9

 

 

“This is crazy. I don’t know how I let you talk me into it.” Karen shot Val a disgruntled glance.

Her sister grinned at her from the adjacent salon chair. “Trust me. You’ll love it.”

Karen cringed as more strands fell to the floor. “I’ve always had long hair.”

“Shoulder length is still long. Everything else is extra weight. This style will highlight your excellent bone structure.” Val directed her question to the woman wielding a pair of scissors behind Karen’s chair. “What do you think?”

“I agree.” The stylist continued to snip like there was no tomorrow. “And adding in layers will give your hair more body and fullness.”

“See?” Val leaned back in her chair and linked her fingers over her nonexistent stomach.

Karen watched another long lock bite the dust. “It’s not like I have much choice at this point.”

“You could launch a new trend. Half long, half shoulder length. Some of my students do that.”

“I’m not a teenager.” Karen scrutinized her reflection in the mirror. She had to admit the shorter length suited her better—but it didn’t alter the mousy brown hue. “I do like the style. Too bad it doesn’t help the color.”

“Why not change that too?”

“Forget it. This is a big enough leap for one day.”

“How about sticking your toe in the water with some highlights? You have some natural auburn in your hair that we could emphasize. Right?” Val pulled the stylist back into the conversation.

“Absolutely. I like that idea.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Why not? If you don’t like it, it will grow out. Come on, Karen. Be daring.”

“I’m not the daring type.” Another length of hair dropped into her lap, and Karen picked it up. Examined the strands. “You know, there is a bit of red in here.”

“Auburn,” Val corrected. “A much richer color. The highlighting will enhance that. It won’t change the basic color of your hair.”

“I don’t know…”

Val made the decision for her. “Do it.” She waved a hand toward the stylist and held up her palm, fending off Karen’s protest. “Consider it a birthday gift.”

“My birthday’s not until September.”

“I’ll be back in Chicago by then. This is an early present. And I bet you can be daring if you put your mind to it.”

Could she?

Only if she left her comfort zone behind—but why not give it a try?

She waved a hand at the stylist, determined to rise to the challenge even if she was quaking on the inside—and already wondering if this was a mistake. “You heard the lady. Do it.”

An hour later, after they emerged from the salon into the sun­light, Val inspected Karen—and uttered one word. “Wow!”

“A huge overstatement, I suspect.” Nevertheless, an exhilarating rush of pleasure swept through her. “But for once in my life, I do feel pretty.”

“You are pretty—and you’ll be drop-dead gorgeous once we add some mascara and blush and lipstick.”

“Wait!” Karen grabbed Val’s arm as her sister struck off for parts unknown. “What about our grocery shopping? We’re already running late. Mom will wonder what happened to us, and Kristen will be livid that we left her with her grandmother for so long on a holiday weekend. As she reminded me this morning, she has places to go.”

“They’ll both live. We’ll be quick. Besides, we’re celebrating Independence Day, remember? How better to do that than with a new do?” Without giving her a chance to protest, Val towed her down the strip mall toward the drugstore that must be her destination. “Nothing fancy or expensive, I promise. Just a few touches to enhance your coloring.”

Those few touches morphed into a major makeover—by her stan­dard, if not her sister’s.

And an hour later, as they pulled onto the street where they’d both grown up, her nerves kicked in.

What in the world was her mother going to say?

As if sensing her trepidation, Val spoke. “Don’t be intimidated. Pay no attention to any snide remarks from Mom. You look gorgeous. Hold that thought.”

Karen tried, but as they pushed through the back door she was closer to a panic attack than she’d ever been in her life.

Kristen jumped to her feet the instant they entered the kitchen, clearly beyond ready to end her extended visit with her grandmother. “Did you guys get lost or—” Her jaw dropped as they walked into the room. “Wow!”

“See?” Val gave her a smug grin.

Their mother’s response, however, was far less affirmative. “What on earth did you do to yourself?”

“Mom! You look beautiful!”

One yea, one nay—but Kristen’s enthusiasm more than countered Margaret’s dour comment.

