. What have I left unsaid?"
His eyes squeezed shut, and she saw him take several deep breaths. "You want something more than friendship," he said finally, opening his eyes, looking at her with an almost sad expression on his handsome face.
"And this frightens you?" Beth asked.
"It frightens me," Matt said, his voice hushed as though she were the only one he wanted to hear his words, "because that 'something more' you want is not something I can give you."
Beth didn't know what to say. She stared at him for several moments, blanked, then found her voice. "What are you trying to tell me, Matt?"
He looked more frustrated than ever. "I'm trying to tell you -- what I've been trying to tell you all along -- is that I'm not a good person. You don't know what I've done, what I'm capable of doing again. I suppose, if I'm honest, I'm afraid I can't even give you friendship."
At that very moment, Amy entered through the loading docks, a clipboard in the crook of her arm. "Sorry, I'm late Mrs.--" Amy looked at them both, promptly turned about and left them alone.
Matt looked ready to retreat as well, but Beth wouldn't let him go so easily.
"How could you have anything to fear from friendship?" Beth asked in a troubled voice.
Matt cast a weary glance in the direction of the nursery, then looked back at Beth. "I'm afraid we can't stay just friends, and I'm afraid what I'll do if that happens."
"What?" Beth felt as frustrated as she thought Matt looked. "I don't understand, Matt. What are you afraid you'll do?"
"Please, Beth, don't make me say it."
"I won't make you say anything, but I need to know what you're so afraid of."
He yanked off his cowboy hat, and Beth could see his eyes had grown intense from their discussion. "Me, Beth. It's me, I'm afraid of."
"I don't understand, Matt."
Matt turned his eyes to the loading dock, frowned. "Sylvia's here," he muttered darkly.
Not wanting to let the moment pass without understanding Matt's fear, Beth stepped between him and the loading dock to block his view of Sylvia. "Please, Matt. What are you afraid of?"
The hat rotated in his hands, and he couldn't look Beth in the eye until after he'd cleared his throat. When he finally did, she could see wetness gathering in his eyes. "I, uh-- man, this is hard." He planted the hat back on his head, took a deep breath. "I'm afraid of being around you too much, because something could easily happen that I'll regret for the rest of my life."
"What do you mean? What's the thing you'll regret? Falling in love?"
Matt pressed his lips together, but just before he did, she saw them tremble ever so slightly. "I'm an addict, Beth."
She stood there, wondering if she had heard him correctly. "You're a drug addict?"
"Yes, I am -- or at least, I used to be. But that's not exactly what I'm talking about, either." He glanced around her shoulder, grimaced. "Sylvia is trying to eavesdrop, again."
Beth turned, saw that Matt was right. Sylvia stood by the water faucet, her back propped against the building, her gaze directed at them.
"Go help Amy at the cash register," Beth called to Sylvia, not caring if the directions made any sense. All she wanted was for Sylvia to go, so Matt could finish what he had been trying to say.
With a mischievous look that said she thought they were doing something naughty, Sylvia pushed away from the wall, replaced her sunglasses, then sauntered into the store.
Beth turned back to Matt. "I think you were trying to tell me something. I'd like to hear it now, please."
His lips pressed together until they were white. "I was a meth addict, but that's not all. Me and... someone else-- she and I would get high, then have sex until we passed out. Meth is like that-- once you start something, you can't stop. I gave that life up, but the problem is, it was easier to kick the drugs than everything else that went with them."
"I think I understand," Beth said quietly.
His smile trembled, and the lips tightened once more. "No, I don't think you do. Until you've lived it, you can't really know what it's like. You think you're alive and pulsing with life, but it isn't life at all, it's death. You're a living corpse, waiting for someone to bury you. Thing is, Beth, when I'm around you, sometimes I want things that I know I shouldn't. You keep pressing me, and I'm afraid if you do, I'll have a weak moment and turn my back on everything I know is right. I can't -- I won't -- do that to God, to my family, or to myself. Not again."
"I'm not pressing you for sex, Matt," Beth said, dearly hoping Sylvia and Amy weren't nearby to overhear the conversation. "I need a friend, and to be honest, I'd like a man back in my life. But," Beth realized she was making a very important decision as she spoke, "I don't want a relationship that isn't right. This has to be God's way, or no way at all."
Matt swallowed hard.
"If I do something to make you uneasy, let me know. I'll go away if I have to, but I promise I won't knowingly push you into temptation. You'll be on your guard, and so will I. But I can't know to do anything differently, unless you're honest with me about your feelings."
The wetness collected even faster in his eyes, until he was forced to palm away a stray tear. "You still want to be friends?" he asked, his voice catching on a stifled sob. "After what I just told you?"
"I still want to be friends," Beth said, hoping her smile gave him some comfort. "I like you, Matt."
Matt's smile looked shaky. "I guess I must like you, too. I haven't told anyone this stuff since Pastor Mark."
That came as a surprise to Beth. "Pastor Mark knows? I've never heard him mention drugs... or the other thing."
Matt looked at her, a trace of grimness in his eyes. "You can't even say it, can you? You have no idea what you're trying to get yourself into, Beth." Matt inhaled, let out a breath as though he had been holding it for a very long time. "I asked Pastor Mark not to repeat it to anyone. I've got enough strikes against me, without people knowing everything I've ever done. I didn't tell him all of it, though. Even you don't know-- not by a long-shot."
