Mom Over Miami Part 19

But it wasn't supposed to be like this. Not a Christian marriage. Not her marriage. She wasn't supposed to feel neglected, as if she would always come in second place.

Not that it was a new sensation. Second-place sister. She'd felt it all her life whenever someone gushed over the accomplishments of Sadie or April. Hannah, the runner-up. The one they only went to when their first choice had other plans.

She'd felt that way in school, in matters dealing with their daddy and almost every minute of the years she spent working and living in Wileyville while Payt put in his time at the clinic there.

In those places she expected it. But not in her own marriage.

She set the rocker moving again. Eyes open in the dimly lit baby's room, she let her gaze flit from one familiar object to another, thinking of what it all represented.

All the years of planning and hoping.

All the time invested in creating a home, a relations.h.i.+p, a future.

Everything they had gone through to become a family, and where had she ended up?

Alone.

Excluded. Only for an evening, but still...Her own husband had abandoned her to go celebrate another woman's birthday, while Hannah stayed to clean up the partygoers' trash.

In her marriage she expected...

"Honesty," she whispered. She'd always thought that no matter what else, she and Payt had that. Honesty.

Had she learned differently today?

She hadn't meant to snoop. No. No one could call it snooping.

She hadn't gone there on some kind of wifely fact-finding mission, after all. Payt had roped her into cleaning his office.

"It isn't my fault he hung himself with that rope," Hannah murmured.

Tessa waved her dripping wet fist in the air, bonking Hannah on the chin.

"Yes. Yes. Right. Too melodramatic." Hannah laughed, sort of. The she sighed and shook her head. "Get used to it, darling. Your mom has a knack for taking the smallest ambiguous seed of doubt and turning it into a great big jungle garden of anxiety."

Tessa poked her fingers into her mouth again.

"Your mama never seems too busy to get away for a guilt trip." Hannah nuzzled her daughter's warm cheek. "And your daddy...according to the notation on your daddy's desk calendar, your daddy is going to Miami. In ten days. And he has yet to say a word to me about it."

Saying it out loud took her breath away. Miami.

"Miami?" Maybe he meant Little Miami River Park? She tried to imagine Payt having a meeting at one of the spots in the park not too far from their home in Loveland. No. It didn't fit. The word she had seen had nothing to do with the river of the same name. Miami.

Tessa kicked and fussed and kicked some more. She moved her head to a cool dry spot on Hannah's chest and sighed.

Hannah exhaled with her child. "There's probably a perfectly sound reason for it. Something we'll both laugh about when he tells me about it."

If he told her. he told her.

He'd have to tell her.

"I mean, the man can be oblivious, but even he would understand that if he just took off for Florida, I'd notice his absence."

Tessa yawned.

Hannah yawned, too. "Okay, putting this in perspective, this will all seem much less of a big deal after a good night's sleep."

A hushed roar rolled in from the boys in the front room, followed by a shower of "shhs" and sundry other shus.h.i.+ng sounds.

"I bet your daddy will explain everything to me in the morning."

Wouldn't he?

She got to her feet and, patting Tessa on the back, walked to the crib. "'One little monkey jumping on the bed. He fell off and b.u.mped his head. Mama called the doctor, and the doctor said...'"

CHAPTER 14

Subject: Nacho Mama's House column To: F

Good riddance to bad rubbish.

Rubbish? Sound a bit harsh?

Come to the toddler and baby rooms of my little church, look long and hard at the aftermath of the DI-why-oh-why-did-I-let-them-talk-me-into-this? Duo's efforts to fix what they destroyed, and you tell me. I think rubbish might be too kind.

When they heard about my father's impending tests (Hi, Daddy! Hope someone is reading this to you while you get that open MRI done) and my aunt wanting to go to him, they felt really bad about the way they acted. Bad enough that they promised on the spot to work together tirelessly until they had put everything right. And if you have a sister that you have worked with for two months on a project, only to see it end in paint-shed, well, you know just how sincerely terrible they felt to make that pledge.

And they tried, bless their hearts, they did try. But I think we all learned the hard way that not all of the things you see done on TV home decor shows work in real life. Sewing children's cast-off sweaters together does not make all that attractive a throw rug-though it did live up to the name. I certainly wanted to throw the thing right out the window. So we'll get by sans the makes.h.i.+ft replacement for the ugly rug.

As for rescuing the rest of the project?

No matter how much Jacqui and Cydney dabbed and rag-rolled and patched the wallpaper, we finally had to face the facts. Their well-intentioned redo would simply have to be redone.

So here I am spending my Sat.u.r.day at the church, stripping wallpaper and trying to sink Noah's Ark (aka the mural of a gray, shoe-shaped boat populated by green and blue and pink animals with enormous toothy smiles). The man at the paint store recommended I first use something to "kill" the clash of color instead of doing multiple coats.

"I don't know," I said. "This is for a church and we follow the Commandment Thou Shall Not Kill."

The paint guy didn't laugh, either.

He just asked how many gallons I needed and in what color.

Payt suggested yellow. Studies show that yellow energizes the mind and body. Think about that. A room filled with two- and three-year-olds, energized in mind and body. What do those studies find works best for inducing drowsiness?

