Stubborn as a Mule

by Sawyer Bennett

  “Why don’t you just sneak into his house and cover his toilet with saran wrap?”

  “And this does what?” he asks curiously, leaning on the counter with great interest.

  “Well… he um… answers the call of nature and well… the call of nature doesn’t go very far as it sort of, um, well… rebounds off the plastic.”

  There’s silence as he digests this, and then his eyes sparkle brightly. “That, dear man, is genius. I could kiss you.”

  “I’ll pass,” I say quickly, but then hold my hand out for him to shake. “I’m Floyd, by the way.”

  He gives me a sharp nod and takes my hand. “Morris D. But you can call me Morri.”

  “Guess what?” I say to Morri as we end the shake.

  “What?”

  “I’ve got a spare key to Lowe’s place.”

  “You do?”

  I nod with a wicked smile. “Yup. I’m the only place in town who makes spare keys. I always keep one for myself.”

  “Always?” he asks, and I can see he’s horrified and intrigued.

  “I am the town protector after all,” I tell him as I lift my chin. It’s not exactly legal, I know, but it’s for the greater good. “Never know when I might need to get in for an emergency or something.”

  “Right,” Morri drawls as he nods his head in understanding. “That makes sense.”

  I like this guy. He gets me.

  “Know something that don’t make sense though?” I keep on, because this is an enjoyable conversation. Good for the soul and all that.

  “What?”

  “Lowe and your lady friend, Miss Rothschild.”

  “Oh, please,” Morri says with a wave of his hand. “She’d want you to call her Mely.”

  “Okay, Mely then.” I readily accept the new friendship he bestows on me in her absence. “I heard Larkin telling Lowe the other day at Chesty’s that Mely wasn’t flipping that property. That she had a personal connection to it.”

  “That’s right,” Morri says with a smile. “Sweet love story behind it all.”

  Yeah, that backstory stuff doesn’t interest me so I disregard it. “Well, I know Lowe has taken a shine to her. Think she’s taken a shine to him?”

  “You mean do they like each other? In a girl/boy kind of way?” he asks for clarification.

  “Yup.”

  Morri’s nose wrinkles up in distaste, but I see something deep in his eyes. He may be madder than a hornet at Lowe for putting red dye in his shower, but I can see way down that he thinks it’s kind of cool them two being together. “I suppose they like each other. They’ve had some… intimate moments.”

  I hold a hand up. “Too much information. Don’t want to know about their sex life.”

  “Eww,” Morri says in disgust. “I don’t either. I meant they’ve kissed. Swapped spit as you locals say. Whatever.”

  I nod, because that’s info I can handle. “Okay. That’s good. I guess my point is… Lowe loves that house. History is important to him. Clearly Mely has a connection to it, too. I’m just sayin’, how great would it be if they fell in love, got married, and then they got to live in a house that was special to them both?”

  Morri sighs almost romantically, and that’s weird too, but I take it with a grain of salt.

  “That would be quite a story, wouldn’t it?” Morri murmurs.

  Yes, it would. And I can’t see a downside to it. Lowe and that girl fall in love and create pretty babies in that house. Worst-case scenario, things go bad and Lowe will get the house from Judge Bowe.

  That’s a win-win for my boy.

  “So, the Lantern Festival tomorrow is the perfect time for them to take this further,” I tell Morri. “I assume they’re both going?”

  Morri nods. “Mely’s excited about it.”

  “Well, you make sure she gets there, and I know Lowe will be there.”

  “No can do on the making sure she gets there,” Morri says holding a hand up. “I’m attending a drag show in Raleigh.”

  “Drag show?” I ask curiously.

  I love drag racing.

  We used to have a good drag strip about twenty miles away that put on pulse-pounding races at night but it closed. Hadn’t heard there was one around these parts again.

  “Yeah,” Morri says with enthusiasm. “Interested in going?”

  “Well, yeah,” I say with a smile. “That actually sounds fun. I can even drive. But I need to make sure who’s on duty tomorrow night with the police department. If it’s Andy, then the town’s in safe hands and I can go. If not, I’ll have to pass. Those duties come first, you know?”

