Instantly Enchanted

Chapter 6

Shelby Cole opened her kitchen door to a soft knock. “Baylee? Come in, darlin". Look at you. What are you doing?”

“Is Shane home?” Baylee entered Shelby"s immaculate, rooster-decorated kitchen with the flinching air of a beaten puppy.

“Nope, my old grouch took both kids to his mother"s, so I"m on the loose. What"s up with you, Bay?” Shelby glanced at her friend, dismayed to note that Baylee looked even more fragile and wasted than before.

“I hate to ask it…” she started, and then trailed off, looking away, her cheeks turning a delicate pink.

“Ask away, Bay. I"m here for you, honey.”

Baylee closed her eyes. She seemed to be fighting tears.

Shelby gave her a little hug. “Whew, girl. I"m sorry to tell you this, but you smell.”

“I know I do,” Baylee burst out. “I… my shower is… not working and I… Oh, God. Can I please borrow yours before I go pick up Dylan? I"m sorry. I don"t know what else to do.”

“Of course,” Shelby said, wondering what the real story was. Baylee"s keeping way too much to herself these days. While she"d been a bit moody when the women had met four years ago, in the last couple of months Bay seemed on the verge of breaking all the time. “Come on, girlfriend. Let"s get you in the shower. Maybe once you"re cleaned up, you"ll feel better. Better enough to come out with us next week.” Keeping her arm around her friend"s shoulder, she led her down the hall towards the guest bathroom.

Baylee"s keeping way too much to herself these days.“I… I appreciate the invitation, but…”

“No buts, Bay. I"m not taking no for an answer. Here.” She opened the linen closet outside the bathroom door and retrieved a sage green towel and a forest green washcloth. “Soap and shampoo are in the shower. Help yourself.”

“Bless you, Shelby,” Baylee muttered, stepping into the bathroom and closing the door behind her.

A short time later—far too short—a key clicked and rattled in the garage door. Shelby"s husband Shane, tall with a shaved head, his handsome face resting in a habitual grumpy scowl, stalked into the kitchen. Their two small sons, David and Jonathan, sped past their father, intent on the television.

“Hello, Shel,” he said, planting a wet kiss on her lips. She wiped the moisture with the back of her hand.

“You"re home early,” she said in a cool, neutral voice.

“What"s up?” he asked, instantly on the defensive.

“Nothing,” she replied quickly, twining her arms around her husband"s neck and looking up at him with soft, seductive eyes.

He squeezed her plump bottom appreciatively and when he spoke, there was amusement in his voice. “Okay, now I know something"s up. What is it?”

At that moment, Baylee walked into the kitchen. The shower, it appeared, had restored her somewhat. On the other hand, it put Shane immediately into orbit. “No wonder. What is she doing here? I told you I didn"t want her here anymore.”

sheBaylee froze beside the black granite countertop. Her posture reminded Shelby of a rabbit trying to look invisible. Her eyes widened to huge pools of undefinable emotion.

“Be quiet, Shane. Baylee is my friend. I will invite her to my house if I want to.”

“She"s a bloody mooch. It"s my house too, and I don"t want her here.” He glowered at the girl, his menacing expression even frightening to his wife. “And why"s she all wet? Did she come here to talk? To offer to babysit? To bring a gift for our anniversary? No. She came to use our shower. To take from us again. And you just let her. What"s wrong with you, Shelby? Can"t you see she"s using you?”

With every word Baylee flinched more, drawing in on herself.

“That"s enough!” Shelby yelled, stepping between her husband and Baylee.

“No, he"s right,” said a wavering voice behind them. Both spouses turned to look at Baylee, who had straightened to her full height—a tiny five feet two inches—and spoken. “I shouldn"t have come. I"m sorry. I won"t bother you again. Thank you, Shelby. You"re a great friend. Please, don"t argue on my account.” She passed them on the way to the door.

Shelby grabbed her arm. “No. Now listen here, Shane. You"re acting like a big bully. Yes, Bay is going through some kind of hard time right now. I don"t know what it is, but I want to help, because that"s what friends do.” She half-turned towards her husband, poking a finger into his chest. “Life is uncertain. Someday I might need to ask someone for something, and I would hope they wouldn"t say I was too selfish to deserve it. Now get off your high horse.” Dropping Baylee"s arm, she took a step towards Shane, crowding into his space. “Baylee is welcome in this home any time she wants to stop by, and you, mister, can sleep on the couch until you"ve learned to get over your bullying ways.”

Shane visibly paled.

Shelby smirked. It wasn"t a card she played often, but when she wanted his attention the threat of the couch remained potent even after six years, two kids, and fifteen pounds. Apparently, my grouch still desires his wife.

Apparently, my grouch still desires his wife.“Now, Baylee, don"t worry about Old Grumpy here. I"ll set him straight. Come and visit any time. And I meant what I said about coming with us when we go out next week. You work too much.”

“Shel…” Shane interrupted.

“Quiet, you. You"re in the doghouse with me. Will you come, Bay?”

Baylee shook her head sending her long brown hair tumbling. “I can"t. I can"t afford it.”

