Hard Times … (continued)

Chapter Three

One is Alone

"I [Matt] had rather be a doorkeeper in the house of my God, than to dwell in the tents of wickedness. For the LORD God is a sun and shield: the LORD will give grace and glory: no good thing will He withhold from them that walk uprightly. O LORD of hosts, blessed is the man that trusteth in Thee."

~ Psalm 84:10-12 ~

Matt spent the remainder of lunch in relative silence, only half listening to the chatter of his talkative coworkers. They had said nothing more of Mrs. Carter's deceased husband or her past, and quietly maintaining that she was none of his business, he hadn't asked anything further. He finished the food on his plate, the complementary glass of ice water, some breadsticks, all the while trying not to seem impatient by the frequent glances at his watch. Sylvia seemed oblivious to the time, her attention on the conversation instead of returning to the nursery. At last he could stand it no longer, and retrieved the hat under his chair.

Not catching the hint, Sylvia continued to talk."I think our lunch break might be up," Matt said.She blinked her eyes and gave him a dismissing shrug. "We've got plenty of time." Not believing her, Matt pushed away from the table. "I need to get back and finish stacking those manure bags.

Thanks for the meal." Sylvia looked mildly annoyed, but not too annoyed to give him an appraising glance as he stood up. "See you later," Matt said, and left the restaurant as the two women continued to talk.

He might have a lot to learn about the routines of the nursery, but he wasn't about to take the word of someone who appeared to be habitually late for everything. If Sylvia didn't mind getting their boss angry over a long lunch break, he did.

Tossing the tuna sandwich wrapper into the office waste basket, Beth flicked her eyes at the clock on the desk. He was late. It figured, since she had seen him leave with Sylvia and Amy. Beth unscrewed the cap of her bottled water. She had to give him credit, though. He hadn't complained about the steer manure.

Taking a drink, she replaced the cap and got to her feet. She put on a sunhat to guard her sensitive skin against sunburn and went outside. The nursery was empty of customers, had been all morning long. Spring was just around the corner, so where were her customers? She put on her work gloves. If things kept going this poorly, she would have to reduce some overhead. Such as wages. It hadn't helped that she'd taken on another employee, and she promised herself that Matt's was the last sob story she would fall victim to, little children or not.

Worried over more serious things besides lengthy lunch breaks, Beth rounded the back of the store, only to stop in her tracks.

The first thought that popped into her mind -- besides her initial surprise that Matt had returned after all -- was the fact he was without his shirt. Sun glinted off sweat as he moved, highlighting a tanned body used to outdoor labor. His face was half cast in shadow beneath the Stetson, but when he suddenly looked up, the dark eyes beneath its brim met her gaze full on.

For the second time that day, Beth found herself lost in a wide-awake dream. "I'm almost finished," he said, breaking the silence. He mopped the sweat on his neck with the discarded T-shirt, then put the shirt on. "All I need is another five minutes."

"When you're done, pull the weeds around the back fence." Beth gave him instructions, and he nodded mildly, looking neither put upon nor indignant at being given such menial tasks.

She thought she detected a hint of embarrassment in those deep brown eyes, but couldn't be sure. After that initial stare, he avoided her gaze altogether.

Beth went to the potting table to retrieve her trowel. She wondered what she had gotten herself into, by hiring Matt. It unnerved her the way he kept surprising her every time she turned around.

Trowel in hand, Beth went around to the side of the store to work on the potted roses just as Sylvia and Amy returned. "Where have you two been?" Beth asked in as stern a tone as she could summon. "Do you know what time it is?" Sylvia's casual laugh filled the loading yard. "It's not like we're holding up business, Beth.

This place is as empty as we left it." "That's not the point. You have one hour for lunch, no more. Did you know Matt is already hard at work, pulling weeds?" "You've got him weeding? Why doesn't that guy ever complain? First the steer manure, and now this.

Really, Beth, there's something deeply disturbing about him." Beth thought Sylvia was right, but not in the mocking way Sylvia had meant. "Don't change the subject. I'm struggling with this nursery as it is, without having to babysit you and Amy."

Amy startled a little upon hearing her name, and began to ease herself toward the store where she would stand duty over the cash register. Beth let her go without more of a warning, for she knew who had been responsible for the extended lunch break. "All right, all right, I'm sorry." Peering over her dark sunglasses, Sylvia looked annoyed, but nothing more. Hardly penitent. "It won't happen again, Boss. Happy?"

"Ecstatic." Beth shot her friend a cautionary look, then returned to the roses. To her annoyance, Sylvia remained and leaned against the store siding to watch Matt in the distance. "What do you know about him, Beth? Besides the obvious, I mean." "Silvi, I'm not going to gossip." "Why not?" "I have better things to do, and so do you."

Sylvia's painted mouth spread in a smile, showing off her impossibly white teeth. "You're right." She patted Beth's shoulder, then sashayed in Matt's direction.

So Sylvia was adding another man to her collection, Beth thought bitterly as she saw her beautiful friend stop to flirt with Matt. Some women had any man they wanted for the asking, while other women had to make due with what they could get. Unable to keep herself from watching, Beth saw Matt shake his head, then back away from Sylvia. He smiled politely, stooped to resume weeding the fence, and it seemed to Beth, ignored Sylvia's flirtation.

Beth would have gloated, except for the fact she hadn't expected Matt to show any character. It troubled her to know he had refused something she was all but ready to accept from Skip. Sure, Skip wasn't as tempting as Beth thought Sylvia had been to Matt, but the parallel stuck, refusing Beth to dismiss it from her conscience.

Apparently, Matt didn't sleep outside the marriage bed. And she was about to.

A customer strolled into the nursery, needing Beth's advice about petunias. It came as a welcome distraction and she talked longer than she needed, discussing various plants and the weather. By the time the customer left empty-handed, Beth observed Matt working alone. Sylvia had given up. For now.

Matt kicked off his boots, laughing as Ryan bent to pick them up, one by one. He had guessed his back would be sore after a day of hefting manure bags and pulling weeds, and he was already sure this evening wouldn't disappoint him. Even now, his muscles were aching their protest, demanding to know why he had put them to so much trouble. His body might have difficulty understanding, but Matt sure didn't.He had bills to pay, two brothers and a sister to look after. Those things wouldn't take care of themselves.