Aunt Phiz, in a call from Wileyville-where she is still staying because her baby brother is acting every bit the part and sopping up her attention like a biscuit in greasy gravy-says to use bold colors and geometric shapes. To stimulate creativity. Just what I need. Toddlers with the mental capacity to form complex escape plans using blocks and tippy cups.

Nope. Much as I appreciate the well-considered suggestions, I have settled on the paint color that I think best suits the current situation.

Eggsh.e.l.l.

You know, as in what I am constantly walking on trying to please everyone?

It's perfect.

-From "Nacho Mama's House" column "What were we thinking here, Hannah?"

We? She had heard of the royal "we." And had worked with an old-style doctor or two who still insisted on walking into a patient's room and asking, "How are we feeling today?" But coming from the mouth of their bright-eyed young minister in his fisherman's knit sweater and custom-made-for-fall corduroy pants, it riled Hannah's suspicions. Just who were "we" and what were "we" supposed to think?

She found no answer in his broad face.

"I'm thinking, Reverend Tappin..." She'd been thinking how much she missed Aunt Phiz. How even though school and friends took up more and more of thinking, Reverend Tappin..." She'd been thinking how much she missed Aunt Phiz. How even though school and friends took up more and more of Sam's Sam's day, she didn't seem to have more time in day, she didn't seem to have more time in her her day. And on top of that, she missed the kid. And Payt. day. And on top of that, she missed the kid. And Payt.

He hadn't said a word about Miami. She'd hoped to ask him this morning, but how could she with a houseful of boys in pajamas and boxes of colored cereal spilled on her table and all the moms about to converge on her house to pick up their boys? And with her commitment to come to the church and repaint...

Oh. Paint. That was the topic at hand. She stepped back and took in the serene, calming neutrality of the blank wall. "We're thinking...that it's perfect?"

"I'm thinking-" he tilted his head like a man trying to make sense of modern art "-that it looks exactly like it did before you started this renovation project two months ago."

"No. Not at all." Easy fix. Just point out the obvious and get out of the way. "Before, the walls had this dingy, not-quite-white thing going."

"And now?"

She swept her arm out with the grace of a practiced spokesmodel. "Eggsh.e.l.l."

He cleared his throat.

"Eggsh.e.l.l," she reiterated, adding extra oomph to the motion of her outstretched arm.

"You know, Hannah..."

Not good. No one started good news off with "You know, Hannah..."

"I've been doing some thinking myself." He scratched his fingers through his short blond hair, leaving a rooster tail on top.

"Oh?" She smoothed her hand along the top of her own head, hoping he'd pick up on the hint.

"I have." He didn't exactly frown. But his expression did take on a decisive does-this-milk-taste-funny-to-you? quality. "It's not that I don't appreciate all your effort and hard work on behalf of the nursery program. But..."

But?

She swallowed and touched her chilled fingers to her throat. The man planned to fire her. For something that wasn't technically her fault.

Fired? From a volunteer position? From a volunteer position?

Worse! From a volunteer position she had written about extensively in her weekly newspaper column! Taking rejection was one thing. She'd taken that all her life. In fact, she'd taken on far more rejection than she had actually received. All those imagined slights, the overblown reactions, the hurts borrowed against her ever-present fear that someone would not like her. From a volunteer position she had written about extensively in her weekly newspaper column! Taking rejection was one thing. She'd taken that all her life. In fact, she'd taken on far more rejection than she had actually received. All those imagined slights, the overblown reactions, the hurts borrowed against her ever-present fear that someone would not like her.

But this...this would go too far. This she could not suppress with a shaky smile. Everyone would know about this.

"I know it doesn't look like much of an improvement, Reverend." In fact, looking close now, she could see the product designed to kill the other paint colors had left a few ghosts behind. She turned her back to the wall. "But I was dealt circ.u.mstances beyond my control-that got beyond my control-that went entirely out of control-"

"Don't worry, dear." He laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. "The first wedding I ever performed in this church? A world-exclusive Jacqui Lafferty and Cydney Snowden Technicolor extravaganza."

Her shoulders sank in relief, and she breathed out a sigh and an almost inaudible "Thank you."

He nodded.

As an afterthought-and she did feel more than a little guilty that it didn't spring to her mind sooner-she added, "But please don't hold any hard feelings toward the ladies. I took the reins of this wild ride, and when I did, took on all the responsibility for the nursery and toddler department. I may have let this redecorating business get out of hand, but let me a.s.sure you that from now you can count on me to keep my ducks in a row."

"Ducks?" He jutted his square chin out. "Funny you should mention those."

Because you look just like one in that fluffy sweater, downy ruffle of blond hair and sticking your chin out like that? One blessing of the driving desire to make everybody love her-she didn't say half the stuff that popped into her head. One blessing of the driving desire to make everybody love her-she didn't say half the stuff that popped into her head.

"Because what I've been thinking was not about ducks. More like how do you think you'd manage with doves?"

"Doves?" she cooed.

"And sheep?"

"Sheep?" she bleated.

"And camels?"

"I'm sorry, but did you say-?"

He nodded. "Camels."

She tried to swallow, but her throat had gone dry as the desert. "I-I don't know how I'd manage any of those. It would be like playing zookeeper."

"Or innkeeper," he murmured, his smile breaking slowly.

"Innkeeper?"

"Or innkeeper's wife, more precisely. It's not mandatory, but we've found Innkeeper's Wife is an ideal part to grant total access to the stage."

"The, uh, stage?"