Despite the warning, a calm sort of resolve settled into Beth. There very well might be more to Matt's past than what he had just told her, and chances were it wasn't pretty. But he couldn't frightened her that easily. Not this time.
Her smile felt calm, unshakeable. "You can count on my discretion, Matt. I may have my faults, but gossiping isn't one of them. What you've said this morning, won't go any farther than me. I promise."
The cowboy hat hid his features as he stared at his boots. "All right," was all he said -- for all Beth knew, all he could say. He remained stone silent, until she broke the awkward stillness.
"I suppose we'd better get back to work," Beth said, glancing quickly at her watch. "Go ahead and finish pulling the seedlings from those pots. When you're done, sweep the store, then straighten the displays."
He tipped his hat, said "Yes, ma'am," and returned to the geraniums -- all without looking at her.
Beth refused to be disheartened. They had made progress, even if Matt refused to ever admit it.
What had just happened? Matt thought about it carefully, half frantic, half numb as he tried to untangle the discussion he had just had with Beth. He finished a pot, moved to the next, momentarily swiped at the worried perspiration beading on his forehead. She'd done it again. He had said so much more than he had ever intended. Especially to her. Maybe he could blame it on the jasmine. An unconscious grin spread across his face. He'd guessed right about that.
The happy feelings disappeared the moment he remembered he had told her about being an addict. Why, oh, why, had he told her that? She didn't have to know. Being friends didn't mean he had to spill his guts to her.
Matt forced himself to stop, take a moment to clench his trembling hands, keep them steady. She knew about the meth now, about his addictions and the struggles he still had. But at least he'd had enough sense to keep the rest from her.
At least he hadn't told her everything.
He had to calm down. He just had to. He still had his job, didn't he? She knew about the drugs, his other shameful addiction, and she hadn't fired him. In fact, she still wanted to be friends.
That brought Matt to another troubling thought. She wanted another man in her life. Maybe he shouldn't have held back, maybe he should've told her more, enough to scare her off and leave him alone forever.
Matt wondered how quickly he could find another job. He pulled off his hat, dried his face against his shoulder, put the hat back on and went back to pinching out the tiny blades of grass.
He didn't want to leave, but after their conversation, didn't this mean he had to?
God's way, or no way at all. Beth had said that. Remembering it made Matt feel better. He felt even better when he remembered she had promised not to push him into temptation. Whatever else she had said, whatever else he had said, that had been the most important part of their talk. Without that assurance, Matt felt sure he would have quit his job as soon he found work elsewhere. He knew his own weakness, but what he hadn't known for sure, was Beth's determination to do things God's way.
Matt couldn't help grinning. Beth was fighting, just as he'd prayed she would. Well, he hadn't expected her to fight for him, but she was determined to do the right thing and that was most definitely an answer to prayer.
With this in mind, Matt decided it would be all right for him to keep his job at the nursery. He prayed it was the right decision.
Even from her office desk, Beth could feel the curiosity of the store upon her. The customers didn't know something was going on, (Beth made sure she thanked God for the customers), but Sylvia and Amy sure did. Both women had seen the earnestness of Beth's conversation with Matt, and both women looked eager to know what had been said. Neither one asked, and Beth decided not to bring it up if they didn't.
As soon as Sylvia had a free moment, she did just that.
Slumped against the doorjamb, Sylvia stared at Beth until Beth put down the phone to ask what she wanted.
"What's with you and Matt?" Sylvia asked, her manner careless, seemingly unaffected by anyone else's troubles but her own. "You and Matt were really going at it this morning."
"We were just having a talk, that's all," Beth said, straightening the papers on her desk.
Mischief played on Sylvia's mouth. The glossy red sheen of her lips made her look as though she had been drinking blood. "It looked to me, whatever you and Matt were talking about seemed awfully important. Serious even."
Beth caught that word-- serious -- just as she knew Sylvia had intended her to. "Yes, Silvi, things are getting a little more serious between Matt and myself. Does that answer your question?"
Beth and Sylvia exchanged an icy cold stare.
"Does this mean you two are involved?" Sylvia asked finally.
A loaded question if there ever was one, Beth thought with a twinge of panic. It took her a moment to decide how she wanted to answer. "He's off limits, if that's what you mean."
"I think I'll wait for him to tell me that," Sylvia said with a very unladylike snort. "Nothing personal, but I don't believe Matt's all that interested in you. You're not his type. What are you -- five, six, years older than him?" Sylvia screwed her nose as though she smelled something past its expiration date. "Too old."
Sylvia must've seen that she'd hit her mark, for a smug smile parted the glossy red sheen as she sashayed back to her work.
It stung, Beth realized. No use pretending it hadn't. Shaking off the pain, Beth went to the filing cabinet to retrieve some information before she called one of her suppliers. She didn't want to think about what Sylvia had said, and instead chose to bury herself in the business of running the nursery.
Great. Just what he needed. Sylvia again. Matt pushed his broom across the floor, stopping abruptly as Sylvia deliberately stepped into his path.