Ryan dumped the boots into the corner of the living room, then climbed onto the sofa with Matt. Matt propped his dirty socked feet on the coffee table and wiggled his toes. Even they hurt. "I have got to find another job," Matt laughed half jokingly. He noticed Ethan sit up at attention in the nearby chair. "Why?" Ethan asked. "Your boss giving you trouble?" Matt expelled a breath of air. "Not exactly, but in a way, yeah. She keeps challenging me to quit, as though she expects me to throw up my hands and admit I can't handle the job."

Ethan scowled in relief. "That doesn't sound so bad." "It wouldn't be, if that was all." Matt moved his arm as Ryan climbed onto his lap. "Mrs. Carter isn't married." "So?" Ethan challenged him with an unsympathetic grin. "Deal with it, Matty. We need the money." "I know."

Matt did know, even better than Ethan, how much that was true. Still, the three women he worked with at the nursery were unmarried and looking. Looking at him. Looking as though he might suddenly drop to one knee and propose to one of them. Matt figured that's what women really wanted when it came down to it. A ring and a promise of happily-ever-after. Pulling from Matt's arms, Ryan went to sit on the floor to scribble in a coloring book.

The day pulsed through Matt's aching muscles, anchoring him to the sofa. He heavily leaned his head against the cushion, watched his brother play. Ryan had been the result of their mother's relationship with a loser she had picked up at some bar and brought home. The only good thing about the man, had been the fact he had helped to create Ryan. It didn't take long for Matt to relive the painful memories of fights with his mom; he felt himself grow angry, then forced himself to relax. He knew from experience anger would leave him exhausted, and he was tired enough as it was.

The smell of cooking food drifted in from the kitchen and Matt's stomach grumbled impatience. "How's it coming, Cass? Are you sure you don't need any help?" "No, I can handle it." Cassie's voice sounded strained, and it took Matt some self control not to barge into the kitchen and take over the dinner preparations. "Are you sure nothing's burning?" he called to her from the sofa."I'm sure. Relax, Matty, it'll be edible." "I'll believe that, when I see it," Ethan said with a disbelieving laugh. "You should never have let her near the stove, Matty."

"She wanted to help out," Matt said in defense of his sister. "And I was tired enough to let her try. If it doesn't taste good, don't tease her about it. I appreciate the effort." "Yeah, yeah." Ethan slid back in the worn upholstered chair with a textbook and propped his feet on the coffee table like Matt. "I'm just saying, we're all going to be sorry she wanted to help."

Ethan was proven half right, in that one side of dinner had turned to crusty black over the stove. But it was edible, as Cassie had promised, and thankfully, Ethan didn't tease her too much about it. Matt was so tired, he didn't feel like refereeing a shouting match, and was thankful when one didn't develop. As soon as Matt's head hit the pillow that night, he fell into a sound, peaceful sleep. He had made it through his first full day at the nursery, and he still had a job.

It was all Beth could do to stop from pounding her fists on the steering wheel as she pulled up to the nursery. The morning sun had already come up and she had no difficulty seeing the graffiti slashed across the nursery store wall. "Not again! Not again!" she shouted in frustration. She threw the car door open, got out, slammed it shut. She was in no mood for this.

Skip had called to say he couldn't make it last night after all, and that meant she would have to go through all that guilt, afresh, tonight. Then to come to work and see this. It was too much. A beat-up pickup drove into the mostly empty parking lot and easily found a vacant space. Matt stepped out, wearing his cowboy hat, a white T-shirt and scuffed boots. He pulled on his work gloves and stared at the nursery.

"What happened?" he asked, sauntering over to where she stood."What does it look like?" the words tumbled from her mouth in the form of an accusation. An edge of warning flashed into his eyes, then disappeared. Beth wondered where he had put the anger."I'd say you were vandalized," he said finally. "This has happened before," Beth said, her voice rising in anger. "Young punks like you trashed my store, killed half my plants and scrawled junk all over my walls. I don't suppose they're friends of yours?" It wasn't a question, and Matt didn't answer. His stance stiffened, but he controlled himself to such a degree Beth felt a little foolish. But only a little.

"I'd better go inside and see the damage." Beth yanked out her keys, held them in her hand as though the mere fact of them calmed her. She had installed a new alarm system, and since the cops hadn't been called, the vandals probably hadn't broken inside the fenced loading yard that partially flanked the building's left side, or behind, where plant material was kept secure by a tall perimeter fence. Not really expecting to find any damage inside the store, where security was tightest, she unlocked the door and went inside.

Everything was as she had left it. Only one wall outside had been defaced, and that she could take care of without too much trouble. She would still have to report this to the police, but if the last time was any gauge, they wouldn't be able to do much except to promise to patrol the area more frequently. She turned to Matt, who had followed behind her into the building. "Everything looks fine.""Good." Matt nodded, his mouth drawn into a tight line.

"I... I suppose I owe you an apology," Beth said, hating the guilt she heard in her own voice. "I'm just so tired of those wild teenagers -- those trailer trash kids -- marking up everything in sight like animals urinating lines of territory." The grim line on Matt's face deepened. "I'm not a teenager." "You look like one." She had made her apology, and wasn't about to eat any more humble pie than she had to.

"Go finish weeding the fence." "Yes, ma'am." He tipped his hat, and strode out the door.That young man. For some reason, he made her uneasy. And it simply wasn't because he came from the same kind of trash that kept vandalizing her store. Maybe it was from guilt, maybe she was tired of trying to provoke him into quitting -- whatever the cause, Matt enjoyed hours of relative solitude without Beth closely overseeing everything he did. He worked out of sight in back of the nursery until noon, flexing the muscles that had stopped groaning when he got out of bed that morning. Perhaps best of all, Sylvia didn't hang around, trying to flatter him with language he wished he hadn't heard.

It didn't help his resolve to live life the way God wanted him to, but after fending off her advances, he felt a measure of power. He could survive these women. He still wanted to find another job, one that wasn't seasonal, but Matt no longer felt a sense of desperation. Confident that he was learning how to handle the situation God had placed him into, Matt poured his energies into the job.

