03 The Long Road Home (8 page)

Matt interpreted Margaret's mind-your-own-business expression correctly.  It was hard to keep from smiling. 

Mr. Jensen beamed.  "Excellent idea.  They are the latest in wall designs.  You'll find them by the far wall, Margaret. 

"As we're going to paint the room together, I'll help you pick out the border," Matt said easily.  "To…to…together?"  stammered Margaret.

He nodded firmly.  "I have a vested interest in Mikki.  She's my goddaughter too."

"I don't need help," Margaret said abruptly.  "And I don't want a border."

Mr. Jensen looked shocked at her rudeness, but Matt only smiled, "I do."

He walked over to the wall and looked at the rolls there.  "We have to be careful about what we pick out.  Susan tells me the latest research on children claims babies do notice their surroundings.  What do you think of scarlet poppies?  Might inspire Mikki to be a painter.  Or this one?  Geometric patterns?  I have never agreed with the view that women don't have a head for math."  He heard the exasperated sigh that escaped Margaret as she walked over and joined him by the wall display.  "A border of musical notes?  Mikki could grow up playing the violin in the Philharmonic, thanks to us."

This close, Margaret could see the teasing laughter in Matthew Magnum's eyes.  The scent of pine wrapped her, and she turned away quickly as her heart picked up its pace.  Overwhelmed by his nearness, she reached up blindly for a border, and heard him say.  "Pumpkins?  I don't think so."

His laughter stirred her hair.  Angry with the effect he was having on her, Margaret turned to him, "I don't want your help, Mr. Magnum," she said bluntly.  "You can't charm your way into my life, as you have done with everybody else.  I won't let you.  Timmy might think the world of you but I don't, and the less we have to do with each other the better."

She saw the snap of anger in his eyes before it vanished.  "What has painting a room together got to do with your brother?"  asked Matthew Magnum.  "Or is this another instance of how you can't separate anything in your life from his?"

Margaret swallowed to get rid of the lump of anger in her throat before she could speak.  "Your comments aren't going to stop me from trying to make him change his mind about his present job.  I'm getting tired of your personal attacks on me."

In the silence that followed Margaret heard Mr. Jensen discussing exterior paint with a customer in another aisle.

"Unlike you, I would not use any influence I might have with your brother to force him into a career he doesn't want," said Matthew Magnum.

"I want what's best for Timmy," Margaret said stubbornly.

"Then untie those emotional apron strings and let him make his own decisions." 

Margaret looked at Matthew Magnum's face and felt like hurling a can of paint at his head.  An open can of paint.

"Have you found something you like?" 

Margaret looked at Mr. Jensen' smiling face and shook her head.  "Not yet."  She couldn't continue the argument with Matthew Magnum in front of the store owner.  Besides, she had nothing more to say right now.

Determined to concentrate on the task at hand, Margaret looked at the borders carefully, finally picking out one that had purple teddy bears with enormous pink bows on a cream background.

"Mikki's going to like that," Magnum said behind her.  "I won't be long.  I just have to get another paint roller and a couple more things."

"There's a new spray gun that does the work in half the time," said Mr. Jensen.

Matt shook his head, "That won't do.  Margaret likes doing things the old fashioned way."

Margaret felt warmth surge to her face.  Matthew Magnum gave the impression he knew her well.  His casual familiarity was intensely disturbing.

"The new paint you've bought is excellent," said Mr. Jensen.  "All you have to do is clean the wall and apply it.  One coat is usually all you need."

Margaret kept quiet as the purchases were totaled.  As Magnum took his wallet out of his hip pocket, she said fiercely, "I'm going to pay the bill."

He turned to her and said mockingly, "Margaret, didn't anyone teach you about sharing a godchild?  I'll pay for half the supplies."

Margaret extracted her share of the money silently from her bag.  Painting Mikki's room was no longer going to be the calm, peaceful task she had envisioned.

"Good night!"  Mr. Jensen called as they left the store.  "Enjoy your painting."

"So when do we start?"  Matthew Magnum asked a few minutes later, as the Lincoln Continental covered the miles to Inchwater. 

Margaret swallowed.  "You aren't serious about wanting to help are you?"  Her voice held one part surprise, two parts resignation.

"One hundred percent," he said firmly. 

"Painting is hard work," warned Margaret.

"I know," he nodded.  "Scraping, sanding, primer, base coat, top coat, trim.  In this case this paint is primer, base and top coat all combined."

She stared at him.  He actually knew what was involved? 

"Painted a house one summer," Matthew Magnum said.  "So, when do we start?"

"Tonight," said Margaret reluctantly.  "I thought around eight.  Aunt Jan's favorite detective show comes on then, and she goes to bed after that."

The car stopped in front of the restaurant, and Matthew Magnum nodded, "Eight o'clock at Joe's.  It's a date."

Margaret hurried out. 

It's a date. 

It was just a casual expression, Margaret told herself sternly, but she couldn't stop the tremors of excitement that coursed through her. 

Aunt Jan looked up from the magazine she was reading on the garden swing as Margaret entered the backyard.  "How are Gina and Mikki doing?"

"They're both fine," said Margaret absently.  "I'm going to paint Mikki's room, as a surprise for them.  Jack's going to be away for two days.  If I start tonight I can have it all done before he gets back.  Where's Timmy?"

"He's at TJ's place."  TJ's parents owned Inchwater's only grocery store and lived behind it. 

Margaret hesitated and then said, "Is it my imagination, or is Timmy avoiding me?"

"I think," said Aunt Jan, "that he's simply trying to avoid a confrontation.  He knows you don't approve of his job, and, rather than argue with you about it, he prefers to stay out of the way.  Give him time.  He'll come around."

Margaret sat down on the swing beside Aunt Jan.  Images of Timmy and herself as children flashed into her mind.  Had she really driven the brother she loved so dearly, away? 