"What does it take to get your attention?" she asked with a soft feminine pout. Anymore lipstick, and it'd be dripping from her lips.
"Mrs. Carter told me to sweep up," Matt said with a shrug.
The pout deepened. "That's not what I meant, and you know it. I feel sorry for you, Matt," Sylvia said, moving toward him with an anything but a harmless smile. "I'd hate to have to endure my boss's advances, simply because I want to keep my job. It must be very hard for you."
Matt felt his grip tighten on the broom handle, but he said nothing.
"Beth must be so desperate, to have to force someone like you to be interested in her." Sylvia raised a manicured hand, admired her brightly lacquered nails. They had to be artificial. No human would grow them that long, not even a woman. "When you get bored of her, Matt, you should look me up." Sylvia leaned toward him provocatively. "If I'm still available."
Not caring if he missed that opportunity, Matt nudged the broom at her open toed sandals, and she jumped out of his way. He continued on with his work, not bothering to comment on Sylvia's hateful remarks. That a woman like Beth must be desperate to even bother looking in his direction, was a given. But Sylvia had gone too far when she'd accused Beth of forcing him into a relationship he didn't want. The problem was, he did, and Beth knew it. That was why they'd had that discussion this morning, and why he knew that when lunchtime came, he'd eat inside the store instead of out in his truck.
"Watch your step, Taylor," Matt told himself as he put the broom away to go straighten the displays. "I'm only staying so I can keep my job and be a friend to Beth. Don't you dare forget who you are. Her heart is bruised enough, without you adding to her pain."
Matt laughed darkly. He sure was stupid, all right. As if he needed to worry about her feeling too much. After everything Beth had learned about him that morning, she would never be able to feel anything but pity where he was concerned.
Certainly never love.
"[How] shall a young man [Matt] cleanse his way? by taking heed thereto according to Thy [God's] word. With my whole heart have I sought Thee: O let me not wander from Thy commandments. Thy word have I hid in mine heart, that I might not sin against Thee."
~ Psalm 119:9-11 ~
"Take us the foxes [Sylvia], the little foxes, that spoil the vines: for our vines have tender grapes."
~ Song of Solomon 2:15 ~
Chapter Ten
Just Friends
"There be three things which are too wonderful for me, yea, four which I know not: The way of an eagle in the air; the way of a serpent upon a rock; the way of a ship in the midst of the sea; and the way of a man with a [woman]."
~ Proverbs 30:18, 19 ~
Relief breathed into Matt when he saw Sylvia leave for lunch. His relief wasn't as great as he would have liked, for Amy stayed behind to eat in the office. For once, Matt had wanted to be alone with Beth. Only for lunch, of course, and for what reason Matt couldn't explain intelligibly to his own satisfaction. He simply wanted to eat his peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in the same general vicinity as Beth, and to eat them without Sylvia or Amy watching.
The light sound of women talking gently echoed near the back of the store as Matt stepped inside after retrieving his lunch from the pickup. He'd never eaten in the store before, but knew Beth wouldn't mind for he knew the girls sometimes ate in the office. Struggling not to feel as though he were intruding, Matt crossed the floor to the open door, then stuck his head inside the office to see if there were any room for him.
Her feet crossed in the walkway, Beth was scooping out yogurt from a dainty container, the plastic spoon coming halfway to her mouth before she saw Matt in the doorway.
"Matt." She said his name in shock, as though surprised to see him. The spoon was returned to the container. "Is there something you want?"
From a chair near the desk, Amy smiled, her eyes traveling to the brown paper bag in his hand; without a word, Amy set aside her own lunch to retrieve a second folding chair from behind a filing cabinet.
"Oh, you're here to eat lunch." Beth moved so he could pass between her and Amy and get to his seat. She said nothing, but watched as he moved past her.
His elbow hit the filing cabinet, but he managed to squeeze into the space where he guessed Sylvia usually occupied. Wondering why in the world he had come, Matt opened his bag to pull out a sandwich. He shut his eyes for a silent prayer, then bit into the bread. The women remained quiet, though Matt did his best not to notice. He looked at the pasta salad Amy had in her clear food container, and tried not to wonder how it tasted. On the desk, Beth had prepared some sort of delicious smelling rice dish, and from the steam, he could tell it was hot. Puzzled, Matt looked about until he saw a microwave tucked into the far corner of the office.
"If you ever need to heat up your meal," Beth said, putting down her yogurt to pick up the rice, "you can use the microwave. And there's a mini fridge," she added, pointing to the object on the floor at his feet, "if you need to keep your lunch cold. Just be sure to put your name on anything that's yours; things have a tendency to disappear if you're not careful."
Amy smiled apologetically to Matt. "Sylvia accidentally takes things from the fridge that aren't hers, so it's best to write your name on anything you care about."
"Oh." Matt didn't want to comment on Sylvia, so he continued to eat his sandwich.
