Anna Meets Her Match Page 8

  “Gilli, you know that’s not going to happen!” he snapped, at the end of his patience, especially with Anna standing there rolling her eyes.

  “And you say I’m the one without a clue,” Anna drawled.

  Very deliberately, she looked around him and through the large window at the state-of-the-art play area. Over the years, the church had expanded into all of one whole block of the downtown square surrounding the historic county courthouse. On Sunday, it literally took over the downtown area. The one-hundred-and-thirty-year-old sanctuary and the circa 1930s facade on the rest of the buildings in the church plant might have historic significance, but the rabbit warren of rooms in the sprawling complex included easily reconfigurable spaces and all the modern amenities.

  Going down on one knee, Anna beckoned Gilli closer and whispered into her ear. Gilli nodded, and Anna whispered again.

  “It will?” Gilli asked.

  “Mmm-hmm. I bet the other kids will laugh,” Anna said, “and everybody likes to laugh, don’t you think?”

  Giggling, Gilli nodded, then she ran to the half-door and knocked at it. A teacher appeared, smiling down at her. Too relieved to question this about-face, Reeves rushed over to facilitate the process of signing her in. Seconds later, he was waving goodbye to his daughter. Stepping aside, he turned back to Anna with as much annoyance as amazement. How could she manage Gilli when he couldn’t?

  “I don’t know what that was all about, but thanks.”

  Anna shrugged, her lips curving into a wry smile. “You just have to know what bothers a kid and how to have a little fun with it.”

  “This morning everything has bothered Gilli,” Reeves grumbled.

  Anna spread her hands. “So you stuck her in that tight, uncomfortable dress as punishment?”

  “No!” Stung, Reeves glared and told her stiffly, “For your information, Aunt Mags bought Gilli that dress for Christmas.” He heard giggles from the room behind him but ignored them.

  “That doesn’t make the dress any more comfortable, you know,” Anna argued.

  “Well, Gilli seems perfectly happy with it now,” he pointed out smartly.

  Anna smirked. “Sure she is. I told her what a dress like that is good for.”

  “And that is?”

  “Showing off. Getting people to notice. Especially upside down.”

  Confused, Reeves shook his head. “Upside down?”

  Anna gestured toward the window. “They’ve got the equivalent of a jungle gym in there, you know.”

  Reeves whirled around and with very little effort caught sight of his daughter—hanging upside down by her knees from a crossbar on the play station, her skirt covering her face, her ruffled bottom exposed. A crowd of children had gathered around her, laughing and pointing. Horrified, he rounded on Anna.

  “You told her to do that?”

  Thankfully, the hall had emptied of all but an older gentleman doing duty as a greeter at a side door some distance away. Nevertheless, Reeves lowered his voice, stepping closer to make himself heard. “What were you thinking, telling her to do that?”

  “I was thinking,” Anna retorted, meeting him nose to nose, “that you wanted her to go into that room without pitching a fit.”

  Her eyelashes, he noticed, were as bright as brass beneath a thin layer of brown mascara, and why he should find that so infuriatingly intriguing he could not imagine.

  “I didn’t want her to expose herself in front of the whole class!” Reeves hissed, dropping his gaze and reaching for the doorknob.

  Anna intercepted his hand. He jerked back, feeling scorched.

  “Will you calm down?” Anna gritted out. “She’s three, for pity’s sake, and all she’s exposed is her ruffled tights. Besides, the teacher’s already taken care of it.”

  He peered through the window again in time to see a woman setting Gilli on her feet and brushing down her skirt. As he watched, a set of blond, freckle-faced twin girls bracketed Gilli, laughing behind their hands. The teacher shepherded them, chattering animatedly, toward a circle forming around another woman with a storybook.

  “And look,” Anna said, “she’s made a couple of friends.”

  It suddenly occurred to Reeves that he did not know any of these kids, which meant that Gilli probably didn’t know any of them, either. Now that he thought about it, he realized that only Gilli and one or two others had been old enough to move up at the beginning of the year. No wonder she had balked at going in. She probably didn’t have any friends there. Knowing Gilli, she’d most likely been sitting in a corner all these weeks with her arms folded and her bottom lip stuck out, a sullen, silent, unhappy little stranger. He watched Gilli whisper to her new friends, a gleam in her eye, and sighed inwardly. Turning, he stared down at Anna.