"Aunt Jan, do you think I'm wrong in not wanting Timmy to be a trucker?"

"He hasn't said he wants to be one yet, has he?"  pointed out Aunt Jan in her usual calm manner.  "Don't worry about something that might never happen.  Did you find someone to give you a ride home?" 

“Yes.”

Deciding not to worry Aunt Jan by arguing about Timmy and trucking, Margaret got to her feet.  "I'm going to call Joe and ask him to drop off a spare key to Gina's place on his way to work."

There had to be a way to heal things between her and Timmy.  He had to realize she was on his side, that she wanted nothing but the best for him.  She couldn't run the risk of losing him.  Margaret was half way up the stairs, before she realized she hadn't answered Aunt Jan's last question completely.  Oh well.

As for Matthew Magnum's other accusation that she couldn't separate her life from Timmy's, she didn't have to prove anything to him. 

Matt leaned against the aluminum siding of Joe's house, watching Margaret approach.  The old shirt she wore almost covered her shorts.  Her hair was tied back, and she wore sneakers on her feet.  Her long lovely legs stopped when she saw him.  Matt quickly looked away from them to her face.

Margaret's mouth twitched at the sight of Matthew Magnum in blue work overalls and a blue-and-white checked shirt.  The cap on his head, turned front to back made it look as if he was auditioning for the role of painter. 

"Ready to work?"  he asked.

"Ready to work," she agreed. 

Opening the front door with the key Joe had given her; Margaret switched the lights on in the house, and went directly to the baby's room.  Her mouth fell open as she looked around.  The walls had been scraped clean of the old, flaky paint.  Whirling, she looked at Magnum.

"I had the afternoon free, so I hope you don't mind that I got started," Matt said casually.  "Joe gave me a spare key to the place."

He had made time, so he could get this part of the work done. 

The supplies sat on an old table in the middle of the floor which was covered with newspaper.  A small transistor radio provided soft classical tunes.  The baseboard had been taped over with masking tape.  Matthew Magnum, Margaret could see, had been very busy.

He opened the can of paint and stirred it before pouring it into a tray.  "Pretty color.  Wish they had a rose exactly this shade."

Determined to be very business-like, Margaret picked up a roller and dipped it into the paint.  "I'll do these two walls, you do the others."

"Yes ma'am."  The teasing rejoinder drew a dark glance.  During her first year as a teacher, Margaret's class had consisted of thirty, unruly ten year olds.  Walking over here, she had told herself, if she could control children she could certainly quell Matthew Magnum's irrepressible humor. 

They worked in silence for a while, and then he said, "The paint will dry overnight if we leave the window open."

Margaret nodded.  "I'll come back tomorrow afternoon and fix the border, and finish the trim."

"That's my border," he reminded her.  "You didn't want to buy it, remember?  I'll fix it."

Margaret bit down on her lower lip.  He really was the most aggravating man she knew.  "Okay," she said stiffly.

Working in here this afternoon, Matt had thought of their argument in the paint store and come up with the first step of his plan.  Margaret had to let go of her brother before she could concentrate on herself. 

"Tim is a great kid, Margaret," he said carefully.  "He can take care of himself.  He is intelligent enough to make the right decisions about his future."

The silence made him look at her over his shoulder.  She had stopped painting, but still faced the wall. 

"It's time you start concentrating on yourself," he added.

Margaret turned, and Matt saw the anger on her face.  "I did not come here for a lecture on my lifestyle," she said furiously. 

"Don't make Tim your excuse for avoiding life, Margaret," Matt continued, as if she hadn't spoken.  "There's more to living than watching out for your brother."

Margaret glared at him as the last vestige of her self-control shattered. 

"I know exactly what is behind all this," she bit out.  "You cannot believe my refusal to join the Matthew Magnum fan club.  Is the offer to join me with the painting another attempt at bowl me over?  Well let me tell you, Mr. Magnum, that no matter how long you stay in Inchwater, my attitude toward you isn't going to change."

Matt held her gaze steadily.  "Is that what you really think, Margaret that my main purpose in staying here is to bowl you over?"

Taking the roller from her nerveless fingers, he set it next to his own in the painting tray and straightened.  Margaret took a step back from him.

"If you back up any further, you're going to stick to the wall," Matt said casually.  "I want to talk to you not pounce on you, so relax.  Let's set some things straight for the record.  For one thing, I never intentionally set out to bowl anyone over.  Pre-meditated romance is too cold for me.  Second, I said what I did because I care about you and Timmy the way any decent human being cares about another.  I would have thought growing up in Inchwater, where values still mean something, you could understand that.  I don't want you to shelve your happiness for Timmy's.  I see the way you ride herd on him.  You're going to get hurt when he jerks out of your grasp if you don't let go on your own."

Their gazes meshed, and silence wrapped them for a minute before he said, "I am not staying in Inchwater to lure you into my bed Margaret.  I was just joking when I made the remark the other day.  I'm here because Bedouin Trucking has been having problems."

"Wh...what kind of problems?"  Margaret decided she might as well know the whole of it, before she found a stone to crawl under.

"On arrival, losses have been discovered in the shipments we carry.  One box of electronic equipment, another of medicines...nothing large enough to require a police complaint, but it concerns me.  Other trucking companies have reported major losses and claimed insurance.  Bedouin Trucking has always had an unimpeachable reputation, and I am determined to get to the bottom of what’s going on before it gets worse."

"Oh."  Margaret said, feeling very small. 

At a loss for words, she picked up her roller and went back to work.  Nothing she said would make things better, and she certainly didn't want to make them any worse.

I care about you, and Timmy, the way any decent human being cares about another.

He had certainly made the basis of their relationship very clear.  General, distant, formal.