“The livin’ room. I tried to get the blood off the wall but mostly I just ended up takin’ off the paint.”
“Have you ever painted before?”
I rolled my eyes. “I ain’t buildin’ a rocket. How hard could it be?”
“I’m sure a professional painter might take offense to that.”
“Well, I’m not hirin’ a professional painter.”
“I’m not suggestin’ you do, but I can make sure you know what to do before you get paint everywhere.”
“Why?” I asked.“Why would you help me?”
He raised his eyebrows. “I didn’t say I was gonna paint the room for you. It’s only a few pointers.”
I appreciated his offer to help, but his attitude rankled me. Why did that man irritate me so?
Chapter Five
Joe ended up helping me move all the furniture into the dining room, then helped me tape. We didn't talk much while we worked, and after my initial nervousness of being near him in such tight quarters, I got used to his presence.
When we finished taping, he looked me up and down and raised an eyebrow. “You goin’ to paint in those clothes? Since you’re new to this, you’re bound to get paint on ‘em.”
I hadn’t considered that, along with most everything else in my life, it seemed. I went to my bedroom and dug through the drawers for an old t-shirt and pair of shorts, self-conscious about changing with Joe in the next room. I assured myself it was unlikely he had X-ray vision. If he had it in his head to attack me, he would have done it already.
When I returned, he had drop cloths spread all over the floor.
“I don’t remember buyin’ that many.” I said, puzzled.
“You didn’t. A couple are mine. You could have made do with the two you bought, but you would have to keep movin’ them around. It’ll be easier this way.”
My mouth dropped.
He saw my hesitation. “If I overstepped my….”
“No,” I shook my head. “I’m sorry. I’m marvelin’ at how nice you’re bein’ and tryin’ to figure out why.”
His eyebrows raised. “I’m not sure what you’re talkin’ about. People can be nice without an underlyin’ motive.”
“Not to me they don’t.”
“Why not?”
Our eyes locked and he studied me, trying to figure out what I meant. He obviously didn’t know me yet. This friendship won’t last. I warned myself. Don’t get used to him.
“Never mind,” I mumbled and went out into the kitchen. My heart stopped at the sight of the shopping bags. He had to have gone through them to get out the drop clothes. Did he see the nightie? But the Walmart sack looked undisturbed. Feeling lightheaded, I took out the curtains and set them on the table, wadded up the bag with the nightie still inside, and stuffed it into the dishtowel drawer. I took a deep breath to calm my nerves and went back into the living room.
Before I knew it, we were both painting. I wanted to remind Joe that he claimed he wasn't going to help, but I knew better than push my luck. He was better and faster at it than me.
When Joe finished a wall, I stepped back and took a good look, clasping my hands to my chest. “I love it!” I exclaimed, giddy with happiness. “It looks like early mornin’ sunshine!”
He turned to me, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Yeah, I suppose it does.”
We were almost done with the first coat when Violet burst through the side door. “Oh, thank God you’re all right! I’ve been tryin’ to call you all day! Why won’t you answer the phone? I thought somethin’ happened to you! What on earth are you doin’?”
Her rapid-fire questions made me I feel like I’d just been pelted with a BB gun. “I’m paintin’ the livin’ room,” I glance over my shoulder. “Well, we’re paintin’ the room.”
Violet was livid. “Why would you be redecoratin’ when Momma’s not even buried in the ground? It’s bad enough that you’re accused of killin’ our mother, now you’re redecoratin’? What are people gonna say, Rose?”
If Violet had slapped me in the face, it couldn't have hurt worse.
Joe cleared his throat. “I know this is none of my business, but Rose isn’t redecoratin’. She’s coverin’ up the blood that was spread all over the wall. I offered to help her since she’d never painted before.”