By the Book

by Mary Kay McComas

  “That’s Superman.”

  “Oh yeah. Well, I’m surefooted. How’s that?”

  She chuckled and adjusted her rhythm of walking to his. “I think that was the last Mohican.”

  “How about we just stumble back together?”

  “I like that one.” She smiled at him.

  “Me too,” he said, his voice low and soft, the warm pleasure in it heating her blood. “Now, where were we? You have a mother and a married sister and they both live here in town and ... oh yes, you were going to tell me about your brother.”

  “No, I wasn’t.” Not tonight. Not anytime soon if she could avoid it. “I was about to ask you a question.”

  “Ask away.”

  “Do you gamble at all?”

  “Gamble. Do you mean with cards, or with life in general?”

  Well, now that he made the distinction ... “Both.”

  “No. I’m not much of a risk taker. Personally or professionally. A finely tuned calculation is about as close as I get to taking any kind of chance on something I don’t know for a fact. Even when I act on instinct, I have facts to back it up. It’s the nature of my job—my nature, too, I guess. As for gambling with cards ...” He thought a moment. “We played a lot of poker when we were at sea. Hours and hours, as I recall. I wasn’t very good at it.”

  “You lost a lot of money at it?” She heard the hopeful note in her voice and cringed.

  “Probably,” he said with a chuckle. “I never kept track. I’d lose what I had and quit. Play again after payday.”

  “But you didn’t run up huge debts,” she said. It was a statement more than a question, and while she was glad he was a practical sort of man, she also knew he wouldn’t have the answer to Felix’s dilemma and that she wouldn’t feel comfortable discussing it with him.

  He’d been glancing at her frequently, but now he gave her a steady look. “Was your father a gambler? Did he have problems with it?”

  “No. No. Nothing like that,” she said, feeling bad about the gentle concern in his voice. He had problems of his own and didn’t need to be concerned about hers as well. Besides, a not-too-nice woman with the right attitude could solve her own problems, right?

  To ease his mind, she launched herself into the carefully constructed character study of her father she’d developed in her youth. The story of a family man who had worked every day as a foreman in a glass factory that was part of the huge Ball Corporation out of Muncie. The man who drove the family up Interstate 69 every summer, stopping in Marion to pick up cousins, depositing them all at the family-owned cabin on Salamonie Lake for the summer—returning to Quincey to spend the summer alone, to work. A Hoosier fan. A member of the American Legion. A sportsman who liked to hunt and fish. A man who led his life happily and contentedly.

  And that was where her adult version of the story would have kicked in, had she allowed it. A man who led his life happily and contentedly—as long as he had a beer in his hand. Funny, he hadn’t seemed like an alcoholic; she never thought of him as one. He wasn’t like Felix. She’d never seen him falling-down drunk or abusive or in any way different than the fathers of all her friends—except that he liked to drink beer on hot afternoons, after work, after dinner, in the car, after church on Sundays, during the Hoosier games. ... But by the time he died of liver disease six years earlier, Felix had long been showing signs of having serious problems. By the time they sought counseling for Felix’s problem, it was too late to help her father and too late to remodel her memory of him.

  Oh, in her mind she knew the truth, but what she told Jonah was the only truth her heart would accept.

  “And were you Daddy’s little girl?” he’d asked when she finished.

  “His favorite, you mean?” He nodded and she laughed. “Oh, no, that was Felix. Felix was everyone’s favorite. The baby. The only boy. Even Jane and I spoiled him rotten.”

  He smiled at that, looking thoughtful. “You never did tell me about him,” he said. “What does he do? What’s he like? Does he live here in town too?”

  They had returned to Pappino’s parking lot by then, and as he led her around the car to the passenger side and unlocked the door for her, she scrambled for the best honest answers.

  “He does live here in town. He’s divorced. Right now he’s sort of at ... loose ends, you know?”

  He nodded his understanding. “I’ve seen what divorce can do to people.”

