Chapter Five

"Blessed are they that mourn: for they shall be comforted... Blessed are the merciful: for they shall obtain mercy."

~ Matthew 5:4, 7 ~

That explained a lot, really. Her loneliness, the longing in her eyes. She had lost so much, it was understandable. He felt sorry for her, but that pity only went so far. Now that he understood her better, it made him all the more uncomfortable.

He hadn't expected to see her in anything but baggy clothing and a nursery shirt, and rebuked himself for being shocked when she appeared at the door in something else. Surely, Mrs. Carter wouldn't wear work clothes at home. But that outfit wasn't what Matt had expected, or wanted. It made her look different. It made her look more desirable.

As Matt finished his bowl of chili, he struggled not to think about it. He hadn't been intimate in such a long time, he felt the danger of awareness cautioning him to step carefully. He hadn't wanted to notice, but he had, and now that he had, he must back off.

Dessert brought Ryan back to the table, laughing and bursting with talk of what a great dog Bailey was. Matt was glad Ryan was having such a good time, though he couldn't help wishing Mrs. Carter owned a goldfish. Bailey would only make Ryan's pleading for a puppy grow stronger, and it pulled at Matt's already low spirits. Why couldn't she have a stupid cat? And why did she have to dress so nicely?

Matt felt under siege, and by the time dinner was over, he was more than ready to go home.

"Maybe," Mrs. Carter said as they filed to the front door, "you could all come for dinner next week."

"No thanks." Matt winced a little at the abruptness of his refusal, but the last thing he wanted was a repeat of tonight. He planted his hat on his head with a firm tug, gave her a nod good-bye. "Thanks for the meal. I hope we didn't put you to too much trouble."

"You didn't." Mrs. Carter's lips were pulled into a thin, pained smile. The pain he saw in her eyes seemed more understandable, less of a puzzle. Her loneliness was palpable, and he could nearly feel it beat in his chest, pump through his heart. He knew what it felt like to be alone, to feel as though no one on earth cared for your soul. Though their pain was not identical, he identified it and understood it.

Yet he could not help her. In fact, he felt helpless to do anything but run.

Matt ushered his family outside, waited patiently for Ryan to part with Bailey. He lifted Ryan into his car seat, buckled him in. He rounded the truck, paused when he noticed Mrs. Carter still standing by her front door.

She stepped toward him, her smile sad and subdued.

"Cass, Ethan-- get in the truck. We'll leave in a minute." Matt moved toward Mrs. Carter, stuffed his hands helplessly into his pockets and wondered what to say.

Her arms folded against the chill of the evening air. "I appreciate you bringing your family out here, Matt. It was kind of you to share them with me, even for this one time."

With a sigh, Matt looked off into the distance. "You're welcome," he said finally.

"Matt, I'm not--" she stopped. "I won't ask you and your family to dinner again, and I'll leave you alone from here on out if that's what you want."

His chest rumbled with inward laughter. "The day you women leave me alone, I'll eat my hat."

Mrs. Carter's soft smile quickened his breath. She looked at him, and his insides twisted a bit, as though her very gaze could rearrange him from the inside out. "I like you, Matt. I like you well enough to stop bothering you, for I can see plainly that's what I've been doing."

He shrugged casually. "No harm done. We had to eat."

"Well, thank you for coming out this evening." When she rubbed her arms, he felt the urge to find a jacket and put it around her shoulders. He had no jacket, and when he remembered he hadn't, his feet refused to move. He knew he should go back to the truck, get in, and not look back. But he couldn't.

Instead, he stood there like an idiot, and gave her the opportunity to talk some more.

"Would it be possible..." Mrs. Carter bit her lip in a very Cassie-like manner, endearing his employer to him, almost without his realizing what had happened. "Would it be possible for us to be friends? If it makes you uncomfortable, I'll let it drop and never bring it up again. It's just that--"

"It's so hard being alone?" he finished.

She nodded in agreement. "Somehow, I think you know what I'm feeling."

"In a way, I do." He shifted in his boots, wished he had already left and were miles away by now. "I guess we could be friends. I'm not sure it's a good idea, though. I'm warning you up front, I'm not looking or wanting anything but mild friendship."

"Thank you, Matt. I understand. Will you shake hands on it?"

She extended a pale hand, and after a few moments thought, he took it in his own. He felt the warmth of her hand, the delicate fingers lightly roughened by the occasional contact with soil, her faint pulse as it quickened with his.

He quickly let go.

"Good-night, Mrs. Carter." He turned to leave, heard her call after him in a gentle voice he hadn't known she possessed.

"Good-night, Matt. See you on Sunday."

With a lump in his throat, he remembered they attended the same church. "Yeah, see you on Sunday." He climbed into the truck, only to find Ethan staring at him with raised brows.

"Well? What's your problem?" Matt asked.

"I'm not the one with a problem," Ethan said with a laugh. "I think your boss likes you, Matty."

"Shut up."

"You told us she was an old lady," Ethan continued, as Matt backed away from Mrs. Carter's home. "That was no old woman."

"I never said she was old." Matt frowned at his brother. He didn't think he had ever called her old. She wasn't all that old, just older than him. What was she-- twenty-eight? thirty? He caught himself, shoved his interest aside as rapidly as he could.

"What did she talk to you about?" Ethan asked.

"She wants us to be friends." Matt cast a glance at Ethan. He saw Ethan's disbelief. "Why? You don't think she's telling the truth?"

"Maybe she believes she is," Ethan shrugged, "but that's sure not the way she was looking at you, Matty."

"Yeah, that's what I thought, too." He sighed, snorted disgust at the sound of Ethan's laughter. "Would you cut it out? I don't see what's so funny!"

"When she proposes marriage, can I be the best man?" Ethan doubled over in laughter, until Matt gave him a swift kick in the leg. The teenager turned to look out his darkened window. From Ethan's reflection, Matt could see him still smiling.

Sunday morning, Beth went to church for the first time in a long while. She tried to tell herself it was for godly reasons, that it wasn't just to see Matt and his family again. As she had predicted, she had cried herself to sleep last night, only to awaken with red eyes and a puffy face. The thought of meeting the Taylors gave her a reason to get out of bed, dress, and come to church. She felt depressed it took a reason like that to make her come. She sat in the pews with people she barely knew, half listening to the pastor, half searching the congregation for Matt.

The sermon over, she accepted a hearty thanks from Pastor Mark for giving Matt his job. Guilt kept her from accepting the gratitude without protest.

"You're being too modest," Pastor Mark said, touching her arm warmly. "That job is just what the Taylors need right now. I'm just grateful Matt is finally accepting help from someone. Heaven knows, I've tried to do more. But you know how he is."

Unsure what he meant, Beth nodded absently.