If Beth -- Mrs. Carter -- wanted him to sweep the nursery floor with a toothbrush, he would do it. After that morning he felt confident enough to voice an objection, but he would do it. Though her reasons for hiring Matt had been purely to ease her own conscience, Beth made a confession to her friend as they sat in Beth's office later that day. "He's a good worker, Silvi." Sylvia raised her brows, enjoyed one last draft of tobacco before extinguishing her end-of-the-day cigarette in the ashtray. "You sound surprised." "I am." Beth didn't mind admitting it to Sylvia. "He doesn't get angry easily, and he stays out of trouble.

I wish all my employees were as responsible." Sylvia rolled her eyes. "Please, not another lecture on how I'm ruining my life. You're not any better, my dear. I know all about you and Skip." "You do?" Beth didn't know why she should be so surprised. Her friend was a good observer, maybe too good. The smirk on Sylvia's face was very unladylike. "Don't worry, Beth, I won't tell anyone. If your church friends found out, they might revoke your membership or something." Beth dismissed the subject and moved on to another, but it wasn't until after Sylvia had left, that Beth allowed dread to settle in her heart.

Sylvia had put it there, by treating Beth's plans with Skip as something clandestine. Something to be kept secret. The office phone rang, and without thinking, Beth answered."When you didn't pick up at home, I thought you might still be at work," a masculine voice said with a chuckle. "Skip, I was just thinking about you. About tonight--" "I'm sorry, Beth," he interrupted, "but I can't make it. Something came up. You know how it is." "Yes, I know." Beth tried not to betray any emotion. "Maybe tomorrow," he said, searching for a fresh invitation. "I could come by after work." "I don't know, Skip, I'm just not as sure anymore." Beth clutched the receiver to her ear. "I just need some time to work things out."

"I've been giving you nothing but time," Skip said, his voice sounding with impatience. "I'm not the one who called to cancel tonight," Beth shot back. She rubbed her temple, realized a headache was brewing. "Call me tomorrow, Skip. I just don't feel like talking to you right now." "Fine." Skip slammed down the receiver."What a day," Beth breathed weakly. Now she had to go home and face an empty life, an empty bed, and an empty heart. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe she should just enjoy Skip, however long it lasted.

Home felt as alone as Beth had feared it would. Even after Bailey had struggled to get his old doggie self onto the bed, and curled up on the empty side of the mattress for the night, Beth still felt very alone. She petted Bailey's long fur, trying very hard to feel the presence of Luke through his dog.

Bailey had been Luke's, adopted as a gentle elderly dog from the animal shelter when she and Luke had learned she was pregnant. Oh, to relive those days again, when her son was alive and her only thought was potty-training and daycare. "Caleb." The name whispered from her lips as though he were standing before her, his cherub face upturned to greet her. "Mommy loves you, Caleb." She wanted to get up, go into his room, touch his toys and remember his childish laughter. Instead, she clamped her eyes shut and tried to sleep.

It was almost spring. What had she expected? The hurt was always hardest to bear at this time of year, and she yearned for it to be over. The terrible anniversary loomed near, threatening to swallow her in grief once again. Beth threw back the covers, got out of bed. She wouldn't haunt Caleb's room, only to melt into unconsolable tears. Not again. It only left her feeling despair, sharp and hungry despair, and still her arms would be empty. Sensing disquiet, Bailey lifted his head to watch as she paced the room.

"I don't know how much more of this I can take, Bailey." She spoke to the labrador mix as though his large brown eyes saw her with complete understanding. "Why did God take them, and not me? Couldn't He have taken me with them? Did He have to leave me by myself, to endure this torture alone, Bailey?" Bailey wagged his tail, hoping the mention of his name meant he was going to be petted, or at least get his ears scratched. But she kept walking, measuring out the bedroom with restless steps and distracted talk. He put his head down and went to sleep.

"I don't want to go through the rest of my life like this. I can't. I won't." Beth stopped her pacing, thought of the pills in the bathroom cabinet. If she hadn't been such a coward, she'd have done it long ago. But still the thought of what God might do to her, held her back. Suicide was a frightening word, as were the doubts that tumbled in about her whenever she thought of that way out. Sobered, Beth sank onto the edge of the mattress. Too much of a coward to take her life, too scared to let Skip into her bed. What a mess, she thought, brushing back long tresses from her face.

What was left? The nursery? Tending and selling plants hardly seemed a good reason to keep going, but for the moment, it had to be enough. Standing, Beth went to the large walk-in-closet on one side of the bedroom. The nursery reminded her of Matt Taylor. He had survived his second day of work, and had a feeling he was there to stay the season out. The guy just refused to quit. For the first time that night, Beth smiled.She wondered if Luke's old nursery T-shirts would fit Matt.

Luke had helped out at the store when he wasn't on call at the hospital, and she had bought shirts especially for him. Shirts with her nursery logo on the front, like the ones she and Sylvia and Amy wore -- only bigger, to accommodate the man wearing them. Then Beth realized Matt was the first man to work at the nursery since Luke. The realization didn't settle her or make her feel good, especially as she dug around in Luke's clothing for those shirts. It felt as though she were betraying Luke somehow, by giving his "Bethy shirts," as he'd called them, to another man. She found them neatly folded and stacked where Luke had left them, untouched since his death.

"What am I supposed to do, Luke? Hold on to your things forever? You aren't coming back, and neither is Caleb." The sound of her own words crushed Beth to her knees and the sobs she had fought so hard to keep away, descended in full force. In the close darkness of the closet, Beth wept loudly.The morning of his third day of work, Matt found a stack of green T-shirts on the checkout counter.

"They're for you," Mrs. Carter said with a quick nod, as she headed out with a clipboard tucked under her arm. "From now on, wear those when you come to work. Without the store logo, you don't look like you belong here." "Really?" This surprised Matt, for he had thought he fit in fairly well, with his old jeans and cowboy hat. Then again, he was the only employee who didn't have "Beth's Garden Nursery" emblazoned across his chest. He picked up a neatly folded shirt, unfurled it and noted the slightly worn look of the material. No matter. It may have been used, but it was in better condition than the shirt currently on his back.

