Night Stars and Mourning Doves (3 page)

“Now why would we want to do that?” Her cup set aside, she stood to arrange a beaded concoction around her sister’s face. “It’s your wedding.”

“I left the price tags on. Of course I’d have to do that if I haven’t bought one yet.”

“This is awfully...poufy. Are you sure you want that kind of look?” Elyse set that one down and studied the next contender to complete her sister’s bridal ensemble. “Just because the price tags are on doesn’t mean I have to look at them.”

“One is pretty pricey.”

“The one you prefer?” Not waiting for an answer, she picked up the silk tulle number enjoying how the luxurious material floated effortlessly over her fingers. “I’m not worried about costs and you don’t need to be either.”

“But your salary—”

“Has been reduced some since I moved here.”

“Do you even make minimum wage where you are now?”

Elyse fluffed out the elegant veil on Angela’s head then pulled the front part over her face. “And then some. Making a career change was my choice. Not something I was forced to do.”

Being a lawyer in her former life was a place she truly believed—wrongly it turned out—she could make a difference. Child abuse, domestic violence, she’d take on any case to help bring justice to the innocent victims of the worst of crimes. Half—no—three quarters of the time—she worked for little or no pay. She soon learned that trying to protect a neglected child or battered wife after the fact wasn’t doing anyone any good. And led her to leave the classy firm founded by her grandfather and great-uncle which guaranteed a six figure income plus lavish perks. A move well worth any downside. She so enjoyed her current work.

“Do you ever wonder how Uncle Harry and our cousins are doing without you?”

“We stay in touch. I’m still an absentee member of the board.”

Although she didn’t share the particulars, something in her was pleased to note profits for the firm were down a smidge since she’d left. That was according to the latest profit and loss report she still received on a regular basis. One unfortunate development had also resulted from her departure.
Pro bono
work for the disadvantaged was down as well.

“We agreed some segment of your outfit would be suitable to become an heirloom to pass down. Since we never received any keepsakes from our mother.” A woman who failed her daughters in too many ways to count.
“The silk tulle fabric is the best for that too. The material stores very well.”

Angela ran her fingers along the lace trimmed edge of the third veil. “My outfit aside, am I spending too much on the wedding?”

“No, of course not.” She kept talking so her sister wouldn’t be able to argue. “With what’s in our trust fund, we could put on ten weddings like this, even more.”

Wise eyes peeked at her from under a French net cage veil. “All we need after mine is one more. Not ten.”

Elyse adjusted the silver cross hanging at her sister’s neck. “And whose wedding would that be?”

“Yours. When you’re lucky enough to find someone the way I have. Someone like Chris.”

“As you’ve told me so many times, your Chris is one in a million. Those are pretty daunting odds. What chance do I have of finding another one?”

“You need to let go of your embargo against all men.”

“I prefer some type of veil that falls over your face. What do they call it, a blush? Like the silk tulle. There’s something about a groom lifting the material away to get at his bride’s face.”

“That’s your idea of romance?”

“Maybe. To be desired by a man who wants you for you.” She fought to keep the bitterness from her tone. “And not the multi-million dollar trust fund you represent to him.”

“Vince Arnold was a jerk.” Angela stated. “I’m about to enjoy the most wonderful day of my life. You deserve the same.”

“I’ve had two such days already.” Elyse sobered.
The day our father died and the day I finally left Vince for good.
“Though you were too young to realize, Mom and Dad were filthy rich when they were killed. And, except for your tuition and other expenses at college, we’ve barely made a dent in our funds. In fact, what money we have taken out is interest, not principle. There’s still more than enough to support you, your children and your grandchildren, even great-grandchildren. And, I might add, may there be many.”

“From you, too.”

Elyse feigned a carefree laugh she hoped Angela would accept as genuine. “I currently have all the children I can handle—and love—at Happy Times Nursery School.”

Chapter Three

Happy Times Nursery School.

Eric studied the brightly painted sign he approached and clicked on the left turn signal of his older model SUV.

