by Lynn Lorenz
“Well, your grandfather was there with some friends. I’d eaten and made my way to the jukebox next to the door, pretending to look for a record to play. My plan was just to stroll right out the door when the next person walked in. Next thing I know, Frank was standing next to me. ‘Try fifteen B,’ he said.”
“Fifteen B?” Edward whispered, his eyes locked on her face.
“Yeah. Ella Fitzgerald’s Hard Hearted Hannah. I looked up at him and could see in his eyes he knew my plan.”
“What happened next?” Edward sat forward. It was delicious hearing these tales from her. Did his mother have any stories like this? If so, he’d never heard them. Maybe, when he got back to Atlanta, he’d ask her.
“He took my hand and slipped me three dollars. A fortune back then, and more than enough to pay for the food. For a second, I thought about taking it and running anyway.”
“Did you?” He’d no idea she’d been so wild, so reckless. So Audrey Hepburn in Roman Holiday.
She smiled at the memory before she answered. “He whispered to me, ‘Don’t do it.’” She shook her head. “He knew me. I didn’t even know his name, and he knew me. I don’t know how he did it, but he saw right through me.” Her eyes welled.
“But did you leave?” Edward pressed. He had to know what happened. Yes, he knew they’d married, had his mother, but it was what had happened in between that he wanted to know.
“He offered me his arm, just like you did tonight, and escorted me back to my table, then went back to his friends. I paid the bill with his money.” She touched Edward’s cheek with her fingers. “You know, you reminded me of Frank when you offered me your arm just now. You’re a gentleman, just like he was.” She patted his leg. “He wasn’t my type. He was like no one else I’d ever fallen for and I fell for him in that one moment, right there at the jukebox, harder than I’d ever fallen for any of those other men. We dated for a year, he asked me to marry him and the rest is Rawlings history.”
Edward sighed. “That’s so romantic.”
Olivia smiled. “You’ll find the right man. If I did, you will too.”
He forced a smile. He’d found the right man, but how could the right man be so wrong? “I hope so, Meemaw.”
“Now, I have a favor to ask you.”
“Anything. Just name it.”
“Tomorrow is Sunday, and I’d like to go to church.”
“Do you need me to drive you?” Edward asked.
“Well, yes. But I’d like for you to come with me.” She looked into his eyes.
Edward blinked. “To church? Oh, Meemaw, I haven’t been to church since…”
“The funeral?” She reached out and took his hand.
Edward nodded and swallowed. “I can’t go to church. I wouldn’t be welcome.”
“Why on earth not?”
He rolled his eyes. “I’m gay, remember? The sin of Sodom? And I’m an unrepentant sinner at that. I can’t change who I am and I won’t hide it either.” He spread his arms in a flourish. “I’m gay and I’m proud.”
Olivia’s mouth twisted, and her brows knitted. “Edward, wherever did you get the crazy idea that you couldn’t go to church?”
He shrugged. “You know how most religious people feel about queers, Meemaw.”
“God loves all his children. Jesus taught acceptance, forgiveness and love, not hatred and condemnation. Anyone who is truly a Christian knows this. All sinners are the same in God’s eyes and He welcomes all of them to partake of His grace. And if God made me, he made you, and he doesn’t make mistakes.”
Edward could see that she believed it. And it gave him such a warm feeling inside to believe it too. But just because she believed in God’s love and acceptance of him didn’t mean the other people in town believed it.
“It would mean so much to me, Edward,” she said quietly.
If his mother had asked him to go to church, he’d have flat-out refused. But this was his grandmother asking. How could he deny her? One hour sitting on a wooden pew listening to some boring sermon wouldn’t kill him, would it?
“What should I wear? I didn’t bring a suit.”
“Just a nice shirt and a pair of pants would be fine. Most of the young people don’t wear suits either.”
“Okay, Meemaw. I’ll do it for you.”
She stood, leaned down and bussed him on the cheek. “Do it for yourself, child.” Then she left.
Good Lord, what have I gotten myself into?
Church in Hooterville?
