A Promise to Remember (25 page)

Andie couldn't remember a Sunday when she'd been more miserable about pulling into the church parking lot. Blair rarely missed
church, and for her to show up alone guaranteed that she would
face inquiries. Or worse, knowing glances. Maybe she should
just tell the truth. Somehow, she didn't think "We haven't spoken
since Wednesday" would go over well with the ladies' group.

The parking lot ran along the side of the church, with four
rows of spaces. She chose the very last spot in the very last
row and backed her car in. She wanted to make the quickest
possible escape. When she climbed out of her car to walk into
the sanctuary, she realized the first of her errors.

She might be able to get quickly out of the parking lot from
here, but she had a long way to walk in her latest dress a la Mattie. This one went almost to her ankles, in some new "fashion
forward" fabric as thick and heavy as denim. Fashion forward or
not, the kick pleat stuck together as she walked and she found
herself having to take tiny steps. Even then the fabric whipped
around her legs, chafing the entire length of her calves.

"Andie! Andie!" Christi's call made certain that everyone in
the parking lot who had previously failed to notice her flailing
presence was now well informed. Christi sprinted over, looking fresh and tailored in a rose-colored skirt and fitted top. "There
you are. Been looking for you."

Great! It figured that Christi would choose to make her oncea-month appearance today.

"Been telling everyone about your painting and the appraisal.
Everyone's so excited. They all want to talk to you about it."

Andie did not want to talk about it. She didn't want to talk
to anyone about anything. "Maybe some other time."

"Come on, you modest thing. This way." Christi grabbed her
arm and dragged her in the general direction of the foyer. Andie
tripped in her efforts to keep up.

Only then did Christi turn and truly look at her. "What is
that you're wearing?" She stopped walking long enough to give
Andie a head-to-toe inspection. A smile twitched at the corner
of her mouth and she bit her bottom lip. Although she managed
to remain quiet on the outside, Andie could see the laughter
dancing in her eyes.

"Oh, you know. One of Mattilda Plendor's things."

Christi appeared to be holding her breath. "Never thought
you liked avant-garde fashions."

"I don't." Andie looked around to be certain no one in the
parking lot might be overhearing the conversation. "I hate them.
But what am I supposed to do? It makes her so happy to be
helping that I just couldn't tell her no."

Christi erupted into laughter. "You've got to be kidding. You're
wearing something you hate because you don't want to hurt
someone's feelings?"

The words stung. "I thought it was the polite thing to do.
She's still grieving, too, you know. I thought maybe by letting
her help me, I could help her."

Christi shook her head and rolled her eyes, her laughter gaining volume. Suddenly, she seemed to become aware of the fact
that Andie was not laughing with her. She took a deep breath and cleared her throat. She continued to giggle beneath her
breath with every few steps they took. "You really shouldn't let
her push you around like that."

Like Christi had room to talk. It seemed everyone wanted
Andie to stand up for herself, except when that person was the
one involved.

More and more Andie was beginning to see that her whole
adult life had been spent trying to please others. She never did,
or even said, what she really wanted.

Some things need to change here. She felt as though a beast had
been caged inside her, and she couldn't continue to hold it in.

They approached the assembled group of women. As they
drew closer the hum of excitement grew, until someone's voice
rose above the crowd. "Andie, Christi just told us the exciting
news. That is so great."

"Is its

The hum silenced. Andie's voice had escaped with more anger
than she had intended. The now-mute group stared at her with
wide eyes. Better use care with this newfound independence.
Perhaps she should leash the beast, for now. "Do you really
think so, I mean?"

The women's faces relaxed, and the excited murmurs rippled
through the group once again. A chorus of "Yes" and "Wonderful" followed.

That outfit is fabulous." More agreement chased around
the circle. Carissa's averted eyes and Kendra's raised eyebrow
told Andie that they might like the outfit, but they didn't think
it worked on her. I couldn't agree more. The cage needed to
open, and soon.

"How are things going for this year's Fair? I'm sure you've
outdone yourself as always."

°I

"Organ's playing." Christi grabbed her arm. "We'd best get
inside."

The women started walking toward the church, and the subject dropped. Andie would definitely thank Christi later.

Carissa stopped at the door to the foyer. "Where's Blair?"

Andie managed to smile sweetly. "He has a big project at
work. He hated not to come but felt he just couldn't."

Knowing nods all around. Most of this group understood
facing events alone when work beckoned the provider. Andie
wondered how many of them had made the same statement she
just made, knowing as well as she did now, it wasn't the truth.
It's time to make some changes.

"I'm not going to take it, not anymore."

"Pardon me, madam. I could not hear you properly."

Andie spun around and dropped the bowl she had been scrubbing. It clattered across the floor, sending suds and water splashing. "Sorry, Silas. I was just talking to myself." She reached down
to pick up the bowl, thankful it was plastic.