He sighed heavily. "Matt is so independent, so self-sufficient, he's a hard guy to help. Ever since he and his family moved to Las Cruces two years ago, he hasn't asked for help but once or twice. He uses the food pantry here at church-- a lot of the needy families around here do."

"Do you know what happened to their mother?" Beth asked.

"Such a sad situation. There's nothing good I can say about her, only that she has enough sense to allow Matt guardianship of the children. It's to his credit those kids are still together. He's made a lot of sacrifices, taking care of those kids-- pushed himself to the point of breaking, if you ask me. I wish he'd let someone think of his own needs once in a while, and not just the children's." Pastor Mark shrugged. "But you know Matt."

No, she didn't know Matt, but what she heard seemed consistent with what she had seen.

Someone called the pastor over to their group, and he excused himself before Beth had a chance to ask more.

It wasn't until Beth had left the crowded building, that she saw the Taylors. Ethan hadn't come, but Matt, Cassie, and Ryan had. She watched as they got inside that old pickup truck of Matt's, lifted a hand in friendly greeting as their vehicle pulled past her in the parking lot.

Matt nodded to her, and then they were gone

In a move unlike Sylvia, she came to work early. Monday mornings, she usually slept in to nurse a hangover, but today, she looked sober and steady as she stood in Beth's office for a report on the dinner with Matt.

"There's nothing more to tell, Silvi. They came, they ate, they left. End of story."

"Are they coming to your house for dinner, again?"

"I have no idea," Beth said, beginning to rebel at the way Sylvia prompted-- no, demanded-- information, as though it were a right, and not a favor from a friend. Beth was only thankful Matt didn't work Mondays, where he could walk in and overhear their discussion.

"I think I'll ask him out," Sylvia said, leaning against the desk, her painted mouth parted in a glossy pout. "Wear something special for the occasion. You know, something unforgettable."

Beth kept her thoughts on the matter to herself. Had she been trying to help Sylvia-- which she certainly was not-- she would've told her friend that Matt didn't like revealing clothing. Her red top had hardly been revealing, and yet, Beth had the distinct impression it had almost scared away the very man she had been trying to attract.

"Matt strikes me as a man who likes bold women." Sylvia preened her hair in the reflection of the photo frame on the desk. "I know his type."

Beth wasn't so sure. She had a different impression, but that, too, she kept quiet.

The phone rang, and Beth waved Sylvia out of the room before picking up. Whoever it was, whatever the reason, it came as a welcome change from Sylvia's plotting. Beth picked up the receiver, was unexpectedly greeted by the sobs of a girl.

"Who is this, please?" Beth asked.

"M-Mrs. Carter?"

"Cassie? Cassie Taylor? Is that you?"

"Yes," the voice trembled. "Could you come, Mrs. Carter? I... I need your help."

"Are you hurt?" Beth snatched the car keys from the desk drawer. "Are you bleeding? Do you need first aid?"

"Please, come." The line dropped into a dial-tone

It didn't take five minutes for Beth to hand over the nursery to Sylvia, jump into her car, and head for the Taylors' house. She had bandages in her purse, a tiny bottle of hand sanitizer that could clean wounds until proper medical attention, and aspirin to help with the pain. She was a mother, and though her own child had passed away, her instincts were very much alive and pulsing with maternal alarm.

Beth parked the car outside the mobile home, raced to the door, jammed her thumb into the doorbell.

"Where is Matt?" she breathed. "How could he leave Cassie by herself at a time like this! What if I hadn't been here?"

The door opened, and Beth caught her breath as she came face to face with the very person she had all but accused of neglect a second before.

"Mrs. Carter! What are you doing here?" Matt didn't move aside to let her in, but stood there in stunned surprise

"I'm here because your sister called me," Beth said. "Is she hurt badly? She was crying, but hung up before I could get much else from her."

"Cassie?" Matt frowned. "She's in school, Mrs. Carter."

"No, she's not," Ryan said, tugging at Matt's pant leg for attention. "She's in her bedroom, Matty."

Matt shook his head, lifted the boy into his arms. "You'll have to excuse Ryan. He sometimes doesn't understand the difference between pretend and real.

"But she is in the bedroom. The school bus left without her."

"Cassie called me at the nursery, Matt. Could I come inside? She's still here, and asked for my help."

"Come in," Matt said, his voice troubled. He kept Ryan in his arms, led the way down a short hall on the right side of the living room, straight to a closed door. "This is Cassie's room," he said, and knocked. "Cass? Cass, sis, are you in there?" When there was no answer, he tried the handle. "It's locked." He set Ryan down. "Cass?" He knocked harder, more urgently. "Are you hurt, Cassie?"

"No," a wavering reply finally came. "Is she there, Matty? Did she come?"

"Yes, Cassie, I'm here." Beth stepped forward, listened intently for the soft voice. "Why don't you open the door, and let us help you?"

"Yeah, Cass, open the door!" Ryan shouted. Matt gave the boy a quieting look, and Ryan obeyed.

The door cracked open, and Beth could see Cassie's tear streaked face. Matt put a hand on the door, forcing it open, but Cassie put her shoulder into it and stopped it from opening any further.

"Cass, let us in," Matt said, giving her the same look he had with Ryan. Beth could see the surprise on Matt's face when it didn't work.

"Just her," Cassie said, her voice pleadingly persuasive. "Please, Matt. Just her."

"Tell me you're not hurt."

"I'm not."

"All right, Cass." He stepped back, let Beth into the bedroom without him. When Ryan tried to follow, Matt grabbed the boy's shirt. "Oh, no you don't, buddy. If I can't go, neither can you."

Beth shut the door behind her, saw Cassie standing in a pink bathrobe, her eyes brimming with fresh tears. There were no missing limbs, no cuts or bruises, nothing but those distressed tears to indicate anything was wrong.

Beth took a slow, calming breath. "I came as soon as I could, Cassie. How did you know my nursery's phone number?" She looked around for a phone, saw a cheap cell phone on the mattress behind Cassie. "Did you call information?"

Cassie nodded "yes," then reached into her robe to produce a wad of toilet paper stained red.

"Oh, I see." Beth was careful not to smile, though she felt instantly better knowing what the problem was.

"I've got my period," Cassie said, her voice small and embarrassed. "I couldn't go to Mrs. Lott, because she's too old." Cassie dried more tears against the shoulder of her terry robe.

"Who's Mrs. Lott, dear?"

"Our next door neighbor. She babysits Ryan."

"Okay. I'm here, and you're going to be fine. You know that, don't you? Periods are perfectly normal. I know it looks bad, but I promise you won't bleed to death."

Cassie smiled weakly, nodded that she understood.

"Do you have your own bathroom?" Beth moved past Cassie, saw that she did. "Let's get you cleaned up. I have an emergency Maxi in my purse."

