Rich in Faith (Richness in Faith, Book 3) (21 page)

MISUNDERSTANDING

I PICK UP THE girls from Jenny and Stephen’s right after lunch. It feels like I have worked a week already.

And it’s only been a morning.

The girls are rambunctious once we return home and yet they reject my offer to swim.

“We don’t want to swim.” Bristol scrunches up her nose. “We want to do something else.”

“Like what?” I ask.

Team Twin look at each other, and I notice a
look
passing between them. A look that means they know what’s going on.

A part of me is scared at what they might come up with.

“We’ll be right back.”

I wait in the kitchen for them to return. When five minutes pass, and they don’t, I start to become concerned. But before I can act on it, I hear them call my name.

“Shelby! Come back here.”

Their tone doesn’t sound frantic. It sounds excited.

Wondering what they could be up to, I walk into their room.

And stare.

Each one of them is holding a brush.

An actual hairbrush.

Chills race up my arms at the sight.

“We tried to brush our hair, but it’s kind of hard. Can you help us?”

Fighting back tears, but not a smile, I walk to the girls. “Sure. Who’s first?”

“Me,” Bristol says, shoving her brush at me.

We all sit in the middle of their room. Bristol sits right in front of me, and I start at the bottom, slowly working my way up. Slowly being the operative word. I’ve said I’m sorry more than once at tugging her hair, and she’s repeated it’s okay just as many times.

Darling watches wide-eyed and curious.

“Mommy loved to brush our hair.”

Bristol’s words confuse me. “She did?”

“Yes. But we didn’t like her to.”

I continue to brush, not commenting. It’s dangerous territory for sure.

“Maybe you can be our mommy now.”

It’s all I can do not to turn into a puddle on the floor. Keeping the pace of my brushing going, I hope I don’t let on how her words have affected me. I know I love Court, and I know he loves me, but achieving a lifetime together takes more than those three words.

I run the brush from the top of her hair to the bottom and the full beauty of her dark black hair amazes me. It drapes to the floor and is as thick as molasses on a hot day.

“Beautiful,” I whisper.

“It is?” Bristol asks.

“I want mine to look like that.” Darling hands me her brush. “My turn.”

Bristol’s demeanor has changed as she sits and watches me brush out Darling’s hair.

“Have you guys ever heard of Locks of Love?” I ask.

“What’s that?” they ask.

“Someday, if you decide you ever want to cut your hair, you can donate what they cut off to an organization called Locks of Love. They make wigs for children who have cancer.”

“Cancer?” Bristol asks. “That’s what Mommy had. That’s why she died. She had cancer.”

“I know,” I reply. “The kids that have to have chemotherapy need wigs so when their hair falls out they can still have hair if they want to.”

“Oh,” Darling says. “It’s like when we put the toys in the box. We were helping kids who didn’t have any toys. And our hair can help kids who don’t have any hair.”

“That’s right.” For some reason, Darling’s hair is a little easier to brush. Maybe I have more skills having already brushed my way through Bristol’s hair. Either way, it takes half the time. But her hair is just as beautiful. Since they did wash their hair last night, it’s still clean.

“Girls. Let me take your picture.”

They stand and I watch their hair fall elegantly past their waist. Their faces look lighter, like a weight has been lifted.

I take a picture with them smiling, then I have them turn around and take one from behind.

“Beautiful. Your daddy is going to be so surprised.”

It’s all I can do not to text the photo to Court, but I want to see his face when he sees his girls’ beautiful hair.

“I know how we can really surprise daddy.” Bristol has an I’ve-got-an-idea look on her face.

“How’s that,” I ask, sliding my phone back in my pocket.

“We can donate our hair to the kids with cancer. Like Mommy. Remember how happy Daddy was when we gave the kids our toys? He’ll be happy that we want to help the kids with cancer.”

Darling looks like Bristol has just announced the best idea ever in the world. “Yes. That’s a great idea.” Darling looks at me. “Can we? Can we surprise Daddy?”

“Please?” Bristol begs.

“Yes, please?” Darling begs even louder.

Court was pleased with the girls wanting to give away their toys to an organization that helped other kids. But this is a little different. This is their hair. “Girls, I know you want to surprise your dad, but we really should ask him first. This is a big step for you guys. Have you ever had short hair?”

“No. But Phoebe does and it looks really nice. We like it, don’t we, Darling?”

“We do. Please let us surprise Daddy.”

As much as I want to be a part of what I know would be a great surprise, I can’t imagine taking them without asking Court. “Girls, this is a huge step. I’ll text him and ask him if it’s okay if you cut your hair. We won’t say how much. He’ll still be surprised, I promise.”

The girls look disappointed, but I know it’s the right thing to do. So I text him that the girls want to cut hair for kids with cancer.

