Sisterchicks Down Under (22 page)

Something inside of me felt that was true. That’s the only way to describe what I was feeling. I didn’t know how to express it. In my heart, I knew that God was extravagant with His love and His gifts to His children. I also knew that this was a time for me to be extravagant with my husband by giving him all the freedom he needed to pursue this next opportunity. It felt right.

Tony didn’t seem to know what to say, but it didn’t matter. What followed were lots of mushy kisses and not a lot of words.

On Wednesday, Jill and I met at the Chocolate Fish at our usual table. Tracey brought a whole plate of chocolate fish and pulled up a chair, eager to hear all our stories about Sydney. Jill presented Tracey with one of our little squeaking kangaroos. Tracey laughed and said she would let him ride around on the dashboard of Beatrice.

“Or better yet,” Tracey said, “how about if I manage some sort of pouch on the front of Beatrice? We could tuck this little joey in the pocket on the grille.”

I didn’t doubt that Tracey might try such a setup just to watch our reactions.

“I’m so glad you’re getting out and getting on with your life, Jill. It’s a good thing. I’m sure you know that.”

Jill nodded. “I know. I can’t believe how much has changed for me in the past few weeks.”

“It’s ever since
she
showed up.” Tracey grinned and pretended to shield her mouth, as if I couldn’t hear her.

“I’m sitting right here, you know.”

“I know And I hope you know how great it is that you showed up when you did. Which reminds me, what are you two doing Friday night?”

Jill and I both said we had no plans.

“Then what do you think of the three of us having a girls’ night out? I thought we could go to the movies.”

“Sounds fun.”

“Good. We have a plan. Now, I’d love to sit here another hour, but there’s no telling what state the kitchen has gotten into while I’ve been chatting.” Tracey started walking away and added, “I’ll pick you up in Bea around six-thirty on Friday. And dress like you mean it.”

Jill and I swapped glances that said we weren’t sure what Tracey’s last line meant. All I knew was that I had a ton of laundry to do. I told Jill, “I’ve been waiting for another sunny day, so I can hang the clothes outside instead of in the bathtub. I’m beginning to miss having a clothes dryer more than I thought I would.”

“More than Cheerios?” Jill asked.

“Yes, more than Cheerios.”

“What else do you miss?”

“A little bit of everything, but nothing so much that I can’t wait to go back.” I was about to tell Jill about the possibility of Tony’s extended assignment, but for some reason it seemed better to wait until the possibility was stronger. I could see the two of us making plans to do something four months from now, and then, if Tony didn’t get the job, it would feel like the disastrous bathing suit shopping experience. It seemed better to keep quiet until I could talk confidently about staying.

“You know what I realized the other day? I miss teaching,” Jill said.

“You do?”

“I really do. I haven’t taught for the past few years, but after you were so kind as to play the role of the interested student at the art museum in Sydney I’ve been thinking about how much I love it.”

“I wasn’t playing the role of the interested student. I was interested. I’m sure I gave you a hard time about it, but, Jill, you’re a great teacher. I learned so much. You have such a freshness and passion in the way you explain everything.”

“I forgot I had that passion.”

“Well, the passion is definitely back. You should do something about it.”

Jill looked out the window at the water and drew in a deep breath, as if she were trying to breathe in the fresh, salty air. I realized this was the same profile I’d seen the day we met. But this time, instead of tears on her face, I saw a chin-up look of determination.

“Maybe this is the treasure you’re holding in your hand,” I suggested, thinking of the painting we had enjoyed together in Sydney.

Jill swished her lips back and forth the way she did when she was contemplating something. “No,” she said after a moment. “This isn’t it. Feeling the passion for teaching is a good thing, but this isn’t the treasure I hold in my hand.”

“Do you know what it is?”

“Not yet.”

“I almost forgot.” I reached into my purse and pulled out a card-sized envelope. “It’s not exactly a treasure by any means, but I do have a little something for you. Here.”

Jill looked at the envelope. “You’re not going to believe this, but I have a card for you, too.”

