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  “Right?” Angela said with a perplexed look on her face. She leaned across her desk calendar. “Christina, do what you need to do to convince yourself. It’s a gift your husband wants to give you. How you guilted him into it, I don’t know.” She tapped her pencil. “But you rock, Lady. You rock.”

  “Maybe I ought to run away from home more often.” Christina smirked.

  Angela sat up erect. “I knew it.”

  Chapter 31 Shades of Mauve

  The next weekend Jeff took Christina to look at paint colors and crown molding styles for her sanctuary. Then they browsed once more for fabrics she could sew into curtains and throw pillows for the daybed. Nothing suited her.

  They drove to the third store. Christina rubbed her temple. “There really isn’t any rush in this, Jeff.” She had an exasperated look on her face.

  “It’s as if you want all of this finished for your birthday.”

  “I never put that stipulation on…”

  Jeff took his right hand off the wheel and patted her knee. “I did.”

  She laughed, put his hand back onto the gearshift. “Okay. But I don’t want to hear you complaining to our friends now about what a slave driver I am and how I don’t understand all the pressures you have.”

  He flinched at the truth her words. “Ouch - bull’s eye, right on target.” He looked to turn left. “Have you crawled into my thoughts? Is this new God thing making you that insightful?”

  “No, I’ve just known you forever.”

  Jeff laughed. “And I’ve known you. That doesn’t mean I can figure you out.”

  In jest, she stuck out her tongue.

  They walked in silence hand-in-hand into the air conditioned store. Suddenly she stopped in her tracks. There is lay. The perfect pattern. Flowers in soft pastels of mauve, beige, muted jade, printed on top of soft baby blue stripes. She swore she heard angelic choruses and a ray of Heavenly light shining down.

  She dashed over to the display. Sheets and throw pillows coordinated in pastel striped shams perched tastefully on the bed. Exactly what she had pictured in her mind.

  “This is it!” She hugged her husband and gathered up a package of shams, three of unfitted twin sheets, one fitted bottom sheet and four pillow cases.

  “Isn’t that a lot of sheets, hon? We do have some at home, right?”

  “But these aren’t going to all be sheets. You’ll see.” She winked at her very perplexed husband.

  * * *

  Avery was a jewel. Younger than Christina, but recently widowed with two small kids, she obviously needed the job. According to the agency, her husband had been killed in a drive-by shooting. Christina didn’t ask for more details. It was none of her business. The maid had a tattoo on the back of her neck, but many women did nowadays. Besides, it was a simple, small rose. Nothing Goth or gross.

  From the moment they shook hands Christina knew the woman was sent by God. As they walked through the house, she noticed everything and complimented Christina on her taste. She knew where to use bleach and where not to. Even the cats didn’t run and hide from her.

  “We had kitties when I was little.” Avery talked to them softly and scratched them behind the ears, just like a pro. “Can’t have them now, though. Little Josh’s allergic.”

  Christina put her hand over her heart. “Is that your son’s name? Mine is named Josh as well.”

  “Straight from the Bible. It means ‘God is salvation’, you know.”

  Then Christina noticed the small silver cross around her new maid’s neck. She smiled. “Yes, I know.”

  Before she left for work, Avery turned to her and said, “It will be fine Mrs. W. I will treat your house as my own and I always pray over every room that peace will dwell there.”

  Astonished at the maid’s bold witness, Christina replied. “Avery, I was hesitant about doing this. I guess you could tell. But I know God is in on this. I know we will become great friends. Bye, now.”

  Avery nodded with a sweet grin. “I know we will. I have your work number right here.” She patted her pocket. “If I have any questions, I’ll call first.”

  Christina closed the door to the garage, leaned against it and smiled. Thanks, Lord.

  The next Saturday Josh came over to help measure and cut the pieces for the bookcase. Christina, always excited at the chance to be with her grown son, knew the bribe of homemade blueberry waffles would get him there early.

  She poured the batter into the waffle iron. Her son leaned in to watch. “Josh, are you sure you’re Okay about doing this? I mean it was your room.”

