The Blessing Read online

  “All right,” Jason said, laughing, “monkeys it is. Do you know how to paint monkeys?”

  Max nodded so vigorously that his whole body shook.

  Jason took the boy’s shoulders in his hands and said, “Now, I want you to listen to me, all right?”

  When Max’s attention was fully on Jason, he said, “I want you to go with this lady, her name is Doreen, and I want you to pick out everything you need to paint your monkeys. Big monkeys, little monkeys. A whole room full of monkeys. Understand?”

  Max nodded.

  “Any questions?”

  Max shook his head no.

  “Good. I like a man who can take orders. Now go with Doreen while I work with your mother. Okay?”

  Again Max nodded; then Jason stood and looked at Doreen. She held out her hand to Max; he took it, and the two of them disappeared down the aisles of the art store.

  “You have no idea what you’ve done,” Amy said. “You can’t let a two-year-old have carte blanche in a store. Heaven only knows what he’ll buy and—”

  Taking Amy’s arm, Jason pulled her in the opposite direction. “Come on, let’s get what you need and get out of here. At this rate the president will be here before the murals are started.”

  “Then maybe you should have ordered the supplies before I arrived. I did send a list to Mildred so everything would be ready.”

  “And the supplies were purchased,” Jason said under his breath.

  Amy stopped walking. “Well, then, why are we here buying more?”

  Jason gave a sigh. “You wanted watercolors, so Doreen ordered sets with those tiny squares of watercolors in them.”

  “But I ordered gallons . . . Oh, my. How many of those sets did she order?”

  “Let’s just say that every schoolchild in Kentucky now has a brand-new set of watercolors.”

  “Oh,” Amy said, smiling; then she couldn’t help but laugh. “I hate to ask about the overhead projector.”

  “Did you know that when you turn a slide projector upside down that all the slides fall out?”

  “No, I’ve never tried it. How do you know that that’s what happens?”

  “Because Doreen bought thirteen different brands of them and couldn’t find one that could be used ‘overhead.’ ”

  “I see,” Amy said, trying unsuccessfully not to laugh out loud. “It’s a good thing you’re marrying her, or you’d be broke in another couple of weeks.”

  “Amy, I need to talk to you about that.”

  “Really?” she said. “I hope you aren’t going to tell me anything bad, as it puts my work off when I hear bad news. And Arnie—Ow! What was that for?”

  “Sorry, didn’t mean to hurt you,” he said as he released her arm. “You want to get what you need so we can get out of here?”

  For the next hour and a half Amy concentrated on what she needed to buy for the huge art project ahead of her, and she couldn’t help thinking how wonderful it was to be told that money was no object. It was luxurious in the ultimate to be able to buy the best brands of paint, the best brushes, the best . . . “This is going to cost a lot,” she said, looking up at Jason, but he just shrugged.

  “What else do you need?” He was looking at his watch, obviously bored and wanting to leave the store.

  “Men,” she said, which made him look back at her. “Or women.” She gave him her most innocent smile. “I need at least three of whichever to help me paint.”

  “Taken care of.”

  “That was fast.”

  “You may have heard that I used to run a business and I often did things quickly.”

  “Oh? I do believe I heard something about that. So why did you—? Oh, no,” she said, without finishing her thought.

  Down the aisle, coming toward the cash register, was Max, Doreen following him. Only Max looked liked a young prince leading his elephant, for Doreen was laden with three carry baskets of goods and a paintbrush in her mouth. Only she wasn’t carrying the brush across her teeth as any one else would have done it. No, Doreen had stuck the brush into her mouth so it was sticking out about eighteen inches.

  She went past Jason and Amy, spit the brush out onto the counter, then dumped the three big baskets by the register. Only then did she turn to Amy, and say, “Your kid is weird”; then she walked away.

  “Max, what have you done?” Amy asked, but Max put his hands in his front pockets and tightened his mouth in an expression that Amy didn’t recognize as being just like one of hers.

  But Jason recognized it and laughed.

  “Do you want to buy all of this or not?” the bored clerk said.

  “Sure,” Jason said, just as Amy said, “No!”

  “So which is it?”

  “We’ll take it,” Jason answered, getting out his wallet to hand the young man a platinum American Express card.

  But Amy was going through what her son had chosen to purchase, and she was beginning to agree with Doreen that, if not the child, the child’s purchases were indeed strange. “Max, honey, did you buy one of every brush the store has?” she asked her son.

  Max gave a nod.

  “But what about your colors?” she asked. “What colors are you going to paint your monkeys? And what about the jungle? Are you going to make them live in a jungle?”

  Before Max could answer, Doreen reappeared with four one-gallon cans of black acrylic paint and a step-ladder. “Don’t look at me,” she said. “He only wants black.”

  When Max stood there with his hands in his pockets, his face defiant, Jason laughed more.

  “Don’t encourage him,” Amy snapped. “Max, sweetheart, I think you should get another color besides black, don’t you?”

  “Nope,” Jason said. “He wants black and he’s going to get black. Now, come on, let’s go. We have to get out of here before—”

  “The president comes,” Amy and Doreen said in unison, then laughed at Jason’s scowl. Fifteen minutes later the back of Jason’s Range Rover was filled and they were on their way back to the library.

  And that’s where Amy first met Raphael. He was about seventeen years old, and he had the anger of the world in his eyes, along with an unhealed knife wound on his face.

  She took one look at the young man, then grabbed her son’s hand and started out of the door, but Jason blocked her way.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” he said. “He was all I could get on such short notice. The other painter was bringing his assistants, and this boy needs to do community service.”

  “Needs?” she said in a high-pitched voice. “Needs? Or do you mean ‘sentenced to’?”

  When Jason shrugged guiltily, Amy pulled Max to one side.

  “You can’t leave me,” Jason said. “Just because the boy happens to look a little rough—”

  “Rough? He looks like something off a Wanted! poster. How could you think of letting Max around him?”

  “I won’t leave you alone with him. I’ll be here every minute. I’ll carry a gun.”

  “Oh, now, that’s reassuring,” she said sarcastically. She didn’t say any more because Raphael pushed past her and started down the library steps. When Jason grabbed the boy’s arm, he said something in a language Amy couldn’t understand; then, to her surprise, Jason answered him in the same language.

  “Look, Amy, you’ve hurt his feelings, and now he wants to leave. But if he does leave, he’ll have to spend several months in jail. Do you want that on your conscience?”

  Amy could have burst into tears, for she knew when she was defeated. “No, of course not.”

  To her consternation Raphael gave a big grin, then walked back into the library.

  “He never meant to leave,” Amy said under her breath. “He was manipulating me.”

  At that Jason laughed, picked Max up, and took him back into the library.

  And that was just the beginning, Amy thought as she ate the last of her muffin and stared at the fire. After that things were too hectic to pay much attention to any one thi