The Auction a Romance by Anna Erishkigal Page 22

  ~ ? ~

  .

  I pressed the point of my pencil into the dot at the bottom of the question mark. It was my job to make sure Pippa didn't get chewed up and shat out by Eva's games. She needed something solid to shore up her self-esteem.

  I erased the question mark and added the final item to The Plan.

  .

  --Horse--

  .

  I slipped the list into my pocket, feeling a bit guilty for scheming behind Adam's back, but it was for his own good. He was too noble to outwit Eva at her own dirty game while I, on the other hand, was ruthlessly pragmatic. In war, a combatant couldn't afford to be sentimental. I had learned that fact from the bitch who called herself my mother.

  I traipsed down the hallway to roll Pippa out of bed. Her high-pitched voice filtered through the door as she poured her heart out to the dog.

  "Mommy says if I beg Daddy to go home, we can all live happily ever after in Brisbane. Even Rosie. Mommy said Rosie can visit every day. But I didn't like it there after Mrs. Richardson retired! Mommy kept trying to get rid of me in boarding schools."

  I heard the dog whimper a reply.

  "The fairy queen said Mommy will be good for a little while, and then things will go back to the way they were before. Only Daddy will lose his job with the nice man who lets him come home to see me. I like seeing Daddy! Grandpa Jackson makes him go away all the time."

  A big, huge lump crawled up from my belly, threatening to cut off my airway. How many times had -I- had similar conversations with Harvey? My mother finally gave up trying to get custody of me and instead demanded the court give her Harvey as her share of the marital property. She'd gotten my horse, and then she'd gotten me to tell the court investigator I wanted to live with her because my mother threatened if I didn't, she'd sell him to the knackery.

  I'd be damned if I'd let the same thing happen to Pippa…

  "Good morning, nipper," I called out as I knocked on the door. "Rise and shine. If you stay in bed any longer, pretty soon it will be supper."

  It felt as though the fairy queen Pippa spoke of had swapped out my sweet, cheerful little girl for a scowling teenager who picked at her breakfast and grumbled her way through her school lessons, both the informal ones as well as the textbooks she usually shied away from. As I coached her about a topic she usually found simple, I was forced to endure a tear-filled tantrum. I decided now would be a good time to announce the next step in my plan.

  "If you hurry up and finish this, I have a surprise."

  "What?" Pippa's expression instantly grew wary.

  "Emily's mom said we could come over today."

  "Emily's in school," Pippa said bitterly. "A real school. With other kids and friends."

  "But she gets home at three o'clock. Julie asked if you could help Emily do her homework?"

  "Emily's smart," Pippa pouted. "If she sees how far behind I am, she'll tell everybody I'm stupid."

  I stared at the moody tween-ager who'd come back from her mother's house a total stranger.

  "Emily is your friend."

  "Mommy says there's no such thing as friends, only people you need, and people who need something from you."

  My mouth dropped. I closed it and suppressed the urge to shake the miniature replica of Eva Jackson who sat at the kitchen table, doodling instead of finishing her grammar drills.

  "Some people aren't trustworthy. But if you keep your eyes open, their actions will tell you who you should avoid."

  Tears welled in Pippa's eyes.

  "Every time I start to make a new friend, the minute they get with their old friends, they turn around and act mean!"

  "I'm your friend."

  Pippa scowled.

  "Mommy said the only reason you like me is because Daddy pays you."

  Oh? So that was what this was all about? Eliminate me from the picture by driving a wedge between me and her daughter? How could three days spent with her mother turn Pippa into such a cynical child? I could see how Eva had driven away four separate governesses.

  "I do get paid by your Daddy to teach you," I said. "But you know what? If I worked at the public school and he wasn't paying me? I'd still like you just as much."

  Pippa's lip trembled.

  "Really?"

  "Really supercalifragilistic honest to goodness truth." I pointed to Thunderlane who lay at Pippa's feet. "And Thunderlane likes you. And Mrs. Hastings. And so does everyone else we've met here."

  "That's what Grandma used to say, but Mommy said they are the wrong kind of people and I shouldn't as-as-associate with them."

  Note to self … throttle Eva the next time you see her.