* * * *
Edward cleaned the kitchen, mopped the floors then went to his room. He’d unpacked, hung up his clothes and put away his shoes in the closet that afternoon while Olivia had napped. Now he searched for something appropriate to wear on Sunday.
He pulled out a pair of navy slacks and a light blue button-down shirt. That should do nicely. Nothing too over-the-top. Definitely nothing with fringe.
Satisfied he wouldn’t embarrass Olivia, he went to the bathroom to get ready for bed, then returned to his room, wearing a pair of dark blue paisley cotton pajamas and carrying his travel kit and a towel. He placed it on the bedside table, within reach, and draped the towel over a chair.
He turned on the fan, turned out the lights and crawled into bed. For a while, he ran his hand over the light cotton fabric, letting the motion soothe him. He moved his hand lower on his body, closed his eyes and thought of Jack.
His body’s instant response to the man came as no surprise. He’d been fighting off erections ever since he’d met Jack, except when he’d been so exhausted he could barely stand up, much less get it up.
He reached into the kit, feeling around for the lube. He touched the box of condoms. What had he been thinking to bring those? As if there would be scads of Brokeback cowboys littering the place? That was a nice image. Dozens of cowboys, striking poses, leaning against their pickup trucks, giving him their come-hither looks.
He’d only found one man here that he’d wanted those looks from, and it was Jack.
He found the lube, popped the top and squeezed some out.
His cock had pushed through the opening in his pajama bottoms, eager to be touched. Edward’s dick wasn’t thick—it was slender, long and he’d been told it was pretty. Right now, it was a velvet-covered steel rod, standing straight up.
His balls ached and his ass puckered as he began stroking himself. Jerking off was good, but he wanted to be fucked. Really fucked. By Jack. His pace quickened, and he slid his hand up and down, squeezing the tip, catching the pearl that oozed from his slit.
Jack could throw him against any wall, fuck him anywhere, anytime. Edward didn’t care. All he wanted was one night with Jack.
Edward would suck Jack off. Take Jack’s cock deep in his throat, tease and torment the man with his tongue, until he couldn’t stand it any longer and begged for mercy. Begged to fuck Edward.
He rolled onto his side and applied more lube to his hand. While he worked his dick, he pressed his slicked-up fingers into his ass, pushing past the outer ring. Hell and damnation, he should have brought his butt plug, but for now, tonight, his fingers would have to do.
Pressing his fingers deeper, he twisted his shoulders to allow more leeway. With a groan, he found his bump and worked it as he increased the friction on his cock, imagining Jack’s fingers in his ass, Jack’s hand wrapped around his shaft.
Jack would lean over, nuzzle his neck, croon into his ear, That’s it, baby, come for me. And Edward would.
His balls unloaded, his ass spasmed around his fingers and he came. Milking his cock of its load, Edward shuddered then fell back, limp and spent. And still craving Jack.
Hell and damnation.
This was stupid. Fantasizing about a man he could never have wasn’t very healthy or smart. It was a waste of time. He rose, cleaned up then returned to bed.
When have I ever been smart?
Well, not anymore. Those days were over. That was the old Edward.
From tonight on, ther
e would be a new and improved Edward.
He’d be smarter, more cynical, less gullible. His heart would be under lock and key and no one would get near it or his body again. Not without jumping through some freaking big hoops to prove himself.
If Edward meant to survive, meant to find the right man, meant never to be hurt again, he’d have to change his ways.
And the first thing he’d have to change was this obsession with Chief of Police Jack Whittaker.
Chapter Fourteen
Edward held the car door open and offered a hand to Olivia as she got out of the Miata. He’d put the top up in deference to her hairdo and her suit. She carried a worn black Bible with faded gilt on the edges of the pages and had a perfect pillbox hat perched on her head.
“Jackie O’s got nothing on you, Meemaw,” he whispered to her. She giggled and swatted his shoulder. Then he offered his arm to her and she took it. She walked much steadier today—another sign, along with eating the hearty breakfast Edward had cooked, that she was feeling much better.