“Don’t you think that hairstyle is too young for you?” Mar­garet gave Karen a critical once-over.

“She is young.” Val dropped her purse on the counter.

Kristen limped over to inspect Karen up close, blessedly more mobile in her new, smaller walking cast. “I love how you brought out the red in your hair!”

“Auburn,” Val corrected.

Margaret squinted at Karen. “Did you color your hair?”

“What shade of lipstick is that?” Kristen inspected her.

“Desert rose.” Val crossed her arms and leaned back against the counter.

“It’s perfect! Why didn’t you do this ages ago, Mom?”

“For a very sound reason. She was sensible before.” Margaret sent a pointed glance toward her younger daughter.

“Before what?”

At Val’s too-innocent question, Margaret huffed. “You haven’t been the best influence, you know. Karen used to be levelheaded. She respected her elders. She cooked decent food. She wasn’t vain and didn’t see any reason to dye her hair or wear makeup.”

“I could leave.”

As mother and daughter faced off, Karen jumped into the fray. No point letting this escalate. “No one wants you to leave, Val. And it was my choice to do this, Mom. It’s no big deal. Kristen, did you and your grandmother have lunch?”

“If you could call it that.” Margaret’s mouth puckered.

“Val left an awesome bean sprout salad.” Kristen went to retrieve her backpack. “You have to get the recipe.”

“I’ll do that. Are you ready to go home?”

“Yes.” She hurried toward the door, but at a raised eyebrow from Karen she sighed and trudged back, planting a brief kiss on Margaret’s forehead. “Bye, Grandma.”

“Good-bye, Kristen. I’ll see you at church Sunday, won’t I? You don’t want to disappoint God.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be there.”

“As you should be. You’ll pick me up as usual, Karen?”

“Of course.” Karen gave her mother a brief peck on the cheek.

“I thought I’d better ask. Things seem to be changing around here.”

“Yeah. Isn’t it great?” Val winked at Karen.

Ushering Kristen toward the door, Karen whispered to Val as she passed. “Good luck.”

“No worries.”

The breezy response didn’t surprise her. Val had her act to­gether. She knew how to cope with their mother—and with every­thing else.

And one of these days, if she kept working at it, Karen might be as much in control of her life as Val was.

 

* * *

 

Her life was out of control.

Running her fingers through her damp hair, Val peered at the clock on the nightstand as she paced. If she could hang on three more hours, it would be light again—and nothing was as bad when the sun was shining.

When exhaustion at last robbed her legs of their strength, she sank onto the window seat. She could blame her insomnia on the decrepit air-conditioning system struggling to cool the brick bungalow, but why kid herself? The real cause was obvious.

The familiar nightmares had returned with a vengeance following her trip to the river last Sunday.

Val leaned back against the wall and massaged the bridge of her nose. If only there was someone she could talk to. Someone who could listen without judgment and offer guidance.

But she’d shared her secret once, long ago. With one person.

And that mistake had led to a far bigger one—and to rejection. She wasn’t going to take that chance again.

Sweat beaded on her brow, and she swiped it off. Too bad she didn’t have Karen’s faith, or her sister’s relationship with God. If she did, she could ask the Almighty for assistance. But she didn’t—and she couldn’t. Why should he come to the aid of someone who’d rejected him long ago?

She pulled up her legs and rested her chin on her knees. At least her mother had stopped badgering her about going to church with them. They’d fought that battle long ago, and it was one of the few tussles in which she’d prevailed. Thankfully, Margaret’s attempts following her return had been halfhearted at best. Poor Kristen, however, was getting the full guilt treatment, based on the exchange today.

Funny. She almost wished someone would nudge her back. Not that she expected to discover an answer to her dilemma written in the clouds afterward, or get some bolt-of-lightning revelation—but other people found comfort in their faith. Maybe she hadn’t tried hard enough.

And now it might be too late.

With a sigh, Val swung her legs to the floor and rose. She had to get some sleep, even if that meant facing the nightmares that were more vivid than ever, thanks to her visit to the river. Nightmares she sus­pected would get far worse if she visited the other places on her list.