“Here it is, Jay.” Glancing into the rear view mirror, he addressed his son in the back seat. Sweat beads broke out on his forehead and his hands grew clammy as he pulled into the parking lot. “This should be a fun place to spend your time.” If he were lucky, Jay wouldn’t pick up on the quiver in his voice.

“You think so?”

Pushing the gear shift into park, he turned to face him. “Sure. Look over there.” He pointed to a small playground on the side lot. “They have two slides, a jungle gym, and several swings.” Casually blotting damp palms on his slacks, he went on. “Let’s see what’s inside.”

“Okay.”

He had to make himself turn off the ignition when all he wanted to do was slam it into reverse and take off for home. Climbing out of the vehicle was another challenge, as was opening the back door to unstrap Jay from his booster seat and ease him to the ground.

“Don’t forget my backpack.”

About to close the door, Eric reached into the car for the bag he hefted onto waiting shoulders that suddenly seemed very, very small. This new job of his came with a lot of mandatory on-call field time when he’d have to be on the road. He should have gone for one that wasn’t so mobile. Maybe teaching at a daycare.

“Am I going to be able to play with the kids I met the other day?” A tiny hand slipped into his larger one.

“Of course you are. And you’re going to have fun.” He tried hard to keep from sounding like he issued a direct order. “Just like we talked about last night.”

“I’m going to have new friends to play with and—swings.” The little boy started to head toward the playground.

“You’ll get to go out there sometime today, I’m pretty sure, but right now we need to go inside and let your teachers know you’re here.”

“And meet my new friends.”

“That’s right.” When his voice threatened to fail him, he brought it back stronger. “New friends to play with.”
This will be good for you.
“This will be good for you,” he reaffirmed.

With his whole life before him, Jay had every reason to go on. Even if his father couldn’t. Eric concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other as they made their way toward the nondescript brick building.

“I’m going to have fun.”

“Uh-huh.”

As Jay’s head moved side to side to absorb his new surroundings, Eric scoped out the parking lot. Among the various cars and vans, a brand new silver Mercedes seemed somehow out of place.
At least we’re in good company, I suppose.

“Hey, buddy, look up there.” He indicated the cartoon style jungle animals cavorting across a rainbow colored arc over the doorway.

Tiny fingers gripped tighter. “Uh-huh.”

“See the bear? The tiger? There’s an elephant,” Eric went on. “What color is the elephant, Jay?”

The child glanced up. “Green.”

“That’s right.” Eric shook his head. Not exactly in line with real life, but having a short break from reality couldn’t do his son any harm.

“And the lion is red with a bright blue mane.” The young voice ricocheted back as they entered a shaded alcove.

A beige metal panel imbedded in the bricks contained a doorbell of sorts with a large round speaker beside it.

“We need to push this button to let the people inside know we’re out here,” Eric explained.

He kept a firm hold on Jay’s hand as a detached female voice came back at them. “May I help you?”

“Jay Matthews is here for his first day of school.” Planting enthusiasm into his tone, he waited until the latch was released with a loud click, then pushed open the door and ushered Jay inside ahead of him.

The interior had a typical school building feel and smell. Well-worn brown linoleum on the floor, neutral colors—beige and yellow—on the cinder block walls. The muted commotion of children and teachers could be heard from somewhere down the hallway to their left.

“This is nice,” Eric said as they headed in that direction.

“Yeah.” Jay’s reply was breathy before excitement entered his voice. “This way, Daddy. This way.”

Bouncing from foot to foot, the boy pointed one small finger to a wall-sign with the animal characters from out front perched on top of a large black arrow.

Still holding hands, father and son walked on. “You’re right. This is where we need to go.”

If Eric had his way—and thank the stars he didn’t—he’d gather Jay up, bundle him close, and never let the only child he had left out of his sight.

Doing his best to banish the urge to flee, he directed Jay by a wall of windows on one side to the doorway of the main classroom. Huge black rubber tiles laid out on the floor were emblazoned with big block letters in sunny reds, royal blues and brilliant greens. Tot sized plastic chairs in the same vibrant colors surrounded several equally low oblong tables.