We exchanged envelopes, and I opened mine first. On the front of the homemade card Jill had doodled an adorable mama kangaroo. She had bright pink lips; long, flippy eye-lashes; and a broad Manly Beach hat on her head. In her pouch was a box of tissues.

Inside Jill had written, “Thanks for showing up when you did, Kathy. You have no idea how much I appreciate you. I have thanked God a million times for you and the sunshine of your friendship. If you ever need me for anything, just say the word, and I’ll be there in one big kangaroo hop.”

“I love it, Jill. Thank you.” I flipped back to the kangaroo doodle on the front and smiled. “This is so cute.”

“I considered adding Cheerios,” Jill said dryly. “But I was afraid you’d try to lick them off the paper.”

“Very funny.”

As Jill opened my envelope, I felt compelled to apologize. “Now remember, I’m not an artist like you.”

“I’m not an artist,” Jill said quickly.

“Yes, you are! Look at this. I could never draw like this.”

“I’m a doodler, Kathy. Not an artist.”

“Doodling is art.”

She pulled my card out of the envelope. “And so is this! How fun! The feathers!”

“You recognize them?”

“Of course. Although they did look a little more artsy in your hair than here on paper.”

“That’s because I’m not an artist. Not even a doodler.”

Jill opened the card and read my one-liner aloud. “ ‘Sisterchicks of a feather sip lattes together!’ How perfect!”

“I hope I managed to glue the two feathers at the right median and interpose the best ratio balance for the canvas.”

Jill cracked up. “You were listening.”

“Told you I was. If an art appreciation class doesn’t open up for you to teach, I think you should consider leading art appreciation tours. I’d be the first to sign up.”

“Now that sounds like fun. How about art tours to Paris? They have that big Louvre, you know.” Her twinkling-eyed expression made it clear that she thought she was flinging out the wildest of all possibilities.

I wasn’t ready to scale it down. “Why not? You have the time, the expertise, and you love to travel. There’s no reason you shouldn’t lead art appreciation tours to Paris.”

Jill looked as if a whirlwind of possibilities was about to sweep her up and transport her to an exotic locale.

I knew that feeling.

F
riday morning I asked Tony
if he had heard anything new on the job opening. He said, “Mad Dog thinks they hit a judder bar with the finances. Nothing new. Happens all the time.”

“Wait. What did you say? They hit a what?”

Tony thought back on what he had said. “Oh, a judder bar.”

“And what is a judder bar?”

Tony smiled and wheeled his bike toward the door. “Haven’t you heard that one around here yet? That’s what the guys at work call a speed bump. I gotta go, Kath. I love you.”

I kissed him as he flew out the door and called out, “Make sure you don’t hit any judder bars!”

I had some wet laundry ready to hang on the line, and the morning sunshine motivated me to jump on the chore. The act of standing and stretching my arms over my head to fasten sheets and shirts and even my underwear to the clothesline had become a small act of worship. I loved the way the soft breezes would come and make the clothes move. My pj’s
danced without music. In a funny little way, I envied them.

Tony called my cell phone around four o’clock, and I reminded him that I’d made plans to go to the movies with Tracey and Jill that night.

“Maybe you and Mad Dog can do something after work,” I suggested.

“No can do. Mad Dog has a blind date.”

“A blind date? With whom?”

Tony paused. “If he knew, it wouldn’t be a blind date, now would it?”

“Tell him I hope it goes well.”

“Yeah, well, if it doesn’t go well, I’m his out.”

“What do you mean?”

“If he wants an excuse to leave, he’s going to dial my cell and hang up. I’m supposed to call him back and make it sound like he has to come to the studio immediately.”

“I can’t believe you guys are doing that! How do you think the poor woman is going to feel?”

Tony hesitated again, as if I’d missed the obvious. “Have you forgotten who we’re talking about here? This is Mad Dog. What woman wouldn’t thank me for making the call?”

“Tony!”

