Game of Hearts (2 page)

With a breath of relief, I finished the candy bar, convinced I'd never have to see him again.

****

I knocked, not wanting to mess with my keys for fear I'd ruin the decorative shell border of the cake. Rac
hel Childers answered the door.

"It's nice of you to finally join us." Her multicolored floral capris and green t-shirt showed off her tall, thin figure. Her mouth opened,
and
then shut. A smile crept over her lips. "What happened to you?"

I shuffled the box to the waiting table. Yellow and pink paper plates sat on one side of the table, with matching cups for sweet tea on the other. The smell of slow-cooked barbeque pork, Rachel's specialty, drifted through the air.

I wasn't sure I wanted to share my experience, but I knew she wouldn't let up until I did. "I bumped into somebody, and the first cake I bought flew all over me."

"Well, the cake is lovely." Rachel reached up and scraped a green sprinkle from my cheek. "I'd like to say the same for you, but I can't."

"Thanks for your support."

"How's this for support? No one else has arrived, so get cleaned up while I keep watch for the others."

I raced back to the bathroom, taking a good look at myself in the mirror. The white icing mixed with my mousey brown hair like a bad highlight job. I shampooed several times to remove the tacky glop. As I applied makeup, I stared at my reflection. A warm sensation cascaded through me as I recalled Brandon's touch. Plenty of women probably gazed at him with longing glances from across a crowded bar. Who needs a bar? I'm pretending to stare at him now, but in my bathroom.

A knock jolted me back to attention. "Scarlett just pulled up," Rachel hollered through the closed door.

"I'm coming." I took a deep breath before walking out.

Sarah, my soon to be freshman, did a lot of gushing at the party. The cake was not only pretty, but tasted good as well. Sarah went on about how she'd never seen one so beautiful. By the time the party ended, only a couple of slices remained.

Music drifted through Sarah's bedroom door, where she and her two friends had retreated with giggles and murmurs. I waved to the last of the departing guests before proceeding to the living room. Scarlett and Rachel were the only others who remained.

"I don't think she'll ever get over it," I heard Scarlett say as I entered my beige living room. "I mean, it's been eighteen years." Scarlett's the only woman I know who can radiate cool elegance in one hundred percent humidity, while the rest of us melted. A true southern belle.

I dropped down on the red sofa beside her. "Catch me up. Who won't get over what?"

"My mother. She's having a birthday party for my sister and still will not invite Robert. The woman drives me nuts." Scarlett's hair had frizzed from the earlier rain. It hung to her shoulders, held in place with a brown band.

Rachel adjusted in her seat. "That's only because you took away her Gone with the Wind dream. You go from Scarlett O'Hara to something as plain as Mitchell. You should have married someone with the last name of Butler."

"You just need to inform her that Margaret Mitchell wrote the book," I said. "It might loosen her up a bit."

Scarlett twisted on the sofa so she could face both Rachel and
me
. Her lavender silk blouse screamed expensive, along with the black leather low-slide shoes she'd purchased from an upscale boutique in New York. "Rachel said earlier you had a problem at the store. She was grinning like a donkey eating a lemon, but refused to tell me anything. So what gives?"

"Nothing real exciting." Rachel crossed one of her long, tanned legs over the other. "She just gave herself a cake bath."

"All right, let's hear the whole story." Scarlett pulled a notebook and pen from her purse. "I'm having trouble coming up with something funny to add to one of the scenes in my new book." Scarlett, a writer of humorous women's fiction, drew on the antics of the town for inspiration. Unfortunately, I'd found myself in almost every chapter.

I told her everything, from the cake flying up and landing on my head to the hero who'd come to my rescue. However, I left out that Brandon's touch felt like contact with a lightning bolt. "The only thing missing was the white horse," I said, trying to make my voice sound airy. It didn't work.

"What'd he look like? Handsome?" Scarlett raised her eyebrows up and down.

"Not too bad." My smile widened. "Okay, really good looking."

"You sound like you enjoyed his company, even if only for a few moments," Scarlett gushed.

My cheeks warmed. I hoped no one noticed the mist of yearning in my eyes.

"I'd say from the way she's blushing, he's probably as tasty as this cake." Rachel shoved the last bite of dessert into her mouth.

I swallowed hard but remained silent. She had no idea.

 

My patience had worn thin. I honked the horn for the umpteenth time. God, why couldn't you make teenage girls move faster? Orientation began at one, and I needed to be back to work before two o'clock.

