Pretend Mom (11 page)

He seemed so angry when minutes ago, he
held her in his arms. Walking numbly around him and back to the
kitchen, she half turned to look into his concerned face.
"Nonsense. It will be fun."

He nodded, the storm fading, replaced
by an equally stern look. "Can you swim?"

"You ask that question, knowing my
father? A man who was famous for throwing his kids in the water and
leaving them to sink or swim?"

"That was years ago. How long has it
been?"

"Too long," she protested. "Please,"
she reached to grip his hand, a mistake, because every time she
touched this man it was like setting off small wild fires through
her entire body, "stop fretting, it will be a blast."

Mike's frown remained. But his eyes
darkened with intensity as though he had a few fires to put out
too.

She shook her head and looked from
Emily to Mike, and let out a chuckle. Tawny gold eyes surveyed her,
burning her with such intensity.

"Don't say I didn't warn
you."

"I consider myself warned."

"Okay, if that's what you want. But I
still don't think it's a good idea."

That same evening Mike and Amanda came
for supper. Amanda was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, as usual,
and Dixie frowned.

"Doesn't this beautiful little girl
have any dresses?" Dixie remarked at the table.

"A couple. But she's a tomboy; she
doesn't need dresses, believe me." Mike gave Dixie a strange
glance.

"What's she going to wear to the
bazaar?"

"Jeans, why?"

"Don't you like dressing her
up?"

"Not when five minutes later, she's
ripping it to shreds, or getting all muddy, no." Mike glanced at
his innocent-eyed daughter.

Afraid she might be overstepping it,
Dixie changed the subject. Later, she whispered to Amanda, "Wanna
go play dress up after supper?"

"What's that?" Amanda whispered
back.

"It's where you put big people's
clothes on, and prance around like an adult."

"Okay." Amanda smiled at her. "Will you
play with me?"

"Sure."

Later, knee deep in hats, beads, and
high heels, Amanda paraded around Dixie's room like a queen while
Dixie watched with glee. Amanda insisted she dress up too, so Dixie
put on a man's suit and tie, and a hat, and drew a mustache on her
lip. Amanda laughed.

"You look funny."

"Gee, I thought I looked great," Dixie
said with a chuckle.

It brought back old memories of her and
her sister. She and Audrey used to parade around the house like
that, years ago. God, she missed Audrey.

What a sweet little girl Amanda was.
But she really needed a mother. It was obvious she hadn't played
many little girl games. Not that Dixie was applying for the job.
She didn't have time for kids or husbands. In a few days she'd be
putting her nose back to the grindstone, with rehearsals and
recording sessions. Still, she was on vacation. She wanted to have
a little fun and it was a nice diversion having a small child
around to play with.

"I like you," Amanda said coming up
behind her and hugging her neck.

Dixie smiled, put her hand on the small
child's arm and hugged her back. "I like you too,
Mandy."

"Could you be my mommy?" Amanda
asked.

"Oh! Honey! I . . ." She hesitated.
Seeing the look in the little girl's face made her heart
melt.

"For pretend, I mean," Amanda
clarified, and Dixie breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

"Okay, just pretend."

Amanda pranced about, then come running
up to Dixie who was sitting on the floor, cross-legged. "Oh, Mommy,
Mommy, I hurt myself. Kiss it and make it better,
please."

Dixie giggled and fell back against the
floor with Amanda in her arms, laughing and kissing her upturned
finger to make it better.

The door flew open and Mike walked in.
He stopped abruptly, his eyes going over the both of them. "I think
we better go, Mandy," he said.

"We were just …"

"Yes, I know. Thanks for supper.
Goodnight." Mike grabbed his daughter and held her in his arms,
stalking out the door.

What had she done wrong,
now?

Later, Dixie related the incident to
her mother. "We were just playing dress up. Is there something
wrong with that?"

Emily looked at her seriously and
nodded. "I think I know what hit Mike. Amanda is quickly growing
fond of you. She wants to call you Mommy. Don't you see? You'll be
leaving, and then what will she have? Mike sees it too."

The next morning Dixie dressed quickly
in faded jeans and T-shirt, as usual. She hurried down to the
kitchen where her mother was busy preparing breakfast. It was
already warm this morning, and the noisy antics of a family of blue
jays were busy rousting out a couple of scissor tails from their
favorite cottonwood tree. Naturally, the blue jays were winning the
battle.

"Let's have some fresh mush melons this
morning, dear," Emily suggested brightly.

"Sounds good. Will put some in the
bottom of the fridge the other night."

Emily shook her head and pointed to the
sink where she had laid them out to be cut.

Two sleepyheads bounded down the stairs
in unison, with sheepish grins on their faces as they slipped into
the chairs at the table. "What time does the shindig start, Mom?"
Tom asked with a yawn.

Emily had already dressed in an
attractive two-piece lavender pantsuit, protected by a generous
sized apron. "At noon, but I won't have you skipping classes to get
there early. It will run all weekend so you will have plenty of
time to enjoy it."

"Aw-heck, Mom, it's just summer school.
It wouldn't hurt any to be absent one day," Will said.

"You heard me, William Martin Kincaid."
Emily tossed the reprimand over her shoulder in a parental scowl.
"Besides, if you'd paid more attention to your lessons during the
regular school term, you wouldn't have to go to summer school to
make it up." As an afterthought she added, "But as soon as school
lets out you can rush on over and help Old Man Tucker with his
tents. We'll need about three this year, and you know how slow he
is. I promised him the two of you would be there to help out. Then,
you can cut loose on your own."

Dixie placed the melons in front of
them, noting the decided frowns on their faces as they dug into the
same piece, then split it with their forks.

Tom looked up at Dixie. "Mom's entered
in the cook-off this year. Her Wild Plum Preserves."

