For Better or Worse (2 page)

And as for women … as a boy, Harold might as well have been a card-holding member of the Little Rascals’ Women Hater’s Club. When he was a teen, he’d avoided the female species like grease avoids water. As a young man, he’d thrown himself into his work. Something about women—maybe it was that they cried for no reason, got all bent out of shape for no cause, or fussed over the most ridiculous things—made him want to stay away from the whole lot of the female population.

Or possibly it was that they whined over what their hair looked like and sprayed the poor mass with sticky stuff until the ends stood stiff and straight on the top of their heads. And why did they want war paint on their faces? If God had wanted their eyelids to be purple and green, he would have made them that way.

Sure, Harold had to admit they smelled awful good when a guy got home after a long day of working around sweaty guys and broken toilets or busted heaters. Still, did women really need all those bottles and cases he saw in the store to help them smell that way? It seemed a little ridiculous, if not quite a bit pricey.

Then he met Kelly.

The woman he’d driven to that local fingernail place more times than he could count over the last year. The woman who got her hair trimmed and colored more often than he did laundry. The woman whose war paint made her eyes sparkle and her mouth irresistible.

And everything changed.

Now he was willing not only to marry a girl, but take on three more of them. Teenagers and a preteen to boot. The irony of it welled up within him.
You have quite a sense of humor, Lord
.

He gazed back at the woman he longed to cherish for the rest of his life. He yearned to hold her, comfort her, protect her as only as husband could. Ever so gently, he caressed her knuckles with his thumb. “I’ve waited forty years for you. Will you be my wife?”

Without hesitation, she leaped out of her seat and wrapped her arms around his neck, making him lose his balance and fall to the floor on his back. Lifting herself off him, she sat up on her knees beside his body. “Sorry ’bout that.”

A mischievous grin formed on her lips as he rose to a sitting position. He touched her cheek with the back of his hand. “I’m assuming that means yes.”

She giggled, wrapped her arms around him, knocking him off balance again. His back hit the hard wood with a
thud
, but he hadn’t felt a thing. Kelly Coyle was going to be his wife.

Kelly stuck the identification label she’d made for the new set of class novels on the inside flap of one of the books then handed it to Zoey to place on the bookshelf. “It’s going to be kinda weird having your old mom for a teacher, huh?”

Zoey shrugged. She arranged a few books on the shelf, never turning toward Kelly.

Only seven years had passed since Kelly had finished her college degree. At the age of ten, Zoey’s pride at her mom’s accomplishment had been apparent. Despite having struggled in school, Zoey, from that point on, made every effort to earn good grades. Zoey had been successful, too … until Tim died. Since that time, Kelly’s oldest child had spiraled more and more out of control.

Knowing that she had to keep trying, Kelly added, “I’m looking forward to having you in class. Language arts has always been your favorite subject, just as it is mine. We’ll be able to share—”

“Do you really have to keep going with this song and dance?” Zoey peered at Kelly. Though they’d spent the better part of three hours working in Kelly’s classroom preparing for the new school year to begin in only a few weeks, this was the first time today her daughter had so much as glanced at Kelly.

Kelly placed her hands on her hips, irritation welling in her gut. She’d spent the entire morning tiptoeing on pins and needles, searching for some way to connect with her oldest girl. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Zoey twirled her hand through the air. “This whole mother/daughter bonding stuff. I don’t want to be here. You know I don’t want to help you put your room together.” Her tone dripped with sarcasm. “What? Are you hoping I’ll tell you all my thoughts and feelings and that will make everything all better? That we’ll be one, great big, happy family again.” She spread out her arms, a snarl forming on her lips. “News flash, Kelly Coyle. Dad is dead. Things will never be all better.”

“You will not take that tone with me.” Kelly stomped toward her daughter. Though Zoey had grown a few inches taller than her mother, Kelly peered up at her child, demanding the respect she had not only earned, but as her mother innately deserved. “Every one of us lost your dad three years ago. We’ve all hurt—”

Zoey rolled her eyes then took a few steps back. “Yeah, some of us more than others.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means”—Zoey grabbed her purse and walked toward the door—“I’m not going wedding dress shopping today. I’ll catch you later.”

“Zoey Coyle, you come back here.” Kelly followed her daughter outside. Noting Zoey’s car parked beside her own, Kelly cringed. She’d forgotten Zoey had met her at the school. “You’re not leaving. You are grounded.”

Zoey ignored her and kept walking. Before Kelly could reach her daughter, Zoey opened the car door, slid inside, and drove off. Kelly stared after her, the shock of her daughter’s outright rebellion seeping through her skin. Zoey’s defiance had hit an all-time high. Without a doubt, Zoey would be grounded. Kelly would take away the keys, the cell phone, the television, and whatever other privilege she could think of. But Zoey’s problem wasn’t one that could be fixed with punishment or discipline. Zoey’s was a heart problem.
God she needs You so desperately, and I need to know how to be a good mom to her. Help me know what to do
.

Harold gripped the cell phone tighter. “Do you want me to go search for her?”

Kelly’s exhausted voice mingled with tears of despair. “No. She’s going to be grounded when she gets home, but I’m going to wait until she gets there. I just needed to vent.”

