The front door bell rang, and since Bess was curled on the sofa sketching some ideas for Michelle’s new dress, she was the first on hand to answer it. Rachel Bree stood outside the door, keeping a cautious eye on Jethro, who stood just behind her making a low, warning growl in his throat.
“Jethro,” Bess chided, and the bloodhound immediately lay down on his belly in the dirt, thumping his tail so that a cloud of fine sand circled the air around him.
She stepped aside to let Rachel into the house, noticing the cute capris pants and matching top tied in a knot at her waist. That’s when she remembered Rachel’s invitation to join her for a Saturday matinee. Bess glanced down at the tent-like lounger Agnes had loaned her and grimaced.
“Rachel, I totally forgot about your invitation. Can you give me a minute to change?”
Rachel gave Bess a warm hug. “We’ve got plenty of time. Do you want me to help you pick something out?” She motioned over her own outfit and wiggled her eyebrows. “I am known in some circles for my great fashion sense.” She laughed heartily.
Bess grabbed Rachel’s hand and pulled her toward the bedroom. “Two minds are always better than one, though I have to warn you that I don’t have much to choose from.”
When they entered Bess’ room, Rachel’s eyes immediately went to the beginnings of the new dress that Bess had sprawled across the bed and rocking chair. “What’s this?” she asked.
“I know you can’t tell much yet. I’m making a new dress out of a couple of old ones Michelle brought over yesterday. I’m thinking of streamlining this black skirt, with slits so that the gold sheen can peek out from them as she moves. I thought I’d make a waist-length, long-sleeved jacket out of the rest of the sheath dress and jacket there. Do you think the top of the dress should be black as well, or leave the white top for contrast?”
Rachel’s mouth was standing open. She closed it and grinned. “I don’t know how you came up with that from this. You really have a talent. I’m sure you’ll make the right decision about the rest. Now, what are you going to wear today? We’re going to see that hunky Robert Redford in a western about Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, if that’s any help.”
“If you mean do I have any cowboy maternity wear, then we’re out of luck.” Bess pulled a calf-length dress with an empire waist from her closet and held it up to herself. “Will this do?”
Rachel felt the smooth material. “That’s very nice.” She sat down on the edge of the bed as Bess changed, fingering the bits of Michelle’s dresses next to her. “Is Judd around?” she finally asked.
There was something about Rachel that made Bess peel away her usual habit of suspicion so that she knew Rachel’s question was something she couldn’t help asking instead of wondering if Rachel only befriended Bess to get closer to Judd. She managed to pull the dress over her head before joining Rachel on the bed. “He took Lillian out to supper last night. I don’t know where he is today.”
Rachel’s shoulders slumped. “I’m being silly, I know. He’s twelve years older than I am, and he’s hardly ever noticed me. Besides, here you are living in the same house with him, and look how pretty you are.” She tugged on her straight, brown hair. “Maybe I could dye my hair blond like yours or black like Lillian’s.”
Bess made a face. “Look, Rachel, you seem pretty happy to me without a man. I don’t know much, but I know that changing yourself for some guy always winds up hurting you in the end. They still wind up disappointing you.”
Rachel’s eyes studied Bess with a certain squint in them. “I’m sure there are a few really interesting stories behind that wisdom, but I won’t pry. And I won’t sit around pining for your brother-in-law either.”
Bess took Rachel’s hand in hers and squeezed. “I bet we can find a half dozen men this afternoon who would love to take you out on a date. Are you game?”
“Okay. You ready?”
They walked into the living room to find Judd sitting in his recliner glancing through a magazine as if he had been waiting for them. The two women glanced at each other at the sight of him and burst out laughing. Judd threw the magazine to the table beside his chair and grimaced.
“What’s so funny?” he muttered. When they didn’t answer him but only laughed harder, he cleared his throat. “I’d like to talk to you for a minute, Bess.”
She didn’t like the gleam in his black eyes. Cocking an eyebrow at him, she crossed her arms over her chest and told him. “Whatever you have to say, Rachel can hear too.”