  "Do they make you feel bad when you are with them?"

  "No."

  "Do they ask you to do anything that will get you arrested?"

  I waggled my eyebrows and gave her a mischievous grin. Pippa gave me a look halfway between a grimace and an eye-roll. A tiny smirk began to tug at the corner of her mouth.

  "No!"

  "And now here's the big question. Do you want to be their friend?"

  Pippa crossed her hands in her lap as though she wished to curl up into a fetal position.

  "Yes." Her voice sounded very small.

  "Then all you have to do is be nice to people, and if they're not nice back, then you give them a dirty look and walk away. Just … like … this."

  I gave her my best rendition of The Look.

  "How'd you do that?" Pippa asked.

  I did it again. Pippa giggled.

  "Show me?"

  I coached her how to look somebody in the eye with a deadpan expression, wrinkle your nose, and then look down, look up, meet their gaze again, curl your lip slightly as though you smelled something disgusting, and then walk away without saying a word.

  "That's awesome!"

  "Yes it is," I said. "I learned it from my father. He called it the gypsy evil eye!"

  "Teach me, Rosie! I want to do it too!"

  I herded her into my bedroom to practice in front of the full-length mirror my complete arsenal of 'I think you're a scumbag' non-verbal communication, including The Look, The Eye Roll, and my all-time favorite, the one where, when somebody taunts you, instead of cringing away, you step into their personal space because it will force them to step backwards. Eva Bristow-Jackson had the first two down, but from the look on her face when I'd offered her one of Pippa's math-muffins, the Black Widow wasn't used to people who didn't throw themselves onto the ground and cry out, 'Ohmigod! The oil heiress gave me a dirty look!'

  I moved next into teaching Pippa the cut-down comeback called, 'Yeah. So? What do you mean by that?' I explained the rules and launched right into the roleplaying.

  "Your father buys your clothes at the Big W," I taunted.

  "He does not!" Pippa glanced down at her clothing with that same worried look she'd worn when she'd changed clothing five times for her mother's visit.

  I laughed. "Wrong answer, nipper. You have to keep repeating the same sentence over and over again so it puts the burden on them to explain what they mean."

  "Oh." Pippa looked skeptical. "Uhm, okay. Yeah, uhm, so? What do you mean by that?"

  "Let's try again until the response is automatic. Your father buys your clothing at the Big W."

  "Yeah. So? What do you mean by that?"

  "You admit it! Hah!"

  "Yeah, so? What do you mean by that?"

  "I mean … your father … buys … all … of your clothing … at the Big W!"

  "Yeah, so? What do you mean by that?"

  "Why do you keep saying that? I don't need to mean anything by it! I just mean your clothes are really crappy."

  "That sounds more like your problem than mine," Pippa said the next cut down in the script. She gave me a perfect approximation of The Look.

  "Brava!" I shouted. "Well done!" I gave her a great big tickle-hug until she begged for mercy. We broke apart and stared at our reflections in the mirror. Pippa's expression grew pensive.r />
  ""Rosie? How do you tell if somebody is really a good friend?"

  Yes. How did I explain how to avoid the bad people when, so very recently, I'd allowed myself to be used by a bludger like Gregory Schluter?

  "Introduce them to friends you trust," I said. "When you meet somebody for the first time, you sometimes miss stuff because there's so much new information to take in. But your friends will pick up on the things you miss."

  "But I don't have any other friends!"

  Pippa sat despondently on the foot of my bed. Thunderlane crept over, poking at her with his long, furry nose until she petted him. The dog was always attuned to his mistress' mood.

  "You have Thunderlane," I said. "Animals are good judges of character because they have to rely on non-verbal language."

  "Thunderlane liked you right away!"

  "See? It means he thinks I'm a good friend."

  Pippa frowned.

  "Thunderlane doesn't like Mommy. The few times he's met her, he always growled."

  I forced myself not to victoriously shout, 'see!'

  "Animals sense when somebody doesn't like them," I said. "You should always be wary of someone who isn't kind to animals."

  Pippa's eyes turned a thoughtful, gunship grey.

  "Who do you rely upon to tell you who to like?"