  She hated not telling Jonah the whole truth about her brother. She even had a feeling he would understand the disease and empathize with her and Felix both. It wouldn’t change what was happening between them, she was sure of that. She just ... simply ... couldn’t. Every time she was tempted to, something inside would cry out, “No. No. No.”

  A note of humor in her throat reverberated off the tiled walls in the ladies’ room. It was a good thing she hadn’t read Step 4 the night before. Not that she would have used it then. Not that she’d needed to when her mind, her heart, her body and soul were all screaming, “Yes! Yes! Yes!” when Jonah had put a hand on the wall behind her and leaned forward to kiss her good night at the door. Softly. Gently. Oh, so sweetly. She sighed. He was a wonderful kisser. Hot and passionate in the parking lot. Tender and sensuous at the front door. Another deep sigh.

  “Thank you for taking a chance on a stranger,” he’d said, a breath’s distance from her lips. “I had a good time.”

  “Mmmm ... me too,” she said with her eyes closed, no feeling in her feet. “I’d love to do it again with a friend.”

  “What about tomorrow night?”

  “Tomorrow night?”

  They shared a long, hot, passionate kiss that almost melted her panty hose.

  “Follow me home after work tomorrow night,” he said, sounding urgent. “I’ll cook.”

  “Okay.”

  He kissed her again as if he might not have another opportunity, then slowly backed away from her. “Tomorrow night, then.”

  She’d nodded dumbly as droplets of logic trickled into her brain. You have the right to be happy. Know what you want. It’s your destiny. Think about the choices you make. Turn left and go that way. It was in her mouth and almost passed her lips to call him back, invite him upstairs, and keep him there forever.

  Then she remembered Felix.

  Even after she’d watched Jonah drive away, then floated up the stairs to her door—stepping sideways to impulsively drop her doggy bag of veal Parmesan outside Eugene’s door—she was tempted to race down to the back of the house, get in her car, and follow him home right then. The yearning inside her was like a black hole in space, a gaping, bottomless void that closed when his arms curled around her and opened again when he moved away. What a wonderfully strange creature he was. ...

  But again she remembered Felix.

  Her growl of frustration echoed through the restroom. Her escape was finished. She wouldn’t be able to successfully get on with her life until Felix and his problems had been dealt with. And where the heck was she going to get ten thousand dollars without ruining her life or her mother’s life or her sister’s?

  The last time they’d banded together to help Felix, they’d sought counseling. They’d been advised not to pay his debts, to let his credit rating drop into oblivion, and in general let him make his own life as miserable as possible. The counselor had said it would be Felix’s own misery that would eventually compel him to seek help and turn his life around.

  Unfortunately, there had been no advice on how to deal with loan sharks without losing limbs. She probably should have asked about it—Felix could be very charming and was good at borrowing things. But at the time, she hadn’t even realized Quincey had shylocks, much less that her brother was gambling.

  She picked up Mrs. Phipps’s groceries at lunchtime and tried not to let her mind wander throughout the rest of the afternoon—but it wasn’t easy. She vacillated between canceling her date with Jonah and going home to murder her brother, then trying to deal with his problems. But a
s murder was against the law, and since she had no real solution for Felix—and because she couldn’t keep her eyes from gravitating toward the front window and the camera shop—that decision made itself.

  And so, when at five forty-five her peripheral vision registered movement across the street, she glanced away from her computer and bit into her lower lip with excitement at the sight of him, tall and straight and broad shouldered, locking the shop door. Her blood pumped hard and fast and hot through her veins.

  He turned, caught her watching him, and smiled. She frowned, squinted, and turned the corners of her mouth upward, venturing a guess at the significance of his smile. It was certainly a nice one, a wonderful smile that had her heart in her throat, but ... Well, it was also a “Hi. I’m ready. How about you?” greeting-type smile that he might have given a coworker he planned to play baseball with.

  There was a sagging, sinking feeling in her chest that made her restless and discontented. She liked Jonah. Better than she’d liked any man in ... maybe ever, she guesstimated. Certainly no man had ever made her itch from the inside out the way he did. Or intrigued her as much. Or touched her so deeply in places she hadn’t known existed inside her. None had lit such a fire in her belly to step up and be noticed by them, certainly, or to speak out or to assert herself in an active, calculated pursuit of them.