Taking the clothing to his truck, Matt pulled off his shirt, put on a "new" one, then returned to work with a hopeful spirit. Mrs. Carter had wanted him to look as though he belonged at the nursery. Maybe that meant she no longer wished him gone. Please, God, all he wanted was peace. Peace to do his job, to earn his paycheck and provide for his family. Sylvia had work that kept her in the store that day, leaving the outdoor tasks to Mrs. Carter and Matt.

He followed Mrs. Carter's instructions as they worked side by side at the potting table, transplanting short green plants into small plastic pots. "These will go by the cash register," Mrs. Carter explained. For some reason, she seemed to need to talk, to keep the air filled with someone's voice. When she didn't speak, she adjusted her ridiculously large hat and kept clearing her voice as though she were coming down with a cold. Matt subdued a groan of dismay. He'd just gotten Sylvia to leave him alone, surely Mrs. Carter wouldn't be next. The thought came to him that perhaps that was why Sylvia had backed off. To give her friend -- her boss -- a try at him next. That would explain the shirts, and the kinder treatment, if a mere lack of coldness could be called kindness.

"I'm hoping customers will want to give these pots as gifts." Mrs. Carter held a plain plastic container before her, her mouth pursed in thought. "Are your brothers and sister doing all right?" The question seemed so out of place, here at work, hands deep in soil and the smell of earth filling his nostrils, that Matt considered a moment before answering. "Yes, ma'am, they're fine." "And the little boy? I believe his name is Ryan? Is he happy?"

"Excuse me, Mrs. Carter," Matt straightened his shoulders, his voice stiffening as he spoke. "I'm grateful for this job, but I don't see how it's any of your business." She dismissed the question with a quick shrug. "I was just wondering, that's all. I didn't mean to pry." "I'm not trying to hurt your feelings, Mrs. Carter." "You didn't." "It's just that I'm so used to people asking questions, I've become gun-shy of good intentions." "You don't need to explain, Matt," she said, momentarily flicking her gaze on him as she reached for a trowel. "The last time I saw Ryan, he was crying. I only wondered if he was all right." "He's fine."

Mrs. Carter smiled, though Matt thought the smile looked somewhat forced. "You're very protective of him, aren't you." Matt remained silent. He didn't quite know how to take her remark, a part of him sensing resentment. Why she should resent him, he had no idea. He's a very sweet little boy." "Yes, he is." Matt held the pot as she dumped soil around the roots of the spindly young plant."I wonder if you know how lucky you are to have him," she said, packing the soil with gloved fingers. She nodded for him to tip the watering can over the dry earth.

"I'm blessed, and I know it," Matt said with an affirming nod. "That's why I do my best to protect him and the others." Mrs. Carter's mouth parted in a most becoming way, pink and soft and even warm. When she glanced at him again, the resentment was gone, replaced by something Matt couldn't name. Admiration, perhaps, but Matt didn't think so highly of himself to believe that. When the pink smile lingered for more than Matt felt comfortable, his previous concern returned."

I see the shirts fit you," she said, motioning for the next pot. Matt brought forward the next in line. "Yes, ma'am.""I don't suppose I could talk you into bringing your family over for dinner sometime." She gave him a sidelong glance. "No, ma'am." The words slipped out before Matt had a chance to consider his position as an employee; he owed her some kind of consideration for giving him this job, after all. But what kind of consideration and how much, he didn't know, only that he felt he was treading on tenuous ground. Mrs. Carter laughed quietly, as though not at all surprised by his answer.

"You're very independent, aren't you." Another non-question Matt decided needed no answer. He set aside the plant, picked up the next empty pot. "I'm not Sylvia, Matt. You don't have to avoid me too."He looked at Mrs. Carter warily. He'd been warned about her, and something told him the warning was valid. The desperate vulnerability that flashed in those green eyes made him beware, as did her gaze, every time it fell to his lips as he spoke. There was no doubt about it. He was stuck in a job with three lonely women, one of them being his boss.

"I'm not looking for anything but to stay out of trouble and to do my job, Mrs. Carter." She packed the loose soil around another pitiful looking plant he couldn't name. "I can understand that," she nodded. "I'm grateful for the work," he continued, "but if it comes with any strings attached, I'd appreciate it if you said so up front." She shook her head. "There's no strings -- not if you don't want them." "I don't." "Then that's that." She smiled, motioned for another pot and let the conversation fall silent. Beth scolded herself for speaking to Matt, and allowing herself to be caught in what had sounded like a thwarted attempt at seduction.

She hadn't intended that at all, although she couldn't deny the thought hadn't crossed her mind. Guilt seemed to be her lot in life, for it hounded her and gave her little respite, no matter what she did. The calendar on her office wall reminded her of it, and when that failed, the picture frame on her desk succeeded. Beth was growing desperate to forget. More than once that day, she toyed with the idea of calling Skip. Not that he would come. After all the putting off, stalling, and pleading for more time, she guessed he'd let her suffer awhile before giving in. He'd come to her after his pride had healed, and then they'd get together as he'd always wanted.

Sitting in her office, staring at the frame on her desk, Beth suddenly jerked her head up when Matt's voice broke into her thoughts. "What?" She looked at him with an almost impatient frown as he leaned against the door jamb. "What do you want?" "I said I changed my mind. If you still want to invite my family to dinner, we'll come." "May I ask why the sudden change of mind?" Matt lifted a shoulder. "I figure I owe you something. I'm willing to accept your invitation to dinner, but only if it includes my family. I'm not coming alone." She caught herself smiling. "I'm not chasing after you, Matt." He seemed unfazed. "I'm just trying to be polite, Mrs. Carter. There's a lot of us Taylors, and you just look so--" he stopped short. "Go on, Matt. How do I look?" "I don't know." He shifted uncomfortably. "Lonely. You look lonely." Swallowing back the tears that came too easily, Beth found herself powerless to deny his observation; he couldn't possibly know how right he'd been. She was so lonely, it hurt. "Are you going to cry?"

Matt looked somewhat horrified as she dabbed at the wetness gathering in her eyes. "No, I'm just tired," she finally managed in a steady voice. "Would this Saturday evening be convenient? I'll write down the directions to my house before you get off work." Matt sighed audibly. "Yeah, I guess it's all right." Looking as though he already regretted accepting the invitation, he tipped his hat, then strode out the store with his hands shoved into his pockets.

