The Boarding House (11 page)

Words froze in the back of Garrett’s throat. Not once since Sophie’s arrival had he thought of her as a danger to him, and the thought horrified him. The option to get rid of her like he did Fern did not exist. In a way, he and Ellie were trapped in webs of their own making.

He started the car and backed out of the driveway. The ride to church was made in silence. When he parked at the church parking lot and got out, he did a double take when he realized Ellie was still sitting in the front seat.

He bit his lip, retraced his steps, and opened the door.

“Thank you,” she said primly, and walked beside him to the church.

Preacher Ray stood outside the doorway greeting the parishioners as they walked in—smiling at the grown-ups and patting little kids’ heads. She remembered when he used to pat her head, but now she was too tall, and she wouldn’t have liked him messing up her hair. It had taken her too long to get it fixed the way she liked it to have someone stirring up the top. But she liked Preacher Ray. She liked him a lot. She didn’t often listen to all of his sermon, but it made her feel good to watch him standing up at the front behind the pulpit with all that thick white hair and his long preacher robes. She thought he looked like an angel. All he needed were some big white wings and a halo. Angels always had halos.

As they stopped in the doorway, he smiled benevolently and touched her shoulder. “Good morning, Ellie. It’s always good to see your sweet face in my congregation.”

Garrett beamed.

Ellie smiled back. “Thank you. I like church. It makes me feel clean.”

Preacher Ray’s eyebrows rose slightly. Garrett’s heart skipped a beat. It wasn’t good for the preacher to start wondering why a twelve-year-old girl would think dirty as a religious euphemism for sin.

“Come along, Ellie,” Garrett said, grabbed her elbow and guided her toward their pew. His eyes narrowed warningly as they sat. “Don’t talk like that to the preacher,” he whispered.

Ellie put a finger to her lips and frowned. “No talking in church,” she whispered back. “Sophie said.”

Garrett grimaced, hoped it passed for a smile, and began studying the program.

Ellie took a slow deep breath, then leaned back and gazed up at the vast vaulted ceiling.

Are you here, God?

I haven’t been praying much lately. I’m sorry. Is Momma happy? I hope so. Make sure she knows I’m not still mad. So the reason I’m talking to You with my eyes open and my mouth shut is because I don’t want Daddy to hear, okay? The deal is, I’m scared. ’Course You already know that. I believe I’ve mentioned it before. But this is a different kind of scared. I got my period this summer. Oh. Sorry. You probably already know that too. Momma always said You were ‘all seeing.’ I thought it would make Daddy stop wanting to play the game. We haven’t done it in a while cause Momma put a lock inside my bedroom door, but I don’t think it’s gonna work much longer. So my question is . . . what do I do?

That’s all I need to know. Hope You have a nice day.

Satisfied that she’d put out the word, she looked down at her lap and smiled. There they were—the colors—spilling down the front of her dress and into her lap—yellows and reds, blues and gold, all running together like melted crayons. She looked up at the stained-glass window.

It was Jesus sitting in a garden with a whole bunch of little kids sitting around him. She remembered the verse, s
uffer the little children to come unto Me.

She sure hoped some heavenly being had heard her prayer because she was a kid and she was suffering the worst kind of fear. She’d take guidance from Jesus or God or even one of those warrior angels—she wasn’t picky.

Preacher Ray moved to the pulpit as the organ music suddenly swelled.

Ellie closed her eyes and inhaled as deeply as she could, then held her breath as the music rose throughout the sanctuary. The hair stood up on the backs of her arms and it felt as if every pore in her body opened to let in the music.

Tears sprang to her eyes, but she quickly blinked them away. She was still saving tears for something important, and while this music made her feel really, really good, she didn’t think she should be crying.

Garrett laid a songbook in her lap with it opened to the proper page. She took it without thought. It was how church worked. He might be the monster in her house, but here he was just her Daddy.

Sunday dinner was a la carte.
Garrett went through the driveway at Kentucky Fried Chicken for take-home.

“Wyatt likes extra crispy. I like original and Sophie would appreciate grilled. I don’t believe I’d care for coleslaw but I would like macaroni and cheese. Wyatt will want mashed potatoes and gravy and—”

“. . . and Sophie will be wanting baked beans, right?”

Ellie paused. “How did you know?”

“Because it’s the only thing left on the menu that you have yet to mention.”

“No it’s not, Daddy. I think they have corn on the cob, too, but it always gets in my teeth, and Wyatt eats too much butter. Doris says.”

Garrett almost smiled. “Doris? I was expecting a Sophie reference.”

Ellie frowned. “Sophie doesn’t cook for us. Doris does. Doris knows what we like to eat, remember?”

Garrett sighed. “I remember.”

He placed the order, then moved forward in line. It felt good to be doing this again—just him and his daughter—the way it was supposed to be.

Rationally, he knew the laws of the nation condemned how he felt about Ellie, but they just didn’t understand the love a man could have for his child. They had no idea. No idea at all.

