The Broken Window Part 17

"What?"

"Smile for the camera!" he said through his teeth. She managed a lopsided smile, and he muttered, "Should I be amazed that Jesus still pulls in the paparazzi?"

"Don't make fun," she warned.

"Wouldn't dare," he a.s.sured.

After a few more cars pa.s.sed by, Ransom gave her a nudge. "I was just thinking ... if you don't like me, but you don't know why you don't like me; doesn't it make sense that if you found something likeable about me, we could be friends? Hypothetically."

Her promise to Marcus about being nice weighed heavily on her mind. "I suppose that's possible. Remotely."

"A challenge!" he exulted.

"This is unbelievable. Doesn't anything embarra.s.s you?"

"Not much," he admitted. "Why? Are you embarra.s.sed?"

"Mortified."

"Why?" he asked, sounding genuinely curious.

"Because you're you, and I'm me," she replied. "And this whole conversation is ridiculous!"

"How about I tell you something embarra.s.sing about me," he proposed.

"Like what?" she asked, curious in spite of herself.

"What if I told you my favorite color is pink?"

She blinked. "You're kidding."

Ransom gestured broadly. "Why would I lie about something so stupid?"

"Has anyone ever asked you your favorite color before?"

"Well, sure."

"And you told them pink?"

"Are you kidding?" he scoffed.

Dripping sarcasm, Prissie asked, "So you've lied to everyone except me?"

"What can I say? I'm turning over a new leaf."

"I'll believe it when I see it."

Ransom folded his arms over his chest. "Does that mean you'll be watching?"

"Watching my back," she returned tartly.

"In case I try to tie another knot in your hair?" he inquired, reaching behind her.

She shied away, and he relented as another car pulled into the church parking lot, illuminating a rather subdued flock of sheep trotting obediently to their pen. Neil slumped gratefully onto a straw bale beside Koji to catch his breath. "All woolies present and accounted for. Good thing Ranger Ochs showed up when he did. Him and the other guy did good."

"Padgett," Prissie supplied. "I hope you thanked them."

"Several times," he a.s.sured.

Tad sloped over and said, "Not sure who's more worn out-us or them."

"Coulda been worse," Ransom offered. "Coulda been camels!"

Prissie's older brother chuckled. "Want to trade places now that the excitement's over?"

"I don't mind sticking around." Glancing at Prissie, Ransom added, "Unless you mind."

"I don't care," she replied stiffly, once more conscious of being in the spotlight.

When the boys settled into their places as shepherds, Ransom leaned closer so that only she could hear him. "Will you keep my secret?"

"Your secret's safe."

"Does that make us friends?" he pressed.

"No."

"Didn't think so," Ransom admitted. "But it's a start."

Prissie was afraid he might be right.

After the spotlights had been shut down and the farm animals loaded into their trailers, the Pomeroys warmed up inside the church with hot cider and cookies. Ransom and Marcus stuck around ... and stuck close. "How'd you get here, anyhow?" Prissie thought to ask.

"Hitched a ride with Mr. Mailman," Ransom replied.

"You called?" Milo inquired, ambling over with a cup of coffee in hand. He'd shed his costume, but his hair still glinted in the lights. Noting Prissie's gaze, he gave his hair a pat. "How long do you think it'll take to get this stuff out?"

"You'll have metallic dandruff 'til Easter," said Neil.

"I could loan you a curry comb," offered Tad, his gray eyes sparkling.

Laughing at his own expense, the Messenger turned slightly as Mr. Pomeroy strolled over with the rest of the family. Right away, Prissie's father offered a hand to the young Protector. "We met once before ... Marcus, right?"

"Yes, sir," the teen replied with gruff politeness. "Marcus Truman."

"I hear you were pretty handy when it came to heading off those sheep," Jayce said. "Thanks for helping out in our time of need!"

"No big deal," he replied. Zeke stepped forward, staring hard at Marcus, who offered a cautious, "Yo."

"What happened to your hair?" the boy asked bluntly.

Marcus smirked and crouched down to let Zeke get a good look. "Nothing much. It's just hair."

"But it's different colors."

"And?" the Protector challenged.

Ransom snickered softly as Zeke continued his inspection, then turned to his mother to ask, "Can I have two, too?"

"Maybe when you're older," Momma replied, unperturbed by the boy's fascination. With Zeke, if it wasn't one thing, it was another.

"What colors do you like?" Marcus asked, his expression serious.

Zeke's expression scrunched thoughtfully. "Orange and red ... like fire!"

"Hide the crayons," Ransom advised in an undertone.

"Are you kidding?" Prissie whispered back. "He moved beyond crayons when he was three. I'd say hide the spray paint."

"We could try food coloring," Ransom proposed.

Her eyes widened in alarm. "Don't give him any ideas!"

Koji raised a finger to his lips, enforcing her plea with a shush, and Ransom held up his hands in surrender.

As usual, the visiting went on long after the clean-up was done. Prissie sat on the floor next to the bench where Tad had sprawled and let her eyes slide shut. She was exhausted-both physically and emotionally-and all she really wanted right now was home and bed. Conversation melted into a pleasant buzz as she drifted perilously close to sleep, but as soon as she was quiet, the nagging sense of urgency returned. What was it she was forgetting? She could almost remember ... almost... .

"Miss Priss?" came a low voice. "You okay?"

She woke with a start and stared in confusion at Ransom. "Umm ... what?"

Her cla.s.smate sat beside her before gesturing at her face. "Why are you crying?"

Touching her cheek, she found it wet and quickly scrubbed at it, muttering, "I can't remember."

"Bad dream?" he ventured.

She sniffed and shook her head. "No ... I mean ... there's something I've forgotten."

Ransom slouched against the wall. "You know something's missing, but you don't know what it is?"

"Yes."

"Let's see," he mused aloud. "Did you turn in all your homework?"

"Of course."

"Are all your farm jobs done?"

"Farm jobs?" she echoed incredulously.

"Sure. Milk the cows, slop the hogs, sheer the sheep - farm stuff."

She giggled in spite of herself. "We don't keep cows or sheep, and Tad and Koji are in charge of the pigs."

Ransom glanced at her sleeping brother and nodded. "If the porkers are covered, then maybe it's ... a birthday?"

"No," she sighed. "And it's useless to guess. I told you, I can't remember."

"But it's important, right?" he countered.

"I think so." Shaking her head, she admitted, "I know so."

"Maybe I'll jog your memory. Besides, it'll pa.s.s the time until Mr. Mailman has his fill of chit-chat."

Prissie looked around the foyer and soon spotted Milo, who was caught up in conversation. "That could be a while."

"No big deal. I get to sleep in tomorrow."

She frowned. "But tomorrow's Sun Oh. Right."

His smile was a little sheepish. "Guess you'll be right back here in the morning."

"Yes."

Ransom stretched out his legs, then asked, "Is something lost?"

Something wasn't, but someone was, and Prissie winced. "Why do you ask?"

"Dunno. I guess there's not much difference between lost and forgotten," he explained. "Out of sight, out of mind."

"Oh," she managed, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. Was that it? Not quite.

She must have been lost in thought for a while because he reached over to tap her shoulder. "I think you drifted off with your eyes open."

"Sorry," she muttered.

His eyebrows slowly rose. "Can I borrow that frou-frou thing in your hair?"

Reaching back, she touched the satin ribbon she'd used to tie the end of her braid. "This?"

"Yep."

"Why?"

He held out his hand. "Because I know a remembering trick."

Baffled, Prissie gave one end of the ribbon a tug, then pulled it free and handed it over.