"I was just telling Mrs. Carter about this cute guy I met at the supermarket," Amy said, putting down her fork long enough to take a sip from a bottle of iced tea. "Like I was saying, we talked and I thought we hit it off pretty well. He kept finding an excuse to keep from walking away, and of course, I did the same; we must have blocked the aisle for a good ten minutes! Then what do you think? You'll never guess, not in a million years!" Amy paused for dramatic effect and Matt had the good sense not to guess. "I still can't believe it!" she glowed brightly. "This incredibly good-looking guy actually asked me out on a date!" She gave a loud squeal of girly delight, her face a picture of unrealistic expectations. "It was fate to meet like we did," she continued. "He's so absolutely perfect-- my knight in shining armor and prince charming all rolled into one." She shook her head as though no one could possibly have a differing opinion.
Matt sighed mildly. In his years of experience with women, there were some ways in which all of them were terrifyingly the same. This was one of them. A guy had caught her attention, and now the poor man would have to live up to those fantasy-filled expectations. How fair was that? He waited for Amy's elation to die down, then relaxed to eat another sandwich.
Leaning forward, Beth opened the mini fridge, pulled out another bottle of iced tea with a fancy label. She offered it to him, and without thinking, he accepted. He didn't even like tea.
Amy finished off the last of her pasta salad, took another sip from her beverage. "I've been around a lot of guys, but Joe is different. It's like when he sees me, he's actually seeing me, and not just something superficial like what I'm wearing or how my hair is fixed. I don't feel like I have to tell him what I'm thinking, he just knows."
Matt couldn't help groaning. "Do me a favor, Amy-- when you find out the guy can't read your mind, cut him some slack."
Amy laughed in good humor. "That is such a typical male response."
"Yeah, well," he paused, gulped down several mouthfuls of iced tea, swiped his mouth with the back of his hand, "this Joe hasn't even taken you out yet, and if he can't guess what you're thinking five minutes into the date, he's already fodder for tomorrow's lunch discussion."
"That is not true! It's simply not true!"
Matt slid back in the chair, rested the bottle on his knee. "Do you know what the trouble with you women is?"
Amy folded her arms. "No, enlighten us."
"You aren't realistic. You've been sold a bill of goods by every chick flick, romance novel, and fairy tale ending with 'happily ever after.' There is no such thing as a perfect match. You'll go out with Joe tonight, and when your feet never leave the ground, you're going to blame him for not sweeping you away. I tell you, the guy has lost and he doesn't even know it yet." Matt took another swig of tea, forgetting that he didn't even like the stuff; it didn't actually taste so bad, loaded down with sugar.
Amy stared at Beth. "Did you just hear what he said?"
"I heard."
"And?"
"And what? Matt's entitled to his own opinion."
"But it sounds as though he doesn't believe in romance."
It was Beth's turn to smile mildly. "He never said that, and besides, there are other things in life besides love."
The young woman frowned. "Are you referring to sex?"
"What I'm referring to, what I'm trying to say," Beth spoke slowly, Matt sensing she was choosing her words very carefully because he was listening, "is that there's something else besides romance, something not as deep, but sometimes just as meaningful."
Amy nodded. "You mean sex."
"I mean friendship." Beth looked at Amy the way a teacher looks at a student, the way a more experienced person looks at someone who doesn't know any better. Matt was well acquainted with that look, and knew Amy's best choice was to back off.
Exasperated, Amy shook her head. "I hope I'm never as cynical about love as you two," she said, unable to resist a parting shot before leaving the discussion alone. Amy gathered her trash, dumped it into the waste basket, then went to go see to a customer.
"She's young and has a lot to learn about life," Beth said, sounding somewhat embarrassed by Amy's nonsense; after all, he had grouped Beth into the "you women" right alongside Amy, and Beth probably felt he thought she held the same views. "I prefer to be more levelheaded than that," Beth said, confirming Matt's hunch. "Falling so crazy in love isn't necessarily a good thing."
"I agree." Matt tipped his bottle to empty the last of the beverage into his mouth.
"Just look at her," Beth sighed, leaning forward in the chair and watching Amy, "she's chatting with that customer as though she's already forgotten about her disagreement. I wish I could shrug off things as easily." Beth was silent, then she turned and looked at him. "What she said about us-- it doesn't make us cynical, does it, Matt?"
He frowned. "No, it makes us realistic. We've both had love before, and like you said, we both know it's not all it's cracked up to be."
"I didn't say that-- not in that context," Beth said quickly. "I want love, Matt."
"But you want realistic love," he shrugged. "You can't even really call it love. It's more like friendship. There's a big difference between what you want, and what Amy is expecting tonight when she goes out with 'Mr. Right.'"
From Beth's silence, Matt knew she was in complete agreement.
Reality became abundantly clear to Beth after their conversation. Matt had only heard what he had wanted to hear, making him a more typical male than she had previously thought. He also didn't share her views of love, though after what he'd just said, Matt HAD been in love at some point in his life. Maybe even with Helen. Old girlfriends aside, Beth regretted trying to distance herself so far from Amy's romantic notions. Though she had spoken in defense of friendship, and had mentioned she thought crazy love wasn't always a good idea, Matt's idea of being realistic was still very different from her own.
And that, Beth surmised, potentially made Matt about as romantic as the toaster oven sitting on her kitchen counter. Deciding she liked him anyway, she resumed work with Matt very much on her mind.
