A Parthan Summer by Julie Steimle (intellectual books to read TXT) 📕

Joy snickered.

Ruth blinked up at Zormna, angling her head to examine it. “Yeah, it kinda is. Only yours is curlier.”

Moaning, Zormna pulled out a few more weeds then moved along to the next plot.

“I like Tinkerbell,” Makayla said.

Zormna merely made a face.

“Well then, what’s your favorite?” Ruth asked Zormna.

Cringing, Zormna shook her head. “I don’t really know them all. Besides, I’m not really into princesses.”

Both Ruth and Makayla stared as if Zormna had said the wrong thing.

But Joy laughed. “Of course you aren’t. But when you were little, did you have a favorite?”

Zormna shook her head. “No.”

The little girls stared even more, jaws dropped.

“How about Mulan?” Joy asked, not exactly surprised. “She’s like a warrior.”

“Mulan’s not really a princess though,” Ruth said. “She just puts on guy’s clothes and goes to war and stuff. She doesn’t even marry a prince.”

Rising with exasperation, Zormna protested, “Why does this even matter? What’s the big deal about princesses anyway?”

“What’s the big deal?” Ruth really looked scandalized now. She shared her shock with Makayla who immediately shouted out: “Princesses are beautiful! And they get to wear pretty dresses. And a tiara!”

“They get to marry a prince and live happily ever after,” Ruth cut in.

“And they…and they get to do whatever they want,” Makayla continued.

“They’re special!” Ruth snapped.

Zormna looked to Joy who had not said anything but was smirking while they spoke out. “What about you? What is the big deal?”

Joy shrugged. “It is a thing little girls like. And Ruth’s right. It makes a girl feel special. Don’t tell me you’ve never wanted to be a princess when you were little.”

Zormna shook her head in earnest. “Never. I wanted to be a cop.”

Brian broke out laughing. The girls turned and saw him. He had been taking his time checking the spark plugs on the mower and filling the gas. Mostly he had been listening in, as it was always interesting to hear Zormna’s point of view on things ‘girly’. She just wasn’t that kind of girl. He and Joy both knew she had grown up in a military school.

“A cop?” Joy stared. “Are you serious?”

Zormna nodded. “My uncle was a policeman. I really admired him.”

“What did your mother and father do?” Joy asked, curious.

Shrugging, Zormna said, “My father was doctor and my mother was a nurse. That’s how they met.”

“But you don’t want to be a nurse?” Brian asked.

Zormna shook her head. “No… I’m not a fan of blood.”

But Brian laughed at that. “Not a fan of blood, but you wanted to be a cop?”

Rolling her eyes at him, Zormna replied, “Regardless of what is portrayed in the media, cops—or policemen—were once called peace-men. And for a reason. Their job is the keep the peace. And my uncle worked a dangerous neighborhood. He kept the gangs in line and people safe from them. That’s—honestly—the best kind of profession.”

The Henderson kids stared, subdued.

“Wow,” Ruth murmured. Then she angled her head back and said, “But are you sure you don’t want to play princesses with us? You can be Rapunzel after her hair got cut. We’ll even give you a frying pan.”

“Zormna doesn’t need a frying pan,” Brian murmured, going back to the mower. “She’s a super-ninja.”

His sisters giggled, Joy admittedly amused.

He started the mower.

Making a face at them, Zormna said, “If you want me to play princesses with you, can I be someone else?”

“You have to be a princess!” Makayla rose, fists full of weeds.

“What does a princess do anyway?” Zormna asked, her hands on her hips, “Besides looking pretty and getting rescued by princes?”

The sisters shared looks and thought about it.

“How about we see a movie about that?” Joy suggested finally.

“You have a movie showing you how to be a princess?” Zormna looked at them skeptically.

All three girls nodded, devious little grins spreading on their faces.

“And we’ll have a tea party!” Ruth announced.

Zormna blinked at her, peeking at Joy. “But thought your family did not drink tea.”

Joy laughed. “We don’t. It will be more like cocoa and Kool-Aid.”

“Oh.”

“And cookies!” Makayla declared.

As the sisters went back to work, conspiring together while they uprooted plants, Zormna gravitated toward Brian who was pushing the mower over the grass. He stopped when she got near.

“Careful,” Brian said. “This machine’s dangerous.”

Zormna snorted, thinking of all the more dangerous machines she had handled in her lifetime. But she said, “Can I…have a go?”

He laughed. “You don’t want to. It’s kind of heavy.”

But walking up to it, grasping the push bar with one hand, Zormna said, “Let me try anyway. If I can’t move it, you can take over again.”

Lifting his hands off the bar, Brian let go and stepped back. “Ok…”

Zormna positioned herself right behind the mower, feeling the vibration of the bar underneath her fingers and in the palms of her hands. And she pushed with control.

 

“Brian!” Mr. Henderson stopped and stared as Zormna had completed a third pass across the lawn with ease. He marched over to his eldest child, frowning. “That was your job! What did you make her—?”

“She wanted to!” Brian gestured toward Zormna with his own exasperation. “She asked.”

His father stared him down, shaking his head. Then he walked over to Zormna. “You don’t have to do that. You’re our guest.”

But Zormna looked up at him, dismayed that he was interfering. “No…I asked. This is—”

“Brian’s job,” Mr. Henderson said. “And he should not be pawning it off on someone else.”

She sighed and let go of the mower handle, stepping away. But honestly, it was great handling machines again, even one as simple as a lawn mower. Zormna stepped back to the girls who were cleaning up the weeds they had uprooted and were taking to the compost pile.

