Authors: Lynn Patrick
“Rafe’s going to be late tonight,” Louise explained as she stacked plates into the dishwasher. “It’s already six and he’s not finished. He often runs overtime on Saturdays.”
“I know. We planned to go out for only a short while.”
Seating herself at the butcher-block table which served as the kitchen’s work island, Melissa decided she’d be glad when the holidays were over and Rafe’s work load would slow down. Getting together during the past few weeks had proven to be a scheduling feat for them both. She hoped Rafe would still have energy to go dancing tonight.
“You’re not bored keeping me company?” the older woman asked, closing the dishwasher door and turning it on. “I’m sure it’s not amusing to watch me clean up after the kids’ dinner.”
“Don’t be silly, Louise. I enjoy seeing you and the children. I like the atmosphere in this house. Say, would you like help cleaning up?”
“Stay where you are. I’m almost finished.”
Melissa had spoken truthfully when she’d said she enjoyed being in Rafe’s house. Their casual dates the past few weeks—sometimes including the children—had brought her into contact with his family many times. Arriving at his place after work, she’d either go out with Rafe or spend the better part of an evening merely talking and laughing with him on his living-room couch.
“We enjoy your company too,” Louise echoed Melissa’s sentiments, smiling as she adjusted a framed photograph of the kids that hung above the sink. Showing them at a younger age, the print was one of the few that hung among the gleaming utensils and decorative baskets on the walls in the pleasant natural wood and blue-toned kitchen.
Louise was sincere, but Melissa wondered if the woman could speak for Rafe’s children. Although he’d seemed very careful about foisting his girlfriend on them and vice versa, Melissa knew they were looking her over, especially Hank. By turns the boy had been friendly and distant. Would he grow to accept her?
Running her hands thoughtfully over the table’s smooth wood, Melissa told herself it was much too soon to worry about it. She and Rafe hadn’t dated very long—they hadn’t even made love yet—and here she was entertaining thoughts of becoming a stepmother. She grinned. When they’d first met she’d thought Rafe was a playboy. Now his slow pace was making her impatient.
“Would you like a cup of coffee?” Louise asked. Melissa shook her head at the same time Gretta came galloping down the stairs toward them.
Rafe’s daughter pranced into the kitchen. “I got somethin’ new to show you, Melissa. Guess what? I got a set of pretty new paints! My friend Peggy gave ’em to me!”
“I’d like to see them.” Melissa hugged her, hardly noticing the change in the child’s appearance.
But Louise did. “Gretta! What have you done to your bangs?”
Melissa stared too. The little girl’s usual hairdo was cut short in front, or rather chopped off in varying lengths, some locks almost standing on end.
“It got in my eyes,” Gretta complained.
“I told you I was going to trim it. Why didn’t you ask me?”
“I waited but you didn’t have time.”
“I did so. You simply got impatient. What a mess!” Louise took Gretta’s head in her hands to survey the damage. Melissa thought the other woman was more abrupt than she’d usually be with her granddaughter. “Your hair is ruined. How can I put you on a plane tomorrow and send you to your mother like this? You’ve been a bad girl! What shall we do?”
“It’s ruint?”
“You’re going to look awful.” Louise seized a brush from a nearby shelf and then grabbed the child. “Honestly, do I have to hide all the scissors? What got into you, Gretta?”
“I ruint my hair?” Gretta’s eyes filled with tears. The unexpected disapproval from Louise was upsetting her. “Can’t I go see Mommy anyway?” As Louise held up strands from her ravaged bangs and frowned, Gretta began to cry in earnest. “I didn’t mean to,” she wailed.
Melissa’s heart was touched. “Let me look at it,” she told Louise. “I’m pretty good at cutting hair. Maybe I can do something.” Kneeling beside Gretta, she said softly, “Don’t worry, sweetie. We’ll fix it this time, but you shouldn’t try to cut your hair by yourself, you know.”
“I won’t do it again, I promise. Can I still go see Mommy?”
“I didn’t say you couldn’t see your mom,” Louise told the little girl. “I only want you to look nice for her.”
