Sugar Plums for Dry Creek & At Home in Dry Creek (9 page)

There. Judd had made his speech. It wasn't fancy, but it was the first time in his life he'd come out and said why he was so different.

“I do know how to work, though.” Judd felt he needed to add something positive. “That's one thing I learned living with my uncle. I learned how to work.”

“Oh.”

Judd didn't add that he'd also learned not to
trust any one and not to expect any thing from anyone else.

There was a moment of silence.

And then Lizette took a sip of tea. “My mother al ways wanted me to be a ballet dancer.”

“But you
are
a ballet dancer.”

“Yes, but don't you wonder what would have happened if I hadn't been able to dance?” Lizette asked. “What would have happened between my mother and me then? I think part of me al ways wondered about that, but I was afraid to ask her—I was even afraid to ask my self the question.”

Judd had never thought that some one who had a family still might have had problems.

“Well,” Judd said. He didn't know what else to say, so he just put his hand over Lizette's hand and patted it like he would have patted Amanda's hand if she had been there.

Judd guessed that maybe there was something to this going to church after all. Before he knew it, he wasn't pat ting Lizette's hand but was holding it in stead.

“The tea's kind of hot,” Lizette said as she blinked.

“Yeah, so is the coffee,” Judd said as he pulled out a handkerchief and gave it to Lizette. He might not have a tie, but he'd started carrying one or two
extra handkerchiefs since Amanda and Bobby had come into his life. It seemed like a lot of things were changing since those kids had come into his life.

L
izette wasn't ready for her students to come for practice. Oh, she was ready. She'd received the box of costumes and props from Madame Aprele and she had them laid out in the back room. She had the stage book marked for Charley, the narrator, so he could read aloud the abbreviated story of the Nutcracker and direct some of the scenes. What she wasn't ready for was to see Judd.

How did you explain to a man that you aren't crazy? Especially when he's seen your mood swing with his own eyes. She still didn't know what had happened. One minute, she was sitting there drinking tea with Judd and, be fore she knew it, she was sniffling into his handkerchief and talking about her mother. Lizette hadn't even known all of those questions about whether or not she measured up to
her mother's hopes were in side her until they came spilling out to Judd. She was a mess.

It was the pastor's fault, of course. All of the talk about love and family and for give ness—well, anyone would start to thinking about their life, wouldn't they?

It's just that it couldn't have happened at a worse time. She'd wanted to impress Judd. He was sort of the parent of the first two real students she'd ever had in her life, and she wanted him to see her as a professional.

After listening to her cry yesterday, he probably saw her as some one who
needed
a professional in stead of some one who
was
a professional.

And he hadn't even had a choice but to listen to her. He'd patted her hand after her first few tears and told her that it would be all right. She should have stopped then. But she didn't. She'd gone on and on, telling him about this and that, and he'd kept patiently pat ting her hand. Then he'd held her hand for a bit, and it was the sweetest thing. Most men would have used the whole thing to make a move on a woman, but Judd didn't. Which, when Lizette thought about it, was the most embarrassing thing of all.

She'd been vulnerable and he'd been a gentleman. She'd been around enough to know what that meant—he wasn't interested. Plain and simple. No chemistry.

Not that she cared if he was interested. It was really best that he wasn't. After all, she was the teacher of the children under his care. He certainly wasn't obligated to think of her as any thing but a teacher. She didn't
want
him to think of her as any thing but a teacher.

And, to make things even worse, when it was all over and she'd cried her fill, he'd taken pity on her and asked her to sit with him and the children in church. Of course, she couldn't say no, because by then other people were coming in be hind them for coffee, and she didn't want to turn around and have to face the others. So she had to keep sitting at the table with Judd until she'd blinked away some of the red ness in her eyes.

In the mean time, Judd kept enough conversation going with the others so that no one noticed she wasn't turning around and talking. And he'd done it all so naturally, as though he was used to taking care of some one.

Lizette was never going to go to church again.

 

Judd wouldn't have believed that Lizette had cried in one of his handkerchiefs yesterday morning. Amanda had asked over break fast if she could invite Lizette over for Thanksgiving dinner, and Judd had actually agreed it was a good idea. He'd thought they'd all had a nice time together yesterday. Now, he
wasn't so sure. It was practice time for the ballet, and the woman whose soft hands he'd held yesterday had turned into a drill sergeant today, and she apparently saw him as nothing more than a raw recruit.