Minutes later, Beth went to find Matt. She didn't have far to look, and all but bumped into him outside Cassie's bedroom door.

"What's wrong with her?" Matt asked, agitation and worry evident in his voice, his stance. He folded his arms, waited for an explanation. At his side, Ryan followed Matt's example.

"Cassie has become a woman," Beth said in a hushed voice.

"She's what?"

"She has her period."

"Oh." Matt relaxed enough to chuckle. "For a minute there, you had me scared. Ryan, why don't you go play with your toys?"

Ryan frowned, but did as he was told.

"Is Cass holding up all right?" Matt asked. Beth could see he tried hard not to laugh.

"She just needed some help," Beth said. "Some womanly help."

"I guess she's going to need a run by the store. Thanks for coming. I can handle it from here."

"Actually, I was hoping I could take Cassie shopping." Beth held her breath, waited for Matt to object.

He did, without missing a beat.

"I appreciate your help-- I really do. But I can take care of my own sister. If she needs something more, I'll get it for her, myself."

"She needs a bra."

"A what?"

"You know, a woman's undergarment?"

Matt looked at her blandly. "I'll take her to the store, right after I call the school to let them know she's not coming. Thank you for helping my sister, Mrs. Carter." He stared at her, willing her to leave by sheer force of willpower.

It almost worked.

"Please, Matt, it would embarrass Cassie to have to sort things out in the store with her brother, especially when she's new to all of it. This is something better left to a woman."

"But--" Matt sighed, stared at the closed bedroom door. "All right. Take her. Give me the receipt when you return, and I'll pay you back. Are you sure she's old enough, though? And, isn't this early for her to get a period? She just a little kid!"

"She's a young woman, and I went through the same thing when I was about her age."

"Mrs. Carter." He stopped her, hesitated before letting her back into the bedroom. "Cassie is kind of fragile. She's been through a lot, and sometimes everything gets to her and she slips into a panic attack. It's why I make sure she carries a cell phone everywhere she goes. To give her some confidence, give her some security that if things get too much, she can call me for help."

"I'll be gentle with her," Beth nodded in understanding. "Was she ever abused or neglected? She's so timid, I couldn't help but wonder."

Matt stiffened. He looked at Beth as though carefully weighing the consequences of telling her the full truth.

"I can be trusted not to spread gossip, Matt."

He rubbed the back of his neck, stared at the toes of his socks until he decided to answer. "Cass had a rough childhood. Her father beat her once when she was five, when he was drunk and she couldn't get out of his way fast enough. When I found out, I managed to throw the bum out of the house, even though Mom put up a fight to keep him. Cass wasn't hurt seriously, but it left a scar in here growing up," Matt said, touching his heart. "She became more afraid, more fearful of being abandoned. Our parents routinely forgot about us, and it wasn't unusual for the younger ones to search the cupboards for something to eat because Mom spent all the money on booze."

"I'm sorry," Beth said.

"Yeah." Matt looked at her with a half smile. "Everyone always says the same thing-- sorry. Sounds kind of lame, doesn't it? Your husband and boy get killed, and all I can say is 'sorry.' Mom is drunk, the electricity is out because no one paid the bills, and Cassie is crying. How many times did I tell her the same thing? Sorry. Sorry I wasn't there to make sure you had something to eat, that I left you and Ethan to fend for yourselves again." Self-reproach clouded Matt's handsome face. "I should've been there for them. At least I had my act together when Ryan was born. He had it better than the other two."

"Those kids are blessed to have you, Matt."

"No, they're not. They just got stuck with me, that's all." He shook himself, and Beth sensed he regretted saying as much as he had.

She refrained from asking questions, though she thought it unfair he should be so hard on himself; Matt couldn't have been more than a kid, himself, at the time. She watched that youthful face regain composure, heard the strength come back to his voice, and knew the time for heartfelt talk had passed.

"When will you have Cass back?" he asked.

"After lunch. I thought I'd take her to the mall. We'll eat in the food court."

He nodded agreement, then stopped her a second time. "I'll be expecting those receipts."

To Matt's credit, he didn't tease or make fun of Cassie when she emerged from the bedroom. From what Beth had seen of Matt's consideration for his sister, Beth hadn't thought he'd give Cassie a hard time. Beth was glad to see she had been right.

He only gave Cassie a hug, reminded her she could come to him with anything at all, and then told her to enjoy herself with Mrs. Carter. Ryan clamored to come with them, but Matt held the boy back, promised to take some time from the newspaper and play with him.

Beth went to her car, unlocked the passenger door for Cassie. "Do you mind if we make a quick stop by the nursery, first?" Beth asked.

Cassie nodded timidly, her long blonde hair trailing over one shoulder. She was very pretty, Beth thought, as they pulled away from the Taylors' house.

"When I was about nine years old," Beth said, deciding talk was better than quiet, "I begged my mom to dye my hair blonde. I couldn't stand being a redhead." She glanced at Cassie, saw the smile.

"I don't see why, Mrs. Carter. Your hair is lovely."

"You think so?" Beth laughed softly. "My hair is a mass of red tangles, if I don't wear them in a braid or a bun. I once hacked them off, wore it short. Then my hair went out in all directions, and I vowed never to repeat that mistake again."

"Oh, no, I think your hair would look good if you wore it loose." Cassie looked at Beth, and Beth could feel the scrutiny. "Maybe you could get it cut, so it wouldn't be quite so long. Maybe just below your shoulders. I wish my hair did something. All it does is lay flat."

"You have the hair I always wanted," Beth said, laughing at the irony. "Here we are. I'll be just a minute. Roll down the window if you get hot." Beth got out, walked into the nursery where Sylvia was chatting with an actual customer.

"Is the emergency over?" Sylvia asked, pausing a moment to speak to Beth. "Is your friend all right?"

"Yes, everything's fine." Beth waited for the customer to finish, then spoke to Sylvia. "I need you to run things around here for a few hours."

Sylvia raised her brows. "Okay. What's up?"

"If the Garcia delivery comes while I'm gone, make sure they unload the plants in back, out of the way."

"Yes, yes," Sylvia dismissed Beth's concern. "I know what to do. You've left me in charge before. So who's this friend? Anyone I know?"

Beth ignored the question by moving quickly to the entrance. "I'll be back in a few hours. Don't leave the nursery unattended when you break for lunch.

Sylvia rolled her eyes, but followed Beth out a short distance into the parking lot. Beth saw the question in Sylvia's eyes, as Sylvia saw the girl in the car. Sylvia couldn't know it was Matt's sister, for they didn't bear a great resemblance to each other, but Beth was determined not to let Sylvia know, and hurried into the car before her friend could ask again.