Edward took a calming breath, gave her a nervous smile and led her through the parking lot to the front steps of the Spring Lake United Methodist Church. There were people everywhere, all heading for the same destination.
“So many people,” he muttered. He darted his gaze around the crowd to see if he spotted anyone he knew. Not that he knew that many people here. With his luck, he’d run into Phil and Jimmy. He had a vision of Jimmy, like one of the body snatchers, standing up in church, pointing a grease-covered finger and announcing that Edward was one of those ‘San Francisco queers’. The entire congregation would chase Edward down the street to capture him so he could be reborn as a straight man. He shuddered.
“Good morning, Olivia,” sang out an older woman wearing a red hat with white feathers that fanned out from the sides. “Who is this good-looking young man?”
“This is my grandson, Edward. He’s paying me a visit. Edward, this is Mrs. Burthe, an old friend of mine.”
“So glad to meet you, Mrs. Burthe.” Edward nodded and gave her a warm smile.
The woman nodded back. “See you inside, Olivia.” Then she went up the stairs and through the doors into the church.
So far, Edward was safe. He only knew a handful of people and none of them seemed to be here. Maybe they went to another church or just didn’t go to church.
Either way, he was thankful. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.
“Oh look, Edward. Here’s Chief Whittaker.” Olivia pulled on his arm and turned him around just in time to come face-to-face with Jack.
Everything Edward had sworn escaped him and all he knew was that Jack was here. And oh my God, the man was so handsome in a dark gray suit, white shirt, and a blue tie that matched his eyes. The flush that ran over Edward’s entire body heated him that his blush could probably be seen from space.
“Good morning, Miss Olivia. Mr. Beauregard.” Jack nodded at him but didn’t look Edward in the eyes. Jack’s gaze hit him then danced away. Ignoring him.
Despite the pain of that rejection, Edward resolved to do his best to embrace his new attitude. “Good morning, Chief Whittaker. How’s my dog?”
“Winston? He’s fine.”
“That’s good.” Edward narrowed his eyes. “I trust nothing will happen to him before I get him back on Monday.”
Jack’s gaze snapped back to Edward and his lips thinned. “Don’t worry. He’s safe. You just worry about getting the proof he’s had those shots.”
“I’m not worried. I know Winston is innocent. You’ll have the paper in the morning as soon as they can fax it to your office.” Edward’s lips felt so tight they might crack. “Then you’ll be free of him. And me.” He jerked his chin up.
“Good. The sooner the better,” Jack growled.
“Too right,” Edward snapped.
Good Lord, he wanted Jack Whittaker. All the verbal sparring, their intense gazes and the heat of the man’s body drove Edward crazy. If he didn’t get away from Jack soon, he was a dead man. His meager control only went so far and lasted only so long.
“Chief. Care to join us?” Olivia held out her arm to Jack. He blinked and stared at her, then at Edward. Edward heard him gulp. Jack tugged on the knot of his tie. His compressed lips told everyone he was searching for any way out of it, any excuse to avoid being with Edward.
Meemaw might not understand, but Edward did.
If Jack’s leg had been in a trap, he’d have gnawed it off to get away from Edward.
No no no, this isn’t happening. It was bad enough seeing Edward again, but to sit with him? The one place Jack had figured he wouldn’t see Edward was at church, and here he was. Jack was damned, all right. So where was the hole to hell, because he’d gladly jump right in.
Why did Edward have to look so damn sexy in those dark slacks and blue shirt? It made his dark hair and eyes stand out. He hadn’t worn a tie but left the first two buttons of the shirt undone, giving Jack a glimpse of smooth skin, leaving Jack to wonder about what else was going on with his chest. And those were not the kind of thoughts to have standing on the steps of a church.
Olivia waited for Jack’s answer, her eyebrows raised. He swallowed. “It would be my pleasure, Miss Olivia.” He gave her a nod and offered her his arm.
With Olivia between them, he and Edward climbed the steps to the sanctuary. Edward gave him a slight nod, deferring to Jack to lead the way, and Jack took them down the left side aisle until Olivia said, “This is fine.”
