Stuck in the Middle (15 page)

Ken read uncertainty in the boy’s expression. His mother probably could handle removing a few stitches, but the wound really needed to be inspected to make sure it had healed properly and wasn’t infected.

“Tell you what,” he said. “I’ll come back here about this time next Thursday. It won’t cost your mom a penny, and I’ll just make sure everything looks good. How’s that sound?”

Relief cleared the creases from the boy’s forehead. “Sounds good.”

Over Mike’s shoulder, Ken saw a couple of the older ones watching, their expressions suspicious. He looked back at Mike and spoke in a low voice. “You stay out of trouble, okay?”

The boy grinned, a gesture so infectious Ken couldn’t help returning it. “You bet, Doc.”

He turned and limped back toward his gang. Ken watched his retreating form for a second, then put the Probe into first and rolled away. He liked that kid. If only there was something he could do to help him.

The sun had set Saturday night before Allie deposited Joan in her driveway. This shopping trip was even faster than the first, thanks to Allie’s preplanning on the Internet. If she hadn’t insisted on sitting through an hour-long waiting list to get a seat at the new Mexican restaurant, they would have been home well before dark.

Joan got out of the car and reached into the backseat for her bags.

“You’re going to look great tomorrow,” Allie commented. “Like you just stepped off the cover of a magazine in that Maggy London dress. The dark red color is totally you.”

“At least I didn’t have to take out a loan to pay for it.” Joan slammed the door closed, then leaned in through the open window. “Are you coming with us to church to witness the spectacle?”

“I don’t think so, but don’t worry. We’ll be here for dinner when you get home.”

Joan hesitated. Allie never went with them anymore. Gram had commented on it more than once, and Joan knew it bothered her that her oldest granddaughter had apparently given up on religion since her marriage.

“You sure?” She grinned. “I could use my coach and fashion consultant’s support.”

“You’ll do fine.” Allie shifted the car into reverse. “Just be sure to study the flirt facts I printed out for you. And try not to invade his hula hoop too soon.”

Joan stood on the sidewalk and watched as the car backed out of the driveway. She knew why Allie wouldn’t go to church in the morning. Eric. Oh, he’d let her go if she wanted to, but she probably felt awkward leaving him at home. They didn’t have much time off together, what with his erratic schedule as a dispatcher. But Joan couldn’t help wondering what would happen when the baby was born. Would Allie insist on raising her daughter in the church, as she had been raised? And how would Eric feel about that?

When Allie’s taillights disappeared around the corner, Joan stepped up the three concrete stairs and pushed open the front door. The lamps in the living room created soft pools of yellow light by which Gram and Mom both sat reading.

“Hey, I’m home.”

Gram looked up from her book, her forehead betraying deep worry lines. “You’re awfully late.”

Mom glanced at the clock on the mantle. “It’s only ten o’clock, Mother.”

Joan draped the bag containing her dress across the back of the recliner before dropping onto the seat. “You didn’t have to wait up for me.”

“Looks like you found something to spend some money on.” Mom nodded toward the bag. “Is that for tomorrow?”

A wave of heat assaulted Joan’s cheeks at the knowing look her mother gave her. “Yeah. Allie helped me pick out a new dress.”

Mom held her eyes for a long moment, then her lips twitched. “I can’t wait to see it.”

“Guess what we did this afternoon.” Gram continued before Joan could venture a guess. “Carla took me to visit Myrtle Mattingly. She has the nicest apartment at that new place out on the bypass. What’s it called again?”

She turned a questioning look on her daughter, who answered without taking her eyes off her book. “Waterford.”

Ice formed in the pit of Joan’s stomach. Mom took Gram out to the assisted living center?

“That’s it! Waterford. My goodness, what an elegant place. Chandeliers that sparkle like diamonds, real paintings on the walls, and carpet so soft you feel like you’re walking on a cloud. And you should see the dining room. Myrtle says it’s like eating in a fancy restaurant every night.”

Joan clutched the arm of the recliner as she cast around for something to say. She didn’t want Gram within ten miles of that place. How could Mom do this the minute her back was turned?