"Did you get hot?" Beth asked, not waiting for Cassie's reply before rolling down a window in the stuffy car.

"Are you sure you have the time for this?" Cassie asked, as Beth headed the car in the direction of the mall. "We don't have to go now-- not if you're busy."

"Getting cold feet?" Beth darted a smile at Cassie. "I wouldn't be doing this, if I didn't want to, Cassie."

Monday morning shoppers were few, leaving the mall relatively quiet. Beth led the way to a garment store, explained to Cassie the cryptic bra sizes and what they meant. After purchasing what Cassie needed, the girls left the store and meandered at a leisurely pace down one wing of the mall. Cassie relaxed noticeably, looking very much relieved, as though she finally had something that had worried her for some time.

They passed a salon, and Beth paused. Her hair had grown to her waist, and though a long braid had become part of her routine, Beth was ready for change.

She turned to Cassie. "Would you mind if we stopped here?"

Cassie's blue eyes smiled excitedly. "Oh, I think you should!"

"I haven't had my hair cut in years," Beth said, as they went inside. "Not since before Caleb was born. Luke liked my hair long, so I just let it grow." A hair stylist approached them, and Beth told him what she wanted. "Nothing drastic. Just a foot off the bottom."

She sat while the man unfastened her braid.

"You have beautiful hair," he said, freeing it into a tangled curtain. "Nice, thick, curly auburn hair. You've been hiding it in that rope."

Cassie smiled, turned down another stylist who approached her.

"Would you like a haircut, too, Cassie?" Beth looked at her, saw the wistful eyes turn to worry. "This is on me."

The stylist grew excited at the possibilities, and an instant after Cassie had agreed, went to work on the blonde mane.

Cassie was the first to finish. She looked in the mirror, and Beth saw her gasp in delighted surprise. Her hair had been cut to just below her chin, the volume of hair styled into a cute layered bob that moved as she did. She had been given long bangs, a few inches short from the rest of the cut, to hang loose over her face in a sweet fall of hair.

"Oh, Beth, I love it!"

"So do I," Beth said, hoping she would look at least half as good when her haircut was over. She kept wincing as long tresses fell to the floor, as though each cut gave her pain. It did, in a way. She was cutting Luke's hair, changing it from the way he liked it. Beth had never been very conscious of her looks, only the lack of them. If Luke was happy, so was she.

"I'm sorry. Did I pull your hair?" asked the stylist, as Beth dried a tear from her cheek.

Beth shook her head "no," and felt Cassie take her free hand in a quiet show of support.

"I'm just being ridiculous," Beth said, but held onto Cassie's hand.

After what seemed to be an eternity, but what turned out to be only an hour, Beth's hair had been shampooed, cut and styled. When she looked into the mirror, she winced. Her long, long hair was gone, replaced by a mane that came just below her shoulders. It volumed with natural curls, still as red as ever, and just as attention-getting.

"Well, I suppose it looks all right. I had to get it cut sometime." She turned to Cassie. "What do you think?"

"I think," Cassie said, coming to her side to look in the mirror with her, "that if I had such magnificent hair, I would never wear another braid in my entire life."

"Magnificent?" Beth wasn't so sure about that, but at least she looked as though she had rejoined the modern age.

The bill paid for and the stylists tipped, the girls left with their new looks.

"Are you allowed to wear any makeup?" Beth asked. "As long as we're here, we might as well get you something appropriate for a young woman."

Cassie made no protest, but followed Beth into a store. They bought shimmery lip-gloss, soft pink nail polish, to complete Cassie's new look.

They made their way to the food court, ordered lunch, and chose a quiet table. Cassie sipped from a straw as they watched people walk by.

"I've never really enjoyed shopping before, but I have to admit I had a good time this morning." Beth popped another french fry into her mouth, glanced at her watch. "It's getting late, and I have to get back to the nursery. Come on, you can finish that soda in the car. We'll stop by the grocery store for Maxis before I drop you off at home."

They walked outside, the sun causing Beth to pull her sunglasses out and put them on. Cassie beamed at her, as radiant as the sunshine Beth hid from.

"I had such a good time," Cassie said, two shopping bags dangling from one hand, her soda cup in the other. "I always wondered what it would be like to have a real mom, and today..." Cassie shrugged, "I don't know. I could kind of imagine my mom and I doing something like this, you know? Like she cared or even loved me just a little." Cassie sighed, took another sip. "I shouldn't think about stuff like that too much. Matty says it's no use wishing for things you can't have, because it'll just make the hurt worse."

Beth's speech caught in her throat. Her eyes grew hot, and she was suddenly grateful for the sunglasses.

Matt looked up from his newspaper, stared out the living room window for the umpteenth time. They hadn't gotten back yet, and it was nearly two. He and Ryan had eaten lunch, he'd played with the little guy, and then he'd went back to his job hunting. So far, he'd come up empty, but at least this time, there wasn't the same desperation. He didn't absolutely have to find work today. His job at the nursery was tiding them over decently enough to keep hunger and the bill collectors at bay.

A car door slamming got him to his feet. Mrs. Carter's sedan was out front, and he could see Cassie getting out. He tried to push away the guilt. All this anxiety, and he wasn't as concerned about Cassie, as he was over the amount she and Mrs. Carter had spent. Matt didn't begrudge Cassie the money, but they didn't exactly have a lot. He jokingly thought to himself that if the bill was high, hunger and those bill collectors would be a little closer than they were before.

As Cassie came up the dirt walk to the house, Mrs. Carter drove away without coming inside. Just as well. Cassie could give him the receipts, and he could pay Mrs. Carter tomorrow, when he came into work.

The door opened, and Cassie stepped inside. The very first thing he noticed was the hair. She had cut it.

"What do you think?" Cassie asked, biting her lip as she waited for his reaction.

"It..." Matt sighed. "It makes you look older. Is that makeup you're wearing?"

"It's just lip-gloss and nail polish, Matty. Do you like it?"

He rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, I guess. Did you get your bra?"

Cassie nodded, though she looked too embarrassed to talk about it. "Mrs. Carter helped a lot, Matty. She's awfully nice."

He nodded, held out his hand. "Where are the receipts she gave you?"

"Oh, she kept them." Cassie handed Ryan her soda cup, let her little brother suck the ice cubes. "She said it was her treat."

Matt watched Cassie take two designer name shopping bags, and the grocery bag with the sanitary napkins-- or whatever women called them-- into her bedroom. He said nothing to Cassie, for he didn't want her to feel guilty for spending the money, but tomorrow, he was going to pay Mrs. Carter back. He owed her, and whatever the cost, Matt always paid his debts.

"Owe no [wo]man any thing, but... love..."

~ Romans 13:8 ~

Chapter Six

The Problem with Skip

"Better is the poor that walketh in his uprightness [Matt], than he that is perverse in his ways, though he be rich [Skip]."