What he thought of her after that little display of tear-eyed weakness, only God and Matt Taylor knew."There is one alone [Beth], and there is not a second; yea, [s]he hath neither child nor brother... "Two are better than one... For if they fall, the one will lift up his fellow: but woe to [her] that is alone when [s]he falleth; for [s]he hath not another to help [her] up." ~ Ecclesiastes 4:8, 9, 10 ~

Chapter Four

The Panting Heart

"Withhold not... Thy tender mercies from me, O LORD: let Thy lovingkindness and Thy truth continually preserve me [Matt]." ~ Psalm 40:11 ~

Matt knew exactly what to think. He had been an idiot for accepting Mrs. Carter's invitation. He had let obligation get in the way of better judgement. He stooped to lift a potted plant, moved it to where Sylvia had directed, went back for another. The process was repetitive, leaving the mind free to think.

Tomorrow, he would take his family to his boss's house for dinner. Oh, he was a prize idiot, all right. The only thing stopping him from calling the whole thing off was guilt. He owed her something. His entire family owed her something. This job had meant they could survive a little longer, until he could find permanent work. The least they could do was show up and eat the lady's food.

"Matt." He looked over his shoulder, saw Sylvia behind him. She offered a diet can of soft-drink. "Thought you could use this." "Thanks." Matt accepted it, popped the top. Sylvia nodded distractedly. "What were you talking about to Beth just now-- when you went into her office?" The foaming soda caught in Matt's throat, and he coughed it down. "Something happened, and I want to know." Sylvia pinned him with a forceful look that made him stubborn instantly. It didn't matter that the question might be harmless, he didn't appreciate being forced. He gulped down the rest of the drink, crushed the can in his fist, tossed it into an open trash bin.

"Nothing much," he said, and resumed the pot moving. She thrust her hands on her hips, gave him a cautionary stare. Which he refused to acknowledge. Another pot down, five more to go. And maybe by then, Sylvia would leave. When she did, Matt silently thanked Heaven. These women were killing him.

Beth glanced up from the laptop on the desk, long enough to see the pout on Sylvia's face. "Why aren't you working?" "I saw him first, Beth." "Saw who?" "Don't play innocent. I'm taking about Matt. He was in here a few minutes ago, and when he left, you had a hopeful smile. I saw." "I don't have time for your games, Silvi. I really don't." "Did he ask you out?" With a sigh, Beth pushed back from the desk, eyed her jealous friend. "I only invited him and his family to dinner. Nothing else. Now if you're finished, I'd appreciate it if you got back to work."

The background sounds of a customer had Beth on her feet. She looked into the store, smiled when she saw Amy with three women at the checkout. Finally. Some business."You've already got Skip. I've got no one. It's not fair!" Beth turned, drew a long patient breath. "I told you already, it's only a family dinner. He's not mine. I don't think he's anyone's. Now would you please work?" "Are you sure?" Sylvia looked at her undecidedly."Yes, I'm sure I want you back to work." Sylvia rolled her eyes. "Are you sure he doesn't belong to anyone?"

"His clothes are always rumpled," Beth said, returning to her desk chair. "Does it look to you a woman is taking care of him?" "Are you sure it's only dinner?" Sylvia asked. "His whole family's going to be there," Beth said, turning back to her laptop. "Any more questions? Or can we work now?" "I guess." The pout outlining Sylvia's lips had faded into her usual, movie-star smile. "Have you and Skip got together yet?" Beth narrowed her eyes. "Have you been eavesdropping at my office door?" "Only a little," Sylvia laughed.

"Come on, Beth, what are you waiting for? You aren't getting any younger, you know." Mercifully, the phone rang and Beth had a good excuse to interrupt the conversation. Sylvia leaned forward, whispered in Beth's ear. "You'd better take what little you're offered. Call Skip." With a gloating smile,

Sylvia left Beth with a smarting heart. Her friend sure knew how to hurt, her when she wanted to.

Matt parked his truck outside the house, pulled the keys from the ignition. He needed to decompress, let himself relax and unwind before going inside. After his minor confrontation with Sylvia, she'd come back, smiling as though she hadn't a care in the world. Women. Maybe she'd been in her period or something, but whatever the case, all seemed to be back to normal-- at least, as normal as it ever got at the nursery. He opened the truck door, closed it, made sure it was locked before walking away. The nasty stare of the neighbor across the street couldn't be missed. The prison tat on the guy's biceps threatened all onlookers that its owner was not to be pushed around. Matt's own tattoo had been acquired at a shop, when he and his then-buddy had been drunk, but didn't have the same impact of his neighbor's. The man folded his arms across his chest, glared at Matt. The stance was that of someone demanding attention. Matt nodded to him, stepped across the street to talk.

"Howdy. Can I do something for you?" "Tell your brother to stay away from my daughter." "Your daughter?" "If I catch him hanging around Susan again" -- he paused, leaned forward -- "he'll be sitting on a toilet like a woman. Catch my drift?" Though Matt felt like backing away, he held his ground. Neither wanted to appear weak, but he had a hunch his neighbor didn't want a fight, only the threat of one. Matt nodded slowly. "I'll tell him." "You'd better do more than tell," the man said, hardening his stance. "Susan's already got a baby to take care of, and she's just seventeen. Just a baby herself."

A knot tightened in Matt's stomach. "Your brother isn't the father," the man said, reading the worry in Matt's face. "But I'm going to make sure he doesn't get my Susan into trouble. She's got enough."

"Matty's home!" Ryan shouted from the open doorway across the street, prompting both men to look at the Taylor house. "Stay where you're at, Ryan," Matt called to him. "I'll be there shortly." The angry father wasn't in the mood for more talk, and to be honest, neither was Matt. The men parted with a curt nod, and Matt strode back to the house, only to have Ryan rush out and greet him eagerly. "Matty, Matty, guess what?" The boy lifted his arms, and Matt picked him up. "Mrs. Lott made a cake!" "Did she?" Matt hefted the boy onto his hip, looked across the street and saw the man had gone.