As closing time approached, Beth wondered if it were too soon to offer to bring over another dinner for the Taylors. Would Matt allow it, and more to the point, was she being pushy? Overly eager? She walked a fine line, a line she couldn't define but knew was there. No, she decided, she would back off and make no mention of dinners or Mexican food. She would still continue her fight, but knew if she didn't be careful with Matt, he would come to resent her presence as an intrusion.
When Matt told her he had finished his work, and he offered no smile, her heart sank. Maybe she had already made herself too much of a nuisance, maybe he was angry with her for pressing him that morning for an answer. She had tried not to hurt him, and had approached him as a friend and not as a boss.
In her anxiety, she at first didn't notice Matt's hesitancy to simply leave, get in his truck and drive away. For once, he lingered, still not smiling, but not walking away, either.
Amy left as soon as she possibly could to rush home and get ready for Joe. Sylvia seemed to wallow in a dark mood all day, one that grew noticeably darker when she saw Matt remaining behind as she left the store. Beth knew Sylvia's jealously was getting the best of her, and prayed it wouldn't cause trouble for Matt.
As Beth went about shutting the nursery for the night, Matt remained outside. She glimpsed him through the office window, again when she moved through the store to the front door. He didn't leave, just stood by the gate with hat in hand, the retreating daylight casting a warm hue on his black hair.
Then she realized what was happening. Matt was waiting for her.
Trying not to appear overly anxious, she took her time leaving the store, locking the door, then crossing to where Matt stood by the gate.
Beth tucked the keys into her purse. "It's been a long day."
"Yes," he nodded, "it has." Silence reigned supreme, until he added, "Long, but good."
"I appreciate your telling me about..." Beth paused, searching for the courage to speak the words.
"My addictions?" he ventured.
"Yes-- I appreciate your honesty."
He shrugged lightly. "I wasn't going to lie to you."
She smiled, but to her discouragement, he didn't. The Stetson fumbled in his hands, his eyes turned to the toes of his scuffed boots, then to the pavement, as if searching for something on the ground.
"Would you like to come over Sunday afternoon?" The offer came suddenly, without warning, and his eyes jerked up to meet hers. "For lunch-- I meant for lunch. After church service." He shrugged, though this time it was hardly a causal gesture. "It won't be anything special. I'm cooking, so..." he stopped, sighed heavily. "It won't be anything special."
Beth couldn't help herself, and smiled. "I can't imagine you doing anything, and it not being special."
"You're teasing me again," he said, a half grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.
She cocked her head to one side. "Maybe just a little."
"I thought you said you wouldn't play games with me."
"This is one game I don't mind playing," she said, feeling the full glow of his presence on her heart.
He slanted her a cautious look, but Beth knew he was pleased.
"So, are you coming?"
"You know I never turn down your invitations, Matt."
"There's a first time for everything," he breathed with a slight grin.
Even a first date. Beth didn't say it, but she certainly thought it.
Looking more confident than before, Matt put the hat back on. "Come around at one. It'll give us time to get the house ready."
"I'll be there."
"I'm glad we had that talk, Beth."
"Which one?"
He smiled broadly. "Both. It's good to know where we stand. Like you said this morning-- no unrealistic love, just meaningful friendship. I like that. Keeps things simple." He chuckled softly, the sound of his voice melting Beth until she thought her knees would buckle. "Not many women are as levelheaded as you, Beth. I guess that makes you special."
Despite the complete and utter lack of romance in his manner of speaking, Beth returned his smile without hesitation. Hadn't she told him she preferred to be levelheaded instead of crazy in love? She had-- she did-- but not so very levelheaded as Matt wanted.
"Don't show up early," he asked, breaking in on her thoughts. "The house is usually a mess Sunday mornings, and I'll need time to get the meal ready. It's not often we have a guest over for lunch."
Disappointment crowded her thoughts as Beth understood Matt didn't view his invitation as a date. Even so, she managed a smile. "I'll be as punctual as you."
He flashed a grin, then they both stood there until it felt awkward.
"Guess I should get going," he said, tossing a glance at his watch. "The kids are home by now, and probably wondering where I am."
"Thank you for the invitation."
"I'm not trying to settle our account, Beth."
Pulsing warmth spread throughout her being, small ripples of happiness erasing the sting of disappointment. She felt like a teenager again. Crazy.
He gave one of his half smiles, almost shy but at the same time unnervingly direct and very male. "I'll see you at work tomorrow."
It took Beth a moment to remember that today was only Friday; she would have to wait a full day before Matt's lunch. "See you tomorrow," Beth called as he strode to his pickup.
He turned to look at her one more time. She waved, and he tipped his hat. As the truck pulled away, Beth took a deep breath to steady herself. Matt had a way of looking at her so deeply, so thoroughly, she often thought he could see her soul. But that, she reminded herself with a quiet laugh, Matt would never approve. Such notions were too unrealistic.
On the drive home, Matt felt a mixture of bliss with an undercurrent of disappointment. He knew he shouldn't be, but Matt had secretly been disheartened when he heard Beth talking so warmly of a meaningful friendship. Sure, guys think women blow the whole love thing out of proportion, but friendship being just as meaningful as love? Ouch. Maybe love wasn't all it was cracked up to be, but he still wanted it.
And Beth didn't. She had made that clear with her "meaningful" talk with Amy.