  "Harvey," I said. "Until he got sick and died. And my friend Sienna, the girl who rode with me at the stable? She didn't like my old boyfriend and I didn't listen to her. I should have. She had him pegged."

  "It's a good thing you didn't marry him, then," Pippa said. "Or you'd be as unhappy as Daddy is with Mommy."

  Sometimes, kid's perception of reality was just so heartbreakingly accurate. Thunderlane stuck his pointy doggy nose in Pippa's face and licked it until she threw her arms around him and gave him a hug.

  "Do you think Harvey would have liked Daddy?"

  I thought of how considerate Adam was, even as he danced around me like a nervous stock horse around a bull he feared might gore him. He was good with Pippa. He was good with Pippa's dog. He'd come out here to care for his dying mother. And he always inquired about Mrs. Hastings' healing hip.

  "Harvey would have loved your daddy," I said. "And you. Especially you! Why, I bet he even would have danced a Capriole for you. He was always picky about who he'd let ride him through his paces."

  We finished her school lessons, and then I bundled her into the car to go visit Julie and Emily Peterson. Walking into Julie's 'shabby chic' décor always felt like stepping someplace where you were welcome, filled with the scent of brewing tea and bickies. Each quirky piece of furniture had a history, a story, and a sentimental value, even if it was something she'd salvaged out of the landfill. As soon as I saved up enough money to get my own apartment, I'd ask Julie to take me dumpster diving to scrounge up goods to make my own home as warm and inviting as hers.

  Emily bounded out of her bedroom; her auburn curls a delightful contrast to her royal blue school uniform.

  "Wanna help me go take care of Polkadot?" Emily asked Pippa.

  Pippa grinned. "Sure."

  Never have I seen a kid so happy at the prospect of shoveling manure. Well, except me when I was that age, and every other horse-crazy kid I ever knew before they got a horse and needed to do it every single day.

  "One hour!" Julie said to Emily. "You've got one hour, missy! And then you two better haul your butts back in here to get some homework done."

  "Oh, mo-om…" Emily grumbled. She gave her mother an eye roll.

  Pippa made an awkward approximation of the exact same gesture.

  I clapped my hand over my mouth and pretended to look displeased, but it was really to suppress my overwhelming urge to grin. I noticed Julie did the same thing. The girls blew out of there to the shedrow barn. We both sank down into Julie's red-painted kitchen chairs.

  "My momma always said God would get even when I had kids of my own," Julie laughed.

  "But Emily is such a great kid," I said. "She's funny, even-tempered, and kind."

  "Yeah, but she's full of sass," Julie said. "Just like -I- was at that age."

  "Was?"

  We both laughed, and then sipped our tea and ate some of Pippa's math-muffins. Julie pulled off her high heels with a satisfied groan, no doubt sore from a day spent hairdressing. I decided to pick her brains.

  "How do you manage it? Get along with Emily's father?"

  Julie stared off into her living room.

  "Peter left me," Julie said. "Said I'd let myself go and stopped being fun."

  "You? Not fun?"

  "Yeah, I know. Right?" Julie's expression grew serious. "Once you've got kids, you can't just go running off to chase after the next great thing. We had bills to pay, and a roof to keep over Emily's head, so all we used to do was argue about money."

  "Peter sounds kind of like Adam's ex-wife. The jetting off and lack of stability part. The bills, though? Word has it her daddy's got more money than God."

  "What's up with that, anyways?" Julie leaned forward, her green eyes sparkling with curiosity.

  "I don't know." I threw my hands into the air. "I don't think he really knows, either. One minute she's gone and supposedly off to South America with some hot new boyfriend, and the next minute she's crying on our doorstep, telling him she wants him back."

  "Adam's daddy would get up out of his grave if he knew Eva Jackson had stepped foot onto his station," Julie said.

  A cold chill rippled from the base of my spine all the way up to the nape of my neck. I took a nice, long sip of hot tea to chase away the heebie-jeebies. Adam's father had gotten up out of his grave, at least in the dream world which every night seemed to grow more vivid.

  "She wants Adam to return to Brisbane."

  "And what about Pippa?" Julie asked. "What does Pippa want?"