“And we’ll make sure you look extra nice,” Melissa said assuringly, leading Gretta down the hall to the bathroom and winking at Louise as the older woman followed to hand her a pair of scissors.
It took some clever work, but Melissa trimmed what remained of Gretta’s bangs into layers slanting across her temples. “Like it?” she asked the child as she tried to blend a few impossibly short strands into the style.
“It’s different.”
“But we girls like to try different styles, don’t we? Maybe you’ll start a new fashion.”
“I will?”
“Of course. You can wear it this way now and then let it grow back again or try something even newer. Just make sure you let your Gran cut it when you want to change your hairstyle.”
“Or you?”
“Sure.” Melissa almost added “if I’m here,” but thought better of it.
“How cute!” Louise peeked inside the bathroom. When Gretta ran outside to admire herself in a full-length mirror, she lowered her voice. “Thanks. It looks good. Actually, I’d put off doing Gretta’s hair because I’m so bad with haircuts. I thought Nicole would trim it in California.” Smiling, she headed back toward the kitchen as the phone rang.
“Let’s go upstairs!” Gretta had regained her good humor.
Noticing that Louise was sitting at the kitchen table talking on the phone, Melissa followed the child upstairs, Gretta trying to take two steps at a time. The little girl had made a ritual of showing Melissa any of her new possessions since the first time she’d arrived at the house to go out to dinner with Rafe. Now Gretta led the way into her room past shelves of dolls and plush animals that she’d already introduced by age and name, past full toy boxes, to a pile of papers spread out over her small desk.
Shuffling a stack of drawing paper and a few coloring books aside, Gretta said, “Here they are!” She held up a package of brightly colored poster paints. “Want me to make you a picture?”
“I’d like that,” agreed Melissa. “But don’t you think we’d better go downstairs? Paints can be messy.”
“I want to paint here,” the child insisted.
“You might spill paint on your rug or your bed.”
“I’m gonna paint here!” Gretta raised her voice.
Taken aback, Melissa decided to try a different tactic. “Well, okay. But the kitchen table is lots bigger than your desk. You could do a really big picture there.”
“Yeah? A really, really big one?”
Melissa was happy Gretta finally agreed and gathered up some paper to bring along. If only the little girl hadn’t been used to getting her own way so frequently. From what she’d gathered from Louise and Rafe, things had not always been like this. Both adults felt sorry for the child, who had cried at night for months after her mother left. Unfortunately, their desire to grant her every wish was severely spoiling her.
In the hallway Melissa glanced toward Hank’s doorway, listening to the clicking sounds issuing from within.
“That’s Hank’s computer,” Gretta said proudly. “He’s smart.”
“I know.” Rafe had told Melissa about the high grades his son always brought home from school.
“Want to see it?” Not waiting for an answer, Gretta grabbed Melissa’s hand and pulled her through the door.
Seated at a long, modern wood desk, Hank warily looked up from the green screen of his computer monitor. Above the desk were myriad shelves filled with books, software, various sports equipment, and what looked like a mounted bug collection. Above the shelves a three-foot replica of a jet plane hung from wires.
“I came to show Melissa your machine!” Gretta exclaimed.
“I’ve got lots of machines,” Hank said.
“Then show her all of ’em.”
Melissa took in the rows of robots and other mechanical toys. The bedroom was large, with three built-in carpeted levels in an L-shape against two walls. Each tier held different items—a built-in mattress, a portable color television, a cordless telephone, the robots, a small stereo, and various other electronic devices. The luxurious room was almost as big as Melissa’s apartment.
Pointing at the robots, Gretta asked, “Do you like ’em?”
“Aw. She’s not interested, Gretta.”
“Yes I am.”
“Well, I like my computer better than toys now.”
“That’s interesting too.”
“Really? Want to see my Treasure Hunt computer game? It teaches you history while you play.”
Eager to encourage Hank’s friendly gesture, Melissa pulled up another chair to watch and sat down with Gretta on her lap. The boy pointed out the logistics of the game, then told her about his word-processing and mathematics software.