"I know," Dixie smiled at them, "and
since Bernie's the judge, how can she possibly lose? Not that her
preserves can't stand on their own, of course."

Emily blushed.

"Too bad you aren't entered in the
beauty contest, sis," Will remarked.

Dixie shook her head. "Oh, no thank
you! That's not my cup of tea. I may be naturally thin, but I'm not
curvy. I think I'm more the brainy type. Besides, I've never liked
parading in front of ogling men. I'm sure Janet has it sewn up,
anyway. Besides, I'm going to be busy at the baseball
throw."

Tom laughed. "Selling tickets, I
hope."

"Not exactly." Dixie hesitated to tell
them, glancing at her mother for support.

Tom and Will both stopped what they
were doing. "You mean your gonna let them take pot-shots at
you?"

"That's the general idea of the
game."

"I don't think you ought to do that,
sis," Will stated, a very serious look on his handsome young face.
"There's always someone in the crowd who likes to show off. You
could drown."

Dixie scoffed. "I'll take my chances.
I'm a good swimmer. Besides, it's for a good cause. And as far as I
know, no one has ever drowned at a charity function." She
grinned.

Emily looked worried again. "Maybe you
ought to help me out instead, Dixie, and forget about that old
baseball throw. After all, the baseball throw can get a little out
of hand when the wrong people happen by. There's always someone who
wants to show off during these events. Last year Nancy Summers
volunteered and went home in tears when a bully kept dunking her
over and over. It seems some people just can't get enough of
showing off. So maybe you shouldn't, I mean especially after what
Mike said …"

"Nonsense! It's all in fun. Mike is a
worrywart. I can handle this, guys. Have some faith, will you? I'm
a natural for this. I'm sure I can draw a crowd, and it's all for a
good cause."

"I never even asked, but do you have a
bathing suit?"

Dixie frowned. "An old one. I'd better
check its condition. It's a little skimpy, but I guess it's decent
enough." Dixie smiled, passing the corn flakes to her worried
looking brothers.

"All the girls in the beauty contest
will be wearing bikinis."

"Really? My, things are certainly
changing around here, aren't they? Why, I can remember when Old Man
Tucker wouldn't allow the girls to wear shorts out
there."

Emily nodded with a smile. "He still
doesn't approve of it, but he's getting old now and people just
aren't paying much attention to his suggestions any more. Mike's on
the town counsel now, and I think that has a lot to do with it.
They've needed some young blood in there for a long
time."

"He is? Well, things are changing. I
never realized how involved he was in the community. But then, I
suppose if you live here long enough, you get involved in
everything."

Tom snickered. "You ought to see
Janet's bikini. Boy, none of the guys will take their eyes off of
her when she walks on stage. I mean skimpy. She's a cinch to win.
Everybody knows she's the prettiest girl in town."

"'Cept for sis," Will injected, jabbing
his brother in the ribs.

"Aw, that don't count, she's our
sister," Tom defended himself.

"By the way, Will, who was that girl I
saw you talking to the other day, after school?" Dixie
inquired.

Will frowned and turned
beet-red.

"That was no girl. That was Crystal
Watkins." Tom snickered. "Will's got a girlfriend."

"I do not."

"Do so."

They argued all the way out the front
door. After they caught the school bus, Dixie went to check on her
swimsuit. She held the bright colored one-piece against her and
smiled. It always looked great on her, bringing out the best of her
skin tone. But it certainly wasn't in style anymore. She shook her
head. What the heck, she wasn't in the beauty contest, anyway. Who
was going to be paying attention to her with ten or twenty beauties
running around? That's what she liked about coming home; she wasn't
the center of attention anymore, and she was enjoying it. Wasn't
she? 

CHAPTER SIX

After rounding up all the needed
supplies, Dixie and Emily headed for the fair grounds. There were
mounds of tickets to unravel, count and divide between the booths.
Supplies for the Bingo tents and chuck wagons had to be delivered
and set up. Dixie spent most of the morning distributing bits of
this and that for Emily.

Excited, and apprehensive, Dixie was
happy to be among a crowd of people again. Everyone greeted her
with a smile as though they weren't sure if they were glad to see
her or not. Or maybe they just didn't recognize her. Still, Dixie
wasn't bashful or shy; she felt in her element and liked the entire
goings on.

Delighted to see Old Man Tucker again,
Dixie almost hugged him. The tall, gangly, old man tipped his bald
head to her and shot her a half-crooked smile. He didn't really say
much to her, just grunted, but nothing had changed with him, she
realized. And despite that growling appearance, she could tell he
was glad to see her. That grim foreboding expression he wore didn't
bother Dixie a bit; she knew that was just his way.

About to run out of errands, Dixie
spotted Mrs. Fowler having a time counting her tickets. Over and
over she began. She couldn't stay focused. Every time someone
walked by and spoke, she smiled, nodded and lost count.

Seeing her dilemma, Dixie walked
towards her. Mrs. Fowler was a petite woman of seventy-two years,
eager to join in on things, but a bit slow. People tolerated her
because she had such a sweet nature. She greeted Dixie with a
snaggle-toothed grin and thanked her for the help. Some of the
other ladies were already pressing her for her count.

"I keep losing the count, dear," she
told Dixie with a slight chuckle.

"I'll help you, Mrs.
Fowler."

"Why thank you, dear. Aren't you
Emily's daughter?"

"Why, yes, I'm surprised you recognized
me."

"Oh, yes, I remember you." She
chuckled. "You used to sing in the church all the time, didn't
you?"

"That's right, but I didn't think
anyone would remember that!" Dixie laughed.

"Beautiful voice, just beautiful. You
sang at my Frank's funeral, too, didn't you?"