  CHAPTER 16

  Melinda

  I look down at my dress and second guess my choice. It’s designer, but it’s also pretty and feminine. Ultimately, my lack of time to go buy something else was the deciding factor in what to wear to the Lantern Festival.

  It really is kind of perfect for a southern, outdoor festival. Mint green with embroidered watermelon slices around the hem. It’s got a halter top and sweetheart neckline, fitted down through my waist where it then has sort of a 50’s flare to the skirt part. I’ve only worn it once before to a garden party in the Hamptons, and that worked well there too, but it totally works tonight. I’ve got a small, white cardigan to put on if it gets chilly but this is North Carolina in the summer and chilly would be high seventies. It’s only eight PM and it still feels like we’re on the front doors of hell, so I have it folded over the edge of my purse.

  I’m also glad I chose to go light on makeup, as otherwise it would have melted off by now. I’ve resolved myself to a dewy-looking complexion—or otherwise known as sweat—and I’m thankful I pay a lot of money for an expensive deodorant that works.

  The Lantern Festival is a town sponsored event that’s been held the second to last week of July every year since 1841 to celebrate the tobacco harvest and the curing process of the bright leaf brand. The lanterns were released as a means of requesting good fortune on the harvest and was just a big old party of sorts. Oddly, the biggest farmers of tobacco in this area used to be Lowe’s family, but they’ve cut that back significantly as much of it’s now produced overseas. Regardless, the Lantern Festival was too much fun to ever give up.

  With the waning of tobacco production in this area, the modern Lantern Festival is more about celebrating continued good success of the town of Whynot. It’s held out on Mainer Farms because it can accommodate the hundreds upon hundreds of people that will show up, and while the city provides the funding for a good chunk of it, the use of the land for the festival is donated by Lowe’s family as is one of their big barns for a dance.

  I consider leaving my purse in my rental car but decide against it as the dress doesn’t have pockets. I’d feel naked without my cell phone and lip gloss. I may not have put on makeup, but I need my lip gloss.

  Lowe had offered to come get me for the festival, but I declined for only one reason. Because the festival was being held on his family’s farm, he was working out there all day today helping with the setup. I just didn’t want him to have to be bothered with working out in the hot sun all day, rushing home to get a shower, then rushing to get me and back again.

  Lowe was not happy about my reasoning. His exact words were, “When a man takes a woman out on a date, he picks her up.”

  “Then this isn’t a date,” I’d replied.

  He kissed me hard, and I almost gave in. Of course, this was all within just minutes after we got Morri calmed down again, so I wasn’t thinking at my best.

  It’s not even a date, but it really kind of is even if I drove out to the farm myself. I’m only here because Lowe is here, and I want to see him.

  End of story.

  Or beginning.

  I follow the crowds of people who had all been directed by event volunteers that had us park in a field off the main road into the farm. It’s still light outside, and the air is heavy with the sounds of crickets and bullfrogs. I’m not sure if it was coordinated with Moth
er Nature or not, but there are a huge abundance of fireflies winking in and out across the fields as we are corralled toward a large, gray barn where I can hear country music.

  Several people smile and nod their heads at me, some in recognition, some just being polite. I learned soon enough that everyone always says hello in the South. Even driving on a country road into Milner, every car you pass they hold up their hand in a wave of greeting to you. I’ve never encountered such general friendliness for no other reason than to be friendly.

  It’s kind of amazing but my grandmother, Glory, had told me this about her beloved South long before she ever died. It was one of the things that was hard to understand until you see it, and then you just get it. Southerners are just friendly people.

  The festival setup is utterly amazing.

  There’s the big barn with the wide doors propped open and the interior lit with dozens of strung lanterns of any type and variety. Paper lanterns, brass ones, those made from glass and hurricane lanterns. I even see some with Chinese silk patterns. None of it’s cohesive. Yet, because it’s a Lantern Festival and they are all lanterns, it works.

