Falling for a Father of Four. Arlene James

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Falling for a Father of Four - Arlene  James


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explanation would take inordinate time and effort, so she settled for pointing out that it was poorly organized and not exactly “sterile.” Jean Marie took violent exception to the slightest perceived criticism. Eyes narrowed suspiciously, she declared that the kitchen was forever kept just exactly as their mother had left it. When a gaping Chaz declared aloud that Jean Marie was “cuckoo,” she summarily bit him. Luckily, the skin wasn’t broken. Mattie marched the little hoyden straight to a corner and stood over her for an entire half hour to keep her there, while Chaz comforted Yancy, who wept loudly on his behalf.

      Afterward, Jean Marie disappeared into the bedroom, barricaded the door and shouted insults at Mattie. She was mean and stupid. Her hair was an ugly black color. She was too short and had “baby hands.” Chaz helpfully explained that Jean Marie thought “big girls” had long, red fingernails like their mother’s. Once the subject of Orren’s unfaithful wife had been broached, Mattie found she couldn’t quell her curiosity without first asking just a few questions.

      Chaz answered each and every one most helpfully. In short order, she found out that Grace Ellis was a tall, blue-eyed beauty with a penchant for tight blue jeans and embarrassingly revealing lingerie. She wore lots of makeup and piled her long blond hair on top of her head. She worried about wrinkles and bragged about her figure. She had shouted at their daddy a lot, said that Candy Sue was “all his fault” and explained repeatedly to her children that she “needed her fun while she could get it.” He remembered especially that when she went off with “that man” she’d explained that they were going to get rich on the rodeo circuit and had promised to send them money, but she never had. Chaz divulged, without any prompting, that Orren had gone after Grace upon discovering she had left him, only to return later, all sad, to explain that Mommy was tired of “making do” but sent her love. She wouldn’t be coming back, he’d said, except to see them when she could, but she hadn’t ever done that, either.

      Jean Marie heard it all, having tired of screaming insults and sneaked out of her room. She appeared out of nowhere and immediately denied everything Chaz had said. Their mommy was beautiful and smart and was off getting money. When she came back, they’d all be rich and happy, especially Daddy, who missed her most of all. Mattie carefully schooled her expression and voice, betraying none of the shock and dismay the tale and its refutation had engendered, and calmly suggested that Jean Marie cool her temper unless she wanted to spend another half hour in the corner. With that, she went to make pimento cheese sandwiches and cut up celery, carrots and apples for lunch.

      The children, thankfully, were used to entertaining themselves. She had merely to keep an eye and an ear open while they played, occasionally interrupting her work in the kitchen to mediate a minor quarrel or redirect their energies. Even Jean Marie cooperated reluctantly when she promised them a special afternoon snack of cinnamon crisps, which she made from a simple, inexpensive piecrust recipe, cut into strips, and baked in the oven. Candy Sue practically keeled over after the snack, so badly in need of an afternoon nap was she. Yancy was persuaded to join her without much effort, and the two older children went outside to play in the shade of an old live oak on the edge of the front yard within easy sight of the kitchen window. Orren had hung sturdy swings from its thick branches and fashioned a sandbox in an out-of-the-way spot. Mattie dutifully oversaw their play while listening for the younger two and scrubbing down the kitchen cabinets.

      All in all, she was well pleased with her day. She had the small kitchen gleaming and the cabinets strictly organized in plenty of time to tell the children a favorite story before stripping the beds and remaking them with clean linens. Then she vacuumed the living room rug, ran a dust cloth over the surface of the battered tables and single lamp and contented herself with straightening up the mess by dispatching the children to other parts of the house with various items in tow, all but Jean Marie who declared that she wasn’t “nobody’s” slave and locked herself in the bathroom. Mattie let her be until enough of the clutter was removed from the living room to identify it as such, then calmly picked the lock and opened the door.