No. Not if. When.

For deep inside, she knew she’d never attain the peace she sought until she did.

So one day soon, she’d find dig deep and summon up the courage to take the next step.

 

* * *

 

Purse slung over her shoulder and music folder in hand, Karen peeked into the living room.

As usual, Kristen was slouched on the couch, staring at the TV.

“I’ll be home by nine. Sooner, if choir practice ends early.”

“Whatever.”

At her daughter’s dejected tone, she hesitated. “You seem kind of down.”

“I’m bored.”

“Why don’t you call Erin and get together with her?”

“The gang went to the water park.”

“Oh.” Water activities would be out until Kristen’s walking cast came off in three weeks. “Couldn’t you have gone along and visited?”

“Why? They’ll all be in the water. Who would I visit with?”

“Gary would have kept you company.” While she didn’t much care for the long-haired kid Kristen had taken a fancy to, he’d be safe in a group setting. And it was better than the one-on-one dating Kristen kept pushing her to approve.

“I haven’t talked to Gary for a while.” Kristen’s jaw quivered, and she dipped her chin. Fiddled with the edge of her tank top.

Ah.

A pothole on the rocky road of teenage romance.

Karen walked over to her and perched on the edge of the sofa. “What happened?”

“How should I know? I’ve been sidelined with this stupid leg.”

“He could be busy. He has a summer job, doesn’t he?”

“Yeah, but he’s not working every day. Erin says she’s seen him bumming around with Paula.”

Another woman.

Even worse.

She could tell her daughter she’d get over her cur­rent heartthrob, that there were other fish in the sea, that someone better would come along who would be more loyal—but those platitudes wouldn’t mitigate teen angst.

She leaned down and kissed Kristen’s forehead. “Always remember I love you.”

“I’m glad someone does.”

At the tears in her daughter’s voice, a surge of anger swept over her. It wasn’t the most Christian thought, but she hoped Gary found out what it felt like to be dumped too. Soon.

“Would you like me to stay home with you tonight?”

“No. I wouldn’t be much company. I’m gonna watch a movie.”

“If I get back early, would you like to run down to Mr. Frank’s?”

“I guess.”

Kristen’s lackluster response was bad news. If a trip to the popular frozen custard stand didn’t raise her spirits, she was in serious doldrums.

After giving her daughter’s arm one more encouraging squeeze, Karen continued toward the front door. She wasn’t going to re­nege on her choir obligation, but she’d leave before practice ended if necessary in order to squeeze in that custard outing.

No hardship there, given Scott Walker’s disagreeable attitude.

She exited, pulling the door closed behind her, and walked to­ward her car. If the atmosphere at choir practice didn’t lighten up soon, people were going to start dropping out and…

“Hello, Karen.”

She pulled up short at the greeting, hand flying to her chest. “Michael! You startled me. What are you doing here?”

“Kristen called and said she’d like to see more of me. I decided to pay her a surprise visit. Is she home?” He stuck his hands in his pockets, the stance calling attention to the weary droop of his shoulders. There were also faint shadows beneath his lower lashes, and fine lines had appeared on his brow.

For the first time in all the years she’d known him, he was showing his age.

“She’s inside watching a movie—and your timing is impeccable. She’s in a funk and feeling neglected. The broken leg is keeping her from hanging out with her friends, and I think her boyfriend dumped her. Your visit will cheer her up.”

He gave a distracted nod, but his focus remained on her. “Have you lost weight?”

“Some.”

“You changed your hair too. I like it.”

“Thanks.” Much to her disgust, his compliment pleased her.

“Well...I better go see what Kristen is up to.”

“And I’m late for choir practice.”

Karen hurried toward the car—and he followed.

Drat.

She could have avoided this encounter if she’d pulled into the garage after work instead of leaving the car in front of the garage.

As she reached the door, he leaned forward to open it for her. She slid in, and after he shut it he rested an arm on the roof and gazed down at her with the intimate warmth that had turned her insides to jelly during their courting days.

“You really do look terrific, you know.”