Judd looked a little uncomfortable as he rose to his feet, smoothing his hands on his worn jeans. “Lillian said you were rude to her yesterday.”
Bess glanced at Rachel, who rolled her eyes where Judd couldn’t see. “And she was polite?” she just managed.
He shuffled from foot to foot and glared. “I just want it to be clear that Lillian has as much right to be here as you do.”
That stung. Lillian wasn’t exactly carrying around a six-pound bowling ball with part of his genetic material inadvertently attached. She forced a bland smile on her lips. “I’ll keep that in mind. If you give me fair warning, I can manage to stay in my room whenever she visits.”
Judd shoved the fingers of his right hand through his hair. “I don’t mean you have to go that far.” He placed one large, booted foot on the hearth and leaned against the mantel. “Do you have to be purposely obtuse?”
Maybe because Rachel was there as backup, but for reasons Bess could not even later explain, she smiled sweetly and exclaimed in a Scarlet O’Hara drawl, “Only when it comes to you, dear man.”
His jaw clenched. He glared at Bess and then Rachel. And then he pushed himself away from the mantel and stalked from the room, muttering something about his brother’s dubious taste in women.
Bess turned to look at Rachel, a sense of triumph reflected in her baby-blue eyes. Rachel’s open face was pale, her mouth open in a large O.
“What?” Bess asked her.
“You actually got to him,” she answered.
Bess felt a stab of guilt. “Yeah, I tend to do that, even when I’m not trying to. What a burden I must be for him.”
Rachel shook her head. “You don’t understand, Bess,” she said. “Nobody every gets to Judd. He’s like a stone wall.”
“Even stone walls get cracks now and again.”
Rachel looped her arm in the crook of Bess’ elbow. “You’ve officially cured me of my Judd crush,” she announced. “I could never stand up to him like you do.”
Bess was confused. “What makes that so important?”
“Only a woman who could stand up to him like that stands a snowball’s chance of nabbing and keeping Judd Taylor’s attention.”
“Lucky me,” Bess scoffed.
Rachel gave her a hard look. “Yes,” she said, “lucky you.”
Bess felt a stab of shame. “Are we ready?” she said, desperate to change the subject.
They went to the movie, where they met up with another group of women from the church, young singles and newly married girls, all of whom had grown up together in the small town. Somehow, they managed to include Bess in their conversations, even when they were discussing events that happened years before.
At the tea room, the light conversation became serious when a willowy red-head named Cynthia brought up Daniel to Bess. “Aren’t you angry?” she said. “There’s a group of us going up to Washington to protest the war in a few months. You should join us.”
Bess, whose only concern with politics had ever been the bureaucracy of the foster care system, shook her head. “I’m afraid I’m not the type of person to protest anything. And besides, it would seem like betraying Daniel somehow, don’t you think?”
Cynthia’s voice rose as she warmed to her theme. “It’s betraying all of the soldiers if we continue to let our government lie to us.”
Bess’ hand went to her belly, where the baby shifted in its own protest. “Daniel didn’t think he was being lied to. He loved this country.”
“I love this country,” Cynthia practically shouted.
Rachel laid a hand on the other woman’s arm. “Cynthia, you’re yelling at a pregnant woman, whom, I might add, you’ve just met.”
She blushed. “I’m sorry, Bess,” she gushed. “I get really worked up about this. My brother is a medic on his second tour over there. My parents think I’m crazy.”
“Frustrated,” Bess told her, “frightened for your brother, but not crazy.”
“Can we talk about something else?” one of the other girls asked. “It was bad enough that the movie ended with the heroes dying.”
“That’s what you get for not knowing your history,” someone else accused.
The rest of the table laughed at that, breaking the tension. Bess settled back into her chair and sighed her relief. These women knew more about Daniel than she did, the woman who was carrying his child. For someone who thought she was past feeling useless emotions like guilt, she certainly was wallowing in it enough lately.
Funny how the weight of that emotion seemed even heavier than the baby she had growing under her flawed and sealed-up heart.
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