In His Dreams (4 page)

“A flower.” Bonnie reached toward it, a smile brightening her eyes.

Marsha pulled a bobby pin from beneath her ponytail. “Let’s put this in your hair.”

Bonnie’s eyes widened. “In my hair?”

Marsha tucked the girl’s hair behind one ear and used the hairpin to anchor the flower. “You look beautiful.”

She turned to Jeff with a huge smile. “I look beautiful.”

“You do, Bon, just like a Hawaiian princess.”

But Bonnie was already distracted by a frog hopping in the grass and she trotted off to chase it.

“Thanks,” Jeff said, resting his arm on Marsha’s shoulder, “that was thoughtful.”

Marsha felt a tug in her chest. “Women like flowers.”

“And thanks again for everything. Besides the exercise and the scenery, just plain ol’ talking felt good.” He drew her toward him and gave her a hug.

Marsha’s pulse escalated at the feel of his arms around her shoulders. He drew back, and she couldn’t look into his eyes, afraid he’d see the thoughts that swirled through her mind. She drew in a breath. “I thought maybe I’d bored you.”

He shook his head, an intense look in his eyes. “You know how it feels to be really hungry? I’ve been hungry for conversation.”

The confession touched her, and she pressed her hand against his cheek, feeling the roughness of his beard just breaking through. Her intimate action surprised her, and she dropped her hand. “I’m often hungry for that, myself.”

“I’m hungry,” Bonnie said.

Marsha swung around, surprised that Bonnie had returned to their sides without a sound. She and Jeff laughed while Bonnie’s forehead wrinkled questioningly.

“We’ll eat in a while,” Jeff said, giving Marsha a telling look. “Big ears,” he whispered as Bonnie skipped off again, distracted by a butterfly.

Marsha drew up her courage. “I’m worried about her, Jeff.” She tilted her head toward Bonnie.

“Worried?”

She nodded. “If you haven’t already, you need to have an adult conversation with her very soon. She’s right on the verge of—”

“Marsha, I know.”

His voice startled her, but she couldn’t let go now. “Why not hire some help for her? A woman who can help with—”

“Marsha!”

She stared at him while the words died in her throat. “I’m sorry. I only thought—”

“It’s been difficult, but I’m taking care of Bonnie’s needs. I’m not perfect, but I’m her father and I can do this. I’ve been doing it for the past two years.”

“Jeff, I know. You’re doing a great job. I didn’t mean—”

He held up his hand. “It’s your way. I understand. You took care of Don, for years, and now you’re transferring that need to Bonnie. You want to fix everyone, but…”

His voice trailed off, leaving Marsha’s spirits sinking. She meant well. She really meant well.

Y
ou want to fix everyone. The words rang in Marsha’s head as they had for the past two days. She wanted to kick herself for ruining the pleasant afternoon. She’d put her nose into Jeff’s business with Bonnie.

She needed to kick herself for her overzealous imagination. Jeff was becoming special to her, and it was foolishness. He resented her meddling with Bonnie, which made their friendship rocky. If she valued his friendship, Marsha needed to control her romantic notions.

Realizing what she’d been doing, she dropped the magazine on the love seat. She’d been staring at the pages without focusing, her mind too tangled in her situation to concentrate. She pushed herself from the cushion and pressed her fists into her lower back, then stretched upward to relax the tightness.

“What’s wrong with you?”

Marsha stared at her sister reclining in her favorite spot on the sofa. “What do you mean?” She lowered her fists and took a deep breath. “Nothing’s wrong.”

Barb shook her head. “Look at your face in the mirror.”

Marsha didn’t need to look in a mirror. She felt the tension in her neck and on her face.

She watched Barb’s curious expression follow her as she made her way into the kitchen. She finally gave up pretending and plopped her elbows against the counter that divided the kitchen area from the living room. “I’m upset, I suppose.”

“At me?”

“No. At myself.”

Barb fluffed the pillow beside her and rested her arm on the cushion. “What happened? Something with Jeff?”

“I nagged Jeff about Bonnie, and he’s overly sensitive. I need to learn to keep my mouth shut.”

A laugh flew from Barb until she stifled the sound. “Sorry.” She shook her head and gave Marsha a telling grin. “Keeping your mouth shut is a challenge, Marsha. I don’t mean to be rude, but you need to be in charge and it doesn’t always set well with people. I’ve told you that a million times.”

Marsha rubbed the tension in her neck, then shifted her fingers to her temples and rotated them to ease the ache. “I care about Bonnie.” The statement brought her up short. She cared about Bonnie
and
Jeff.

“Jeff cares, too.”

Heat rose up Marsha’s neck until she realized Barb meant Jeff cared about Bonnie.

Barb placed a bookmark between the pages and closed the cover. “So do I.”