  Why was it that he was always the clueless one and Anna always had to be right where his daughter was concerned? Still, to tempt Gilli to hang by her knees in Sunday school while wearing a dress…. It was just so Anna Miranda and did not seem to bode well for the future.

  “She won’t always be three, you know,” he pointed out.

  “But you won’t have to drag her kicking and screaming into class next week,” Anna rebutted smugly.

  Considering how happy Gilli seemed, Reeves imagined that Anna was right about that, too. Still…“And when she’s fourteen and desperate to be popular, do I advise her, in your considered opinion, to show her bottom and play the class clown?”

  Anna waved that away with a flick of one wrist. “Oh, please. It was just about having a little fun. That’s what kids do.”

  “Is that what you were doing all those years?” he challenged, folding his arms. “Having a little fun at everyone else’s expense?”

  All expression left Anna’s face, but then she lifted her chin and narrowed her eyes at him. “Shouldn’t you be in a class somewhere, too?”

  He started slightly, remembering time and place. “Yes. And so should you. We can continue this conversation after worship.”

  “Don’t hold your breath waiting for that,” Anna said, dancing away, that old cocky insouciance in place once more. “I have a class of six-year-olds to manage, then I’m off to brunch.”

  “You teach the six-year-olds?” he asked skeptically.

  Walking backward, she explained, “Every now and then I substitute for a friend. Why? Don’t you think I can handle a six-year-old as well as a three-year-old?”

  “Well, yes, but that’s not the point.”

  “Then what is?”

  “It’s just that I never see you in worship.”

  “I don’t go.”

  “You teach Sunday school, but you don’t stay for worship?”

  “Never.”

  Reeves could not resist following her. “Why not?”

  Anna grinned and baldly admitted, “Because it would give my grandmother entirely too much pleasure.” She moved on down the hall, winked at the greeter and pushed through a door into a classroom.

  Reeves stood where he was, wondering how could she be so right and so wrong at the same time. She dutifully taught children’s Sunday school but wouldn’t stay for worship because it would please her grandmother. She convinced Gilli to happily go into class and at the same time coached her to make a spectacle of herself. What kind of sense did that make? None, Reeves concluded, which just proved that Anna had never completely grown up. In some ways, he realized, heading toward the men’s Bible study class, some part of her would always be a brat, and that made the woman a maddening puzzle, one moment clever and kind, the next irrational and immature. So that meant that one minute the aunties might be right about Anna being a good for Gilli, and the next the opposite might true. Now how was he supposed to deal with that?

  He simply did not know what to think of Anna Burdett or how to feel about her. He did know this much: By letting Tansy drive her away from the worship service, Anna was as good as cutting off her nose to spite her face. Everyone needed a healthy personal relationship with God Almighty thro
ugh Jesus Christ, and that meant regularly being in worship. Someone had to make Anna see that.

  Of course, he was not that someone. Why, he was the last person for the job.

  But if not me, then who? he wondered.

  Shaking his head, Reeves told himself that God would bring the right person along. He just didn’t want to think that maybe He already had.

  Smoothing the ruffled edge of a pink skirt with the tip of one finger, Anna tilted her head to study the drawing, her toe tapping along with the lively beat of a favorite rock song. She loved working with pastels, but it had been weeks since she’d last pulled them out. Her encounter that morning with Reeves and Gilli had left her feeling oddly unsettled, so it was inevitable that she should turn to her secret passion as a way to center herself. She strove to tell a story with each picture, imagining how other fertile imaginations might interpret her drawings.