“I can march or I can ballet,” he finally said. “I can't do both.”

Well, Judd admitted, that was an exaggeration. He could march, but he wasn't so sure any one could call his tortured steps ballet. People couldn't walk like that, could they? Lizette insisted she wasn't trying any advanced moves, but they sure seemed advanced to him.

Mrs. Hargrove and Charley were sitting on two folding chairs at the back of the practice room talking intensely until they both happened to look at him doing his ballet moves. Judd couldn't decide if it was encouragement or astonishment that he saw in their eyes, and he wasn't about to ask. At least they had stopped their conversation and bothered to look at him.

Which was more than he could say for Lizette. She didn't even look at him to see how he was doing when he complained. The only students she looked at this morning were the children. His sole consolation was that Pete looked even more be wildered than he was.

“My toes don't bend back ward,” Pete said.

“Of course not,” Lizette said with some alarm in
her voice as she left the children and went to Pete's side. “You must have your feet placed wrong. Here, let me help you.”

Lizette put her arm around Pete and stood at his side. “Now, do this.”

Judd grunted. Pete wasn't even looking at Lizette's feet as she showed him how to move his big feet. Instead, the cow boy was grinning triumphantly over at Judd. Well, Judd had to admit that the cow boy knew how to get a lady's attention better than he did even if he was just as bad at ballet.

“Now you try it,” Lizette said to Pete.

“Ah.” Pete looked around in alarm. “I think I need to see it all again.”

“You put your foot like this,” Lizette began again.

Judd wondered why she needed to keep her arm around the cow boy when all she was doing was showing him how to stand on his tip toes. “Shouldn't he be practicing at the bar over there?”

Judd knew the bar was for practicing. He didn't much like looking in the big mirror be hind the bar, but he did know what it was for.

“I'm learning just fine here,” Pete said. “It's not easy being a rat.”

Judd grunted. He thought the other man was doing a particularly fine job of being a rat.

“I think a rat would move his feet like this,” Pete said as he danced a little.

Fine, Judd thought, now the cow boy was doing interpretive dance.

“That looks a little like the tango,” Lizette said with a frown. “That's good, but it's more like the steps the mice would take. You're the leader. You need more power in your moves. You play a huge king rat.”

“Think big and fat,” Judd offered. “All of that cholesterol from the cheese.”

Pete scowled at him. “I'm sure I'm a very fit rat.”

“I don't see you eating any cottage cheese in this role,” Judd said. If any one should have power in their moves, it should be the Nutcracker. Judd had a feeling he was going to need some power.

“At least no one's going to be staring at my legs like they will be at the Nutcracker's,” Pete said smugly. “I have a costume that covers my legs.”

“Oh, that's right,” Lizette said. She moved away from Pete and stood in the middle of the room. “Let's take a break and try on the costumes. Then we'll do a quick read through with the narration so people get familiar with the story. We'll do the actions, but not worry about all of the dance steps yet.”

“Good.” Judd could do action.

The children and Pete went into the back room
first to look at the costumes. Judd wanted to talk with Mrs. Hargrove. “Good morning,” Judd said as he walked over to her and sat down in the chair that Charley had just vacated. Charley decided to go into the back room to see the costumes, too.

Mrs. Hargrove smiled and nodded. Then she waited.

“I enjoyed church yesterday,” Judd lied. It was true that he'd found church very interesting, but he could hardly say that. It made the whole experience sound scientific and cold, and it hadn't been, either. Lizette had been right that there should be some ad vice book about church going.

“I thought you might think it was a bit too personal,” Mrs. Hargrove said.

“Oh, no,” Judd lied again. Now that he thought about it, that was exactly what had been wrong with all those things the pastor was saying. Whose business was it any way how he wanted to treat his enemies? Enemies shouldn't expect nice treatment. Maybe people wouldn't have so many enemies if every one just stayed with their own business.

“I'm glad you feel that way,” Mrs. Hargrove said. “I'll look for you to be come a regular at church then.”

“Ah,” Judd stammered. He didn't want to give that
impression. “I'll certainly come when I can, but I'm building a fence, you know.”

Mrs. Hargrove smiled. “Well, I'll pray you finish it quickly then.”

“It might be more than one fence.”

Judd stopped be fore the heavens opened and God struck him dead. He'd al ready told three lies, and it wasn't even noon. He'd better get to the point. “I was wondering if some time—it doesn't have to be now—if you'd have a few minutes to talk about raising children? I mean, you seem so good at it.”