Lining the walls were an art center complete with easels and paints, and several play spaces of trucks, blocks, an assortment of dolls and other toys.

A few children Jay’s age were being supervised by a group of six women standing near the room’s center. Most of the adults appeared to be teeny boppers just out of high school, the rest on the verge of collecting Social Security.

A lone teacher didn’t fit either demographic. She separated from the others to come toward them wearing a smile so bright, Eric hoped the one he returned was half as nice.

Tall and slender with a model’s form and stature, this one was nicely curved. A loose smock sporting cartoon characters covered her on top. His gaze lowered. Black slacks that ended in name brand running shoes took care of the bottom half. Her long ash brown hair was pulled into a ponytail in back with soft bangs sweeping across her forehead. Green eyes beneath thick lashes lit up a face more attractive than any he’d seen or cared to notice in quite a while.

“Welcome.” She came to a stop in front of them and Eric had to blink twice to keep from staring. His attention to detail skills must be gearing up early in preparation for his new job.

“I’m Eric Matthews and this is Jay.”

He extended his hand, but she’d already knelt to greet his son. “We’re so happy you’re here with us today, Jay. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you. I’m Miss Elyse. I know your Uncle Chris, too.”

His hand out reaching for air and nothing else was beyond awkward. Going for discreet, Eric tucked his fist in the front pocket of his khakis and tried not to feel mildly slighted. She was a teacher for crying out loud. Her focus was supposed to be on her student, not the man who had brought him.

In one motion, she stood and took hold of the hand he hadn’t stuffed in his pocket. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Mr. Matthews.”

“I—thank you.” Stunned at her familiarity, he started to jerk away.
Brother Chris had a big mouth.
Ma does, too.

Then he recalled the personal history form she helped him fill out and the advice bestowed along with it. 'If they know what Jay’s had to deal with over the past year, it will help them provide the special care he needs.'

I’m dealing too.

He’d tried to ignore the internal retort as his mother went on. 'You have a better handle on your emotions than Jay.'

Bet me.

“Would you and Jay like a short tour, Mr. Matthews?”

“It’s Eric.” He cleared his throat. “My first name’s Eric.”

“As I told Jay, mine’s Elyse.” Those full lips retained the same captivating smile.

And, pleasant as that was, it was the eyes that grabbed hold and pulled him in. Like he’d just taken a nose dive into some clear cool lake on a hot summer day. And hit the surface alive and refreshed.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you and Jay came for your initial visit.”

Startled, he spoke the first words that came to mind. “But, you’re here now.”

“Yes I am. And it’s nice to finally meet you. Your brother has talked about you at some length.”

All good I hope.

It was all he could do to avoid uttering the pat response. “Chris likes to talk.”

“He’s proud of his family.”

“We’re an interesting brood.”
What was he going for? Conversational idiot of the year?

“Angela can’t say enough about your parents.”

“They’re—some would say quirky. We’re a quirky family.”

“At least you’re a family.”

A strange cloud came over those eyes that had him mesmerized. She turned away before he figured out exactly what he’d seen.

“Now how about we take that tour? How about it, Jay?”

“Yes. Please.” Eyes big as a set of proverbial saucers, Jay wiggled his fingers out of his father’s grip and extended his hand to the woman he’d just met.

“This is your space, Jay.” She led them over to a wall made up of two rows of open ended wooden squares with their insides painted in more bright colors. She showed him a white card with
JAY
spelled out in stenciled block letters above one of them. “See your name?”

“That’s my name, Daddy.”

“I see that.”

She looked up at Eric. “Each child has his or her own cubby hole to hold personal items, a change of clothes, extra socks, a favorite blanket, that type of thing.” Almost immediately, her attention reverted to Jay. “You can put your back pack in there now if you’d like.”

“Okay.” He shrugged off his father’s gesture of help to quickly remove the straps from his own shoulders.