~ Proverb 28:6 ~

rom what Matt had gathered by Cassie's description of her outing at the mall, Mrs. Carter hadn't used it as an excuse to ask Cassie a lot of questions about their family. For that, Matt was grateful. Mrs. Carter had asked to be friends, and she hadn't abused that friendship by using Cassie behind his back.

If only Mrs. Carter had given him those receipts. As he drove into work Tuesday morning, he tapped the steering wheel in an agitated rhythm that matched his mood. If only she'd handed Cassie the receipts, like they'd both agreed, he wouldn't even have to mention yesterday.

As it stood, Matt had no other choice.

To his disappointed surprise, he wasn't the first to arrive at the nursery. The moment he turned into the parking lot, saw the red sedan, he new Sylvia had arrived already.

"Great," Matt breathed as he parked the pickup. "What else can go wrong?" He swung open the truck door, got out, and stuffed his work gloves into his back pocket. Putting on his Stetson, he noticed Amy, pulling into the lot. Matt sighed, but smiled to his young coworker before going into the store.

On the one day he'd needed the girls to be their usually tardy selves, they were not only on time, but early.

Mrs. Carter was at the cash register, in what seemed to be a part of her everyday routine. She looked busy, so he stood in front of the counter, waiting to be acknowledged.

"Beth!" Sylvia's impatient voice easily carried through the store. "I can't find it!

"It's in there!" Beth shouted, not looking up from the register. "For pity's sake, Silvi, do I have to come and get it myself?"

"I wouldn't have to search so hard," Sylvia said, still unseen in the office, "if you didn't hide it so well!"

Mrs. Carter breathed an impatient sigh. "It's in the filing cabinet, under 'G'! Stop wasting time, Silvi, and bring me the shipping invoice!" Hot green eyes flashed up at Matt, and he suddenly felt like a boy who'd just been caught doing something wrong. He hadn't-- or at least he didn't think he had-- but that look on her face made him feel like an utter child.

"Go help Sylvia," Mrs. Carter said, her voice hard and lacking the gentleness he'd heard only last Saturday. "For pity's sake, you'd think she was a man-- she's that blind. It's under 'G,' in the dark green filling cabinet.

"What is?" Matt asked.

"The Garcia invoice, of course. Go help Sylvia find it."

"Yes, ma'am." He left the counter, found Sylvia bent over the bottom drawer of the green cabinet.

"That stupid slip of paper," Sylvia said, in a barely audible mutter. "Where did Beth hide it?"

"Mrs. Carter said I should help," Matt said, announcing his presence.

Sylvia looked up, her mouth forming a smile the moment she saw him. "Surprised, aren't you?"

He shrugged, not sure what she'd meant.

"I beat you into work this morning," Sylvia said laughingly. "Of course, Beth called Amy and I to arrive early to hunt for that idiotic invoice, but I did beat you."

"I guess you did," Matt said, moving to the filing to cabinet before Mrs. Carter came and caught him not searching like everyone else. "What does the invoice look like?"

"It has a truck logo on the top, with Garcia-something-or-other printed on the side." Sylvia straightened, moved so Matt could slide open the top drawer. "If Beth had been here yesterday, and not playing hooky, she could've accepted delivery on the Garcia shipment, herself. But noooo, something goes wrong, and who do you think gets blamed? Me, that's who!" Sylvia shut the bottom drawer. She straightened, thrust her hands onto her hips and glared into the store to where Beth worked, preparing the cash register for the day.

Playing hooky? Matt thought. He couldn't be sure, but this problem might have been caused because Mrs. Carter was at the mall with Cassie, and not here at the nursery. He flipped through the tabs, looking for Garcia and the truck.

"So, I hear you went to Beth's house for dinner."

Matt turned, saw Sylvia perched on the edge of Mrs. Carter's desk.

"How'd it go?" Sylvia asked innocently.

Matt lifted one shoulder. "Fine, I guess."

"Did you stay for dessert? Or did you go straight home with your family?"

Matt slid the drawer shut with a loud bang. "I went home."

"You don't have to look at me like that, Matt. I'm on your side." Sylvia leaned forward, looked back at the register. "Neither of us likes Beth, so you don't have to defend her. She's always pushing herself onto people, making you feel sorry for her just because she's a widow. Don't get me wrong, I'm a compassionate person," Sylvia said, looking back at Matt, "but it's hard to feel sorry for someone, when they keep taking advantage of you." Sylvia's voice quickly hushed as Mrs. Carter entered the office.

"Well, Silvi, where is it?"

"How should I know?" Sylvia asked. The insolence in her eyes lessened, though, as Mrs. Carter stared at her. "Okay, okay, I'll keep looking."

"You do that," Mrs. Carter said, glancing at Matt. "Let Sylvia look through the cabinets. I want you to water the plants out back."

"Yes, ma'am." Tugging out the gloves, he left the office to the women.

The mild New Mexico sun came as a welcome change to Matt. He unwound the hose, turned on the faucet. There was hardly a cloud in the pristine blue sky, and he wished he could enjoy it more.

Movement by the potting table distracted Matt's attention. Mrs. Carter was there, doing something garden related with an open bottle that stank to high heaven. He squinted, read the label. Fish emulsion? What did fish have to do with plants? He stood there, absently letting water splash onto the ground instead of the plants. She turned to reach for something, and he quickly looked away. Maybe now was a good time to talk to her about those receipts. He twisted off the faucet, dropped the hose, and went to the potting table.

"Mrs. Carter?"

She looked at him, a tired smile on her lips. "Yes, Matt?"

"When you dropped Cassie off yesterday, you forgot to give me the receipts."

Mrs. Carter nodded absently. "I told her it was my treat."

"I know, but..." he hesitated. "I'd appreciate those receipts, Mrs. Carter. I said I would pay for the trip, and I will. When it's convenient for you, I want the receipts."

Her brilliant green eyes narrowed. "This is nonsense, Matt. I was glad to do it for Cassie."

"This isn't nonsense," Matt said, glancing about for the others before he continued. "I don't owe anyone I don't have to. I don't ask for favors, and I don't expect them. I appreciate what you did for Cassie, and so does she. It was very nice of you, but I will pay for what you spent."

Mrs. Carter sighed heavily. "This is a fine way to treat a friend, Matt. I suppose if you're so determined on paying, then I have to let you. The receipts are at home. I'll bring them into work tomorrow morning."

"Thank you." He stepped away, noticed she somehow looked different.

"What?" she asked.

"You don't look the same," he frowned.

"I had my hair cut," she said, turning so he could see the braid at her back was now shorter.

He nodded. "That explains it. I thought something looked odd." He tipped his hat to her, and went back to work.

