Acting Up (27 page)

Yep… he was in so much trouble.

Aunt Ruth gazed at her house with a pensive expression. “It looks different.”

“I haven't touched a thing,” Addison said, putting a hand to her heart and raising the other in an
I swear
gesture.

“Not that kind of different,” Aunt Ruth said with a smile on her lips. “It looks lived in.”

“Wait till you see Aaron's room.” Addison chuckled as she unhooked her seatbelt. “You haven't experienced
lived in
until you've walked into a teenage boy's bedroom.”

“Hey,” Aaron called out from the backseat, sounding highly affronted.

“Entire families could hide under all the clothes on the floor, and you'd never know they were there,” Addison said over her shoulder.

She jumped out of the car and hurried around to the passenger side. The ascent from car level to a full upright position took Aunt Ruth several moments.

Once on her feet, she let out a whoosh. “That was harder than I expected.”

“Maybe I should have borrowed an SUV from someone,” Addison said, fighting to hide her own dismay. “Then you wouldn't have had to sit so low.”

“And climb up into it on the other end?” Aunt Ruth asked. “I just need to get inside and rest a bit.”

“Okay, take it easy,” Addison said. “Aaron, get her walker.”

Even with the walker, her steps were careful and deliberate. Aaron ran ahead to open the door, then the two of them helped Aunt Ruth up the stairs to the front porch.

“Lounge chair or bed?” Addison asked.

“Bed,” Aunt Ruth said reluctantly, as if not wanting to admit she was in pain.

They shuffled through the kitchen to the newly renovated bedroom.

“Aaron, turn down the sheets,” Addison said. “Then go back and get her suitcase.”

Looking a little peeved that he'd become a gopher, the teenager nevertheless hurried over to the bed and pulled back the sheets. Then he ran out again.

Addison eased her aunt down and carefully lifted her feet onto the mattress.

“You've been busy,” Aunt Ruth said, looking around the room, her eyes widening in surprise.

“We stored a lot of things upstairs. When you're feeling stronger, I can bring some boxes down so you can decide what you want to keep.”

She sighed and closed her eyes. “It looks nice.”

“Do you need a pill?”

A long silence said louder than words how much Aunt Ruth detested the need for medication.

Addison understood the sentiment, but seeing her aunt like this tore her apart. “It's not a weakness to need a pain reliever to make you comfortable,” she said. “The doctor said the drive would be hard. You need one. It'll help you sleep, and when you wake up I'm sure you'll feel better.”

After another hesitation, Aunt Ruth nodded.

Addison went to pour a glass of water. As she was putting the water jug back in the fridge, Aaron trudged through with the bags.

“How much do I get paid for playing butler?” he asked.

“A free room,” Addison answered. “Along with your food, which, trust me, could feed an entire village in Botswana. Now, take that in to her bedroom.”

“Aye-aye, captain,” he said, with a mock salute.

Once Aunt Ruth had taken her pill, she proceeded to study her newest houseguest. “You're a handsome boy.”

After a quick, puzzled glance at Addison, Aaron shrugged. “Thank you.”

“I hear you got yourself arrested.”

Bemusement turned to accusation.

“Don't look at me,” Addison said. “It's not my fault you got caught in a town where the gossip mill works faster than any social media outlet.”

“True,” Aunt Ruth said on a raspy chuckle. “My physical therapist is second cousin to one of the boys who got caught with you. Oh, she was full of stories the next day. Seemed like poor Jeremy had been kidnapped and forced to drink beer, the way she told it.”

“His brother was the one who bought it for us,” Aaron said, curling his lip.

“Regardless, I hope you never put your stepmother through anything like that again,” Aunt Ruth said.

Instead of a show of attitude at a near stranger telling him what to do, Aaron surprised Addison by nodding. “I won't.”

“We should go and let you rest,” Addison said. “Can I get you anything else?”

“My Bible. It's in my suitcase.”

Addison retrieved the well-worn Bible. The leather binding was soft as butter and cracked in places.

“Could you read something to me?” Aunt Ruth asked.

Addison hesitated. “Oh, I guess. What should I read?”

“Try Isaiah 40.”

Addison flipped through the pages until she found the passage and began to read:

To whom then will you liken Me, Or to whom shall I be equal?” says the Holy One. Lift up your eyes on high, And see who has created these things, Who brings out their host by number; He calls them all by name, By the greatness of His might And the strength of His power; Not one is missing. Why do you say, O Jacob, And speak, O Israel: “My way is hidden from the Lord, And my just claim is passed over by my God?

Addison's breathing slowed and a quiet peace seeped through her being as she read. She glanced up and Aunt Ruth nodded in encouragement.

Have you not known? Have you not heard? The everlasting God, the Lord, The Creator of the ends of the earth, Neither faints nor is weary. His understanding is unsearchable. He gives power to the weak, And to those who have no might He increases strength. Even the youths shall faint and be weary, And the young men shall utterly fall, but those who wait on the Lord Shall renew their strength; They shall mount up with wings like eagles, They shall run and not be weary, They shall walk and not faint.

The words were at once poetic and beautiful. Addison's voice rose as she became lost in the verses. The power and majesty of them. By the time she came to the end of the passage, Aunt Ruth had fallen asleep. Her chest moved in gentle slumber. The lines around her mouth carved by discomfort softened.

Glancing over at Aaron, she saw he was wide awake. In fact, the teenager seemed as shaken she felt.

Finally, he took a deep breath. “Cool.”

Trust the man-of-few-words to sum up their feelings so succinctly. A startled grin sprang to Addison's lips. “Cool.”

The next morning Addison looked in the mirror and screamed.