Harold bit back a reply. He didn’t want to hurt Kelly’s feelings, and he didn’t want Rudy, who sat in the truck’s cab beside him, to see his frustration at the child. From what he’d seen of Zoey, she didn’t need the opportunity to do as she pleased until she got home. She needed to be disciplined—and now. If he had his say, the girl wouldn’t be wearing black makeup and baggy black clothes. Her hair wouldn’t be dyed black and tied up in knots all over the place. The child’s appearance screamed she had problems.

Truth be told, Harold was a little embarrassed when they went places together as a soon-to-be family. He’d never tell Kelly that. He loved that woman with all his heart. And the other two girls, Brittany and Candy, well, they were as sweet and as normal as could be. Sure, the two younger girls fought and picked and cried and whined at each other over the slightest things, like which of them would sit in the front seat of the car or who had to do dishes which days, but they didn’t look at their mother with contempt as Zoey did.

Harold sighed. He loved the teen. God had given him a paternal love for Kelly’s girls that he would have never dreamed possible before he met Kelly; however, there were moments he found himself struggling to like Zoey.

Not that he hadn’t tried to connect with his soon-to-be oldest daughter. He’d taken her to the movies, just him and her two sisters. He’d taken all three girls out to eat, played card games with the three and sometimes just Zoey. He’d picked her and her sisters up after school several times before she started driving. He even joined some group called “Facebook” on the Internet and tried to become her “friend.” She denied his request. Nothing worked. She was cold, calculated, and downright disrespectful, and Harold had just about had it with her.

Now, he gets a call from Kelly, riddled with raw emotion, that Zoey had left the school in a huff and refused to go wedding dress shopping with her mother. The girl seemed to take pleasure in hurting Kelly. Harold cleared his throat. “I don’t like it when she hurts you. Why don’t I go find her?”

“No. Don’t. I want this to be a good day. Brittany, Candy, and I will have a good time.” She sniffed, and Harold knew she’d wiped her nose with a tissue. “You’re still coming for lasagna, right? I’ll have it ready by six.”

“I wouldn’t miss your lasagna for the world.”

Her light chuckle sounded over the line. “I love you, Harold.”

“I love you, Kelly. I’ll see you tonight.” He ended the call and slid his phone back into the case at his waist. Letting out a long sigh, he gripped the steering wheel.

“That girl’s still giving her mom fits, huh?”

“Yep.”

“Sorry to hear that. You know I raised two girls myself. It’s not easy.”

Harold looked at his most trusted worker. “How did you get through it?”

“I watched a lot of ball games and drank a lot of beer.”

Rudy chuckled, and Harold simply stared out the windshield. Another reason he was glad he’d bit back any replies. Harold needed to be a witness to his friend.
God, help me live for You in the midst of this turmoil with Zoey. Help me be a good husband to Kelly, father to her daughters, and witness to those around me
.

The truth of his short prayer weighed on his heart. He would become the only living father Zoey would have from this point. He’d have to let God change his heart toward her.

“I’ve been waiting all day for this.” Fifteen-year-old Brittany slid into the front seat of Kelly’s car.

“Who said you got to sit in front?” Candy stamped her foot and placed her hands on her hips.

“I got here first.” Brittany stuck her tongue out at Candy.

“Mom, it’s my turn!” Candy wailed.

Kelly raised her hand. “Enough.” She pointed to the backseat. “Candy, you sit in the back. You can sit in the front on the way home.”

“But—” “No buts.”

“Fine,” Candy groaned as she slid into the back. “Where’s Zoey?”

Kelly forced a smile. She refused to let the younger girls’ squabble and Zoey’s earlier actions take the joy out of the shopping trip. “Not coming.”

“Oh no. What happened?” Candy growled from the backseat.

Kelly turned around in her seat. “Zoey doesn’t want to come, and you know what, Candy, we’re not going to worry about it.” She looked at her middle daughter. “I pray for Zoey and her pain every day, but for now, the three of us are going to have a good time.”

Brittany buckled her seat belt. “Finally.”

“Where are we going to eat?” Candy asked.

Kelly smiled. Her youngest thought of little else but from where she’d receive her next meal. “Let’s go to the boutique first.”

Brittany let out a long breath. She twisted her purse strap between her fingers. “I can hardly wait to get there. I’ve been looking up dresses on the Internet this morning. There’s just so much to choose from.”

Not only was Brittany the most interested in sports, she was also a hopeless romantic. During the summer months, her sisters had to beg Brittany to stop watching one bride show after another. Candy, the dance queen of the family, knew the lyrics of nearly every song and the words of every movie she’d ever watched, but she was not overly interested in romance—which Kelly decided was a good thing since the girl was only eleven.

Kelly pulled into a parking space in front of the boutique Sadie, her sister-in-law, had suggested. The place was not at all what Kelly had envisioned, simply a small, office-style space in a strip mall of sorts. The store’s name was posted in small, anything-but-ostentatious letters above the door. If Sadie hadn’t suggested the place, Kelly would never have given it a second look. Kelly shifted the car into park.

“This is where we’re going?” Brittany wrinkled her nose and pointed toward the plain door with such small lettering Kelly had no idea if it fronted a boutique or not.

“I guess so. Let’s not judge a book by its cover.”

Kelly and the girls stepped out of the car then walked into the boutique. Three hundred sixty-degree mirrors filled the back wall. Two ornately draped fitting rooms bookended each side of the mirrors. Rich paint and wallpaper covered the remaining walls, but Kelly couldn’t help noticing the almost bare racks.

Candy tugged her arm. “I’m not so sure about—”