"She said we couldn't eat it, until you got here!" "Oh, so that's why you're so happy to see me!" Matt tickled Ryan until the boy was laughing so hard he couldn't speak. The door opened, and Cassie stood inside, smiling when she saw Ryan with Matt. "How was your day, Matty?" "Okay, I guess. Where's Ethan?" Cassie shrugged. "Studying, I guess." Where, Cass?" "In his room. Why? What's wrong?" Her voice turned to worry so quickly, Matt was afraid she'd start having another panic attack. "I just want to talk to him, that's all," Matt said, putting the squirming boy down. "Cake, Matty! Cake!"

Matt gently tugged at Ryan's shirt. "Calm down, buddy; if there's cake, we're saving it for dessert." Sweet brown eyes turned stormy as Ryan looked up at Matt. "We have to wait?" "Please, Ryan." Matt ruffled his brother's black hair. "Be patient a little longer.""But, I want to eat it now." "Remember what I said about patience?" Thought briefly creased Ryan's forehead. "No." By now Cassie had retreated from the door, and was seated on the sofa with her arms wrapped about her knees. Walking Ryan inside, Matt closed the door, then went to check Cassie. She'd been getting more and more emotional, and the tears and panic seemed to come easier than usual.

He sank onto the cushion beside her. He knew how she felt. After the day he'd just had, Matt felt like curling into a ball, too. He put a hand on Cassie's shoulder. She was trembling, and when she looked up at him, her eyes brimmed with unshed tears. "Do you want to see the counselor again?" he asked, letting her settle into his shoulder for some big brother comfort."No," came her muffled response. "Did school go all right, Cass? "Yes." "Any bullies I should know about?" "No." Matt rubbed Cassie's arm, letting her know he was there and she wasn't alone.The excitement of cake momentarily forgotten, Ryan soberly stood by the sofa. "Is Cass all right?" "She's just a little over-wrought," Matt said gently. "She'll be fine in a minute." A lanky teenager sauntered into the living room, put his feet on the coffee table. "Hey, Matty, when'd you get home?" Matt looked Ethan over, his heart heavy when he considered what the neighbor had said. "I was told to give you a message." "Oh?" Ethan wore that insolent look teenagers are so good at, one that always made Matt sick with worry when he thought of Ethan's future. His brother was too much like himself at that age. "Susan's father wants you to stay away from her." "Oh, is that all." Ethan shrugged carelessly. "The way you were frowning, I thought it was something important." Matt checked Cassie, smiled when she looked calmer. "Do me a favor, would you, Cass? Take Ryan into the kitchen and get dinner started." "Sure, Matty." Cassie got up, and with Ryan bouncing excitedly behind her, the two went into the kitchen. Now that the younger ones were out of earshot, Matt turned his attention back to Ethan. "Have you been sleeping with Susan?" he asked seriously. Not yet," Ethan grinned. He sobered a little when Matt didn't smile. "No, we haven't done it. There's nothing to get excited about, Matty. All we did was make out." "Do I have your word concerning Susan?"She moved to the table, picked up her textbook to study. "Don't follow in my footsteps, Ethan." The teenager shrugged. "What set off Cass?" he asked, in an obvious attempt to change the subject. "Nothing much. She just got a little afraid." Matt stood up, looked at Ethan. "Stay away from Susan." "You can't tell me what to do. I'm almost eighteen." "Which means for the next several months you'll still be seventeen, so you'll do as I say." "Until then." Ethan shifted back onto his tailbone, leveled his rebellion at Matt. The two brothers had been tugging at each other ever since Matt had pulled them up from Texas and brought them to New Mexico for a brand new start. Ethan hadn't wanted to leave.With a reluctant groan, Ethan finally nodded. "Yeah, I guess." "Okay, then." Matt took a step toward the kitchen, stopped. He wanted to say more to Ethan, but knew it would only get shoved back in his face, so kept silent. "Dinner will be ready soon, so you'd better get your homework done." "Already did," Ethan called out, as Matt entered the kitchen. The tall stool Matt kept in the kitchen had been pulled from its place, and now sat before the counter with Ryan perched on its seat. Ryan watched Cassie start dinner, anxious for it to be ready, so they could get to the tall chocolate cake by Ryan's elbow. Not wanting dessert to wind up on the floor, Matt scooted it back a few inches, then relieved Cassie at the stove. Though Ethan had already finished his homework, he went to the table, flopped into a chair. Matt knew Ethan would never admit it out loud, but the teenager liked the company of his family. Especially when they could sit about the kitchen, the noise of siblings filling the empty spaces of quiet and too much solitude. Ryan peered at the temptation on the counter, moving so close he nearly dipped his nose into brown frosting. "It's chocolate, Matty." "Really?" Matt smiled laughingly at the boy. They rarely had homemade treats such as this. While Matt knew how to handle himself in the kitchen, his skills mainly covered basic survival. "I have some news," Matt said, noticing how the kitchen quickly fell into a hush. "Good news," he added, seeing Cassie grow fearful. "Mrs. Carter invited us to dinner, tomorrow." "She did?" Cassie set down her book, looked at Matt. "Why, Matty?" He shrugged. "I think she's lonely, and our family was handy." "Lonely?" Cassie tilted her head in thought. "But I thought she was supposed to be rich." "She is-- or at least, I guess she is." Matt stirred the simmering sauce, turned down the flame. "I guess some things money can't buy." "Maybe not, but it can sure buy a lot," Ethan said, folding his arms dreamily. "A sports car, designer shades--" "More cake," Ryan added excitedly. "You'd better watch that sweet tooth of yours," Matt said, giving a playful warning to Ryan. "You're going to rot out your baby teeth." "Did you say tomorrow night?" Ethan suddenly snapped from his daydream. "Yup." Ethan shook his head. "I can't come. I've got a heavy date, Saturday night." A dull groan filled Matt's chest. "I told you Susan was off limits." "It's not with Susan. Honest, Matty, I can't come." "This is my boss we're taking about. We have to come-- she's expecting all of us to be there." "She really expects us to give up a Saturday night?" "You're getting too old to whine," Matt said, checking the pan before the sauce burned. "Whatever date you've got, you'll just have to cancel. Which reminds me, who's it with?" "Just a girl from school." "When can we eat the cake, Matty?" "When it's time, Ryan. Who is she, Ethan?" "Casey Thompson. Her father is the manager at the grocery store on West Avenue. If you force me to cancel, Matty, I swear I'll get even with you. It's taken me weeks to get her to say yes." This prompted a sober look from Matt. "For her to agree to go out with me," Ethan said with a teenager roll of his eyes. "Lighten up, would you? I can't cancel. Your Mrs. Carter will just have to get over the disappointment and suffer without me." "She's not my Mrs. Carter, and you are coming." Matt dropped the stirring spoon into a holding saucer, the resulting clatter making Cassie jump. He could feel the tension build between him and Ethan again, and the two brothers stared at each other in silence. "I'll cancel." Ethan scowled as he said it, but he backed off. "Thanks, Ethan. I appreciate it." "Yeah, yeah." Ethan stood, left the kitchen with a defeated slump in his shoulders. Cassie looked at Matt plaintively. "Do I have to come, too?" Shaking his head, Matt chuckled wearily. "What is it with this family? This is free food, guys. Free homemade food, not the processed stuff we eat, but real, probably expensive, food." "Like what normal people eat?" Cassie asked. "What are you talking about? We're normal." Matt looked at his sister in baffled astonishment, then winked at her. She lit up with a laughing smile. It was good to see her happy again. Dessert couldn't come soon enough for Ryan, but when it did, he gobbled down all the chocolate cake Matt would allow. When it was over, Ryan had brown frosting on his cheeks-- a happy little piglet who's gotten its fill. No one felt like singing that night, but when Matt retrieved his guitar from the bedroom, everyone remained to listen. In those few moments with the children together, their stomachs full and their faces content, Matt didn't feel like the failure he knew he was. It didn't matter that he did the best he could. No matter how hard he tried, it never felt like enough. If he were a good man, a better man, he felt certain Ethan would've become a Christian long ago. Cassie wouldn't struggle with panic nearly as much, and Ryan... Ryan would be a little more patient. For a four-year-old though, Ryan wasn't doing half bad. Saturday morning, Matt let the kids sleep in, as was their right on a non-school day. He envied them their rest, their lack of responsibility. He was their brother, not their parent, and when he had to get up early and go to work, a part of him was tempted to resent his situation. With it came the old hunger, screaming at his resistance to be fed. Stop trying and give in. Give in, admit you can't handle it. With the release of all those burdens, you could score again. Just one more hit. You know how peaceful it'll make you feel. Beyond peaceful. Euphoric. When was the last time you felt that? Matt clenched his jaw. "God, hold me back. Please, hold me back." He released a pent up breath, turned into the parking lot of the nursery. He needed activity, something to keep his mind from drugs, and the chemical rush that would free him. As usual, Matt was the first employee to arrive, not that it surprised Beth anymore. But this morning, he seemed impatient to be given direction, and dove straight into his work like a maniac. She stayed out of his way, let him work off whatever bothered him. By lunch break, she noticed he had calmed and was looking more like his normal self. She had to bite her lip to keep from smiling when he turned down Sylvia's invitation to join Sylvia and Amy for lunch at the restaurant. His refusal was adamant, and not even Amy's polite begging could make him change his answer. Beth had to admit to some curiosity when he left to sit in his pickup and eat lunch. It was none of her business, but she wondered what kind of lunch he had packed, if it satisfied his hunger after all that activity. He'd already put in a hard, if frantic, day's work, and it was only noon. She wished he'd bring his lunch inside the store, eat where she could happen by and perhaps strike up a conversation. But he didn't, and it wasn't until an hour before the nursery closed that Beth had a good opportunity to draw Matt aside. "Here's the directions to my house," she said, handing him a folded slip of paper. "I hope you can read my handwriting. People tell me I write in hieroglyphics, not English." Matt quickly glanced at the map, then stuffed it in his pocket. "What time you want us?" "Six thirty." Beth didn't attempt more humor. She could tell Matt was tired, and probably didn't want to come, though he was polite enough to try and hide it from her. Beth closed the nursery at five, but didn't stay behind to plan a weekend with Sylvia, as they frequently did on Saturday nights. Instead of hanging out at a bar, Beth would be cooking dinner for five. The thought made her smile all the way home. She'd planned the menu and bought groceries yesterday, anticipating the fact she wouldn't have much time to prepare the meal. After Bailey saw she was busy, he went back to his sofa and left the kitchen to the mad woman dashing about in an apron. Chili cooked in a large pot over the stovetop, corn bread baked in the oven, their aroma filling the kitchen with the promise of a Mexican dinner. It felt good to be doing something for someone else, to cook for someone besides herself. Contrary to Mrs. Carter's claims at hieroglyphic handwriting, Matt easily followed her directions. He had finally gotten everyone bathed and dressed in their Sunday best, and successfully potty checked Ryan before buckling him into the car seat. Matt glanced in the rearview mirror, checked Cassie and Ryan in the back seat of the pickup's extended cab. Cass wore her best jeans and the pink top she'd been given the last time their mom had visited. She looked like the little girl Matt knew she still was. "I'm okay, Matty," Cassie said, smiling when she noticed him in the mirror. He nodded, not trying to make her feel more self conscience than she already did.