Footsteps thundered down the hall, and a moment later Aaron burst into the bathroom. One hand covered his eyes, while he reached out like a mummy searching for its next victim.

“What are you doing?” Addison asked.

“You screamed like a chick in a slasher movie,” he said, keeping his hand latched over his face. “What's wrong? Did you hit something? Break something?”

“No.”

“What then?”

“Put your hand down,” Addison said. “I'm perfectly decent.”

Aaron peeked through his fingers, as if to make sure the coast was clear. When he saw she was indeed dressed, he scowled. “You're not bleeding. No bones are showing. No killer hiding in the bathtub. Why were you screaming?”

“Look at this,” Addison said, smoothing her hair down to reveal her part.

Aaron regarded her as one might a person whose mental state was in question. “Okay?”

“My roots are showing.” She shoved her head closer. “Look.”

Aaron obliged by examining the aforementioned roots. “What am I looking for anyway?”

“You can see the dark hair.”

Now his expression turned to one of supreme disgust. “You screamed because of that?”

“Yes,” Addison said. “I'm supposed to have dinner with Julia and her family. I can't go like this.”

“You could let it grow out. Go with you natural color. Girls do it all the time.”

Men. They had no clue.
“Are you kidding? This head is worth a fortune.
This
is Addison Covington.”

“So, go get your hair done,” Aaron said. “Or buy one of those boxed things.”

Addison gasped in horror. “Are you insane? Do you realize this color was created just for me? It's called
Addison Gold.
”

“You could always call your stylist and fly him in. It's what my mom would do.”

For a moment Addison considered it. “There's no time and besides, it might tip someone off to where I am.”

Clearly, Aaron had had enough of this conversation because he started backing up. “Do what you want then. Just don't scream again.”

He left her to stew over the widening line of dark-brown hair. Finally, Addison grabbed her purse and headed down the stairs.

“Aaron, watch over Ruth for a bit,” she called. “I'm going out.”

Addison drove into town and parked in front of the Cut & Dye Salon, which sat next to the hardware store. Panic nearly had her pulling back out again. A hair salon next to a place selling hammers and screwdrivers seemed to go against the laws of nature. There was no choice, however.

A little bell over the door announced Addison's arrival. Six heads belonging to women ranging in age from forty-five to one hundred five swiveled in her direction. Two of the women were in curlers, sitting under those old-fashioned, bowl-shaped hairdryers. Two more were reading magazines as they waited for their turn. One was getting her hair shampooed, and the final lady was in the stylist's chair. The young woman standing behind the chair froze, scissors poised in the air. A second woman at the sink continued washing, but never took her eyes off Addison.

After giving each woman a smile, Addison addressed the woman in charge. “Hi. I don't have an appointment, but I wondered if you might work me in?”

The woman's mouth dropped open. “For real?”

Addison smoothed a hand down her hair. “You're my only hope.”

The hairdresser approached in a reverent manner, as if she were about to meet the queen. She didn't speak but examined Addison's hair, including the pitiful roots.

“What color is this?” she asked.

“
Addison Gold
.”

“You've got your own shade?” the hairdresser asked, eyes going huge.

“Yes. Can you help me?”

The hairdresser stepped back. Walked all the way around. “It's nice, but I think we should take you a little more golden,” she said finally. “It'll go better with your skin tone. This color makes you look brittle and harsh. Adds years, too.”

Good grief, the country hairdresser was giving her styling tips. Jean-Lüc would slice his wrists if he ever heard.

“The producers wanted me to look older and tougher,” Addison explained.

“Maybe it's time to soften up then.”

****

“A white picket fence,” Addison marveled, as she stared at Julia's stepmother's house.

The house had all the earmarks of a Norman Rockwell postcard, from the fence and flower boxes in the windows, to the wide covered porch with a swing.

Stealing another glance in the rearview mirror, Addison pushed a strand of her now more-golden-than-platinum-colored hair behind her shoulder. The hairdresser had been right. The shade did suit her skin tone better, and true to her promise, the color had taken several years off. Addison now looked more like a California surfer girl than a hard-as-nails fashion maven. She grabbed the bouquet of flowers she'd purchased at the florist in town and climbed out of the car.

A brick path led up to the front porch. Rose bushes and night-blooming jasmine festooned the area along the porch, and the scent was intoxicating. Addison grinned at the sight of the welcome mat in front of the door. Of course, there was a mat. She rang the bell and waited.

Julia flung the door open a moment later. “I am so sorry.”

As a conversation starter, it was unexpected. “What?”

Julia took Addison's arm and pulled her inside, shutting the door with a snap. “We've got a couple extra houseguests,” Julia said in a half-whisper, like they were in a library.

“Well, that's no problem,” Addison said, lowering her own voice.

“Oh, yes, it is,” Julia said, in a grim tone. “You see, I invited someone, but then my sister took it upon herself to invite her own guest.”

The edge of panic seemed exaggerated. What did it matter if a couple more people showed up? Then Addison entered the living room, and all immediately became clear. The first person she saw was Ethan. The second was Carrie Rogers. Since she'd arrived earlier, Carrie had already staked her claim on Ethan by taking the space next to him on the loveseat.

Managing to hide her surprise, Addison turned to greet the other guests. She recognized Seth, of course, and she'd met Julia's stepsister at the fair. The baby was with her again, but this time Sarah had an extra accessory. A tall, sandy-blond-haired man.

Julia performed the introductions. “Addison, this is Sarah's husband, Eric.”

He shook her hand. “Hi… wow!”

Julia chuckled at her brother-in-law's stupefied look, even as she switched her attention to the baby, who was attached to Sarah's hip. “And you remember this little angel.”