"So I presumed. Might I suggest that perhaps your words
would be better directed toward God?"

"I'm sure you're right." Why did he have to put on such a
superior air? He was one step away from homeless, dirty, and
annoying in the way he spoke. Why couldn't he just leave her
alone? She didn't want to listen to his nonsense.

Nonsense? Is that what talking to God has become to me?

She started to work on the next bowl. Okay, God, this is for you.
I'm not going to take it anymore. I'm tired of letting people "help me."
I'm tired of a husband who treats me like a hired servant, or an errant
teenager; or nothing at all. I'm tired of getting pushed around.

There. Happy?As she dried the bowl she realized how pathetic
her prayer life had become.

Melanie lifted the clothes from the washer. Even laundry felt
heavier today. Her bones ached with exhaustion, but more than
that, her insides were numb. The stress of starting a new job,
constant undermining at that job, and the hour and a half commute were taking their toll.

"Mom, are my shorts clean yet? The game starts in an hour."
Sarah leaned her head into the garage, her face bright with
teenage angst.

Pinpricks of irritation bit into Melanie's skin. "Maybe you should
have thought of that sooner and washed them yourself, hmm?"

"Maybe I should have. Maybe I should have done that instead of making dinner for you!" She slammed the door and
disappeared back inside the house.

Melanie's irritation disappeared behind a cloud of guilt. Sarah
had always done her share of work around the house. It was
all part of the single-parent gig. Now, with Melanie's commute
taking up three hours a day, Sarah had been carrying even more
of the burden. Melanie tossed the last of the clothes into the
dryer, started the cycle, and went in search of her daughter.

She found Sarah in the bathroom, furiously trying to french braid
her hair. A clumpy mess was the result so far. "I hate my hair."

Melanie stepped forward. "Here, let me do it." She undid
the previous mess, brushed through it, and started to work. "I'm
sorry, honey. I know you do your share of work around here. I
just snapped because I'm tired, that's all."

Sarah shrugged. "I'm sorry, too. I know things are especially
hard for you with the new job." She sighed. "Things aren't going
so well with our fundraising, either. The last two car washes
have been rained out and the bake sale didn't bring in as much
as we hoped." She sniffed and wiped her left eye. "Juanita will
hate me."

Melanie finished braiding one side. Before she started the
other, she touched her daughter's shoulder. "She won't hate you.
That girl probably understands lack-of-funding issues better than
you or I ever will." She brushed out Sarah's hair and divided it
into three sections. "I'm sorry. I know you're paying a price for
something that I am doing. There's nothing fair about that."

A tear slid down Sarah's face. "There's nothing fair about my
brother dying, either. It's not fair that Juanita lives in a rundown
shack. Things are never gonna be fair, so we may as well make
the best of it."

Melanie nodded at her daughter's take on the cliche. She
hated that she'd had to learn the truth of it so young.

Andie paused just outside the shop. Remember your resolve. She
shoved the door open and marched in. She would not allow
herself to be pushed around this time.

"Andie, darling. There you are. We've got your dressing room
lined with clothes. Come on back and we can get started." Mattie, dressed in a cream-colored pantsuit and high heels, floated
across the floor with arms extended.

Andie accepted the brief hug. "Mattie, I need to talk to you.
I ... uh ... can't keep taking clothes from your store."

"Not taking, dear, modeling. Do you realize that we've had several inquiries since you got started? Especially after that spread
in the newspaper. Everything looks so good on you, especially
since you've lost- Well, let's just say that every woman in Santa
Barbara wants to look just like you. You're the perfect model."

"Yes, but, Mattie, I-"

"Now, now, dear, no need to thank me. Let's go find your
next great look."

Two other women were in the shop. Chantal, the lead clerk,
and her middle-aged client. Andie could see that they had both
stopped what they were doing to watch the spectacle unfolding before them. She lowered her voice. "Mattie, could we talk
privately, please?"

"Of course. Follow me."

She led the way past the dressing rooms, through a series of
doors, and into her office. Decorated with an interesting mix of
modern and antique furniture, the black-and-white room spared
no space for any hint of color. Mattie motioned Andie into a
chrome seat. "Color distracts me when I'm creating-works
the same during purchasing. You're an artist, so I'm sure you
understand that."

Andie was not here to discuss her status as an artist and did
not want to be softened by mindless conversation. "Mattie, I'm
not taking any more of your clothes."

Mattie's gasp told her that perhaps the words had come out a
bit gruffer than she had intended. The familiar tingle around her
neck and face made her wish the words back. Stay true to)your
couvse. "Thank you for all that you've done. It's been wonderful
wearing the beautiful outfits from your store, and the heartfelt
meaning behind them means more than I can say. However, I
think it's time I return to the comfort of my own clothes."