Pushing aside her guilty thoughts, Marsha gave Barb a long look. Her sister’s admission touched her. She’d watched Barb reach out to Bonnie, and it warmed her heart.

Getting herself under control, Marsha slipped from behind the counter and settled onto the love seat again. “I don’t know what to do to let go of my concerns.”

Barb rose, crossed the room to the love seat and stood there a moment. “I don’t know, either. It’s who you are, I guess.” She rested her hand against Marsha’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “You can’t change who you are, but you can monitor your behavior.”

When she looked up, Marsha studied Barb’s face. She saw a tenderness she hadn’t expected, and it warmed her. “I don’t want to be this way. I don’t seem to know the difference between helping and meddling.”

Barb let her hand drop to the arm of the love seat. “It’s a fine line.”

Marsha’s thoughts drifted to her sister’s silent struggle, and she fought her desire to ask what caused her to be so distant. Yet, today, the distance had narrowed. A fine line.

“Are you worried because Bonnie’s maturing so fast?” Barb opened the refrigerator and pulled out a soft drink. “Want one?”

“An orange pop. Thanks.”

Barb flipped open the tabs and carried the cans back into the living room. She handed Marsha the orange pop, then settled onto her usual spot on the sofa and took a long drink. “Is that your problem, not knowing the difference between helping and meddling, as you called it?”

“That and so much more.”

Barb gazed at her without a response, and Marsha longed to know what she was thinking. She watched her sister’s expression go from concern to acceptance. Finally, she shook her head. “Tell me about you and Jeff.”

Marsha’s heart tripped at Barb’s blunt question. “Tell you what?”

“You’ve been mooning like a hound dog.”

“Mooning?” Why deny it? She had been. “I told you that I’m sure Jeff’s upset with me. He hasn’t called me, and I hate to call him.”

“Why? You’ve been spending a lot of time together.”

The tone of her voice made Marsha wince. “Too much, do you think?” She glanced at her sister but saw no response. “It’s like old times. Jeff and Marilou were always good friends.” But it hadn’t been like old times. These feelings were new, so unexpected and felt so inappropriate.

“I’m not judging you. It’s nice to hear you laugh and focus on something else, for a change.”

Marsha winced again before grasping her good humor. “You mean, focus on someone other than you.”

Barb lifted an eyebrow along with a crooked grin. “You said it.”

Her tone and expression made Marsha chuckle. “I need to work on that.”

“You’re enjoying Jeff’s company, right?”

Marsha’s pulse tripped. “Right. And I care about my niece. Bonnie’s not a problem for me. We get along fine.”

“Then why try to change things? Just let it go. Subtlety works better than forcing your will on someone, even if you’re offering them good advice.”

“You’re right, Barb. Jeff is Bonnie’s father, and I can see how tough it is to be a single parent. He’s trying to be mother and father and he knows he can’t be both. Maybe he’ll ask for help.”

“And, when he does, you’ll be there. If you alienate him by pushing, you’ve lost a friend.”

A friend. Barb was right. Jeff had always been a friend, and being single now should make no difference. Friendships were precious and good ones were rare. “Thanks. You said some things I needed to hear.” She rose and looped her arm around Barb’s shoulder in a one-armed hug.

Barb didn’t flinch this time and squeezed her back with her free hand. “You’re welcome.”

Marsha straightened and turned toward the glass door to the lake. “So what do I do now? Give him time.”

“You’ve been complaining about fixing a few things around here. That’ll keep you busy for a few hours.” Barb chuckled.

“Hours?” She rolled her eyes at her sister. “Days. Weeks.”

“Then you’ll stay out of trouble and let me read my novels.” She tossed her book on the lamp table with a laugh.

“Words of wisdom,” Marsha said, accepting Barb’s humor.

“You know I’m teasing, but something else is bothering you, and you should get it out in the open.”

Marsha had to bite back the words that flew to her throat. What about you? “I suppose you should know.”

Barb’s smile shriveled. “Some things are meant to be private, Marsha, and some things aren’t. You’re upset with Jeff, and that’s something you can fix.”

Some things are meant to be private. A cold anxiety seeped down Marsha’s limbs, and she fought back her curiosity. Not now. Not when Barb was really talking. “I guess you’re right.”

Marsha wandered from the doorway into the kitchen and pulled off the lid of a peanut can. She eyed the calories on the label and knew she was eating out of frustration, but that didn’t stop her. She stuffed a handful into her mouth.

“Let’s go somewhere,” Barb said.

“Whaff?” she asked, trying to dislodge the nuts from her throat.

Barb chuckled at her sister’s predicament.

She forced the peanuts down with a swig of pop. “What did you say?”

“I finished my novel.” She waved the book above her head. “Let’s do some of that sightseeing you’re always talking about.”

Marsha staggered backward and plastered her hand over her heart. “Are you my sister or some imposter?” Her playful drama was good-natured, but she realized it could be hurtful, and this wasn’t the time to turn a positive moment into a negative one.