  I remembered the conversation with the dog.

  "She wants her mommy and daddy to get along," I said. "But she seems to understand her mother is unstable."

  Julie sighed.

  "Peter, he just left, and he kept on going and never looked back. Then ten months later, clear out of the blue, he calls and tells me he done gone and got remarried and wants to start taking Emily for visits." Julie gave me a wistful smile. "Another redhead. Would you believe it? He went and traded me in for a younger model."

  Her lip trembled. I reached over and placed my hand over hers.

  "At least he doesn't play games with Emily," I said. "From what you told me, he shows up pretty regular?"

  "He does now," Julie said. "His new wife just gave him a brand new baby. So now he comes over here, complaining she's too demanding and he wishes we hadn’t gotten divorced. I just ignore him. Ain't no way I'm ever letting that man back into my heart."

  "Eva's trying to pull the exact same thing on Adam."

  Julie snorted.

  "The question is," Julie said, "is Adam stupid enough to fall for it?"

  "You've known Adam a lot longer than I have," I said. "How'd he end up with a woman like Eva Jackson?"

  "Heck if I know." Julie shrugged. "Adam, he went off to college, and he never looked back, not even to come home for the holidays." Her auburn eyebrows lifted into a devilish V. "Way I see it, Eva, she comes up behind him with one of those big pipe wrenches her daddy uses in his oil rigs, clubbed Adam over the head, and dragged him off to her cave until he let her have her way with him."

  I burst out laughing. The most enticing image of me doing just that to him popped into my mind. My evil smirk must have showed.

  "Oh, girl! You got it bad."

  "Who? Me?"

  "Yeah, you," Julie said. "Every time I mention his name, you go and get all dreamy-eyed."

  "Oh, pla-eese! He's way too old for me!"

  Julie stuck her hands on her hips and cocked me an indignant eyebrow. "Excuse me, missy-do?"

  "Uhm…" I gave her an apologetic grin. "I mean … there's a ten-year difference in our age. Thirty-three is not that old."

  Ju
lie grinned.

  "A man takes a lot longer to grow up than a woman," Julie said. "Look at Peter? Just turned 37 and he comes crawling back, saying now he wants to be a family again. I told him too late. Don't want no part of him no more."

  "I just hope Adam hurries up and gets to the 'getting sick of her' part real soon," I said, "because Eva's games? They're doing a real number on Pippa."

  Julie sighed.

  "You just tell me what I can do to help," Julie said. "Emily, she's got lots of friends, but she likes Pippa, kind of like her little superhero sidekick. The kids around here? They're all nice kids. Just keep bringing Pippa around and they'll make her feel welcome."

  Pippa and Emily came bursting back into the house. The earthy, pungent aroma of horse manure preceded them into the kitchen. Both girls had sawdust in their hair.

  "Git those shoes outside!" Julie hollered. "Both of you! Before you track road apples all over my carpet!"

  As soon as they got cleaned up, I tutored Emily, who was a mediocre student, as well as Pippa, who had peculiar learning deficits, through their homework while Julie bustled around doing other things. When I smelled hamburgers grilling on the barbie, we bade them farewell so we could get home and cook our own supper.

  Pippa was unusually silent on the car ride home. I tried to draw her out in conversation much the same way her father did with me.

  "So what did you do last weekend with your mother?"

  "Nothing much," Pippa said.

  "I thought you were supposed to visit your grandfather?"

  Pippa remained silent. The kid knew when an adult was pumping her for information.

  "That's okay, nipper," I said. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

  When we turned into the state-road which led to her farm, Pippa finally spoke.

  "We visited Grandpa on Sunday morning," Pippa said. "On Saturday, Mommy brought me to have lunch with Aunt Roberta."

  The hair stood up on the back of my neck. Roberta Dingle wasn't merely one of Eva's friends. She was also the third-party neutral the court had charged with watching out for Pippa's best interests.

  "Was your mommy there?"

  "Aunt Roberta asked her to leave."

  It wasn't that sense of knowing which tingled now, but four years of teacher training.

  "Professor Dingle was one of my favorite teachers," I said. "She would always ask the most interesting questions?"