She had fussed over what to wear, right up until Matt had declared it was time to leave. The land became more agricultural West of Las Cruces, crops and orchards spanning between the occasional house. He checked the map, turned onto a dirt road that led away from the main highway. The fidgeting teenager beside Matt grew more restless. "I can't believe I cancelled with the captain of the cheerleading squad. For this." Matt could hear the scowl in his voice. "For a dinner at an old lady's house." "Hey, it's free food, so stop squawking."

Matt would be glad when this was over. He felt uncomfortable coming to Mrs. Carter's house in the first place, even more because she was his boss. If Matt had any lingering doubts as to her being rich, they were forgotten when he saw where she lived. At the end of the dirt road, not far from the highway, a spanish style hacienda came into view. It sprawled to the left and to the right, one story high, and flanked by large bay windows. A light shone above each window, and in the dim of shade trees and a setting sun, it looked like a warm adobe invitation to come inside.

"Wow." Ethan didn't unfasten his seat belt, just stared at the house. "So much for the lonely widow theory. She must be worth a bundle." Matt shot his brother a look. "Don't you dare say anything like that when we get inside." The sound of a vehicle pulling up outside the house prompted Beth to check the dining table and make sure everything was ready. They were right on time. As if Matt Taylor would be late. She tugged at the strings on her apron, caught her reflection in the mirror by the entryway. She hoped she didn't look old in her white slacks and red top. Her outfit had been picked to make her look at least five years younger than she was, but to her dismay, she thought the woman staring back looked every bit her age.