Mrs. Hargrove chuckled. “You haven't talked to my daughter lately if you think that.”

“I didn't know you had a daughter.”

Mrs. Hargrove nodded. “I do. A more stub born, opinionated woman you're not likely to meet than Doris June Hargrove.”

“Have I met her?” Judd tried to think of the women of Dry Creek. He couldn't remember any of them who were named Doris.

“She doesn't live around here. She insists on staying up in Anchorage even though her heart is back here where the rest of her be longs. And Charley's son knows she be longs here, too. The two of them are just too stub born to do any thing about it.”

“Well, some people take longer to get to know each other.”

“Humph,” Mrs. Hargrove said. “Those two know
each other just fine. Give either one a pencil and paper and they could list every fault of the other in a minute. They'd enjoy doing it, too.”

“Well, then, maybe they're hap pier being apart.”

“They're miserable and it's time some one did something about it.”

“Well—” Judd started and stopped. He hoped she didn't mean
he
should do any thing. He didn't even know either one of them. There hardly seemed anything to say. “Maybe some one will.”

Mrs. Hargrove nodded. “That's the first thing you need to learn about being a parent. Sometimes you need to step into your child's business and make it your own.”

“Bobby and Amanda are both still a little young for love problems,” Judd said. He didn't mention his own problems with the opposite sex. He wasn't sure he'd want Mrs. Hargrove to fix his love life. She looked unstoppable.

“Of course they are. This is information for the future.”

“I'm looking more at the next few months,” Judd said. “You know, things like night mares and missing their mother and braids.”

“Braids?”

Judd nodded. “I don't know how to braid hair, and Amanda wants her hair to look like Lizette's.”

“Oh, of course,” Mrs. Hargrove nodded. “It's per
fectly obvious that Amanda wants some motherly affection from Lizette.”

“It is?”

Mrs. Hargrove nodded. “And it's a good thing. Spending time with Lizette will make her feel better.”

“She wants to invite Lizette over for Thanksgiving dinner, but—”

“You're not one of those men who think women are the only ones who should cook, are you?”

Judd shook his head. “I'm not op posed to cooking; I'm just not sure how good I am at it.”

“Oh, you'll do fine with cooking a turkey dinner. You just get a bag for the turkey, and I can give you some simple recipes to see you through. You might need to buy a pie though.”

“Got a couple in the freezer.”

“Well, then, you're all set. I just wish a bro ken heart was as easy to mend.”

Judd looked up in alarm. It was a bit extreme to say his heart was bro ken. Dented a little maybe, especially after the cool way Lizette was acting to ward him today, but not bro ken. Not at all. “People make too much of bro ken hearts.”

“So you think I shouldn't do any thing to make Doris realize she's still in love with Charley's son?” Mrs. Hargrove looked worried.

“Don't listen to me,” Judd rushed to say. “I don't know any thing about this kind of stuff.”

He hadn't even known she was talking about some one else, that's how much he didn't know.

“I'm sure she'll appreciate what ever you do for her,” Judd added.

Mrs. Hargrove chuckled. “I wouldn't go that far, but we'll see. In the mean time, why don't I teach you to braid hair after class today?”

Judd nodded in gratitude just as he heard his name being called from the back room.

“Excuse me,” he said to Mrs. Hargrove. “That's Amanda calling.”

“Look at your hat,” Amanda said with a squeal when Judd entered the back room.

Lizette had found an old sofa for the back room and a mound of colorful costumes were spread out on it. It looked as though some of the accessories were sitting on the square table in one corner as well. There was a curtain at one end of the room, and Judd figured the bed was be hind it.

He wondered how any one could make an old room look so inviting. Then he took a good look at the hat Amanda was pointing at.

“It's real red,” Judd said. He figured that was an understatement. Some reds could be dignified. This one wasn't. It was bright enough to light up the darkness. “And it's so big.”

The hat was two feet tall.

“Well, you are a nut cracker,” Lizette said patiently.

“But I didn't know I was a
giant
nut cracker.”

Judd didn't need to look over at Pete to know the man was snickering. He could hear the cow boy trying to contain his laughter even if he didn't look at him.

“Remember, the Nutcracker fights back,” Judd said as he looked over at Pete.

“What? Are you going to slap me with your top hat?” Pete said as he chuckled.

“Oh, no, you can't dam age the costumes,” Lizette said. “We're going to need to return them when we finish.”