"It's for the best," Matt rebuked himself as he came to a red light at an intersection. "You can't fall in love. It wouldn't be fair to Beth, not with everything you've done. Besides, she's not interested in you that way-- she couldn't possibly, not after what she knows about you." He punched on the radio, intent on getting his mind elsewhere. They were friends. He wanted-- no, needed-- to keep it that way, and yet... Matt sighed heavily. For all his past talk about friendship, whenever he looked at Beth, being friends was the furthest thing from his mind.
Matt rested his hands on the steering wheel, lightly accelerated when the signal turned green. "It's for the best, Taylor. I told her I could only give her friendship, and that's all she wants from me. Just shut up and be happy."
After being around Beth so much, it was good to know where he stood. Simple, uncomplicated friendship. In spite of his difficult past and scarred soul, she still wanted to be friends. Matt smiled with all his heart. She was special.
Instead of Ryan running to greet him at the door, Matt found his baby brother in the kitchen, licking grape jelly from his fingers.
"What are you doing? And why are you eating before dinner?" Matt moved quickly to Ryan, pulled the jelly jar from the boy's hand. "Where's Ethan and Cassie?"
Ryan smacked his sticky purple lips, grinning ear to ear with sugar coated joy. "Ethan is in our room, studying."
Groaning patiently, Matt lifted Ryan onto the countertop to clean his face and hands. "And Cassie? Where is she?"
"She's in her bathroom crying."
"Crying? What about?"
Ryan shrugged.
Grape jelly doesn't come off of small fingers fast enough, not when there's a twelve and a half-year-old crying in the bathroom. Matt hurried as fast as he could, calling out to Ethan for help but getting no response.
"Stay out of the jelly jar," Matt said, setting Ryan back on the floor. "I mean it, buddy. And while you're at it, go brush your teeth." He patted Ryan's bottom, then headed through the living room, down the short hall to Cassie's bedroom.
"Cass?" He banged on the door, fearing another menstrual crisis, and wondering what he would do if it wasn't. Having a preteen in the family was complicated even more by the fact the preteen was a girl. In a house full of boys, Cassie's troubles kept Matt on his toes. "Cass, open the door!"
He waited impatiently, straining to hear her cry. He heard nothing, then the soft footsteps of someone coming to the door. It opened, and Cassie looked out at him with red rimmed eyes.
Matt breathed deeply. At least she looked mostly coherent. "Have you been crying?" It was a stupid question-- he knew it-- but the words flew out of his mouth before he could take them back. He knelt, pulled out a clean handkerchief and dried her face. "What is it, Cass? Did you have a hard day at school?"
Cassie shook her head "no," then hugged him with more tears.
Helpless to do much else until she calmed down, Matt hugged his sister as Ethan sauntered down the hall, the teenager's hands shoved into his pockets. Matt immediately recognized the worried stance of his brother, then noticed with some shock that Ethan's eyes were red, as well.
"What happened?" Matt asked.
Ethan lifted a shoulder. "Mom called."
"When?"
"I don't know-- an hour ago, I guess."
"What did she want?"
Ethan's careless attitude cracked a moment, and he sniffed back some tears. "What she always wants. Money."
"Did you promise her anything?" Matt was on his feet in an instant, Cassie still clinging to him. "Did you?"
"No, of course not. I know better than that, Matty."
"Cass," Matt looked down at her, his arm around the girl's shoulders. "Did you?"
The guilty look on her face said it all.
"Cass, how could you? You know what she'll do with it."
"She begged so hard, Matty! She said if I loved her at all, I would give her what she needed!"
"When is she supposed to be here?"
Cassie wiped her eyes. "Tonight or tomorrow. Please, Matty, this time it'll be different. She said she'd stay and make a birthday cake for Ryan."
"His birthday was weeks ago."
"But she really wanted to, Matty. She was sorry for missing his birthday, and promised to make it up to us. To all of us."
Distracted, Matt rubbed his forehead, nearly knocking off the Stetson in the process. "I've heard it a million times before, Cass, and so have you. You know better than to believe her now."
"But, Matty--"
"No buts!" Matt surprised himself with his own forcefulness. Cassie swallowed hard, and he rubbed her shoulder to stop her from crying again. "Cass, she doesn't care about us. If she did, she would have changed long before now." He looked steadily into Cassie's soft blue eyes. "She doesn't care."
A fresh sob escaped Cassie's lips, and Matt hugged her with all the fierce protection of an older brother. Their mother's promises hurt everyone, but especially Cassie and Ryan. They needed her so much, and she was never there. Not when it counted.
Matt looked to Ethan, reminding himself that even Ethan wasn't too old to be untouched by their mom. "Does Ryan know she's coming?"
"No." Ethan dried his face against his shoulder, turned and left the hall.
"Did Mom leave you her number?" Matt asked Cassie, patting his sister on the back, hoping she would calm down. Contact with their mother usually turned everyone inside out, causing fresh pain to old wounds that had never healed. "Cass, did she give you a way to contact her?"
"No."
Matt wasn't surprised. It was so like Mom to do that, to stay away and not show up until she wanted something from her children. If she gave them her cell number, they might actually call.
Standing in the living room, Ryan looked down the hall at Matt and Cassie, his small face worried.