I have to wait less than a minute for a response. “Sure. Sounds great.”

I smile. “We’ve got the go-ahead. Are you girls ready?”

“Yes!”

After a quick call to Phoebe’s mother, Teresa, to find out where their stylist is located, we drive over.

The girls become more nervous as their turn approaches. When the stylist, Robin, learns they want to give their hair to Locks of Love, she fawns all over Team Twin.

An hour later, with two bags of hair ready to mail off, we exit the salon. The girls’ hair is cut in the same style, a bob just below their ears.

“We love our hair, Shelby. Thanks for taking us.”

“It looks great, girls. I know your dad is going to like it, too.”

I can’t believe the difference in their appearance. Taylor and Saylor have nothing on these girls now.

We walk in the door and into the kitchen. Mrs. Stratton turns around and drops the bowl she’s holding. It’s a good thing it was plastic, but there are plenty of spaghetti noodles stuck to the floor.

“What has happened to their hair?” Mrs. Stratton can’t take her eyes off the girls.

I bet she hasn’t even noticed the noodles.

“Doesn’t it look great? They wanted to surprise their dad.”

“Surprise will be the understatement of the year. Decade.”

“We had his permission. He just doesn’t know what style they picked.”

“We’re gonna go look in the mirror.” Team Twin runs down the hall, leaving me with a befuddled housekeeper. I grab a paper towel and start cleaning up the noodles.

Mrs. Stratton continues to stare at me. “I don’t believe it. He gave you permission to take them to cut their hair?”

Grabbing another paper towel, I bend down and continue to do her job. “He did. Why does this surprise you so much? It was always a mess. Besides, they are donating the hair to Locks of Love. That’s what’s in the bags on the counter. We’re going to print off the forms and send it tomorrow.”

Mrs. Stratton finally regains some of her composure, and she sets the plastic colander she had dropped in the sink. “I’ll have to boil more noodles,” she mumbles, filling a pan with water. “This is the last thing I thought I’d ever see. That hair was their prized possession. Mr. Treyhune loved that hair. Again, I’m amazed at the transformation of that man. Thought I’d never see the day he let them cut their hair.”

I toss the noodles I’ve scooped up into the trash then wash my hands. I dig my phone out of my purse and call up the text I sent to Court. “Here. See for yourself. He said it was fine.”

Acting like she doesn’t want to read it, but peering closer she squints, then squints again. “Says here the girls want to buy hair for kids with cancer. Where’s the text about cutting the hair.”

My heart starts beating extremely rapidly. I turn the phone around and scroll up. No. We are on the right text. I look at it. And look again.

Girls want to buy hair for kids with cancer.

Then his text, Sure. Sounds great.

Buy hair.

Cut hair.

Auto correct has possibly ruined my life.

I mean, I don’t think Court will be that upset about the hair, regardless of what Mrs. Stratton thinks, but I think he should have been in on the decision making.

I tried.

Surely he will see this situation for what it is.

A misunderstanding.

After all, it is hair.

It will grow back.

And the kids are doing something great by donating their hair.

I slip my phone back in my purse not worried at all.

“HE’S HOME!”

Bristol’s voice screams down the hall way. I haven’t told them about the texting mix-up. They’ll be thrilled it’s going to be a surprise.

“Girls. Like we planned. Go in the living room and wait for me to say the word surprise. Hurry.” I motion them toward the living room as I hear the garage door going back down.

It’s almost eight o’clock. Mrs. Stratton tried to think of many reasons to stick around and “witness the carnage,” as she put it, but finally she had to agree there was no good reason for her to stay.

Court had texted saying he was working late with Jared, making sure all the accounts had been updated with new passwords. They also looked for any more signs of money missing but hadn’t found anything else.

He walks down the hall and looks around as he reaches me. I nod toward the living room indicating the girls are in there. I know he wants to kiss me, but doesn’t.

Just like I want to kiss him and I refuse to entertain the thought that it might be my last kiss after he sees the girls hair.

“Why don’t you have a seat right here?” I point to the bar stool. “Your girls have something they want to show you. It’s a surprise.”

I voice the last word loudly, and they come into the room, not running like I thought, but they are almost sheepishly entering, like they may have heard Mrs. Stratton’s carnage talk.

I keep my gaze on Court to gauge his reaction.

I wish I hadn’t.

Mrs. Stratton knows that of which she speaks.

MYSTERY

“ARE YOU MAD, Daddy?” Bristol’s voice has lost all the excitement it’s had the past few hours.

She sees his eyes as well.

They are burning with anger.

Burning.

He smiles and it’s so fake I want to wipe it off. “You girls are beautiful. That’s a nice style. Like your friend next door. Phoebe, right?”

