Heaven (Casteel 1)

A slap! A hard hand striking soft flesh! "Ya thinks she's pretty, don't ya? Yer noticin already, huh? But ya kin't have her, ya keep rememberin that! I got patience, an I got tolerance, but don't ya go foolin around with no kid who's gonna be our daughta." How loud she yelled.

"Don't you ever slap me again, Kitty," Cal said in a hard, cold voice. "I put up with a lot from you, but I draw the line at physical violence. If you can't touch me with love and tenderness, don't touch me at all."

"Honey, it didn't hurt, did it?"

"That's not the issue, whether or not it hurt. The issue is, I don't like violent women, or ones that shout and raise their voices. And the walls are paper-thin. I'm sure Heaven thinks you treat her fine, just like a mother always treats a daughter she loves. Putting her to bed with her parents. She's a teenager, Kitty, not an infant."

"Ya jus don't understand, do ya?" Kitty sounded more than grouchy. "I know how hill gals are; ya don't. Ya kin't begin to know t'evil stuff they do--an they don't need no man t' be there, neither. An if ya want peace in this house, ya'll let me do it my way."

Not a word from Cal to defend me. Not a word about the boiling bath and all the damage it had done--why not? Why was he timid around Kitty when she was in the house, when he'd stood up to her in the car?

The bedroom door opened. The slippy-slop of Kitty's feathered slippers sounded on the hall floor, coming this way. I panicked. Quickly I seized one of the faded old towels and swathed it about my sore body.

Kitty came in without knocking, threw me a hard glance, then without a word whipped off her flimsy black nightgown, kicked off her pink slippers, and sat down naked on the toilet. I started to leave, but she ordered me back. "Do somethin fer yer head . . . it looks awful!" she said flatly.

I bowed my head, trying not to see or hear anything. Diligently I worked with as much careful speed as my tangled hair would allow.

Soon Kitty was in the shower, singing country tunes in a loud voice. All the time I kept trying to unsnarl my hair.

Kitty came out of the shower, drying her body with a lush pink towel, scowling my way. "Neva wanta come in here agin an see what I just saw in that toilet--ya hear?"

"I'm sorry. But I was afraid if I flushed it, it would awaken you and your husband. Tomorrow morning I'll use the downstairs bath."

"Ya betta," mumbled Kitty. "Now ya hurry up an finish, then put on one of t'nice dresses Cal bought fer ya t'wear. This aftanoon, Cal an me's gonna show ya around, go t'Atlanta, let ya see my shop, how pretty it is, how much my girls love me. Tomorrow we'll go t'church, an Monday ya'll start school with all Vother kids yer age. Sacrificin my ceramic classes fer yer sake, ya keep that in mind. Could make plenty t'day, but won't, jus t'get ya started right."

I again set diligently to work on my hair as Kitty made up her face and dressed all in pink. She picked at her bush of auburn hair with a funnylooking wire thing, then turned to beam at me. "What say?"

"You look beautiful," I answered truthfully. "I never saw anyone so beautiful."

Kitty's pale eyes glistened. Her smile spread to show large, even white teeth. "Neva guess, would ya, that I'm thirty-five?"

"No," I breathed. Older than Sarah, imagine that, and Kitty looked so much younger.

"Cal's only twenty-five, an that worries me some, bein ten years olds than my own husband. Caught me a fine man, I did, a real fine man, even if he is youngabut don't ya tell nobody my age, ya hear?"

"They wouldn't believe me if I did."

"Why, ain't that sweet of ya," Kitty said in a new and softer voice. She stepped closer to give me a quick hug, a swift kiss on my raw cheek. "Didn't really want t'make yer skin look so red an raw. Does it really hurt?"

I nodded, and then Kitty was finding ointment to touch lightly on my face with great kindness. "Guess sometimes I overdo thins. Don't want ya t'hate me. Want more than anythin fer ya t'love me like ya would yer own mother. Honey, I'm sorry--but ya gotta admit, we done killed all t'bad stuff ya had clingin t'ya like moss on a rotten tree."

She said everything I had been secretly praying to hear, and impulsively I hugged Kitty back, kissed her cheek very carefully so as not to spoil that perfect makeup job. "And you smell so good," I whispered tearfully, overcome with relief.

"Ya an me are gonna get along fine, jus fine, we are, we are," enthused Kitty, smiling happily. Then, to show she meant right, she took the comb from my hand and began to work on my tangled hair. With gentleness and great adroitness she soon had my hair a smooth-flowing cascade. Next she picked up a brush she said I could use from now on, and she brushed and brushed, using it in mysterious ways. Dipping it in water, shaking off most, curling hair over her fingers . . . and when I again looked into the mirror, I saw a beautiful head of shining dark curling hair around a white patchwork face and two huge blue eyes.

"Thank you," I whispered gratefully, loving Kitty for being kind, and more than willing to forget the torture of last night.

"Okay. Now let's head fer t'kitchen an t'tour I promised ya. Gotta be quick about all of this. Got so much t'do."

Together we descended the stairs. Cal was already in the kitchen. "I've got the coffee water boiling, and I'm fixing breakfast today," Cal said in a cheerful voice. He was busy frying bacon and eggs in separate skillets, so he couldn't turn his head. "Good morning, Heaven," he greeted, laying the bacon carefully on paper toweling, spooning hot grease over the sunny-side ups. "Do you like toast best, or English muffins? I'm an English muffin fan, especially with currant jelly or orange marmalade."

It wasn't until we all sat down at the pretty round table to eat that he really saw me again. His eyes widened with pity to see my face, not even noticing how lovely my hair looked. "Good Lord in heaven, Kitty, it's an awful shame to take a pretty face and make it look like a clown. What the hell is that white stuff smeared all over her?"

"Why, honey, it's t'same stuff ya woulda used."

He appeared thwarted, disgusted, and turned to pick up the newspaper. "Please r

efrain from washing her face again, Kitty. Let her do it herself," he said from behind the newspaper, as if so angry he couldn't bear to look at Kitty.