"Ethan's really quiet, Matty," the boy said, coming to Matt with a somewhat fearful voice. "He locked the bedroom door, and won't let me in."
"Let him alone for awhile." Matt gave Ryan, and then Cassie a brave look to encourage them to do the same. "We need to clean up the house, pick up the toys in the living room, and do some major dusting before Sunday."
"Mom won't care about a messy house," Cassie said, brushing away the hair from her eyes. "She never does."
"It's not for Mom's sake." Matt looked at Ryan, saw the boy's face suddenly grow hopeful. "Mom's coming tonight or tomorrow--"
Before Matt could finish, Ryan began bouncing up and down, chanting excitedly, "Mommy's coming! Mommy's coming!" until Cassie begged him to be quiet. When that didn't work, Matt picked up Ryan, asked Cassie to get a head start cleaning the house, then carried the boy into the kitchen to begin fixing dinner.
"Mommy's coming!" Ryan couldn't hold still, absolutely refused to be quiet, and tugged at Matt's shirt so many times to ask when she would arrive, it wore on Matt's patience.
"I don't know, Ryan. Settle down and let me work."
When Ryan took his excitement into the living room, Matt tried to gather his sanity. It wasn't easy, not when one of the persons he least wanted to see made Ryan so very happy. He could still hear the boy chanting about his mommy, and knew he would camp out by the living room window to wait for her.
"Don't let her stay, God. Please, don't let her stay." Matt twisted off the top of a bottle of spaghetti sauce, dumped its contents into the pan to simmer. That's all he needed right now. Mom. She hadn't even arrived yet, and already the pain and resentment felt unbearable. He jammed the spoon into the pan, sloshed the sauce around until it splattered on his jeans. While he worked to get the stain out with a wet paper towel, Cassie came into the kitchen. She slumped against the refrigerator and watched him.
"Do you think she'll stay for long, Matty?"
"I hope not."
"But she could if she wanted to, couldn't she?"
"Cass..." Matt sighed, knowing how vulnerable Cassie was when it came to their mother. He tossed the paper towel away, turned back to the stove. "Let's not talk about it until she gets here, okay?" He glanced over his shoulder at Cassie. "She knows the rules. It's up to her."
He dumped pasta into a large pan of boiling water as Cassie moved to the stove to watch.
"She'll be good, Matty. Wait and see. This time will be different."
Matt muttered darkly. "Yeah, right."
"Please, Matty, give her a chance."
He wanted to scream that he'd given that woman who so glibly called herself their mother, all the chances he could, and it still hadn't been enough. It hadn't, and for all he knew, it never would be.
"I'll give her the same chance as I always do, but" -- he looked at Cassie -- "I won't let her hurt you or the others. That's a promise." Matt didn't know how good that promise was, considering his mom had already caused more than a little grief with just her phone call. "Not to change the subject, but why aren't you cleaning up the house?"
A weak smile parted Cassie's mouth. "Not to change the subject back, but why should I when Mom won't care?"
"Because," Matt said, turning down the heat beneath the sauce, "you're not doing it for mom."
Cassie looked at him curiously. "Then who for?"
He opened the cupboard door, took out four plates. The question had gone unanswered, and when Matt saw Cassie staring at him, he reluctantly replied. "Beth Carter."
Cassie's eyes grew wide. "You're inviting her to the house? As in a date?"
"No, no," Matt shook his head adamantly, "definitely not a date. Just Sunday lunch."
After a few moments of silence, Cassie smiled. "But you do like her?"
"Yeah, I guess so," Matt resisted the urge to tell Cassie to mind her own business; he was the head of the family, and if he liked a woman, it affected everyone, including Cassie. "We're not serious," he insisted. "We're just friends." Matt heard a chair scoot across the floor, turned to see Cassie taking a seat beside the stove while he worked.
"I think Beth likes you, Matty."
He smiled good-naturedly. "You do, huh? What makes you say that?"
"I can tell."
"I see," he gave a conscious grin, happy to divert Cassie's attention even at the expense of his own privacy. "Besides your as-yet-underdeveloped sense of women's intuition, how can you tell?"
Chin propped on the palm of her hand, Cassie looked at him with a faint sort of smile playing on her face, one that said she thought she knew more than she was saying.
"Never mind, Cass. Sorry I asked."
She laughed softly, half sympathetic to the vulnerability of his feelings, half delighted at his embarrassment. "I know something else, Matty. You like her, too. An awful lot."
Matt's first impulse was to deny it, but he knew it would be useless; Cassie knew him too well, and besides, Matt refused to lie to his sister.
"Don't tell Beth," he asked quietly. "I'd appreciate it if she didn't know."
Sadness tinged Cassie's smile, but the girl nodded that she would do as he had asked.
"Do you think we'll ever be happy, Matty?" Cassie breathed a long, wistful sigh. "I mean not just a little happy, but really happy-- so happy you don't have to second-guess what you're feeling. You just are."
The melancholy reflection made him frown. "We're happy... aren't we?
Cassie bit her lip. "I guess so."
"Since you've decided not to help me clean the house," he joked, shooing her from the chair, "help me set the table. Dinner's ready."
