CHAPTER 31

Life had settled down in Horseshoe, John thought as he marked another day off the calendar. Charlotte had found her groove and it made his life a whole lot easier. Children adored her, and she adored them. Finally, he stopped receiving new complaints. Soon, her stay in Horseshoe would come to an end.

He was puzzled as to why that was making him sad. He'd been marking off hours as if they were his own personal sentence, so what was his problem?

Leaning back in his chair, he had to admit that Charlotte had burrowed her way into his heart. She never gave up and he admired that. She'd morphed from a rich, spoiled young woman into someone he liked and..

The woman was crazy, absolutely crazy.

Each day he could feel her craziness affecting him more and more.

John found he now looks forward to getting home. The atmosphere in the home wasn't as depressing. They did not have time for that under Charlotte.

Charlotte and his mother went grocery shopping, and before Charlotte knew it, his mother was cooking once more—possibly using jars and cartons, but they were both learning. Garlic bread from the freezer section, salad from a bag, and spaghetti sauce from a jar, but when it was all put together, it tasted like a home-cooked supper.

Alice told him the big secret. "You have to follow directions." And it usually required a lot of laughter.

When he came home, it wasn't to Elvis's music. It was to laughter.

Getting out of his car, he smiled at the sight in front of him. Charlotte, Alice and his mom were giving Dolittle a bath in a large kiddie pool. Where the pool had come from he had no idea, but he knew Charlotte had something to do with it.

They were all three dressed in T-shirts and shorts. His mom's reached her knees. They were singing "Hound Dog."

Dolittle had had enough. He bolted for freedom, shaking water off as he loped away. They didn't chase him. Instead, they lounged in the pool of water that was only about twelve inches deep.

"Hey, Daddy." Alice saw him. "We're chilling,"

"I see."

"Supper will be ready in thirty minutes, son." His mother told him, "Take a load off."

"I'Il just..." John didn't know what to say. He was in shock that his mom was in the water.

Alice called, splashing her feet, "Join us, Daddy."

"I have things I need to do."

"Don't be so stuffy, son," Haetel said.

"He needs a little incentive," Charlotte said, and before he knew her intention, she picked up the hose and sprayed him.

He jumped back, staring at the water on the front of his clothes. "Hey!"

She sprayed him again.

Alice laughed, as did his mom.

He made a dive for the hose, but Charlotte leaped away and ran with it, turning to spray him as he tried to catch her. Finally he grabbed the hose and reeled her in like a fish. Blue eyes sparkled with mischief and her wet T-shirt boldly outlined the fullness of her breasts. Clearly she wasn't wearing a bra. Desire ignited deep in his gut.

"Charlotte got you good, Daddy," Alice said, as she exited the water.

Yeah, Charlotte got him good in more ways than he wanted to admit.

John was starting to take pleasure in Charlotte's antics. As he made his way home, he wondered what to expect. His family and Charlotte weren't in the yard, so he hurried through the back door and came to a complete stop. Charlotte wasn't in the kitchen as usual, helping his mom. He felt a moment of loneliness, which was absurd.

Alice drew something on paper while seated at the table. His mother was filling glasses with ice.

"Hi, son," his mom said. "Supper will be ready--" she looked at her watch "---in fifteen minutes. Charlotte and I are trying a roast in the crockpot and we're strictly following the instructions." Haetel shook her head. "I don't know what she'll have me doing next.?"

"Where is she?"

"She's still at the church, working on that mural," Haetel replied. " She had some detail she wanted to finish."

"It'll be dark soon. I'll go get her."

'I'd go, too, Daddy, but I'm drawing Jeremiah. I can't get his feet the way I want. We're going to paint him on the mural On Monday, so I have to get it right."

John kissed the top of her head. "Okay, sunshine."

"Daddy, don't wiggle me."

Oh, pardon me." John smiled as he walked away.

The journey to the church took less than five minutes. Charlotte was on the ladder, engrossed in her work.. The mural had a rudimentary quality to it, but it was progressing wonderfully. Under a clear sky, the old country church was situated amidst large oak trees. Green grasses dotted the foreground. Although it hadn't been completed yet, it was already obvious what it would be.

"Hey, Van Gogh, are you ready for dinner?"

"Very funny." She didn't pause to look at him. "I just want to finish putting this lighter green on the leaves so it will be dry tomorrow. There. Done." One foot reached for a rung.

'This is where she trips and falls into my arms', he thought. At least, that was the way it happened in the movies. But Peyton deftly came down the ladder without missing a rung.

And he was disappointed.

"TIl clean the brushes, close the paints and then we can be on our way?"

"That will take time."

She cocked an eyebrow and the gesture shot through him with the power of a .38 Special. "Not if you help."

"Oh, no. This isn't my project."

She grabbed his hand and brought him into a little room in the back where she had all the supplies for painting organized. "I do the dishes. You can wash brushes."

"It isn't the same thing."

Smiling, she dragged one finger down his nose- a finger smeared with paint. He felt its wetness and its pungent scent-but most of all he felt the punch of her smile. "Why you.."

She darted into the next room and he chased her around chairs and desks and finally had to leap over a chair before he snagged her. Their laughter bounced off the walls.. and then suddenly there was quiet. He gazed into her blue eyes and was lost in feelings he'd forgotten.

Or kept buried.

Of their own volition his hands cupped her face and his lips lowered to hers, tasting her softness, her eagerness. But he wanted more. He needed more. With a groan, he captured her lips completely and everything faded away except the touch and feel of her.

Of Charlotte.

The kiss went on and on, and he threaded his fingers through her hair as it tumbled around her shoulders. Her hands touched his neck and a shiver shot through him- a shiver of longing and lust.

That was all it was: lust. He tore his mouth off as Lori's visage lingered in his thoughts.

"I'm sorry. That shouldn't have happened." He wiped his mouth, but he couldn't wipe away the feel of her.

"John---"

"We need to go."

As if reading his mind, she said, "Sarah's dead, John. You're alive."

"Don't say her name."

She swung into the rear room, where they silently cleaned the brushes. After that, they washed the paint off their faces.

Not one word was said on the drive to the house. He'd hurt her and that was the last thing he'd wanted. He was bombarded with so many feelings and he couldn't voice any of them--- only the one that mattered to him. 'He loved his wife; he would always love Sarah'.