Barb’s smile faded. “I know. I haven’t been good company. Sometimes I don’t control my bad moods, either.”

Now Marsha understood. Apparently, she’d been in a bad mood, too. “Touché.”

Barb grasped the paperback and patted it. “This novel lifted my spirit.” She sent Marsha another questioning look. “How about it? We could drop a couple of books off at the library, first. Then do whatever.” She swung her hand toward the door. “I could use some fresh air.”

Watching the book wave in her hand, Marsha was amazed that a novel made a difference. “I could use some air, too.” Or anything to cheer me, she thought, anxious to get rid of her doldrums.

Marsha scanned the room for her car keys. Though she didn’t understand her sister’s sudden change in mood, Marsha had no inclination to question Barb’s willingness to have fun. She’d been thinking of Jeff for the past days, and Barb’s advice had sparked her desire to talk with him.

Friends. Good friends. Old friends. Why let a good thing fall apart because of a misunderstanding?

Jeff rose and brushed the dirt from his knees. Trying to keep the weeds from encroaching on his few perennials seemed impossible when he made so few trips to the island. He picked up his carton of weed killer and sprinkled the pellets over the freshly tilled flower beds.

After he set the carton beside his feet, Jeff arched his back to relieve the ache. He wished he could arch his conscience and relax the tension there. He missed Marsha’s company, but he felt convicted by her concern for Bonnie and her obvious faith.

He scoffed at himself. He didn’t need anyone. In his heart he knew God looked down on him, but it was a God he didn’t like anymore. How could he pray to a God who didn’t listen and didn’t seem to care about a little girl who needed her mother?

Guilt rolled in with his thoughts. Marilou had been a good mother, and he’d become a miserable father at times…like lately. His thoughts had been wound around Marsha.

He tried to focus. Bonnie was bored out of her mind, and, for the past two days, he’d tried to entertain her with games and coloring, walks on the beach, but nothing stopped her frustration and temper. Maybe he’d been wrong to give up on hiring help for Bonnie. He’d had consultations at school, and she was holding her own in her class—very slow but learning. Apparently, he was the failure.

Last semester, Bonnie’s teacher had been a woman. She gave Bonnie a feminine touch that he couldn’t. He observed that Bonnie seemed to connect with Marsha, too, in a way that he couldn’t.

Had he made a mistake with Marsha? Now that he thought about it, she was only trying to mother Bonnie. It was natural, but as close as he felt to Marsha, when she mothered Bonnie it felt as if she was taking Marilou’s place. Now matter how he denied it, no matter what his heart said, it seemed wrong. Then it seemed right. He didn’t know his own mind.

His gaze drifted to the beach where he’d let Bonnie play with the shells she’d collected. Unable to see her now, he took a step forward, then pulled off his garden gloves and threw them on the ground as he hurried down the hillside to the water’s edge.

As he neared the shore, his eyes shifted to scan the beach, but she wasn’t there.

“Bonnie!”

His heart hammered as he searched the rolling waves. She promised she’d stay away from the water. She knew the dangers, and he trusted her.

“Bonnie!”

His feet dug into the beach as he forced his legs to run in the slipping sand. “Bonnie!” A long stretch of beach spread in front of him, and he pivoted and headed the other way, his mind spiraling with fear and his lungs soon bursting from lack of oxygen.

“Bonnie!”

Ahead, he saw a man sitting in a beach chair. He called again and waved his arms, but the tide rolling in seemed to block his words. Nearer, he called again. “Bonnie!”

Finally, the man looked his way and rose. “Looking for a girl?” he asked, his hand motioning up the rise toward his cottage.

“Yes,” Jeff panted, trying to catch his breath. “Have you seen her?”

“She’s playing with my son in the back. He’s only six, and I thought—”

“Bonnie’s eleven but she’s—” the words caught in his throat and he cleared it “—she’s emotionally impaired.”

The man drew back, his eyes as wide as a full moon. “I figured something was wrong.” His gaze darted up the hill. “She won’t hurt him, will she?”

Jeff stiffened, then monitored his emotion. “No. She wouldn’t hurt anyone.” He thought of the many times she’d struck out at him, but he felt grateful she never smacked anyone else.

“Whew!” The man let out a blast of air from his lungs. “She seemed harmless enough and a sweet little thing. Billy took to her so I figured they’d be okay.”

Jeff nodded, then motioned up the hill with a blend of frustration and relief. “I’d better check on her.” He bounded in the direction the man had indicated. “Bonnie!”

When he passed the edge of the house, he saw her sitting in a sandbox with the young boy, surrounded with shells and miniature dump trucks.

“I’m babysitting, and we’re playing,” she said when she saw him, looking as if she had no idea she’d wandered too far from home.