The doorbell rang, reminding Beth it was too late for yet another wardrobe change. Summoning her hostess manners, she opened the door, invited the Taylors inside. There were four of them-- three boys and a girl-- and they all looked out of their element. Even so, she thought Matt was... what had Sylvia called him? stunning. He was that, and more. His long sleeved button-down shirt, crisp black jeans, Stetson and polished boots gave a formal but casual appearance. Aftershave clung to the air about him, carried in the light breeze to Beth, made her senses quicken. The girl, Cassie, hung close to Matt's side, her long blonde hair drawn into a ponytail. There was a woman blossoming under that pink top, one that seemed unaware of the fact she was on the verge of becoming a young adult. Wide blue eyes, a wistfully shy smile. Cassie exuded someone unsure of herself, unsure of the world around her.

"You must be Cassie," Beth said, smiling as kindly as she could. Beth wanted to give her a welcoming hug, but Cassie looked so timid, Beth refrained herself and shook Cassie's hand instead. Matt nodded to the teenage boy. "That's Ethan, and Ryan, you've already met." With a grunted hello, Ethan shoved his hands into his pockets. He bore a resemblance to Matt, but no more than was usual for brothers. More than the others, Ethan didn't look as though he wanted to be there. Beth smiled. "It's nice to meet you all. Won't you come into the living room? Dinner will be ready in just a few minutes."

They hadn't even entered the living room, when Ryan began tugging at Matt's pant leg. He pointed a small finger at the sofa, spoke in an excited hush. "A doggie, Matty! She has a doggie!" On the sofa, the excitement of strangers had Bailey's tail working in overtime. "Is it all right if he pets your dog?" Matt looked to Beth for permission. "Ryan loves dogs." "Sure, only..." Beth tried to push down her concern. "Please be careful, Ryan. Bailey is a very old dog. So don't tug his fur. All right?" Ryan nodded, grinned excitedly as the dog climbed off the sofa, came over to sniff him. Ryan pet Bailey like a pro, and before long, had Bailey eating out of the palm of his hand. Literally. When Beth brought out a large platter of tortilla chips and salsa, Ryan fed most of his to Bailey, but at Beth's insistence, without the salsa.

The Taylors had taken the sofa vacated by Bailey, leaving the second sofa entirely to Beth. Dinner would be ready when she took the cheese enchiladas out of the microwave, where they had been keeping warm. A little longer. Just a few more minutes. She had a hunch as soon as the Taylors were done eating, they would leave. And she wasn't ready for that. "How old are you Cassie?" Beth was drawn to the feminine young woman, her soft blue eyes and sweet demeanor. The way Cassie looked at Matt, Beth could tell the girl thought the world of her oldest brother. Perching the cowboy hat on his knee, Matt nudged her in the side. "Go on, Cass, she's talking to you." "Twelve and a half." The words came out so softly, Beth nearly didn't hear her.

Ethan folded his arms, as though daring Beth to ask him the same question. She wisely chose not to. "Do you like school, Cassie?" The girl shrugged. "I guess." Laughter bubbled up from the floor as Bailey licked Ryan's face repeatedly. The louder Ryan laughed, the more frantically he was licked. It was a moment Beth delighted to watch. "Do you have kids, Mrs. Carter?" Beth looked up, saw Matt smile politely. "I did-- once," she said, steadying her breath before explaining. "My son died in an airplane accident with my husband." The stunned look on Matt's face was what she had expected. Whenever people learned of her loss, they frequently didn't know what to say.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Carter. I didn't know." She dismissed his apology. "I don't talk about it much-- at all, really." She wondered why. "It was a long time ago," she added. "A very long time." "How long?" he asked. "Why--" Beth stopped. They had died almost four years ago, to the day. The anniversary that marked the accident was next week. "Four years. It's been four years." "That's not very long," Matt said. "You must miss them a lot." "Yes, I do." She looked at Matt, wondered if he could understand. It had only been four years, and yet to her, they had been an eternity. She needed dinner to be ready. Those dark eyes, handsome face were seeing too much. She stood, excused herself.

Dinner was eaten in silence, punctuated by polite talk. Ryan hurried through his food, then after asking to be excused, ran off to play with Bailey. "He must keep you on your toes," Beth said, in deference to Matt. "What was he like as a two-year-old?" "Shorter." Matt smiled good-naturedly. "Always has been a bundle of energy." He shrugged. "You know how they are at that age." When she bit her lip, he stiffened. "Sorry. I only assumed... You look at Ryan as though you're remembering." "My little boy, Caleb, died when he was two. He'd be six years old by now." Matt was silent. He considered her, the linen tablecloth, his bowl of chili. And said nothing. What was there to say? Sorry? Beth restrained a bitter laugh.

"How'd they die?" Ethan asked. "Ouch! Matty, all I did was ask. Stop kicking me!" "It's all right, Matt, I don't mind answering. It was a private airplane. My husband loved to fly, got his pilot's license as soon as he could afford the time. He took Caleb out for a short trip and their plane had mechanical failure. No one survived the crash." Beth marveled at her own stoicism. She knew she would pay for it later, when they left. For now, she was glad she had spoken without the embarrassment of tears. Once again, Matt was silent. What did those dark eyes see when they looked at her? she wondered. Matt studied her with careful reserve, as though he had difficulty forgetting she was his boss. She wished he would. Just once. When he didn't say more, she knew he didn't want to forget. For whatever reason, she wasn't enough to make him think past his job. She tried to look at it from his viewpoint.

It was probably the job itself, that held him back. She hoped it held him back -- that there was something to hold him back from -- that he wanted to do something else than be so painfully polite. Beth tried to tell herself it didn't matter, but knew it wasn't true. Deep down, where secrets are held and hopes are grown, she knew it mattered very much. She liked Matt, liked him even more after seeing him with his family. And the quiet feeling told her that liking would only grow stronger the better she knew him. "Lord, all my [Beth's] desire is before Thee; and my groaning is not hid from Thee. My heart panteth..." ~ Psalm 38:9, 10 ~