Odd? She looked odd? For the next several minutes, not even the error in the Garcia delivery could distract Beth from her brief talk with Matt. She'd worn her newly chopped hair in a braid on purpose, for it was not only more convenient, but she had also promised Matt to simply be friends. That meant not doing anything overt to attract his attention, for he had made it clear that anything more wasn't wanted. He'd even gone as far as to say "mild friendship." So she was keeping it mild. She hadn't worn her hair any differently than usual, and he'd thought she looked odd.

Beth stabbed her trowel into the potting soil. His insistence on paying for the small outing with Cassie annoyed her. He was pushing away even her mild friendship, and she was fast coming to the conclusion that their "friendship" would have to be kept on a strictly boss and employee footing. Matt wasn't allowing for anything else.

But what of it? Beth jammed a helpless geranium into a plastic pot. If nothing more was going to develop with Matt, why did it matter if they couldn't be real friends? What she needed was someone to want her, someone to hold her in the middle of the night and whisper the things that Luke had.

Feeling pathetic, and not a little sorry for herself, Beth noticed Sylvia outside, watching her and Matt from a distance. Ignoring Sylvia and the task Sylvia wasn't doing, Beth thought about Skip, the middle aged man she'd been almost seeing. For all the flattering things he'd had said, Beth knew he didn't love her; but at least with him, she could be held.

With no other prospects of love, Beth sat on an upturned bucket to think. Her life had come to this. At what cost was she willing to sacrifice her conscience-- what she knew was right and wrong-- to enjoy the comforts of forbidden intimacy? Her conscience forbade an affair with Skip, but with no other arms offering her comfort, her convictions seemed rather inconvenient.

"Mrs. Carter?" Matt stood over her, a small pot of limp daisies in his hand. "These look like they're dead. Want me to throw them out?"

"No," she got to her feet, took the plant. "It only needs some extra care, that's all."

Beth placed the plant onto the table as Matt walked away. She wished she were as strong as he seemed to be.

"Ma'am?" Matt came to her again, a hesitant look on his face. "Are you mad at me?"

"No, Matt, I'm not."

He smiled, but said nothing more on the subject. "While I'm here, I didn't kill that plant," he said, pointing his chin at the daisies. "I found them that way. Honest."

She returned his smile, and let him go back to his work. If she had no prospects of love, and knew ahead of time that she never would... would she have an affair? Get what little she could out of life, even though she knew it would displease God? The question haunted her, for she had been asking it in increments, for a while. She had flirted with it, been indecisive, and now, Beth felt the question urgently burn in her soul. Early that morning, when he'd thought she'd be alone, Skip had called with an apology, and Sylvia and Amy had accidentally overheard Beth as she put him off once more.

Just then, Sylvia shouted Beth's name. Beth stepped around the corner of the building, saw her friend by the store entrance. "Skip just called!" Sylvia waved happily. "He said he'd be over in a few minutes!"

"He called again?" Beth asked in wonderment.

"He's coming to the nursery!" Sylvia grinned, then disappeared inside.

Beth groaned softly. Knowing Sylvia, she had called Skip, herself. Beth wouldn't put it past her. After their fight over the Garcia shipment, Beth figured Sylvia was getting even.

And perhaps, Beth thought, just perhaps, trying to rid herself of some competition. Sylvia knew Beth liked Matt. The problem was, both women did. Well, Sylvia didn't have anything to worry about. Beth was still hoping for mild friendship, and even that seemed unlikely right now.

Tugging off her work gloves, Beth rounded the building to wash up and meet Skip. She'd talk to him in private, in her office, away from the others.

Inside the store, Beth passed Sylvia, arranging product on some shelves. "Silvi?"

Folding her arms, Sylvia glared at her.

"I want to apologize, Silvi. I shouldn't have given you a hard time over the invoice. This is my business, and my responsibility. I should have double-checked the order immediately after I got back from the errand yesterday, instead of waiting until this morning. I shouldn't have assumed that you'd already done it."

"I never would have accepted the shipment in the first place," Sylvia said, "if you'd only told me that you changed your mind about the ornamental grasses."

"But the invoice didn't even match what they shipped," Beth said. She could feel impatience welling up once more, and decided to just forget it. Sylvia couldn't be relied upon. It was a fact of nature, and Beth had been a fool to forget it. "Never mind. I'll take care of the shipment, myself."

"Okay." Sylvia still looked miffed, but she did seem somewhat appeased. The quirk of her mouth went from protest, to one of sly pleasure. "You getting ready to meet Skip?"

Beth took a long look at her friend, saw the mischievous gleam in her eye. "You called him, didn't you?" An expression of feigned innocence was all Beth got, and Beth didn't feel like pressing for an insincere apology.

"Mrs. Carter?" Matt had come in sometime during the conversation, and was looking at Beth expectantly. She wondered how much he had heard.

"What is it?" Beth asked abruptly. She bit her tongue, hating the curtness she had heard in her own voice, but helpless to take it back. If only she could be more gentle, more soft. Women were supposed to be soft, weren't they? Her personal faults seem stacked against her, and Beth felt she was doomed to a lifetime of moments such as these-- moments where she saw that wincing hurt of look in the other person's eyes. Matt looked at her that way now.

"I apologize for the interruption," Matt said. "Amy came out to tell me you wanted tags on the plants you just potted, but she couldn't remember where you store the labeling pen."

"I'll be with you in a moment, Matt." Before she left to take him outside where the pots were waiting, Beth looked at Sylvia. "Don't call Skip behind my back. Ever again."

With a careless shrug, Sylvia resumed her sorting and organizing.

"It doesn't appear I'm going to have a good day," Beth said to Matt, as they moved toward the entrance. "I should warn you, Sylvia has mentioned that she's thinking of asking you out. I know you've put her off before, but if she continues to pursue you after you say no, report it to me and I'll take care of it. That goes for Amy, as well as myself. None of us would appreciate a man who didn't take no for an answer, and just because we're women, doesn't mean we should do the same thing to men. I'm sorry I didn't protect you any sooner." She groaned miserably. "It seems I can't live up to my responsibilities any better than Sylvia can refrain from being Sylvia."

Matt looked at her thoughtfully. "Are you feeling all right, Mrs. Carter?"

She glanced through the large store windows, felt a knot of dread as she noticed Skip's van enter the parking lot. "Matt, may I ask you a question?"

He shrugged. "Okay."

"Do you believe God has ever given you more than you could bear?"

A slight smile parted his mouth. "That's not exactly a question I'd expect from my employer."

"Please, Matt, please answer me as a friend."

"Are you sure you're not sick? You don't look well, Mrs. Carter." Her earnestness must have finally gotten to him, because Matt rubbed the back of his neck, looked at his boots and answered. "No ma'am, I don't believe God has. There's been plenty of times when it looked that way, but God has been faithful. Wish I could say the same for myself."

