Carolyne Aarsen - The Matchmaking Pact

“He’s not coming.” Lily stood by the door, clutching the plate of cupcakes she had made for her father’s birthday.

“He’ll come, honey. Don’t worry.” Josie stroked Lily’s hair, shooting an anxious glance down the street.

It was 6:36 p.m. The rest of the parents had come and gone, but no sign of Silas. A phone call to his home netted her a terse request to leave a message from the answering machine. So she did, but here she was, half an hour after class and still waiting.

Anxiety clawed at her. Her grandmother had been complaining all last week about how long she had to wait for supper. As it was, Josie couldn’t leave her grandmother alone too long.

“Is Mr. Marstow coming?” Alyssa asked, her voice surprisingly perky in the circumstances. Josie was glad the children hadn’t picked up on her worry.

What if something happened to him? As far as she knew he was all alone on his ranch.

Another quick glance at her watch: 6:37 p.m. She had to get going. Now. “Are you sure you don’t know your dad’s cell phone number?”

Lily furrowed her brow, her nose curling up at the same time. “I’m sorry. I forgot. I used to know it.”

Josie thought for sure Silas would have drilled that information into his daughter’s head.

“I’ll write a note for your father and leave it on the door. I also left a message on his home phone. Stay right here and don’t move one inch,” she said, adding a stern note to her voice so the girls knew she was serious. “I’m getting some paper.”

The girls were exactly where she had left them when she returned with the note. She pinned it to the door, hoping it would stay. “Okay. Let’s go.”

She slipped her purse over her shoulder and held her hand out to Alyssa.

“Lily wants to hold your hand, too,” Alyssa said. “She doesn’t have an aunt’s hand to hold. Or a mother.”

Josie glanced down at the mismatched clothes Lily was wearing and felt a touch of regret for the young girl. Though Josie had taken the liberty of brushing Lily’s hair and fixing up her ponytail, it was obvious to Josie the little girl had chosen her own clothes.

“I can carry my cupcakes in my other hand,” Lily said, shifting them and holding out her free hand.

Josie took it and smiled down at the young girl. “Then let’s get going.”

The walk along the river to their temporary home was quick. Thankfully the girls were willing to step up the pace and they got there in a few minutes.

“Is that you, Josie? What took you so long?” was the first thing Josie heard when she opened the back door to the cottage.

“Sorry, Gramma,” she called out, dropping her briefcase on the floor and helping Lily set her cupcakes on the counter. “One of the parents hasn’t come yet.”

She hurried to the living room. Betty Carter was sitting in her wheelchair, looking out over the river, her hands clenched over each other in her lap. Josie paused when she caught a fleeting glimpse of sorrow in her grandmother’s face.

What went on behind those sharp blue eyes? Did she have regrets? Did she miss all the people she had lost in her life?

Josie would probably never know. Her grandmother never opened up to her. Never showed anything that might be construed as weakness. And never told Josie that she loved her.

“I would have liked to know if you were coming,” Betty said, the condemning tone in her voice sweeping away the moment. “A simple phone call would have been considerate.”

Josie pressed back a reply. Her grandmother didn’t like answering the phone, as she had often told her granddaughter. “I see Sally got you set up nicely,” she said, her eyes skimming over the table beside her grandmother. A teapot, cup and plate of cookies sat within easy reach as did a book and a couple of magazines.

While Josie was at work, a few women from the church took turns stopping by to check on her grandmother. Sometimes they had to help her out of bed.

“That Fenton woman doesn’t know the first thing about helping invalids. She jostled me so bad, my pain came back.”

“Did you take the pills the doctor gave you?”

“They don’t do anything.” Betty flapped her hand in a gesture of dismissal. Then she straightened as Lily and Alyssa slipped past the doorway. “It’s not polite to ignore your Gramma, you know,” she called out with a sharp tone. “And who is that with you?”

Alyssa stopped, and Josie saw her give Lily an apologetic look. Then she turned and trudged into the living room, holding Lily’s hand.

“Gramma, this is my friend Lily Marstow. Lily, this is my Great-Gramma.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Lily said.

“Is your dad Silas Marstow?” Betty turned her chair around to face the girl.

Lily nodded.

“Your mother died two years ago?”

“It makes me sad to talk about her,” Lily said. “But someday I’ll get a new mother.”

Her assertion made Josie wonder if Silas had a girlfriend, which then made her wonder why she cared.

“If you’ll excuse me, Gramma, I have to go make supper.” Josie felt bad leaving Alyssa and Lily with her grandmother, but she had to start.

“We’re going, too,” Alyssa said, grabbing Lily by the hand.

“Don’t you want to stay and talk to me?” Betty asked, sounding peeved.

“I want to show Lily my room before her dad comes.” Alyssa beat a hasty retreat, giggling with Lily as they scurried down the hallway and into the room she shared with Josie.

Josie paused in the doorway, feeling a moment’s sympathy for her grandmother. Betty had never been a pleasant person, and Josie was sure her injuries gave her a lot of pain. However, she didn’t blame the girls for not wanting to spend more time with her. Betty was unfailingly critical. While her grandmother might have just cause to criticize Josie, given her wild past, Betty had no right to reproach Alyssa.

“Alyssa is turning out to be more and more like you all the time,” Betty snapped.

“Alyssa is a good girl, Gramma.”

“You better hope so” was Betty’s only reply.

Josie sighed and returned to the kitchen, her brief moment of sympathy melting in the heat of her grandmother’s glare and reinforcing, for Josie, the need to stick to her plan of leaving. That Betty disapproved of Josie was one thing, but to turn that disapproval to Alyssa, Josie couldn’t allow. And she knew her grandmother wasn’t going to change.

She got the rice cooking, made some more tea for her grandmother and was stir-frying the vegetables when a truck rumbled to a stop in front of the house.

Josie glanced sidelong out the window in time to see Silas Marstow come striding up the walk. Beneath the brim of his cowboy hat, she saw his face set in the same grim lines she had seen that day of the tornado.

Why did she feel a rush of guilt? It wasn’t her fault he was late.

“Lily, your father is here,” she called out, rinsing her hands and drying them off on her apron as she walked to the door. When she pulled it open, Silas stood on the step, one hand raised to knock on the door, the other on his hip, his eyes narrowed.

She had a feeling of déjà vu as his disapproval swirled around her.

“I thought this thing went until seven” were the first words out of his mouth.

Josie slowly shook her head. “No. I was sure I told you six.”

Silas pushed his hat back on his head, scratching his chin with his forefinger. He hadn’t shaved and his finger made a rasping noise against the stubble shadowing his jaw. “Lily told me seven. I wouldn’t be so irresponsible as to leave my daughter waiting for an hour.”

Josie bit back her next response, trying not to get baited by his anger. “You’re here now. Come in, and I’ll get Lily.”