“Myrtle’s apartment is nice. Just three rooms, but they’re big. And she has a patio with a flower garden outside. Her own microwave and refrigerator and sink too, in case she wants to heat something up instead of going down to the dining room.” Gram’s white hair waved as she nodded with enthusiasm. Then her brow creased. “But I thought she had too much furniture in there, didn’t you, Carla?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Mom shrugged. “She had a lot, but as long as she’s comfortable, that’s all that matters.”

Joan couldn’t sit still any longer. She stood abruptly, drawing surprised glances from both Gram and Mom. “I’m tired. I’m going to bed.”

She didn’t wait for an answer but scooped up her shopping bag and fled down the stairs, aware that both women stared at her retreating back. In her bedroom, she tossed her purchase onto the bed and turned to close the door. Very carefully.

Then she let her anger boil.

Mom did this on purpose! She waited until Joan was out of the way for an evening and then took Gram out to
that place
. She probably called in advance and told them to spiff the place up so they’d make a good impression.

Was Allie in on it? Maybe Mom gave her the assignment of taking Joan out of town so she could drag Gram out there and parade her around.

Joan flung herself onto the bed beside her dress bag and covered her eyes with her arm. No, of course Allie wasn’t in on it. She wouldn’t do that. And maybe Mom didn’t either. Gram’s friend probably called and invited her over. She would have asked Joan to take her if she’d been here. There was nothing secretive about a friendly visit.

Calm down, girl. I’m getting paranoid. This is only a big
deal if I make it one.

A knock sounded. “Joan, may I come in?”

Mom.

“Uh, yeah.” Joan scooted to the edge of the bed and stood as the door opened. She did not look at her mother but instead scooped up her bag and crossed the room to hang her dress in the closet.

“Are you alright? You look upset.”

Joan slid the closet door open with extreme care. Slamming it would antagonize her mother and force an unpleasant confrontation. “I’m fine. I’m just tired, that’s all.”

Mom crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed. “You’re sure?”

Joan chewed on the inside of her cheek. Should she confront Mom, accuse her of trying to plant the idea of an assisted living center in Gram’s mind? Joan’s anger wilted under her mother’s blue stare, magnified through the lenses of her glasses. She forced a smile. “I’m sure. Want to see my new dress?”

Chicken! Coward!

“Absolutely.”

Relief saturated Mom’s voice. Maybe she didn’t want a confrontation any more than Joan did. Joan felt the last of her anger slip away, though a gnawing worry remained. She ignored it, and slid the dress out of its protective plastic bag.

“Oh, my.” Mom gasped. “That is gorgeous.”

Joan held the hanger up to her neck and clutched the faux-wrap waist to her own. “Do you think so?”

“I do.” Mom stared admiringly. “Did it cost a million dollars?”

“Well,” Joan admitted, “it wasn’t cheap. But the jeans I bought the other day make this look like a bargain.”

She laughed. “I figured that. I don’t know a thing about clothes, but Tori sure seemed impressed.”

Tori. Joan sobered at the reminder of her beloved competition. She slipped the bag back over the dress and hung it in the closet. Silence stretched into the awkward range as Joan took her time spacing the hangers evenly on the bar, casting about in her mind for something to say. Talking to Mom had never been easy.

“Well.” Mom stood. “I just hope you girls don’t let this doctor come between you. Trust me, there isn’t a man alive who’s worth that.”

“Not even Daddy?”

Mom’s hand froze inches from the doorknob. A blank expression overtook her features, but Joan saw the muscles in her throat constrict. She took a slow breath, then without looking up, grabbed the knob and twisted it open.

“Especially not him.”

When the door closed behind her, Joan’s pounding heart roared in the silence of the room. Mom never discussed Daddy, not once in all the years since she threw him out. Joan and her sisters learned to keep their mouths shut rather than see the fury flare in Mom’s eyes when his name came up.

While this couldn’t exactly be called a real conversation, it was more information than Joan had ever gotten from her mother.