It took some difficulty on Matt's part to tear Ryan from the living room window, for the boy kept insisting that Mommy's car was pulling up to the house.
"Come on, buddy, we'll know when she arrives." Matt crouched to speak to Ryan. "She'll come up that walk, open that door, and find us in the kitchen."
"When's she coming?"
"I don't know, exactly, Ryan. Sometime tonight or tomorrow."
A marked look of disappointment touched his features as Ryan looked out at the street. "Maybe she forgot. Maybe she's not coming."
Matt sighed heavily. "She'll come."
"But if she forgot about us again--"
"She won't forget, Ryan. She needs money. She'll be here. You can count on it. Now come on, dinner's getting cold."
Sorrowful eyes looked at Matt, and the boy finally nodded. He took Matt's hand, allowing himself to be led to the kitchen. Matt regretted speaking so plainly to Ryan, and promised himself to be gentler in the future.
"Where's Ethan?" Matt asked Cassie, as he helped Ryan into his chair.
"Still in the bedroom," Cassie said between bites of spaghetti. Matt didn't blame her for eating without them. This evening, it seemed nearly impossible to get everyone seated at the table at the same time.
"Ethan!" Matt stepped toward the boys' bedroom, just off the kitchen, and rapped on the door. He didn't mind giving Ethan privacy when the teenager needed it, but they shared the same room, so when Ethan didn't open the door, Matt did.
Ethan lie on the bed, an arm draped over his eyes.
"Dinner time," Matt said, hoping the mention of food would nudge his brother from off the bed.
"Matty, can I go to Mrs. Lott's house when Mom comes?" Ethan raised his arm, looked at him pleadingly. "Do I have to be here?"
Matt rubbed the back of his head, wishing the visit were already over. "Mom's going to ask about you, Ethan, and she'll want to see you."
"But do I have to see her?"
"She's your mom."
"She's yours, too, and I don't see you falling all over yourself to throw out the welcome mat."
"Ethan, we don't have a welcome mat."
The teenager looked at him dryly.
"All right," Matt conceded, sympathetic to Ethan's wish, "but only if Mom comes tonight. I'll be at work Saturday, so you'll have to stick around for Cassie and Ryan's sake tomorrow. I don't want them to have to be around Mom alone. Even if it costs you a lot to do it, you're their big brother and you're going to watch out for them. Understood?"
The forcefulness of Matt's language didn't prompt any rebellion, just a grateful nod. Ethan rubbed at the redness in his eyes as though he were a little boy who had cried over his mommy, and not a teenager over his mom. "So why do we have to clean up the house before Sunday?" he asked, pulling himself up from the bed. "Someone coming over?"
"Yeah, Beth Carter."
"Your boss?" Ethan stared at him incredulously. "When did this happen?"
Matt blinked. "When did what happen?"
"When did you start getting so serious about Mrs. Carter?" Ethan asked, placing undue emphasis on the Mrs.
"She's a widow, Ethan."
"But she's your boss, Matty."
"We're just friends."
Ethan didn't look convinced.
"I only invited her over to Sunday lunch, okay? I admit, we're good friends, and I like her" -- Matt held up a hand to stop Ethan from interrupting -- "but we're not serious. Absolutely not. We really are 'just friends.' Now, can we eat dinner before Ryan and Cassie take all the spaghetti?"
It annoyed Matt that Ethan still looked skeptical. But, since they were both hungry, and it was spaghetti, Ethan dropped the subject, and the two remaining boys sat down at the table.
Dinner was a solemn event with Ryan popping into the living room every five minutes to check the window, Cassie looking conflicted over telling their mother she could come, and Ethan and Matt dreading her arrival. Since it was Friday night, and there was no school the next day, Matt allowed everyone to stay up later than usual to wait.
After an hour, Ethan could no longer take the suspense, and went next door to Mrs. Lott's house.
The evening grew long, and when it became apparent that their mother wasn't coming that night, Matt announced it was time for bed. He went over and retrieved Ethan, only to return to their house to find Cassie worrying over why mom hadn't come.
"She forgot," Ryan repeated. This prompted Ethan to remind Ryan that she often did. Matt hushed them both. Such reminders were unnecessary.
Nerves strained almost to the point of breaking, Matt sent everyone to bed. Before turning out the boys' bedroom light, he checked Cassie's room to make sure she didn't go to sleep crying. Whenever their mother re-entered their lives, the feeling of abandonment often resurfaced; it was all Matt could do to comfort the others, when his own heart struggled with the same cutting pain.
In the boys' bedroom, Matt let Ryan snuggle with him, the small boy needing reassurance that someone was there to take care of him as he fell asleep.
Night quieted the house, and Matt stared into the semi-darkness of the room, his soul once more repeating two promises that had given him solace in the past; they soothed the ache, balmed the pain, gave him hope that though people often failed them, God never would.
Matt's promises: "Can a woman forget her... child, that she should not have compassion on the son of her womb? yea, [she] may forget, yet will I [God] not forget thee. Behold, I have graven thee upon the palms of my hands [nail prints from the cross]; thy walls are continually before me [always present with Matt]."
~ Isaiah 49:15, 16 ~
"When my father and my mother forsake me, then the LORD will take me up."
~ Psalm 27:10 ~