  Outside the bar, a perimeter of stalls has been set up hawking various foods, drinks, games, local and handmade items, as well as a kissing booth and a dunking booth. There’s even a batting cage set up where some kids who look to be in high school are taking swings with the bat.

  I step into the barn, seeing a band up on a stage at one end playing country music. I don’t really follow country, so I have no clue if they’re even any good or not. There are hay bales stacked all over the place for both decoration and seating, as well as a raised wooden platform where people are dancing.

  A tap on my shoulder has me looking over my shoulder, and my breath catches when I see Lowe there. He’s holding a single peach-colored rose out to me, but I can barely even look at it because the smile he’s giving me is so captivating.

  “You’re gorgeous, Mely,” he says as he presents the flower.

  I’m pretty sure my ovaries explode in realization that this might be the most romantic gesture anyone’s ever done for me.

  A heartfelt compliment and a uniquely colored rose.

  “You look great yourself,” I tell him softly, and he looks so darn great.

  He’s wearing nothing more than a pair of khaki shorts, a light blue t-shirt, and a pair of tennis shoes. He’s more than casual. He’s relaxed in his being and that’s more attractive than a designer suit in my opinion.

  His hazel eyes scan me in appreciation, and then lock onto mine for a moment before he grins. “Wanna go make out in the woods now or later?”

  I laugh. “Whenever you want.”

  “Later,” he says with a chuckle as he takes my hand and tucks it into the crook of his elbow. “Right now, I want to introduce you around to everyone. We also need to get some pig before all the good parts are taken.”

  “Pig?” I ask hesitantly.

  “Never been to a pig pickin’ I take it,” he says as he leads me out of the barn and around the side of it where I see several large, black smokers on wheels.

  A few of the tops are open, and laying on the metal grates are half carcasses of cooked pig.

  Gross.

  “Surely you don’t—” I start to say.

  Lowe finishes. “—pick the meat right off the pig? Yup. That’s a pig pickin’, although some of it’s already been pulled and sauced up.”

  “Sauced?”

  “Eastern North Carolina style,” he continues to explain. “Vinegar based. The best.”

  I don’t make any comment because I’m always willing to try new foods. I merely observe as Lowe takes me over to a table filled with paper plates, utensils, buns, and jugs of what looks like vinegar with red pepper flakes in it.

  Lowe carries on chitchat with the men manning the smokers, and I watch as he reaches over one of the pigs. With his fingers, he pulls off long pieces of tender-looking meat. He makes us sandwiches, layering the pork on soft, white buns, crowning only mine with coleslaw since it clearly has mayonnaise in it, and pours some of the vinegar sauce over to finish.

  He then carries the two plates over to an area that has about two dozen picnic tables, most all filled, but he manages to find us a seat. Several tiki torches line the area, and I smell a lemony scent coming from them that I’m assuming helps to keep the infernal mosquitos at bay. So far, I haven’t been bitten once tonight.

  After we sit, Lowe picks up his sandwich and takes a huge bite. As he chews, he nods down at mine, so I follow suit.

  And the taste explosion.

  The texture… the most tender cut of pork I’ve ever had before. The bland but soft white roll only letting me focus in on the seasoning of the vinegar sauce, and the delicate taste of the coleslaw.

  I chew heartily to make room in my mouth so I can answer without swallowing, “Wow. Just… wow.”

  “Right?” He takes another big bite, and I mimic. For several minutes, we just eat in silence. I mean, food this good should be the most important thing between a couple on their first date.

  ♦

  Sadly, there are no restroom facilities out on Mainer Farms so the only thing so far I am not enjoying is the need to use one of the dozen Porta Potties the town rented. There are easily over a thousand people here, and that means by the time we finish dinner, have a few drinks, and listen to the band, there are lines formed in front of each one.

  I left my purse back in the barn with Lowe at a table we sat at with his mom, dad, Larkin, and their brother, Colt. I’d met Larkin’s twin, Laken, but she came with a date and spent more time with him making out on the dance floor than socializing. I met Trixie and Ry as well. They stayed away from the barn, stating the music was too loud, but I suspect she just wanted to hang out with Pap, who was totally vocal that the music was too loud and was hanging out with some people near the beer kegs that he’d supplied for the festival.