Odd, though. For once, Mom didn’t look angry at the mention of her ex-husband. That frozen look on her face had been kind of . . . sad.

~ 11 ~

“Look at this.” Mom shoved the newspaper across the breakfast table and tapped on a picture in the Sunday Calendar section.

Joan scanned the brief article beneath the heading
Missionary to Speak on Work in Afghanistan
. “Hey, it’s that woman from last Sunday.”

Gram looked up from her oatmeal. “What did she do?”

“She’s going to speak in Lexington on Wednesday night,” Mom explained. “She must be visiting several churches in the area to raise money for that orphanage she told us about. I bet she’ll give the same talk we heard.”

Joan read the article a second time. Nothing new here, just a brief description of Robert and Mary Alice Sachs and their work for children orphaned by the fighting in the Middle East. As she scanned the bare facts, Joan felt something stir inside her. She found herself trying to read between the lines to catch a little of the fervor the missionary woman exhibited last week.

“We had her first.” A hint of complaint colored Gram’s tone. “Why didn’t the paper print an article about our church?”

Mom lifted a shoulder. “Because nobody called the paper and asked them to. That church in Lexington is huge. They probably have a staff member who writes press releases and things like that.”

Gram nodded and scooped the last bite of oatmeal into her mouth. She set the spoon down on the table, put her hand in her lap, and then started to reach for it again. Joan watched without turning her head. Gram stopped herself, her fingers hovering for a moment above the utensil as she looked across the table where her daughter sat absorbed in the newspaper. She dropped her hand, and because Joan was seated beside her, she saw Gram clasp it firmly in the other one beneath the table.

Without looking up, Mom asked, “Mother, did you take your medicine this morning?”

“I . . .” Gram’s face went blank. “I think so.” Her forehead creased. “No, I don’t think I did.”

Mom caught Joan’s gaze across the table for a split second, then her eyes turned toward her mother. “That’s why we have that daily pill reminder. Check and see if the Sunday morning space is empty.”

“Of course!” Gram’s expression cleared. “What a good idea someone had when they came up with that thing.”

Joan looked down at her bowl, ignoring her mother’s unspoken
I told you so
. So Gram forgot. So what? Like she said, that’s what the reminder box was for.

She stood and tightened the belt on her bathrobe before taking her dishes to the sink. Gram followed, and took the bowl from her hands with a smile. “I’ll wash these. You go have your shower.”

A swarm of hummingbirds seemed to be darting around behind her breastbone as, forty minutes later, she donned the dark red Maggy London dress. The sweeping skirt fluttered as she moved, and the gathered side ruching accented her trim waist. Soft fabric crisscrossed her chest to form a flattering V-neck. She frowned at her reflection. Was it too low-cut for church? She twisted back and forth, watching the movement with a critical eye. No, she didn’t think so. As long as she didn’t bend over and touch her toes in front of Ken, it should be okay.

Honestly, this was the nicest dress she had ever owned. If nothing else, this little competition with Tori had certainly improved her wardrobe.

As though thoughts of her sister conjured her appearance, Tori’s voice echoed down the stairs. “Hello? Where is everyone?”

“Down here,” she shouted in answer. She slipped the earrings Allie selected into her earlobes, stepped into her shoes, and stood back to examine the finished product as her bedroom door opened.

“I’m a little early. The traffic was lighter—” Tori stopped, her eyes going round. “Wow. Where did you get that?”

“Nordstrom.” Joan twirled to demonstrate the effect of the full skirt. “What do you think?”

“I think you’re cheating.” Tori’s lower lip stuck out in a pout. “We agreed to be ourselves, remember?”

Joan decided to ignore the insinuation that being herself wouldn’t allow her to wear a nice dress. Instead, she cocked her head and examined her sister’s dress, a dark blue military-style button-up with shoulder epaulets and a belt at the cinched waist. She wore tights instead of pantyhose under the short skirt, giving her a sexy littlegirl look that only someone as tiny and gorgeous as Tori could pull off.