At his husky tone, she blushed—like in the old days.

Oh, for pity’s sake. How sad was that?

This man had cheated on her. Dumped her for a newer model. How could she be susceptible to his flattery?

She jammed the key in the ignition. “I’m late, Michael.”

At last he removed his arm from the roof. “See you later.”

Instead of responding, she put her sunglasses on and backed the car out of the driveway.

She would not give him another look.

Yet much to her disgust, she found her gaze flicking to the rear­view mirror as she pulled away.

Michael was standing there, hands in his pockets, the familiar stance bringing back a rush of memories. He’d always waited like that after she left his apartment during their dating days, watching until she was out of sight. And as she rounded the corner, she’d flick her lights. One. Two. Three. I. Love. You.

Her hand was actually drifting toward the light control when she caught herself and snatched it back.

No!

Those days were gone. Forever. She was over Michael. Whatever love they’d once shared had died long ago.

He’d moved on.

And so had she.

 

* * *

 

Ten minutes later, after she arrived a bit tardy at choir practice, Scott was in the midst of berating the basses for a missed note.

“No, no, no! I’ve played this twice already. It’s not that hard. Try it again.”

She slipped into her seat and silently telegraphed her sympathy to the three members of the congregation who constituted the bass section. Only one of them read music. The other two learned by repetition, and Marilyn had always been happy to pound out their line over and over again. Scott, on the other hand, expected them to pick it up after a couple of run-throughs. It was obvious he wasn’t used to dealing with amateurs.

The basses made one more dismal attempt.

After giving them a disparaging scan, Scott flipped the music back to the beginning. “We can’t waste any more of the practice on this. Work on it on your own. I’m switching to the alto line.”

He ran through it once. “This isn’t difficult. Let’s try it.” He played the introduction again and cued the choir.

Several measures in, after Teresa Ramirez went up a note instead of down, Scott stopped and rubbed his temple. “I hope I don’t have to tell you how bad that was. Let’s do it again.”

They did. Several times, with Scott stopping often to correct missed notes—and leaving the altos as upset as the basses.

A muscle in his jaw flexed. “Let’s see if the sopranos can do any better. The melody line should be simple.”

He played through it once. On the second pass, they joined in. It was an unfa­miliar piece, with an odd key change halfway through, and Karen did her best—but the other sopranos were struggling too, and their rendition was far from perfect. The arrangement was much too advanced and complicated for a small, amateur church choir.

As the rehearsal progressed, the skin tightened over Scott’s cheek­bones, and the tension in the room grew thick as the humidity of a Missouri August. The muscles in Karen’s stomach tightened, just as they had whenever Michael had gotten angry at her or berated her for one of her many shortcomings.

“Let’s see if we can put this together.” Posture stiff, Scott launched into the introduction.

The choir made a valiant effort, but the piece sounded terrible, even to Karen’s untrained ears. The altos kept going flat, and the basses wandered all over the scale, totally lost. The tenors and so­pranos managed to hit a fair number of the notes, but too few to salvage the song.

Halfway through, Scott stopped playing and stood. “It would be a travesty to bestow the term ‘music’ on what you all are doing. I don’t know how you can call yourselves a choir. Let’s begin with the basses.”

As Scott ripped their performance apart, Karen’s endurance snapped. She’d had her fill of disapproval and sarcasm from Michael, was tired of it from her mother, and up to her ears in it from Kristen. She’d suffered through that kind of abuse for years, and she wasn’t going to take it anymore. She would not sit here passively and let an arrogant jerk rebuke her for doing the best she could, as a volunteer, in an activity that had once given her such pleasure.

Lifting her chin, she gathered up her music and purse, stood, and made her way to the end of the aisle. Scott stopped speaking midsentence, and silence fell over the room. She could feel fourteen pairs of eyes boring into her back as she walked toward the exit. Appar­ently everyone was as surprised by her show of assertiveness as she was.

Her hand was shaking as she reached for the door handle, but she didn’t pause. She pulled it open, stepped through, and let it shut behind her.

And this time, she didn’t look back.