  “Come on, Mom,” He closed the lid for her. “Sure. Think of all you did getting my apartment set up. Of course I don’t want it to remain ‘my room’.” He wiggled his fingers gesturing the quotation marks. “I think it’s a great idea.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, really.” He hugged her from behind as he watched the light on the waffle iron dim, signaling the first batch was cooked. “This is yours and Dad’s house. I don’t live here now. You guys do what you want. By the way, the place looks super. You found a great maid, huh?”

  That stung her, she didn’t know why. “What? It didn’t before?” she quipped to hide her emotions.

  “Mom. Come on.” Her son sighed. With another squeeze, he went to find his dad to tell him breakfast was on.

  As if the aroma of Canadian bacon and waffles wouldn’t do it. Christina put the first batch in the microwave and poured the next set.

  Though relieved, the motherly gene in her saddened at the permanency of it all. Her chick had truly flown the coop and only fluttered in occasionally with a full basket of dirty laundry or an empty stomach and wallet. She had to admit, she loved those times. Though she liked the peace and quiet, the house was just not the same without Josh around. Change is good and maybe not so good all at the same time. But there’s one sure-fired certainty. Life’s all about change. Nature rings true. Stagnancy stinks.

  After brunch, Christina leaned into the door jam of the garage, her left leg crossed over her right, drying her hands from washing the dishes. As she watched the two men in her life with their heads down working closely together, a warm glow slid up her face. In her mind’s eye, Josh was ten again and the project was his scout troop’s Derby Day. It had taken the two guys every spare minute for three weeks to get that racing track just right. But Jeff insisted Josh make his own car, fudging only to show him the right way to use the tools. Josh won first place. He earned his badge and the respect of his Cub troop.

  She went back to finish her sewing, stopping every once in a while when she heard the familiar male camaraderie of laughter. Some sons and dads never got along. She felt blessed that hers did. Several hours later, after some huffing and puffing and a few poorly chosen expletives, the bookcases were in place and painted creamy white. Calling it a long hard but successful day, the three decided to spend the next Saturday morning painting the room the perfect shade of mauve.

  “I’ll come over early, Mom. You don’t need to bribe me again with waffles.” Josh confided, “I don’t have to go to work until 4 pm on Saturdays.”

  “Okay. How about cinnamon rolls from Bonnie’s?”

  “Deal!” Two male voices sounded in unison.

  Her heart swelled with pride over her two men. Were these warm feelings colored by her new insight and the way she strived to view her world now? Christina wasn’t sure, but she felt happier than she had in a long, long time. Work didn’t get to her as much now. Even the way she felt about the endless crawl to the office and back home in rush hour traffic improved. That, in itself classified as a miracle.

  She knew strife would come. It always did. She convinced herself that she was not being pessimistic, it was realistic. But for now, she basked in the blessings bestowed and hoped she had the strength not to backslide into that old fishbowl again once trouble knocked at her door, as it surely would. That was life. She felt, with this new outlook, she could face it head on, see it for what it r
eally was without pity party emotions, and ask for God’s help to deal with it.

  That next weekend, the three stood together, bits of mauve paint splattered on their clothes, staring at the walls. All were pleased with their accomplishment.

  “Sure ‘nough. That salesman was right. It did darken into the right color.” Jeff’s voice sounded relieved as he slipped an arm around his wife.

  The crown molding, pre-manufactured in creamy white, went up in a few hours. Walls complete, Christina scanned the room. “We did good.” She smiled and patted her husband turned co-worker’s backside.

  “Mom, Dad. Please.” Their son groaned at their display of affection as he gathered the drop cloths.

  “What?” Jeff shrugged.

  Josh rolled his eyes.

  The doorbell rang. The grown son strolled down the hall. “I’ll get it while you two come back down from the love nest.”

  “You look cute with mauve on your cheek.” Jeff cooed to his wife a little too loud so his son could hear.

  “And you look debonair with it streaked in your hair.” She stood on her tiptoes and tousled his blackish-gray locks.