“Good grief!” Melissa finally said. “You’re going to be ready for a computer programming job before you graduate from junior high.”
Hank grinned broadly, obviously pleased at her flattery. “I bet I’m ready now. Everyone says I’m smart enough to do anything I want. Only I don’t want to be a programmer. I want to design these machines. See?” He reached over to pick up a small robot, twisting and turning its parts around. “This robot can be transformed to look like a truck or a plane. I want to design computers that can transform too—maybe into real cars.”
“Sounds great,” Melissa said.
“As soon as Dad buys me a modem, I’m going to hook up with data banks. Then I can get lots of information on designing.”
“Daddy said you don’t need a modem,” Gretta objected. “He said you got too much stuff already.”
“I’ll get one.” Hank sounded confident, then gave Melissa what she thought was a crafty look. “He’ll change his mind.”
Since Gretta had begun squirming restlessly, Melissa suggested they go paint. Hank accompanied them to the stairs, talking about his design plans. Though his ideas were as farfetched as those of a normal eleven-year-old, she could imagine she was conversing with a more mature boy. That illusion was aided by the fact that he was already taller than Melissa.
Louise helped them get set up at the kitchen table. Spreading newspapers down, she filled two cups with water. “Now, don’t paint too long, Gretta. I’m going to take you over to Aunt Shirley’s. Then we’ll go get some ice cream and you can stay up later tonight.”
“Yea!” Gretta cried, swinging her brush above her head. Luckily it hadn’t been dipped into a paint jar yet.
“Sure you want to do this now?” Melissa asked.
“I want to do lots of pictures fast. Want me to paint a dragon?”
“You could, but how about something to do with Christmas? That day’s coming up later this week. Aren’t you excited?”
“Yeah! I’ll paint Santa Claus.” Uninhibited, Gretta picked up a sheet and proceeded to paint a large purple circle with a small green body and red dots for eyes.
“Is that Santa?”
“No, it’s me!” Gretta informed her. Melissa laughed as the child put a smaller figure in the corner and pronounced that it was Santa, then told her what presents he was carrying in his sack.
What fun it was to work creatively with children! That’s why Melissa enjoyed her job with the library so much. And there were no discipline problems like there had been at the public school.
“This is you.” Gretta drew Melissa’s attention back by pointing to a tiny red blob at the edge of the page.
“Very nice,” commented Melissa, flattered the child had thought to include her. She hoped both of Rafe’s kids would like the Christmas gifts she planned to give them before she left tonight.
“And now I’m going to make another picture.” Gretta grabbed a clean sheet and slapped yellow paint on it. “Do you know what this is? Californ’ya. I’m gonna go there tomorrow. And guess what? I made a real big wish to Santa.” Gretta drew circles and added arms and legs. “See? This is Daddy and this is Mommy. I wished they’d be back together again.”
Melissa’s smile froze, but Gretta wasn’t paying attention. They both turned when Rafe walked into the kitchen.
“Hey, my two lovely ladies. I finally finished all the work down there. Saved up some hugs and kisses for a tired man?” Embracing Gretta, he grinned at Melissa over his daughter’s head.
“Hi, Rafe.” She hoped there wasn’t a suspicious look on her face. Thrown off balance by Gretta’s painting and announcement, she wondered if Rafe actually ever planned on getting back with Nicole. Was that why he didn’t talk about his ex-wife? Were they still in love? Was that the real reason he’d never made love to Melissa? Or was she merely reacting insecurely to something any child whose parents had divorced would say?
Giving Gretta and her father the benefit of the doubt, Melissa rose, aware the little girl was watching, and offered Rafe a sedate, welcoming kiss.
Chapter Five
Later, holding Melissa in his arms as they relaxed on the huge sectional sofa in the living room, Rafe wondered why she’d acted a little strange when he’d first seen her tonight. Was she annoyed because he’d pleaded exhaustion and ordered out for pizza instead of taking her to dinner at a restaurant? He knew he hadn’t been courting her the way a man was supposed to. Unfortunately, December was one of his busiest months and they’d both had unusual schedules.