Jack motioned for Edward to go in first and waited as Olivia followed. At least she’d sit between them. With any luck, the church wouldn’t be packed and he could sit close to the end of the pew for a quick getaway as soon as the service was over.
They settled in their seats. Olivia picked up the hymnal and handed it to Edward. She leaned over and whispered, “The numbers up there are the pages of the songs we’ll sing. Here’s the program so you can follow where we are.”
“Thanks,” he whispered back, catching Jack’s glance and raised eyebrow. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been to church,” he explained. Why he felt he had to explain anything to Jack was beyond him.
“Uh-huh.” Jack sat back and pulled a hymnal from the shelf on the back of the pew in front of theirs. Clearly, he doubted that Edward had ever been in a church and probably doubted whether Edward should be sitting in his.
Edward glanced around the sanctuary. Quiet organ music filled the vaulted chamber. At the front, the raised dais had a large podium with what had to be the largest Bible he’d ever seen lying open on it. There were two large flower arrangements on each side, and hanging on the back wall above the choir, a large, lighted cross.
The choir filed in and the pastor entered. Everyone rose. Edward stood. The organ music swelled and everyone began singing. Edward fumbled with the hymnal, searching for the page marked on the board. By the time he found it, the song was almost over. He didn’t know the tune, so he just read the words. It didn’t matter. He couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket.
Next to him, Olivia’s strong voice rose and fell with the melody. Edward glanced at Jack, who faced forward, singing in a wonderful tenor without even looking at the book. Show-off.
Then the pastor said some kind of prayer, everyone said, “Amen,” and sat. Edward fell onto the bench, but not fast enough. He was the last person to sit. What more could say, Hey, I’ve never been to church? I’m a big sinner and I don’t belong here?
Edward stared at his clasped hands and white knuckles. If he turned around, would everyone be staring and pointing at him, or whispering behind their hands?
Just like always, the urge to get up, excuse himself and run came over him. His legs trembled as his body and his mind warred over which one would rule him. There was no reason to leave. Everything was fine. He was just self-conscious, that was all.
Olivia reached out, covered his hand with hers and gave him a squeeze. He looked up, met her warm gaze and smiled. His body relaxed and his h
ands unclenched.
He could do this. It would be all right.
Edward settled back and focused on the pastor. As he scanned the program, he followed along and flipped to the pages in the hymnal before they stood to sing. He listened to the sermon, expecting to hear about brimstone, fire and burning in everlasting hell, but instead he heard a message about love, absolution, repentance and God’s mercy.
I could sure use some of that mercy now.
The service drew to a close with a final benediction. The pastor asked everyone to bow his or her head in silent prayer. Edward dropped his chin to his chest but cast a sidelong glance at Jack.
Jack’s eyes were closed, his hands clasped in prayer.
What is Jack praying for?
What should I pray for?
Edward could only think of one thing he needed guidance on, so he closed his eyes and did the best he could to talk to God.
What should I do about Meemaw?
Jack prayed for the courage to make wise and right choices in his professional life, but most of all, he asked God to give him strength against temptation.
If Edward didn’t leave Spring Lake soon, Jack didn’t know how much longer he could hold out.
As soon as the final chord sounded, Jack turned to Olivia and begged his leave. He moved quickly down the aisle as Edward watched his broad back recede into the crowd. Stopping now and then, Jack shook hands, clapped a fellow or two on the shoulder, then greeted the pastor at the door. They shook hands and without a glance back at Edward, Jack disappeared.
“That was a lovely sermon, wasn’t it?” Olivia asked as they walked down the aisle.
“Yes. It was. Not at all what I expected.” Edward let his grandmother set the pace as they made it to the door and the minister.
“Reverend Mills, I’d like you to meet my grandson, Edward Beauregard.”
Edward stuck out his hand and the white-haired minister took it. “So glad to meet you, Edward. Are you staying long?”
“For a little while, yes. But then I must be getting back to Atlanta.”