Wrestling back her fears, Beth was about to resist temptation, and she felt unequal to the challenge. Skip walked into the store, saw her and waved. She felt weak, and silently prayed for help. Please, God, she needed help! The loneliness of being without Luke, and their little boy-- Caleb-- came crashing down on her, and all she could do was plead with God for help. She felt someone touch her shoulder, looked up, noticed it was Matt.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Matt asked quietly. "You look like you're in trouble, Mrs. Carter."

Skip came over to them, his grin lessening several degrees when he noticed Matt's hand on her shoulder. "I came as soon as I got your message, Beth." Skip glared at Matt, and folded his arms as though Matt were putting his hands on private property.

Apparently, Matt didn't intimidate easily, for he only dropped his hand when he looked good and ready, and not a moment sooner.

Beth trembled inwardly. She wished the problem would just go away, without her having to do or say anything. It would be so much easier if Skip simply stopped calling. She could pretend he had never happened.

Matt stiffened, and Beth saw his expression turn somber. She followed his eyes, saw he had noticed the the gold wedding band on Skip's left hand. The look of pained disappointment on Matt's face, made her heart weep.

"Beth?" Skip blinked at her, and she realized he was waiting for an answer

Matt turned to leave, but Beth touched his arm, silently pleading for him to stay. To her deep gratitude, he remained.

"What's this all about?" Skip asked, irritation rising in his voice. "Who is this guy?"

"He's just a friend," Beth said truthfully. "There's been a mistake. I didn't send the message you received today."

"What do you mean?" he said with a disbelieving scowl. "Of course you sent it. I'm tired of your stalling, Beth. I want you to come with me, and we'll go someplace private to talk this out, once and for all. There's too many people here," he said, looking at Matt. "Come on, Beth, I haven't got all day." Skip waited, the picture of confidence.

"I'm sorry I let this go on as long as it has, Skip. We knew it would never work."

Stunned, he opened his mouth but nothing came out. A hand flew at her, struck her hard on the side of her face. Almost immediately, Matt lunged at Skip, and she thrust herself between the two men to stop anything more serious from happening. Her cheek stung, and she felt the added shame of knowing it had happened before.

"Please, let me handle this my way, Matt." She spoke as calmly as she could, though the sound of her heart pounded loudly in her ears.

"He hit you," Matt said in obvious disbelief. "I can't believe he hit you."

I can, Beth thought numbly. She turned to face Skip, careful to keep Matt behind her. "I'm sorry, Skip. It's over."

The pale, thin lips Beth had always thought looked unattractive on Skip, pulled into a taut line of scorn and disdain. "You're nothing but a tease, Beth."

"I'm sorry, Skip. I can't."

He turned to Matt, but directed his words at her. "I suppose you're getting a better offer from someone else?"

Temper blazed in Matt's brown eyes, and his fists tightened dangerously. Panic surged through her frame, and she prayed Skip would accept that things were over and back off. She had never tasted Skip's jealousy until now, and it tasted of the bile that churned in her stomach.

"You misunderstand, Skip. Matt is only a friend, an employee. He has nothing to do with my decision."

"I don't believe you, Beth. You're too scared of being by yourself, to think I'm going to fall for that lie!"

"Please, believe me, Skip. It's the truth."

Skip jabbed a finger into Matt's chest. "Who do you think you are? Taking advantage of a lonely widow-- your BOSS!-- just to get a job!"

"You'd better leave, mister," Matt said through clenched teeth. "If the lady is calling it quits, it's time for you to walk away." He took a threatening step toward Skip. "I don't want a fight, mister, and trust me, neither do you."

Beth believed Matt. He had youth and muscle in his favor, and she could easily picture him taking Skip apart. It felt good to know Matt stood beside her, and didn't leave.

"Beth," Skip pointed an accusatory finger at her, "I'm going to call you later. This isn't over, and if you know what's good for you, you'll get that through to your young stud. I've put up with your games long enough. You and I aren't done." Skip looked anxiously at Matt. The cold anger that hardened Matt's face, spoke louder than any shouting could have done. It was a potent warning, one that Skip couldn't ignore. He waved his index finger at Matt, and then left-- Beth imagined-- as fast as he could without breaking into a run.

With a loud groan, Matt swiveled, slapped his fist hard on the checkout counter. Amy, who stood at the register, jumped back, clearly frightened by the harsh look on Matt's face.

"I didn't want trouble, Mrs. Carter. I can't afford it. Not now."

"I'm sorry you got dragged into this, Matt."

"I've got a family depending on me," he said, looking at Beth over his shoulder. "I can't afford to get involved. I have enough strikes against me, without this. If I can't stay out of trouble, they'll take the kids away."

"I understand, Matt."

"Do you?" He turned, looked at her. "I'm all those kids have got left! I can't let them down, let them be pulled apart to live in foster homes because their big brother messed up. Don't ask it of me, Beth" -- he blew out a huff of frustration -- "Mrs. Carter."

"I'm not asking anything of you, Matt." Beth felt helpless, and for the first time, realized they held Sylvia and Amy's full attention. Both women watched-- Amy with her mouth open in astonishment, and Sylvia, with a look of envy. "Okay, the show is over," she told them, "time to get back to work."

Head bowed and a few shades calmer, Matt looked at Beth wearily. Her heart went out to him, though she told herself, in a very mild, friend-like way. She did have a friend in Matt. Today had proved it.

"I can't get involved," Matt said, his voice low and hushed. "If things were different..."

"But they aren't," Beth said, shaking her head. "Thank you for helping me, Matt. Don't give Skip a second thought. He won't give you any trouble."

Matt nodded absently, as though he didn't believe her. "I'd better get back to the watering," he said, slapping the counter dully. He hesitated before leaving, turned to look at her until Beth felt her heart beat double time. Dropping his gaze, he went outside.

Matt didn't even see the plants he watered. He couldn't remember anything of the errand that had sent him inside the store, and didn't really care that Mrs. Carter had seemed to forget, as well.

All he could think about was Beth.

"Watch it, Taylor," he muttered to himself. "She's Mrs. Carter. Call her that one more time, and I swear, I'll whip your behind if I have to get Ethan to do it for me."

After drowning everything with the hose, he went to the fence line and searched for weeds. He'd already gone over the area once before, and when he couldn't find more, sucked in a deep breath. He needed to calm down. He could still see Skip-what's-his-name, hitting Mrs. Carter and gaping at her like the opportunist he was. Okay, maybe the guy hadn't actually gaped, but from the way he treated her, Matt knew he did at other times. Mrs. Carter was a good looking woman, and a man would have to be blind not to notice it. After this morning, Matt understood more than ever how vulnerable she was, how desperately lonely she'd become after her husband's death. She had even put up with physical abuse to keep that worthless jerk.

