"I agree." He pulled her into his arms, ignoring her efforts to resist him. "You kick puppies and shout at little old ladies."
"I hate you," she muttered into his chest, feeling decidedly foolish.
"And I love you." Tipping her chin up, he studied her mutinous face. "To distraction."
"If you think sweet words – "
"Each time I look at our daughter, I see you. Your incredible beauty, the shape of your lips, the eyes, the nose." He flicked a finger over it. "I see you. I love you so much it defies comprehension."
With a sigh, she melted against him, her resentment evaporating. "I don't hate you as much."
"Good." Bending his head, he kissed her into submission.
Chapter 13
Maxy Brown-Bell was an ordinary woman. Some might say that she was even plain and had lived her life keeping her head down. She worked at the local Wal-Mart and had been there for the past fifteen years. She was very good at her job and an excellent listener. She was married to a man who believed he should use most of his paycheck at the local watering hole. They lived in a tiny house on the corner of Lexington and Water Street. The neighborhood was shabby, but the neighbors were friendly and looked out for each other.
Maxy went to church religiously every Sunday. She paid her tithes, served in the Sunday school, and whenever the regular tenor was out sick, she filled in on the choir. She considered herself to be a very good person indeed. It didn't matter that her husband was the neighborhood drunk; at least he wasn't hurting anyone. It was no one's business that she was the one paying most of the bills. Her Frank had just lost his way. Years of being in a dead-end job could do that to a person.
And after five miscarriages, the last one almost costing her life, they had drifted apart. She had not given her Frank any children, so it was her fault. It did not matter what that old fart Josephine from church said. It was on her, and it was time to do something about it.
Her only vice was her weakness for celebrities and their lifestyles, and she envied them. She had latched onto the incredibly beautiful Eliza Bell-Copeland (she had asked herhusband if they were related, and he had laughed in her face!). But she liked to think she was related to the beautiful woman through marriage.
At first she had adored Eliza and watched her show every week on NBC. The woman portrayed courage and power, something Maxy lacked, and she could relate to her. Eliza was like her; she did not have children. She read everything there was to read about Eliza, especially when she married that uppity producer.
When she heard there were problems in their marriage, she had cried with the actress and cursed out Samuel Copeland for a fool. How could he not see what he had? Men! She scoffed. Never knew what they had until it was taken away.
Then she read about the actress quitting acting. She had been devastated at first and spent an entire night, huddled in her ratty robe, watching the last few episodes and crying into her Kleenex. Frank had stumbled in drunk, smelling as if he had brought the entire stinking bar with him, and tried to feel her up. As if! She had pushed him away, which hadn't taken much on her part, considering he was already stumbling on his feet.
Then she read about the actress trying IVF. To her that was completely unnatural. If the good Lord ordained it that a woman shouldn't conceive the natural way, it simply meant that He did not want her to have children. Eliza Bell-Copeland had fallen several notches in Maxy's esteem. Then it had gotten worsewhen she saw the woman flaunting herself on the red carpet with her big, bulging gut. Quadruplets! How utterly indecent.
All because she had money to do the process, while she, Maxy, a God-fearing woman, had tried everything. She had gone to church, prayed, fasted, and begged God, just like Hannah in the Bible, to give her a child. Just one. And she had been ignored. She had accepted her trials in her own stoic manner and pressed on. She had made sacrifices, scrimping and saving and putting up with Frank, even though she had thought numerous times that it would be better if he was dead. She had put up with the disappointments that God had dished out to her and still plodded on.
Now to see this woman, this woman who had looks, a gorgeous husband, and more money than she could ever spend, flaunting herself in front of the camera.
When Maxy read that the baby girl was on the verge of dying, she had bought a bottle of cheap wine at the local market and toasted their troubles. Good! They ought to feel what local folks were feeling. They sat up there in their ivory tower, not going through anything. Maybe God wasn't sleeping after all!
Then she read about the babies, all four of them alive and well. How could that be? She had stewed and swiped the celebrity rag from the shelf by the counter and sat in the bathroom, poring over the article.
Someone had captured a grainy photo of the quadruplets while they were taking a walk on that lofty yard or land of theirs. All that space, and they were hiring nannies as well. So, the bitch had left acting to become a mother and still had servants to take care of her litter.
It wasn't fair! She had gone home that evening to rail at God and finished the bottle of wine. When her husband came home that night, he found her huddled on the faded sofa, staring at the scene.
What he was about to say dried up on his lips as she turned a ferocious look on him that pinned him to the spot. He had left without saying a word.
It wasn't right, she thought, tears pouring down her face. She had been so loyal to God, giving of her time and meager resources like the widow in the Bible. She had worked hard all of her life, just being a good person. She even volunteered at the food shelter every weekend. And still she was the one suffering.
Eliza Bell-Copeland, with her enormous amount of money, lived in a palatial residence and had a very rich husband, so she could stop working and stay home. To do what? Maxy wondered bitterly. When she lifted the bottle, it was to discover that it was empty. She couldn't even get drunk the right way.
She started laughing, low and soft at first, and then great gusts, spilling from her belly. She laughed so hard that it had Frank running in to find out what was happening.
One look at the maniacal expression on her face had him scuttling from the living room and back into their bedroom. He had never seen her like this before, and it scared the crap out of him.
Maxy finished laughing and sat up, her red, splotched face glowing. She knew what she had to do. God had given her an inspiration. She was going to find a way to make that actress and her husband pay for her misery. She was going to shake up their perfect world if it was the last thing she did!
*****
"Jeff, you bastard, you're killing me," Eliza grunted, feeling as if her entire nervous system was in revolt. Her muscles screamed in protest, and sweat was pouring down her face.