“Don’t worry. Mad Dog is standing right here. I’m just giving him a hard time. You should see the guy. He’s as nervous as a cat. A Mad Cat.”

In the background I heard a loud “meow!”

“What are you planning to do, then? Are you going to come home and wait for Mad Dog’s call or stay there at work?”

“I think I’ll stay here. Don’t worry about me. I have plenty to do.”

“Okay. I’ll see you when I get back.”

Tony’s voice took on an ethereal quality as he added, “I hope you and your friends have the time of your life during this time of your life.”

He was mocking Tracey’s inspirational line, but I didn’t care. I kind of liked being in his lineup of friends that he could tease. It was a good place for our marriage to be.

Beatrice, the Blazing Bumble Bee, pulled up in the gravel driveway at precisely 6:35, and I was ready to go. Jill and Tracey looked gorgeous. Both of them had done their hair and makeup with a little more pizzazz than usual. Jill had on a lime green sweater set with the sleeves pushed up and a row of beaded bracelets on her forearm. She looked fresh and cute.

“I don’t think I dressed up enough.” I looked at my knit shirt, jeans, and athletic shoes.

“We have time, if you want to make a quick change,” Tracey said. “It’s up to you.”

“I’ll be right back.” Dashing inside, I remembered that Tracey had told us to dress like we meant it. I wasn’t sure on Wednesday what that meant, and now I wasn’t sure what combination in my wardrobe would fit that description. Going for a pair of sandals instead of the running shoes was a good first step. The jeans were okay, but I dressed them up with a crisp white blouse that I’d ironed for the trip to Sydney and then hadn’t packed. One of the plusses of having dark hair and eyes was that anytime I wore white, I looked like I’d cleaned up. The opal earrings and necklace I bought in Sydney were a quick add-on, and I was out the door.

“Classy,” Jill said, when I slid in the front seat next to her.

“That’s a great look on you,” Tracey agreed. “Love the earrings.”

“Thanks. Sorry to keep you waiting.”

“No worries. We have time.” Tracey eased Bea out of the driveway and down the road.

We chatted like a box of budgies, which I’d learned meant we sounded like a bunch of cheerful, twittering birds. When Tracey approached the Embassy Theatre, I knew where we were. That was a Wellington first for me.

“Are you two popcorn eaters?” Tracey asked. “Or should we go out for Pavlova afterward?”

I didn’t know what Pavlova was, but popcorn seemed mandatory for a girls’ night out at the movies.

“We’re getting it with extra butter, of course,” Tracey said, as we stepped in line at the concession stand. “And three large diet soft drinks to cancel the effects of the extra butter.”

The three of us were chuckling at the universal female dieting logic, when a man came up behind Jill and said, “If you’re the lady in green, I’m the man in black.”

We all turned and I nearly shrieked. “Mad Dog!”

He stumbled back half a step on the plush carpet. “Kathleen, what are you doing here?”

“Mad Dog?” Jill echoed.

“Hallo!” Tracey said.

I’d never seen Mad Dog look so stunned. He even took off his cap and greeted Jill with reverence.

Jill barely moved.

Mad Dog nervously glanced at me and then at Tracey. I saw the cell phone looped on his belt buckle, ready to draw.

Regaining his composure, Mad Dog said, “Ahh, just wanted to … yeah. Well. Have a nice evening. Hope you enjoy
the show.” He looked over the top of my head, and by his expression it was clear that another woman dressed in green had entered the building.

Mad Dog bolted across the lobby, and the three of us watched as a young-looking blonde in a tight emerald green sweater smiled and responded to his pickup line.

“Well, Bob’s your uncle,” Tracey said. “That was a bit on the awkward side, wasn’t it?”

Jill still hadn’t said anything.

It was our turn to order. Tracey stepped up to the counter and asked for a tub of buttered popcorn. “Jill, you want anything else?”

“No.”

We found three seats near the front, and Jill settled in the middle between Tracey and me. I looked around the beautifully refurbished theater and felt as if we had stepped back in time to an era when viewing a film was a big event and everyone dressed up for the occasion.