Page 87 of A Twist of Faith
I'd like to kill you, you selfish brute. Why didn't you leave me where you picked me out of—in the gutter? (Pygmalion, Act 4)
Reese stomped through his mother’s door first thing Saturday morning to pick up the kids. His head pounded like a hungry herd of cattle toward their feed. It’d taken him five hours to get home from a three-hour drive due to road construction, plus he’d gotten his first speeding ticket in ten years. From bad to worse.
All because of a woman.
He’d gone right to his barn and worked two hours on his broken-down lawnmower, using vowels and consonants he was pretty sure God never wanted to hear again. He didn’t want to talk to anybody—but worse, he didn’t want to listen. Dee proved his deepest fears—he was an idiot and women were liars. Every single, last one of them—except his relations, and a few seniors at church. And Meg, who was practically his sister.
He all but slammed the screen door to his mama’s kitchen, but years of habit and the fear of Mama curbed the impulse. His chest ached with pain and longing, so deep it stirred up every wound Jana left behind. Every memory. Each and every broken promise.
His teeth ground to the hurting place. He needed … he wanted …
Whatdidhe want?
To beat some nails in a fence. Chop enough firewood to get three families through winter. Get Adelina Roseland’s beautiful face out of his thoughts. The first two he could do without a bit of trouble. The last—easier said than done. Stupid man. Hadn’t he learned his lesson?
Evidently he had a bad case of short term memory loss. Stubborn and stupid. Dee played the game of life with the ease of a pro—and won. He pressed his palms against the kitchen counter, his eyes closed to stay a sudden warmth behind them.
“Reese, is that you?” His mom called from down the hall and he braced himself for the admission.
He’d screwed up again.
Mama emerged from the hallway, pink curlers and a smile her hallmark morning features. “You sure are comin’ over early. I figured you wouldn’t even be back from Charlottesville until this afternoon.”
Reese rubbed at the heat creeping into his neck. “Yeah, well I decided to get on back. Not exactly the fancy ball sort and all.”
The look she sent him drilled through his excuse better than his Craftsman cordless into a two-by-four. He focused his whole attention on the cookie jar, even decided to snatch one.Empty.He groaned. His kind of day.
Mama flicked on the stovetop, her morning hum obviously absent. She was on to him.
“Besides, I have a lot of work around here.”
“Mmmhmm.” She placed her cast iron skillet on the stove with a clink and added a dollop of butter. Her pointed look confirmed she doubted any story he conjured up.
Reese paced from the front window to the counter and back, trying his best to keep his eyes off his mama’s. The butter sizzled in the pan and a crack of an egg followed. Might as well give it up altogether and go for a change of subject.
“The kids awake yet?”
“It’s six thirty on Saturday morning. What do you think?”
“Right.”
Three more eggs cracked.
“Answer me this, Reese. Did you spend thirty dollars a lesson this past week trying to learn how to dance?”
Reese reached up to rub his jaw, shocked by the smoothness of his face. No wonder he was so cold this morning. He clamped his lips tight.Women.
“And ain’t you the man who drove three hours to Charlottesville yesterday to attend some high society party as abigsurprise for someone you care about?”
Caredabout. Past tense. He didn’t have any use for liars. Reese shoved his hands into his pockets and cleared his throat. Anything he said at this point could be used against him. And probably would.
“And, if I recall rightly, you ain’t shaved your face since you started growing hair on it. But unless my visions going along with my memory, your face is just as smooth as this eggshell.” She cracked another egg against the pan, and tossed another Mama-look over her shoulder. “Seems strange you’d spend such a short time with the lady who inspired such a transformation.”
“I needed to get back.” Yeah, he knew it was stupid to say it.Hedidn’t even believe it.
His mama just raised an eyebrow and started scrambling up the eggs.
With a sigh he pulled all the way from his boots, he straddled the stool at the counter. “I’m stupid, Mama. Plain ol’ stupid.”