  I wish I’d brought my phone out with me, as I can’t stand being idle as I wait for the two people in front of me to use the Porta Potty.

  Eyes drifting and ears opening, I peruse my surroundings. The minute I hear Lowe’s name, I go on hyper alert. Turning my head slightly to the left, I see two women standing in line at the Porta Potty just three over from where I am and slightly behind me. I immediately recognize one as the pretty woman named Lynette who yelled to Lowe that he was looking good and he said she was too.

  And damn… she’s so pretty and sexy and I don’t like her, and oh my God… I’m freaking jealous.

  “I could get Kirk to come fix it,” Lynette tells her friend. “I do believe he’d go kill someone if I asked him since he’s so desperate to get back in my pants, but I’d rather watch Lowe bent over my bathroom drain to fix it any day of the week.”

  My blood pressure starts to rise, and I try to force myself to disengage from listening to this woman, but I can’t. Not only am I too nosy, but she’s talking too loud.

  The woman who is standing next to her—a pretty girl with a brunette bob—says, “Lynette… I think Lowe’s attention is elsewhere. Maybe you should give Kirk a chance.”

  “Kirk’s okay,” Lynette tells her friend, oblivious that pretty much everyone in line can hear her, and I’m thinking alcohol may be at play here. Billy Crump from the grocery store was handing out mini mason jars of peach moonshine. “But Lowe is the real catch. Best-looking guy in these parts, plus an heir to Mainer Farms. Plus…”

  And here, she lowers her voice but sadly, just not enough. “He’s dynamite in the sack.”

  I wince at that news because that makes me more jealous. She has bigger boobs and a jeweled belly piercing. Far more exciting than me with my mint-green dress with watermelons.

  “Lynette Carnes,” a woman says. I glance over to two ladies standing in the next line over, both probably in their mid-fifties. One I recognize as Muriel who owns Central Café, but the other I don’t, although she’s pretty and she looks very nice. I make this judgment on the
mere fact she’s glaring at Lynette along with Muriel. “That is completely unladylike to talk like that in public. What would your mama say?”

  “She’s probably too drunk to care,” Lynette retorts hotly. That freaking makes me sad for her, and now I empathize a little.

  And I don’t want to empathize.

  But then Lynette’s eyes travel past Muriel and the other lady, and lock right onto me. I know she knew I’d been standing there and listening. Without even looking at the other women, and keeping her gaze pinned right on me, she tells them, “Besides… Lowe likes my package. Said so himself just the other day.”

  My teeth grit, and I think I might actually hate her.

  Okay, I don’t hate anyone, but I definitely have no empathy for her anymore.

  “Miss… bathroom’s open,” a man says behind me with a tiny tap on my shoulder. I startle, then look over my shoulder to give him an apologetic smile.

  Turning to the Porta Potty, I go in and do my business. When I’ve finished and doused my hands in the sanitizer provided, I make my way out without looking anywhere but the ground. I hurry back toward the barn where I left Lowe.

  He snatches me by the elbow just as I enter, and my head pops up in surprise.

  “Heard you got a taste of Lynette Carne’s tongue,” he says sympathetically, and my mouth drops open.

  “How could you have heard that already?” I ask in absolute astonishment as I look from him, to the barn door, then back to him again. “I wasn’t in that toilet for more than five minutes.”

  Lowe shrugs as he pulls me away from the barn. “Small-town gossip travels fast.”

  I guess.

  When we’re thirty yards away from the noise and bustle of the festival, I think to ask, “Where are we going?”

  “They’re going to be launching the lanterns soon, and I wanted to take you to the best seat in the house,” he says mysteriously as we reach a patch of trees. It’s full-on night and the moon is hidden by clouds, so Lowe pulls his cell phone out and turns on a flashlight app to light a path that’s just become visible.