      Jean Marie was lying on the floor beside the tub, her arms flung out dramatically, mouth open, eyes rolled back in her head. An empty, uncapped vitamin bottle that Mattie had noticed in the small wastebasket earlier was clutched in one hand. Mattie smiled to herself, folded her arms, and called out in an unconcerned voice, “Chaz, dear, please bring me a clean spoon so I can poke the handle down Jean Marie’s throat and make her throw up all these vitamins the silly girl’s taken.”

      Jean Marie bolted up into a sitting position, her free hand going automatically to her throat as she gagged just at the thought of that spoon handle. Mattie feigned weak relief. “Oh, good. You didn’t overdose yourself too badly, after all. Never mind, Chaz. She seems fine now.”

      In the next instant Jean Marie realized she’d been outfoxed. Sputtering angrily, she threw the vitamin bottle. It bounced harmlessly off the doorjamb and rolled at Mattie’s feet. Calmly, Mattie bent and picked it up, then straightened and cocked her head. “Now, young lady,” she said, “unless you want me to describe this latest incident to your father, I suggest you improve your behavior.” It was then that Jean Marie realized how serious a mistake she’d made. Her daddy wasn’t beyond blistering her backside for such a prank. Mutinously, she stuck out her chin. Her eyes filled with tears, but she stubbornly refused to shed them. “You know,” Mattie said gently, “we could be friends, you and I, if you’d just let us.” Then Mattie left her there and went away.

      

      Orren dragged home utterly exhausted. What a day! A total of three mechanics had called in sick, and he’d been so busy under the hoods of several different cars that he’d hardly had time to answer the telephone. Everything was behind schedule, and he’d endured a rude dressing down from one customer because of it. Tomorrow promised to be a repeat performance, and he was so hungry he could eat lumber. He only hoped Mattie had saved him some supper. She hadn’t, but he could hardly grasp what she had done when he walked into his own house and found himself in a strange place.

      The kitchen looked like a surgery ward. He’d never seen it shine so. Come to think of it, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen the tops of the counters, let alone seen them gleam. He’d almost forgotten they were red! Moreover, the table had been properly set with napkins and everything, and the air was filled with the delicious aromas of cooking food. Most astonishing of all, however, was the sight of his children lined up to greet him, heads freshly washed, clothing neat, bodies clean. The babies were ready for bed. Chaz was beaming. Jean Marie showed no visible bruises, though he couldn’t imagine anything but brute force producing the astonishing change in her appearance. Her hair had been plaited into a braid! She was wearing shoes and socks. Her shorts matched her shirt. He hadn’t even known she possessed matching shorts and shirt! Mattie herself looked neat as a pin, even with one of his dish towels tied around her waist like an apron. She quickly whipped it off and suggested that he wash up while she put dinner on the table. Mechanically, he put the thermos he’d brought home on the clean counter and trudged off to do as he was told, marveling at the order in his living room as he did so.

      It was almost more than he could fathom, sitting down at the table with his family for a real meal. And what a meal! Boiled beef and noodles in a creamy sauce, green beans, corn and hot bread. When Mattie set a small bowl of pickled beets at his elbow, he could do nothing but gape.

      “Chaz said you liked them,” she divulged shyly and skittered away.

      For the first time he had the presence of mind to look around the table and count the places. Obviously she had been unsure of her welcome at the family table. He twisted in his chair and cleared his throat. When she turned from the sink to look at him, he asked carefully, “Aren’t you going to join us?”

      Smiling broadly, she plucked another place setting from the cabinet and hurried to squeeze in between Sweetums and Yancy. Once there, however, she dropped her hands to her lap and bowed her head. Uncertain what to make of that, Orren shrugged and reached for the beets, drawing up short when Chaz widened his eyes and frantically shook his head. Thoroughly puzzled, Orren opened his mouth to ask what the dickens was going on, only to be shocked into continued silence by the sight of Chaz folding his hands in an attitude of prayer, his look pleading. Dumbfounded, Orren


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