A week had passed since Ellie
sent up her prayer in church. She’d been waiting patiently, hoping for a sign that it had been heard.

She was also worried about Wyatt and Sophie. They weren’t getting along and Ellie wasn’t sure what to do about it. Every time she approached Wyatt about the issue, he just got mad. When it happened again, it was the following Saturday. The only good thing about the whole awful ordeal was that Doris hadn’t been there to witness it, and it all started over pouring syrup on a waffle.

Daddy was at the grocery store.
Ellie had overslept, which was good because he hadn’t made her go with him like he usually did. He’d left her a note to make her own breakfast, so she’d chosen frozen waffles and popped them in the toaster.

“Wyatt, do you want one or two?” Ellie asked.

“Two for now,” he said, and got plates out of the cabinet.

“Don’t forget to set a place for Sophie,” Ellie said. “I think she’s up.”

Wyatt got out a third plate, but she could tell he was unhappy.

“Why don’t you like her?”

“She’s bossy, always criticizing what we say and do.”

Ellie shrugged. “But Momma and Daddy always told us what to do, too. What’s the difference?”

“I didn’t like it then, either, but they were our parents. That’s what parents do. Sophie’s not related. She’s an employee.”

“She’s a nanny,” Ellie muttered.

“Who happens to work for us,” Wyatt said. “Not the other way around.”

The waffles popped up. Ellie put one on her plate. Wyatt took two. They carried them to the table, then sat and began slathering them with butter while they were still hot.

Wyatt was in the act of pouring syrup on his waffles when Sophie’s high-pitched voice broke the comfortable silence.

“Wyatt, that’s too much syrup. You’ll wind up wasting it. Waste not, want not, I always say.”

Wyatt flung his fork down on the table. “You need to get something straight here. You’re not my parent and you’re not my nanny. You don’t tell me what to do.”

Sophie folded her hands in front of her, which made her look like she was getting ready to pray. “Somebody woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. My, my, I had no idea.”

“Please, you guys, stop fighting,” Ellie begged.

“Then call off your babysitter,” Wyatt said.

“She’s not my babysitter, she’s my—”

“Oh hell, I know, I know. She’s your damned nanny. You don’t need a nanny. You just need to grow up.”

Ellie stood, her heart hammering, her voice shaking with shock. “Wyatt Wayne. You cursed at me.” She laid down her fork and left.

Wyatt was almost in tears. “See what you made me do. You don’t belong here. Before you came Ellie turned to me for help. Now she doesn’t need me anymore. It’s all your fault that we fight.”

Sophie sat, her chin quivering. “Oh dear. I had no idea.”

Wyatt stabbed a fork into his waffles and took a big bite with syrup dripping, daring her to criticize him again. The food felt like sawdust in his mouth. He chewed angrily, swallowing the food in chunks.

But Sophie saw past the behavior to the pain beneath. “I never meant to come between you and Ellie. I understand how close twins can be. That’s not what I want for her. She’s a wonderful young girl on the verge of becoming a woman, and I just want to help her be the best she can be.”

Wyatt chewed without looking at her. “I help her,” he said.

“But you’re a boy. You haven’t the experience or knowledge to help her through this time in her life. I realize you’ve both lost your dear mother, but you still have your father to guide you. Ellie has no one.”

Wyatt stifled a snort. For obvious reasons, he didn’t want his father’s guidance in anything, but he could hardly tell her that.

“I would like to make a suggestion,” Sophie said. “Are you open to that?”

Wyatt shrugged then glanced up. “Maybe.”

Sophie beamed.

Wyatt blinked, somewhat surprised to see that Ellie had been right. Sophie did sort of look like Mrs. Santa Claus.

“I think we can work together on this,” Sophie said. “I’ll help Ellie with all the girl stuff, and you continue to be her best friend and protector, which is something I could never be.”

Wyatt thought about it. Ellie needed him for sure. But he had to admit he knew nothing about fingernail polish or using different forks for different foods, which he considered really stupid, but that was just him.

“So what do you think?” Sophie asked.

“I guess,” Wyatt said.

“Marvelous. I’m going to eat breakfast now. Why don’t you go find Ellie and you two make up. I’ll do dishes.”

Wyatt stuffed the last of his waffles into his mouth, washed them down with milk and then carried his plate to the sink.

Sophie was making herself some coffee when he left. He guessed where Ellie had gone and headed out the back door for the creek.

Ellie stumbled toward the creek
with tears in her eyes. Not once in her entire life had Wyatt been cross with her. Not like this. All she knew was that he’d broken her heart.

She reached the creek bank then sat down on her favorite perch—a wide flat rock jutting out from the bank of soft green grass, and began to pick up little rocks and lay them in her lap. Some of the rocks were covered in a cushion of dark green moss. She thought about pulling off her shoes and wading in, but it was too cold.