It reminded Matt of his mom. Oh, did it ever remind him of his mom.

The soft approach of footsteps stopped his thinking. He braced himself for Mrs. Carter, and instead, found Amy.

She smiled timidly at him. "Rough day, huh?"

"I've had better," Matt said. He looked about for any weed at all, like a drowning man searching for a life raft.

"I really admire you for what you did back there," Amy said. "Ever since I found out from Sylvia that Mrs. Carter was mixed up with that man, I've thought Mrs. Carter could do better. Should do better," Amy quickly added.

"Then he really was married," Matt said, "and not just a widow who kept wearing his wedding ring." He smiled ruefully at Amy. "The thought crossed my mind. I'd have felt like an idiot, acting the way I did, if he hadn't been married. But when he hit her..." Matt sighed, willing himself to think of something else.

"No, he's married," Amy nodded. "Mrs. Carter still wears her ring, though."

Matt kicked at the dry ground. "I've noticed."

"You really like her, don't you?"

Matt opened his mouth to protest, saw the smile, and decided not to answer.

"I wish someone would look at me, the way you look at her," Amy sighed wistfully. "I don't suppose you have a brother my age?"

Matt considered it, remembering Amy was nineteen. "I have one that's two years younger than you," he said finally, "but I'm afraid he's bad news. He's my brother, and I love him dearly, but I wouldn't wish him with anyone's daughter, let alone a nice girl like you."

"Thanks for thinking I'm a nice girl," Amy said with a genuine smile. "I just came out here to say thank you for what you did for Mrs. Carter. I think you're a really sweet guy." She smiled at him, then went back into the store.

Matt frowned. What was he supposed to do with a compliment like that?

He needed someone to give him direction, to tell him what he was supposed to be doing. The thought of returning inside made him feel uneasy, though. It was probably too much to hope his coworkers could forget what they'd seen and heard that morning. He knew already they were assuming things that weren't true. Amy had given him enough proof of that, from their conversation. Sure, he liked Mrs. Carter, but not in the way Amy had thought.

Matt didn't have much longer to decide what to do, for Mrs. Carter appeared and went straight to the potting table. She opened a container, pulled something out.

"Matt," she called to him, "here's the pen you were asking for."

He nodded, went over and took the pen she offered.

Silently, she turned to her table, back to the smelly bottle of fish emulsion and the plants she'd been working on for most of that day.

He stood there, measuring her, the way she kept her eyes on her work, never once looking up to meet his gaze. She looked guilty, acted like it as well. The burning question that had been troubling him so much, that had given him so much pain, finally found its way to his tongue.

"Beth, has he ever beaten you?"

She looked up at him now, those green eyes misting with wetness. "Not exactly. He's never beaten me, just struck me when I had it coming. That's all."

"You're an intelligent woman, Beth. You shouldn't have to put up with it."

He saw the courage in her eyes gather a little strength. "Today, I didn't," she said.

He sighed longingly. He wished he could get that moment out of his head, the sick look on Beth's face when she felt her cheek, the fear in her expression.

Matt had to know. It was none of his business, but he needed to know. "Did you ever sleep with him, Beth?"

"No," she said quietly. She looked near tears, and he resisted the strong urge to wrap his arms around her.

"I shouldn't have asked," he said. "You don't have to say any more."

She smiled sadly, pulled off her work gloves, and wiped her eyes with her fingers. "I'm glad you did. Skip wanted me to have an affair, and I'm ashamed to say that I almost did, but when it came down to it, I just couldn't. I couldn't sleep with him outside of marriage, knowing he was married to another woman and had children."

Children. Matt knew he must've winced, for she looked more ashamed than before

He lightly touched her shoulder. "Hey, you did the right thing, Beth. You told him off, and put a stop to it."

"But I should have done it much sooner," she said, her voice filling with something very near to despair. "It seems like I can't do anything right. Even now, I'm not as good a person as you think I am: I only found the strength to say what I did to Skip, because you were there."

His hand moved from her shoulder, and he stood there, looking at her. He didn't know what to say, what to do. He'd asked her straight out about her and Skip, and her answers rang with genuine honesty. It was the painful honesty that caught him by surprise, and made him quiet for several moments while he struggled to think.

"Me?" he asked finally. "Why did my being there have anything to do with you and what's-his-name?"

She smiled. "It's your testimony, Matt. I've seen who you are, and what you're trying to do with your life. It makes me want to do more with mine."

He relaxed a little, shrugged. "I guess that's a good thing. I was afraid it might be something else."

Her lips parted wistfully. "I promised to be just a friend, remember?"

He couldn't help smiling. "I remember." What kind of green is that? he wondered, looking into those beautiful eyes. They held the color of a thick forest, plants as deep and alive as the ones she tended in the nursery. When the sun cast its glow on her face, that green shone with vibrant life. How sad then, to see them look so forlorn in that pale, china-doll face of hers-- that face lightly sprinkled with freckles.

Matt shoved his fists into his pockets. Thinking like that would only bring trouble.

For some reason Beth smiled, more confidently than before, and he suddenly found it difficult to speak. His mouth had gone dry, and he wished he could walk away without seeming rude.

"I didn't know you could blush so brightly," she said, picking up her work gloves and putting them on. "I suppose you want to get away from me now, so I'll let you. After you're done placing those tags, I'd appreciate it if you swept the store and cleaned the front windows. They're dirty again."

"Yes, ma'am." He walked away from her, feeling more like a boy and less like a man. She had a way of putting him in his place, of reminding him who was boss. Did she know she did that to him? He wondered at his own frustration, for she was his boss. Then why did he feel like going to a rowdy bar, getting into a fistfight, just to rid himself of this pent up feeling? It wasn't a feeling Matt felt he had a right to, and he struggled to forget Beth, and reminded himself once more of Mrs. Carter.

He grabbed at the shop broom, muttering under his breath. "Great. I must've called her Beth, at least a dozen times today. Just great." He pushed the broom across the floor with quick, sharp movements. A customer approached him, and Matt had to control his self-reproach long enough to politely answer the grandmotherly woman about which aisle she could find the watering cans.

"Thank you, young man," the old woman said, her face wrinkling into a warm smile. When she left, he wondered if he should grow a mustache or beard. He'd look older with a beard. Then maybe, Beth wouldn't treat him like a boy.                                                       

Matt jammed the broom into the concrete floor. His thoughts troubled him, for he didn't want Beth to see him as he really was. If she ever did, he felt certain he would lose any friendship they had.

And that, Matt decided, was worth protecting.

"Faithful are the wounds of a friend; but the kisses of an enemy are deceitful."

~ Proverb 27:6 ~