“You really wanted to mow the lawn?” Joy looked skeptically at her.

Zormna sighed then nodded. “Yeah. Todd always took over at my great aunt’s place. I never got the chance.”

Joy shook her head, chuckling. Patting Zormna on the shoulder, she said, “You like the weirdest things.”

Then she waved for Zormna to join her in the house to clean up. Makayla and Ruth would insist they be clean before they have their ‘tea’ party.

*

It was not uncommon for Jeff Streigle to spontaneously show up at the Hendersons’ home without a moment’s notice. He was always welcome there, they said. Which was why when he arrived sometime around noon, Mr. Henderson smiled and waved, then gestured for him to go inside if he wanted. It is also why Ammon and Moroni got these pale panicked looks on their face and broke into protests again about their video game.

“No! No! No! Not you! That girl already decimated our top scores last time! And we need you both away from that thing!” But they were laughing.

“Oh!” Jeff looked around to the open front door. “So, Zormna’s here already?”

Mr. Henderson chuckled, nodding. Then he said with a curious look as Jeff hesitated on the front step, contemplating whether he ought to go inside, “I heard you knew her before she moved into town. Is that true?”

Jeff nodded, huffing as he rolled his eyes. “Yep. All true. We met at her military school in Ireland a while back—before I moved here.”

“Ah.” Mr. Henderson did not say more. He just nodded his head, thinking. Jeff liked the man. He was a decent father, and a good person in general. And when he had first met Jeff and seen his scars—the most prominent one across his right cheek and his nose like it had been broken and scraped with a hard punch by someone wearing a ring—the man didn’t judge him. Of course, with Jeff’s family story of physical abuse, Mr. Henderson made sure Jeff knew he always had a safe haven in his home. Jeff wished he didn’t have to lie to that man. But it was par the course when what was really going on was something no one in Pennington would believe.

“I’ll go in quietly.” Jeff smirked.

Ammon slapped his own forehead. “Oh, yeah… They’re watching a ‘princess’ movie. You can’t play video games with it on anyway.”

“So it’s all right.” Moroni sighed with animated relief.

“Princess movie?” Jeff blinked at them, a look which usually unnerved people. His eyes were so dark that some people described them as staring into the depths of space. And he was so pale, some people whispered that he looked like a vampire. After all, his hair was midnight black. Handsome and creepy, all at the same time. 

“Yeah.” Ammon snorted. “Makayla and Ruth have been planning to play princesses with her as soon as they heard she was coming over.”

With a flabbergasted laugh, Jeff turned and walked through the door and into the house.

The Henderson home could be best described as full and comfortable. Every time Jeff entered it, he felt a sense of inclusion. And the house was full of things that had been included in it. Pictures from kids. Crafty things. Books and bookshelves. And spiritual art meant to inspire and uplift. They usually left electric lights off and opened the curtains for sunlight on most days. So he walked through a comfortable shadow, past the stairway to the kitchen where beyond it he could see the dining room then the living room where Zormna was sitting. And, she was sitting on the floor in a rosy pink taffeta gown way too big for her, thrown over her usual clothes. Gobs of heavily-applied makeup covered her usually fair face. In her hands, resting between her mildly outstretched legs, was a cast iron skillet. She was holding the handle like she was weighing the balance of it in case there would be a fight. Ruth and Makayla were attacking her hair with all sorts of hair do-hickeys and clips. Jeff covered his mouth to keep in his laughter. He didn’t want her to hear him.

 Joy was sitting next to Zormna, a blue taffeta dress over her clothes, the zipper halfway done in the back—her face equally made up by a little girl. She had three headbands in her hair, one with a huge silk gerber daisy. And she was explaining the movie to Zormna while the Ruth was showing her little sister how to make ringlets out of Zormna’s wayward curls.

“No! Like this. Around your fingers. Then pull down like this. See?”

Makayla attempted it, but not with great success. Her fingers were a little too small for the job. Still, Zormna almost looked like Shirley temple—on one side.

“But I still don’t get it.” Zormna gestured with exasperation at the TV screen. “What was wrong with her hair before? Curls are natural. And they looked fine.”

Joy shrugged, glancing away. “Well, you know, fashion changes. Besides, that really isn’t the point. The makeover is for her to look more… polished. You know?”

Zormna rolled her eyes. “It still looks like all princess does is wave and look pretty. I still don’t see the appeal.”

Jeff peeked at the movie on the TV. It wasn’t one he had seen before. But then it didn’t look like something he would have gone out to watch anyway. He lived in a house mostly full of men. This clearly was a chick flick.

“Why is this so special? If somebody just wanted to look pretty, a girl could aspire to being one those supermodels or a rock star,” Zormna grumbled.

“It’s more than that. Princess training is really training to be a queen,” Joy said.

“Great,” Zormna grumbled more. “Looking pretty and preparing for her to be eye candy for some guy.”

“That isn’t the point,” Jeff finally interrupted.

All the girls looked up.

Joy eyes went wide on him, and she immediately rubbed at the blush on her cheeks—though she was going red either way.

But Zormna only shot him a dry look from her clownish face. She said while clutching that frying pan handle a little tighter, “Then what is the point, Mr. I-know-everything?”

Chuckling, Jeff humbly ducked his head. “All that stuff, all that dress-up, is for public relations. A princess, or a queen, has to put on a public face—which means she needs to look flawless for the media