  A knock at the door had her first looking up in surprise then checking the time via the digital display on the small, inexpensive stereo system atop the cheap shelving unit tucked into a corner next to the tiny bar that separated the tiny kitchen from the tiny living/studio area. As it was just past noon, the hour at which Downtown Bible Church turned out, Anna had a hunch that Tansy knocked at her door. Sighing, she got up and went to find out. It was too late, with music pumping out of the stereo, to pretend to be gone. Sure enough, her grandmother pushed into the room the instant that the door cracked open, her patent leather handbag dangling by the strap from one elbow.

  “Well, hi there, Tansy,” Anna deadpanned, taking on a dual role. “Hello, Anna. Won’t you come in, Tansy? Why, thank you, Anna. How nice of you to ask.”

  Tansy ignored this completely, just stood there in heavy pumps that, naturally, matched the handbag. The navy patent leather seemed a bit much with the casual style of her dark blue knit pants and flowered rayon blouse, but it was quintessential Tansy. Turning in a circle, Tansy’s critical gaze swept the tightly confined space. Even strict organization could not keep it from appearing cluttered and messy, but Anna would not defend herself on that or any point.

  “Ginger Elkanor had her baby last night,” Tansy announced baldly. “Girl. Thought you’d want to know.”

  “Thanks,” Anna said drily. “I’m aware.” Actually, it was for Ginger that Anna had substituted that morning, not that she wanted her grandmother to know about that.

  “Since it’s the second child, there won’t be a shower,” Tansy went on, “but that doesn’t mean her friends shouldn’t take over a gift.”

  As if Anna could not decipher that for herself. She glanced at the illustration on her drawing board, murmuring, “I thought I’d frame one of my drawings. That would at least be unique.”

  “Unique,” Tansy huffed, a familiar expression of disapproval on her face. “Unique is overrated. Besides, what would an infant need with a drawing? Buy her a bag of disposable diapers. Now that’s useful.”

  “Useful but boring.”

  Tansy rolled her eyes. “That’s the trouble with you, Anna Miranda. You think life ought to be entertaining, fun. When are you going to act responsibly, settle down and have a family of your own?”

  Now that Tansy’s excuse for this visit was out of the way, Anna mused, the old girl could get about her real business of running Anna’s life, or trying to. Anna had to give it to Tansy. She never quit, a trait she shared with her granddaughter.

  “And give up all this?” Anna quipped, holding out her hands. “What makes you think I want a family, anyway? All family’s ever been to me is a pain.”

  “You want to talk about pain? What about the pain of losing my only son?”

  “He’s been dead for over twenty-five years,” Anna pointed out softly.

  “And his father for ten years before that, but do you ever think about the pain I’ve suffered because of it? What about the pain and embarrassment you’ve caused with your behavior?” Tansy went on. “All I’ve ever wanted is what’s best for you.”

  “That and to control my every breath,” Anna sniped.

  “Will you be serious for once!” Tansy demanded. “And if you’re going to listen to that ridiculous music, at least turn it down!”

  Anna went straight to the stereo and turned up the volume a notch.

  Tansy marched over and punched the power button on the stereo as if Anna was ten and they did not stand in her home. Anna glared through the silence that followed.

  “You’re going to ruin your hearing,” Tansy said defensively.

  “It’s my hearing. I’ll ruin it if I want to,” Anna snapped, aware that she was reverting to her sixteen-year-old self but unable to stop. “You have no right to touch things in my apartment!”

  Tansy frowned sourly. Stomping to the door, she muttered, “Just once I’d like to have a normal conversation with you. Just once!”

  As Tansy went out, Anna spun around and slapped the power button on the stereo with one hand, wrenching up the volume with the other. Anna was still heaving in angry breaths when the neighbors next door began to beat on the wall. Instantly, Anna lashed out by spinning the volume knob all the way up. Then, for some reason, Reeves came to mind. In a flash, she imagined him watching from afar, like God on high peering down from lofty realms. Anna turned down the volume, feeling foolish and immature and…sad.

  After a moment, her raging heartbeat slowed, but the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach remained. She sat down at her drawing table and began ruthlessly “correcting” her work. After a long while, she sat back to take a critical view. It came as no surprise that the little girl in that ruffled pink skirt bore a decided resemblance to Gilli Leland.