  Jeff twisted around and drew her to him. “You’re a poet and don’t know it. Think Josh can handle the neighbor or salesman at the door?” he asked in a husky whisper.

  Christina blushed. “Well, it’s almost 3 o’clock. Josh should be leaving soon and we do need a shower.”

  Suddenly a familiar voice boomed down the hall. “Hi y’all. I’m here. Hey Chris, which room is mine?”

  Chapter 32 Reservations

  Jeff looked blankly at his wife. Christina slapped her forehead. “Bud!”

  “Bud?” he gestured with his thumb. “Hill Country Bud?”

  “I did tell him he could come stay with us while he job hunted. But I thought he’d call first.” Her expression held one of a child caught with a week’s worth of dirty laundry shoved under the bed. “Actually, it was a spur of the moment thing. I never really thought he’d take me up on it.”

  “The guest room, now your sanctuary, is hardly ready, hon.”

  “Oh, the paint is almost dry. It won’t take too long to put it back together. Bud can help move the furniture in.” Her hurried words covered up her lapse of judgment, now revealed.

  “Okay …” Jeff’s sentence trailed off as he started down the hall, dragged by the hand.

  Christina played hostess.”This is my old friend from the Hill Country. Bud, meet Josh, and you remember Jeff.”

  Jeff stepped up to the plate. “Welcome to our home, Bud.” He looked him square in the eye, territorial testosterone dripping. The unstated sentence that gleamed in his eyes stated this is my home, my son, and by the way, my wife. From the set of his jaw, Christina saw Bud acknowledged the fact.

  “I was her beau once, or tried to be, Son.” Bud addressed Josh but still square-eyed with Jeff. “Best man won. Water under, ya know.” He brushed his hand in the air as if to erase the thought.

  “Huh?” Josh looked confused.

  “He’s referring to the old proverb that something is better forgotten like water which has already flowed under the bridge.” Jeff displayed his fatherly prowess.

  Christina became slightly nauseous at this overt show of maleness. “But, we’ve been friends forever. It’s great to see you again. How long can you stay?”

  Jeff shot her a look. Translated - when will he be leaving? She shot a look back to him to behave.

  “Heard about the divorce, man. Sorry. . .” that you couldn’t hold onto your wife. I plan to hold on to mine so watch it, was left unsaid. Christina read his mind. Bud probably did, too. It might as well have been stamped on her husband’s puffed out chest.

  Josh leaned against the back of the wing-backed chair to be moved into his mother’s retreat. His expression had yet to change. His eyes moved back in forth watching the verbal tennis match between his elders.

  Bud’s expression did change though. Christina surmised he couldn’t help but feel the younger Willis’ stare penetrating his back. She could almost hear the guttural growls. Male boundaries.

  “Hey, you didn’t move back in or anything did ya, Son? I can get a motel...” Bud half turned to look at Josh out of the corner of his eye.

  The protective bear-child snarled, just a bit. “Uh. No. I’m just here to help get Mom’s room…”

  Christina moved over to her son and put her arm on his back. “What he means is, we are sort of renovating the guest room now, Bud. We’ve been painting it.” She pulled her T-shirt out in front of her. There were several blotches of mauve on it. “Like it?”

  “Looks good to me.” Bud replied.

  Jeff coughed. His look revealed he wasn’t sure Bud exactly referred to the paint on the front of his wife’s shirt. Josh looked away. Christina smoothed her T-shirt back unaware it only emphasized the situation.

  Josh brushed his foot back and forth on the carpet. An awkward moment lingered in the living room.

  Christina broke the silence. “Well. Wanta help move the furniture back in?”She looked at Bud. “That is if you want a bed.” She tried a little laugh but it stuck half way in her throat where no matter what she said next would also lodge.

  “Hey. Where’s my city manners. I shoulda called. If this is a bad time. . .” Bud looked down and ran his hand through his hair. When the three didn’t respond, he looked up and clapped his sides. “No problem. Sure. Let’s move furniture.”

  “You sure?” Jeff volunteered. “We can do it.” He made an encompassing gesture with his hand to gather in his family. It resembled circling the covered wagons in an Old Western against an attack. “You’ve had a long drive.”