“My treat. And my mom will be watching David and Jon, so you can leave Dylan here. Dylan"s such a good kid, I know she won"t mind. Please say yes.” She squeezed the arm she was holding.

“We"ll see,” Baylee replied, gently extracting herself from Shelby"s grip. “I have to go. Thanks again, Shelby.” She slipped through the door and closed it softly behind her.

By the time Baylee got to the daycare, her stomach was not just growling, it was aching. But today she"d hit the jackpot: a $20 bill left abandoned near one of the bookshelves. No one had been around, so she didn"t feel too guilty for pocketing it.

She walked quickly down the echoing, green-tiled hallway with a Noah"s Ark mural on one side and multicolored handprints on the other.

She turned left at a door marked Lemurs and stepped in. Immediately a sea of small people swarmed around her. “Miss Andrews! Miss Andrews!” all the little ones shouted. She patted their heads and squeezed their shoulders gently, but her eyes scanned the room.

Lemurs“Hello there, Baylee,” Mrs. Fields, a black woman in her late fifties said from the corner, where she was supervising the putting up of crayons in a white plastic tub. Once the four sets of tiny hands had finished their task, the teacher placed the tub alongside several of its fellows on a low, PVC rack. Above, a wide window revealed an autumn sunset of brilliant orange. Baylee smiled at the view.

“Hello, Mrs. Fields,” she said, reaching down to collect an escaped burnt sienna. She handed the runaway to the teacher, still searching the faces.

“Dylan had a good day today. He ate all his lunch and played nicely with the other kids. He and Tim did knock heads, but they"re both okay.”

“Where is he?” Baylee asked at last.

“The bathroom,” Mrs. Fields replied.

“Oh. Okay. Knocked heads? Did they cry?”

“You know, I think they were planning to, but then they looked at each other and they had this little "I"m the bigger man" moment. Then they got up and ran to the slide.”

Baylee smiled.

“Mommy!” A small, golden-haired missile shot across the room and crashed into her legs, nearly knocking her over. Baylee scooped him up.

“Be careful, Dylan,” she said, giving her son a kiss. “Don"t hug me right down to the floor! Come on. Let"s go to the store.”

“Yay! Store! Bye, Mrs. Fields.” He waved to his teacher. She blew him a kiss. Dylan pantomimed a wild catching movement and plastered his hand to his cheek.

Baylee was still laughing at his antics as she carried him out to the street.

The grocery store was only a couple of blocks away, so rather than waste money on the bus, they walked, hand in hand, enjoying the coolness of the growing evening. We"ll have to hurry though if we don"t want to walk back in the dark.

We"ll have to hurry though if we don"t want to walk back in the dark.“How was your day, baby?” Baylee asked her son.

“It was good. Did you have a good day too, Mommy?”

“I did, thank you,” she replied.

“Did you make any new friends?”

Typical of a child to ask such perceptive questions in total innocence. “Not today, honey. There was a gentleman who wanted to be my friend, but I told him no.”

Typical of a child to ask such perceptive questions in total innocence.“Why did you tell him no, Mommy?” Dylan asked, looking up at her with his big brown eyes.

“Because I don"t want to waste any time I could be spending with you,” she replied honestly, if somewhat simplistically.

He released her hand and hugged her leg again, but said nothing.

At the grocery store, Baylee hung a small basket on her arm.

Dylan behaved like any other child, racing along the aisles and earning the glares of scowling, elderly ladies with plastic handkerchiefs tied over their hair.

“Mommy, can we get cookies?” Dylan asked, scooting away from an old woman who had tried to poke him with her cane and hurrying back to his mother"s side.

“No, baby, I"m sorry. No cookies,” she replied.

“Come on. You always say that,” Dylan whined.

alwaysBaylee swallowed hard. There was no way to explain, so she didn"t try. Instead, she picked out two big red apples and a small bag of baby carrots that had been marked down.

What else? veggies. A salad kit that had also been marked down joined the other produce. She was long past worrying about a few brown leaves.

What else? veggies.Protein. That was always tough. Her food allowance never quite stretched to the end of the month, and meat was so expensive. Peanut butter she didn"t trust. Too many chemicals. She settled for a can of tuna. I think there"s still mayo in the fridge.

ProteinI think there"s still mayo in the fridge.Her crackers had been discovered and devoured, so she added a cheap loaf of bread. Mentally adding up her purchases, she realized she still had no dairy.

Damn it, I had hoped to get four days of food out of that twenty. But it needed to be done. Milk was too hard to manage, so she picked out a carton of plain yogurt for herself and let Dylan select his own. The little tub of strawberry mango made him almost as happy as a cookie would have. Almost.

Damn it, I had hoped to get four days of food out of that twenty.Okay, only a dollar over. Not too bad. She walked to the checkout and let Dylan pile the groceries on the conveyor belt, a tricky proposition when she had to hold him and the basket to do it. Baylee scanned the display screen with careful eyes. Counting her change, she called goodbye to the cashier and trudged slowly out into the dusk.

Okay, only a dollar over. Not too bad.