I pulled down the vanity mirror. Why had gravity played such havoc with my face as well as my body? Lines crossed my forehead, and parentheses surrounded my mouth. One good thing about being overweight—at least I didn't have loose jowls. I slammed the visor back into place and stared at the front door, willing my daughter to appear.

Anthony, my youngest, stuck his head out the door. Wrong kid. "She's coming!" he yelled before he raced back in.

Please God, don't let them tear my living room apart while I'm gone.
I
focused on my green-and-white house. It had been so warm and inviting when first bought. Now the paint peeled and the roof leaked. Fifteen years of wear and tear would do that. Me and the house, both old and coming apart at the seams.

I glanced down at my stomach. Fifteen years and three babies. I poked my finger into the muffin gut hanging over my belt. Maybe I should reconsider tucking in my shirts.

"Come on, come on." I honked again.

Two minutes later, Sarah ran out of the house. "I'm coming!" She climbed into the Honda.

"What took you so long?" I jerked the car out of the drive.

"I wanted to look presentable." She stared out the window. "It's not like I have new clothes to wear."

"We've discussed this. Matthew needed clothes more than you. He's outgrown all of his from last year. Poor Anthony has oversized hand-me-downs from his brother."

"I know, but I'm about to burst out of all the shirts I own." Sarah glanced down at her blouse. The small buttons stretched to capacity from the stress of her size 36C chest. A safety pin closed the gap between. "How will it be if my boobs fly out all over?"

I gripped the steering wheel. "It's not my fault. I'm doing the best I can."

"He called," Sarah whispered.

I knew who she meant, but I didn't want to admit it for fear my eyes might roll like hers do when she thinks I've said something stupid. Instead I murmured, "Who?"

"Dad. He's getting married." Her voice, barely audible, made me glad I didn't have a hearing problem.

"I hope he'll be happy," I lied, but you don't say bad things about a father to his kids. Emotions twisted my stomach. Not because I still cared for Michael as anything other than my children's father, but because I knew once he formed another family, I'd never see the back child support he owed. I devised a plot of revenge in my mind. When I discovered the date of his wedding and the invitations were printed, I'd get my lawyer to set a court date on the same day. I pictured his beautiful and surely young bride-to-be, sobbing as Michael got hauled off to jail because he refused to take care of his children.

Fat chance on that happening any time soon. He hadn't paid up yet, even with all the threats of jail.

Sarah interrupted my thoughts of retribution. "He wants us to come to the wedding. It's in December, at Sawgrass in Ponte Vedra Beach."

My knuckles whitened. I couldn't afford nice clothes for the kids. I won't go without lunch for his wedding. If he wanted them to look presentable, he'd either have to pay up or buy the clothes himself. My shoulders drew nearer to my ears with each silent rant.

I glanced over at Sarah. She frowned, her
gaze
focused downward. I followed her line of sight to the little white button.

"Maybe we can set aside some extra money from this week's budget and get you a new shirt for your first day of school." I hoped if I changed the subject we'd both feel better. I felt for her. It was hard to have a father who bounced in and out of her life whenever it suited him.

The Honda sputtered around a corner, until it choked and coughed to a stop. I slapped the steering wheel. It took two tries before it started back up.

"It's okay. I can make do." Sarah gave me a weak smile. "Besides, you need to get the car fixed."

"But you shouldn't have to wait." Because of him.

We coasted into a parking space at the school as the car stalled once again.

****

When did freshme
n get to be so tall? Teens had been shorter when I'd been in school, I was sure of it. Of course, I hadn't grown since I'd hit five foot one in my sophomore year. I jumped aside as three girls rushed by. They screamed, acting as if they hadn't seen me.

Most of the parents had been relegated to waiting outside while their kids went in and out of the school buildings, gathering books and schedules. I held three of Sarah's books, which weighed a ton. Now I know how a pack mule feels.

The aroma of azaleas wafted over me. The plant beds along the side of the first school building appeared well mulched and weed-free. Maybe I should find out what type of mulch they used to keep the weeds out. I could get the boys to help me redo our garden. Who am I kidding? I hate yard work.

The sun blazed overhead. I wished I'd put on sunscreen. My nose would be deep red by the time I got done. Temptation urged me to head back to work—I'd lost track of Sarah almost fifteen minutes ago. Then I saw a friendly face. Rachel's head appeared above the crowd of people. Next to her stood Scarlett and Jory. I bounced around two kids and proceeded in their direction.