  Christina rolled her eyes. The situation was not improving. “Bud. Welcome. Let’s all have something cold to drink first. Jeff do we have any beer? Bud likes beer. Or do you want Sun Tea? A Coke?” She started walking towards the den and the kitchen.

  The three men obediently followed like ducklings in a row.

  Jeff went to the breakfast bar that separated the den from the kitchen and took orders. Christina handed him glasses: two with ice for tea, one without ice and a Diet coke for her, and an empty one along with a can of beer for Bud. She grabbed a bowl and filled it with chips, then reached in the drawer of the fridge for the onion dip. She squeezed a little lime juice in it to freshen the taste. The three men’s stomachs gravitated to the bowl.

  Within minutes the conversation was light and lively dripping with playful one-ups-man-ship. “Well if you think that is funny, let me tell you…”

  Christina slipped a plate of chocolate chip cookies onto the bar. Three male hands grabbed, not missing a beat in the discussion over who might be in the NBA finals. Bonding occurred. Swords were sheathed.

  “Perhaps, we should get the room in order? It’s after 3:00 and Josh needs to get to work,” the female of the group hinted. There was a unison of grunts, shuffled feet down the hall, and acknowledgement of who really was the authority under this roof.

  It took less than half an hour to put the room back together enough to accommodate Bud. As Christina handed her husband and son the curtains on the rod, they each raised an end and in unison clipped it in place. The blue background for the cream, soft green and mauve flowers pleased her as she fluffed them.

  “That’s really pretty, Chris.” Bud stood with his hands on his hips nodding. “Now the paint color makes sense. You always had a good eye.”

  “They’re sheets.” Jeff announced. He climbed down and proudly, perhaps possessively, put his arm around his wife. “And…” he motioned with his head, “Those throws are the pillow cases she cut down. Used the trim to make the tiebacks, right, hon?”

  Christina smiled at him as she looped the tiebacks onto the hooks. “But those are store bought,” she clarified to the pair of striped shams in the wing chair. As if Bud cared.

  “You two sure you don’t mind me hanging my hat here for a few days?”

  “Least we can do for a guy who spent
the last hour moving furniture.” Jeff released his wife and winked. “Let’s get your stuff, then another beer.”

  Yep, above all else, Texas hospitality ruled. They don’t call it the Friendly State for nothing. The name “Tejas” meant friendly in the tongue the original inhabitants who lived there centuries before Santa Anna or Stephen F. Austin ever stepped foot on the land. Maybe it was in the water.

  As the two men went to Bud’s truck to get his things, Josh asked, “Mom? What’s going on?”

  “Nothing, Sweetie.” His mother replied as she handed him a sheet corner to tuck in. “Bud’s been through a bad divorce and a rough time. He’s an old, old friend and he needs a break.”

  “Yeah. I know. But, exactly when did you invite him?”

  Christina’s hands stopped tucking in the sheet. Did she need to tell her son everything about her hooky romp to the Hill Country? No, she didn’t. She felt sure her son held secrets. Well, so can I.

  “A while back when I heard about it from his parents. When I went up there in March, remember? The Hill Country grapevine must have got the message to him. I just didn’t specify a time and I guess he felt it was an open invitation, which it was…but…”

  “Yeah. He could’ve called.”

  “Well, Bud’s always been a bit impulsive. Hand me the pillow case, please.” Christina mumbled with a pillow tucked under her chin.

  “How come I never remember meeting him?”

  “You were younger. He moved away with his wife to Houston for a while. And of course, we got busy with life as well. You don’t see a lot of your high school buddies very much anymore, right? Same thing.”

  He looked at her with a “Huh?”

  Before he could respond further, she added. “Have a nice day at work.”

  That night, she watched as her husband and her old beau chatted and poked the sizzling ribs on the barbeque. While she set the patio table with mats and flatware, Christina observed both of their shoulders were relaxed and their laughter easy. She finally took a deep breath. Maybe this will be alright after all.