  Chapter Six

  “Anna was at church this morning?” Odelia asked breathlessly, clapping her hands together. She barely missed catching the tips of her long, dangling earrings. They looked like bunches of grapes swaying above the dining table. “How wonderful! I’m sorry I missed her.”

  Reeves forked a bite of omelet into his mouth—the aunties ate so-called “simple fare” on Sundays—and shook his head. “She didn’t stay for worship. She was just there to substitute for a teacher in the six-year-old department.”

  Her fork poised in midair, Hypatia sighed. “I worry about that girl.”

  “What girl?” Gilli asked, butter all over her face from the triangle of toast in her hand. “I know two girls, Elizbet and Mogumry.” She scrunched up her face, adding, “But I don’t know what one they are.”

  Reeves smiled. “You must mean the twins I saw this morning.” Obviously, Gilli couldn’t tell them apart. Their mother surely had not named them Elizabeth and Montgomery, though. Had she?

  “I meant Anna, dear,” Hypatia clarified for the child, adding mildly, “Don’t wipe your mouth on your sleeve. You’ll ruin your pretty blouse.”

  “It gots ruffles,” Gilli announced proudly, holding out her arms.

  “Say, ‘Yes, ma’am,’” Reeves coached, fixing her with a level look.

  Defiantly, she bit off a huge chunk of bread instead, replacing the butter that she’d just wiped off her face with her sleeve. Reeves counted to ten, tamping down his temper as Gilli chewed, as soon as she swallowed, he leaned forward and removed the remaining bread from her plate.

  “Yes, ma’am. Or we trade the ruffles for a plain T-shirt.”

  Ruffles suddenly had taken on a monumental importance in Gilli’s life. Since this morning’s escapade, she had talked ruffles almost nonstop. She’d even insisted on wearing that white blouse when Reeves had helped her change out of her church clothes before lunch.

  “Yes, ma’am,” she muttered.

  Apparently hanging upside down by her knees to show off the ruffled bottoms of her tights had made her a minor celebrity with the three-year-old set, and so ruffles must now be the predominant feature of her wardrobe. Reeves still was not thrilled about that episode, but Gilli had been so happy since then that he couldn’t bring himself to lecture her on the subject. Besides, he reasoned, Anna was to bl
ame, not Gilli.

  “About Anna,” Odelia said thoughtfully, picking up the thread of the conversation. “I wonder why she doesn’t attend worship.”

  Reeves put the bread back on Gilli’s plate. She snatched it up and took another big bite. “I believe it has to do with her grandmother,” Reeves revealed absently. “Anna said it would please Tansy too much if she went to worship.”

  Hypatia frowned. “Surely she didn’t mean that.”

  “Surely she did,” Mags muttered, “and who could blame her? You know how Tansy is. Let her think she’s won on one issue, she’ll try to run everything.”

  “Well, it’s not right,” Hypatia pointed out. Reeves had thought the same thing, but he wisely kept his mouth closed. He was glad of it when Hypatia said, “Someone has to speak to Anna about this.”

  “Not that she would listen to us,” Odelia said innocently. “Why would a girl, er, young woman like her care what three old biddies like us might say?”

  “I take issue with being called an old biddy,” Hypatia sniffed, “but you’re entirely right about the other. She needs to hear it from someone nearer her own age.”

  Reeves shifted in his chair, uncomfortably aware where this was headed.

  Mags pointed her knife at him. “Maybe you should do it, nephew. Maybe you could make Anna see what a mistake she’s making by not attending worship.”

  Just because he had known it was coming didn’t mean he had to like it.

  “Me?” he asked indignantly. “What makes you think she’d listen to me? Why should I be the one?”

  Mags went back to cutting a slice of tomato with a steak knife. “If not you,” she asked, stabbing him straight through the conscience, “then who?”

  Reeves stared at her for a good ten seconds as his own thought from that morning returned to pour salt into the wound. Bowing his head, he surrendered in silence. God didn’t have to crack his skull with a two-by-four. Ruffles and a steak knife were quite enough. He would say something as soon as the right moment presented itself. Now if only Anna would listen, but why should she?