“Yes. We even went to her stylist.” Darling walks to the counter and picks up one of the bags. “Here’s my hair, Daddy. It’s going to make a little girl with cancer be able to have some hair.”

“Here’s mine,” Bristol adds, shoving her bag into his hands. “Mommy would like that we did this, wouldn’t she?”

I can’t read Court anymore. He’s a mixture of anger, hurt, surprise, disbelief. Just like this morning.

Texting was a great idea. I just needed to text the right word.

I know now if I had texted the word cut, the answer would have been no. We might have been able to work on him for a couple of weeks and changed his mind, but this is an absolute disaster.

“Shelby is going to print off the forms from the computer and we’re going to fill them out. Then she’s going to take us to the post office. We’re doing the whole thing by ourselves. Are you proud of us, Daddy?”

Court can’t take his gaze off the girls. He keeps touching their hair. “I am very proud of you girls. Now I need to talk to Shelby for a few minutes, so why don’t you go back and watch a movie.”

He places the bags of hair on the counter and stands to give them a hug. “Actually, it’s kind of late. Get ready for bed, find a movie, and I’ll be back in a little while to tuck you in.”

“Okay.” They hug Court before coming over to hug me. Their eyes search mine, like they know something isn’t quite right. I give them a huge smile. “You girls look simply fabulous with your new hair. See you tomorrow.”

Court nods to the living room as the girls walk down the hall to their bedrooms. I follow Court, unsure of everything I’ve been sure of these last few days.

Once again, everything has changed, only this time it’s not for the better.

When we reach the living room, he turns. “You had no right,” he says, shaking his head, “to do that.”

“I texted. The wrong word, but I texted. Auto-correct is not my friend today.” I smile, try to laugh, but the situation doesn’t lend itself to anything humorous.

“Buying hair for kids with cancer is one thing. Cutting their hair off is another.”

I reach out to touch him, but he backs up. My heart lurches, and I find it hard to swallow. Something is very off here. “Look. This is a mix-up. A bad one, but a mix-up nonetheless. Their hair will grow back. Fast probably.”

“It’s not about the hair.”

He voices the words I was afraid to think.

“I know.”

“With everything that happened today, everything that has been happening, the one constant I had was knowing the girls were their mother’s daughters. They look like her. Act like her. As the days go by, it seems like they are the only good thing that has come from me marrying MaryLeigh. Is it too much for me to want them to stay like they are for a little while?”

As he speaks, he continues to put even more distance between us, like his words aren’t doing enough damage. My heart is breaking into a million pieces, each one reminding me of a strand of tangled hair that has become my life.

I tried to fix it, but it’s not mine to fix. “I’ve apologized. I can’t uncut their hair. I can only tell you that I love you, that I would never do anything to hurt you, and that it breaks my heart to know you aren’t ready to love again.”

“That’s not true.” He still doesn’t move, staying across the room from me. “I am ready. There are just some aspects of my life I don’t want to change for now.”

“This is about MaryLeigh and how she influenced the girls. But their tangled hair can’t replace what you’ve lost. I see now MaryLeigh wasn’t who you thought she was. That is evident, especially after what we found out today. But I thought that maybe this could be the beginning of something new. Something for us. I see now you’d rather live in the past when it comes to some things.”

I walk out of the room hoping he will follow me.

I make it all the way to my room, let myself in and shut the door. His footsteps start down the hall, but they pass by my room and turn into the girls’ rooms.

Minutes later I hear him walk past my room.

I knew he would.

No matter how much faith I have in us, if he doesn’t have any this thing will never work.

Court may have told me he loved me, but he’s still in love with something else.

Not someone, but something.

The idea of the wife he thought he had married.

FIVE O’CLOCK COMES early and I put on my running clothes. I tighten my visor and make sure my shoelaces are tied tightly. I look around the room one more time making sure I have everything.

It takes two trips to haul my things to the end of the driveway because I don’t want to wake anyone by dragging my luggage down the hall. The cab I called should be here any minute. I write a note for the girls and leave it on the counter along with a note to Mrs. Stratton with Phoebe’s number. I tell her the girls can probably play over there part of the day until they can find another nanny.

I sit in the back of the cab as it drives away in the dark gray of the Florida morning, knowing that it’s what I have to do. I don’t want to leave.

But I must.

The mystery of who MaryLeigh was, or wasn’t, will continue to haunt Court until he decides to break free from the past.

I can’t give my heart to a man who doesn’t have room in his for anything more than a broken dream. I get that the broken dream lives there.

I’d like to squeeze in and help heal the scars it left behind.

But he won’t let me.

So I’ll go.

I hate leaving Team Twin without saying goodbye, but I promised we’d Skype soon.

Court? I didn’t leave a note because I didn’t leave him.

He left me.