"Deb, you look a little bit haggard." Scarlett adjusted her yellow sunglasses as she slid her compact back into her purse. Strands of her blonde hair blew in the wind.

"Get lost, did you?" Rachel teased.

"It's easy in this crowd. I'm afraid I'm going to get stepped on." I shifted behind Rachel for protection as more kids plodded by.

"Well, you hang with me. I'll keep you safe." Rachel pulled me in front of her five-foot-nine-inch frame. The stark contrast of my ghost-white skin against her tanned arms made it clear I needed to get outside more. How do I fit in with these three? Rachel's the smart one, Scarlett's the Southern belle, and Jory's the athlete. I guess every group needs a token loser.

"I wish they'd figure another way to do this," Jory complained. "This seems so disorganized."

"Did you get all your books and your schedules?" Scarlett hollered to the four chatty teenage girls a few feet away. Sarah stood among them.

"Yes," her daughter, Victoria, replied. "We still need to get our lockers,
and then
we're done."

Sarah grabbed hold of Victoria's arm and said, "Let's try to get them all together."

I glanced at my watch. Great, late already. My heart quickened at the thought of the dressing down I'd get once I returned to work.

"You girls go. We'll wait out here." Jory curled her short blonde hair behind her ear. Her raised arm showed her tight triceps. I always made a point to not raise my arms in even the slightest breeze. People might mistake me for a flying squirrel.

The teens started to walk off when Victoria stopped mid-step. Two of the other girls bumped into her. "Oh my, who is that?" she cooed.

"It's Wes Nasmith," Sarah answered. Despair hung in my daughter's eyes. Could this be her first crush? Just what I needed, teen angst.

"He changed over summer." Victoria wiggled her fingers in the air toward the boy.

"Yeah. No more glasses and his acne's cleared up." Sarah pulled down her top to cover the gap at her breasts. A lump rose in my throat as my daughter struggled to feel comfortable in clothing too small for her.

"He's gotten cute. Come on. Hey, Wes!" Victoria hollered and headed in his direction. "How was your summer?"

"This school has changed so much since we went here." Jory pointed toward the brick two-story building, its red color faded from the sun. "We had the one building. Now there are two, along with three portables."

"Can y'all believe how much the children have grown? Feels like yesterday they were in kindergarten." Scarlett placed her hands on her hips. "I remember when boys had cooties and Victoria wouldn't go near them. Now they're all she thinks about. She's already mentioned getting her learner's permit. Boys and cars are not a good combination."

"So true." Rachel concurred with a nod. "Kendra had me pick up the Driver's Ed book last week. She'll be gone before I know it." She let out
a
sigh of regret. While I longed for days to be alone, Rachel dreaded them. Maybe because her husband left her a widow and mine hadn't.

"The kids are growing up," I remarked. "Pretty soon they'll be off to college." My stomach burned. My kids would have to earn scholarships and work their way through college. Matthew had better get his grades up.

"Do you realize it's been nine years since we all first met at PTA?" Jory shook her head.

"Now I do feel old. Thanks, Georgia." I bumped her with my hip and she lurched over a step. She might have been athletic and able to beat me in a race, but with all my extra padding, if I landed on her I'd win.

"I miss those old meetings. Things were simpler back then," Jory moaned. "There seemed to be less to worry about."

"Yeah, like making sure your daughter didn't throw her dress up over her head so everyone saw her mermaid panties." Rachel nudged Scarlett with her elbow.

"I wish Victoria still wore those mermaid panties." Scarlett leaned in closer to the three of us and lowered her voice. "The other day, she had me buy her a thong. Can y'all believe it? What does a fourteen
-
year
-
old girl need with a thong?"

"I spend all day trying to keep my panties out of my backside." I wiggled my hips to demonstrate. "Why would anyone purposely shove them in? It's like a permanent wedgie."

"It's because they don't show panty lines," Jory explained. "They aren't uncomfortable at all."

Rachel smacked Jory's butt. "Well, we all know who in this group wears them. Don't we?"

I caught sight of Sarah heading my way. "Did you get your locker?"

"Yeah," she said.

"Are you finished?"

"I think so."

"Well ladies, I guess I'll see you on Saturday after next for the card game. I've got to head back to work."

I stared at the school in the rearview mirror as I drove away. Jory was right. Things had been so much simpler back then.