  The soft laugh that escaped her came with self-awareness.

  A significant smile meant just for her, her fanny! She wanted to bring him to his knees, to make him fall helplessly and hopelessly in love with her—the way she’d fallen for him. Thinking about it, her aberrant reaction to Vi’s interest in him seemed very ... berrant now. Natural and logical—or as natural and logical as jealousy could be, anyway.

  Her resolve fortified itself as she cleared her desk and got ready to hurry out to the parking lot to meet him. She wasn’t going to need Step 4 for the rest of this evening either, she thought, noting the little green book tucked inside her purse. Saying no to Jonah was not part of her plan.

  “Hi,” she greeted him moments later, sure that her expression was revealing her shiny new acumen. She was in love and she wanted the whole world to know. And Jonah, too, of course.

  “Hi,” he said, coming away from his leaning position on the hood of her car. “That gray dress is my favorite.”

  She laughed, a little giddy. Her dress was teal blue, but if he had called it yellow or cherry red, it wouldn’t have made a bit of difference. Not with the way he was looking at her. “I’ll wear it more often.”

  “I like the navy suit you wear with the bright scarf too.”

  “Then I’ll alternate between the two and throw the rest of my clothes away,” she said brightly, and they laughed. She felt another peculiar sensation stir inside her. She liked making him laugh, she wanted to please him.

  They met beside her car, their hands and arms instantly tangling like four loose cords.

  “Can I kiss you?” he asked abruptly. He had no qualms of his own, but he didn’t want to cross any invisible lines she might have about public displays of affection. If he didn’t kiss her soon, he knew he’d implode—but he’d rather do that than cause her uneasiness. God knew, he was uneasy enough for both of them. He felt as if he were living inside a tornado, his thoughts whirling, his emotions sweeping and powerful, his body in knots. “Now? Here?”

  “I really wish you would,” she said, stepping closer to him, lifting her face to his. “Right here. Right now.”

  It was like eating chocolate cake. A small tentative taste, then a chocoholic pig-out.

  With his hands at her waist he held her away and sighed, temporarily restored.

  “Ready?” he asked, feeling even more nervous than he had the night before—if that was possible. The previous night she’d taken a gamble on him and had broken even. Tonight he wanted to make her feel like a winner. And tomorrow? Well, tomorrow he’d convince her that he was the lucky charm she couldn’t live without. He had it all planned. He’d take it slow, one step at a time. He didn’t want to screw anything up. He wanted everything to be perfect.

  If she were just some woman, it wouldn’t matter, but everything about this woman mattered. He didn’t want to be too cavalier or cling too tight. Didn’t want to be too pushy or too big a pushover. Didn’t want her to think he was trying too hard or not trying hard enough to make her happy. And when they came together, when they made love ... he didn’t want to jump her bones in a parking lot. He wanted it to be the right time, the right place. Prolonged and glorious. He wanted it to be as perfect as she was.

  When she nodded and moved to unlock her car door, he crossed the lot to his car and got in. He’d opened the shop late that day, taking time at home to stock groceries, chill wine, and straighten up the house. He’d even changed the sheets on the bed—just in case. But looking back on it, it surprised him how low on the list that task had been. Oh, he wanted her. No doubt about that, but somehow it seemed sort of secondary to simply spending time with her. He laughed out loud. Secondary, wasn’t the right word. He wanted to crawl inside her skin and make it his own. He wanted to possess her body and soul, to hear her moan with pleasure, cry out in surrender. Still, holding her hand during a movie or linking arms with her when they walked together, sharing tidbits of news with her over morning coffee tempted him with a different, but equal force. He needed to be with her.

  You could hit all the stoplights and still make it from one end of Quincey to the other in fifteen minutes. So it wasn’t long before they lined their cars up at the curb in front of the house Earl Blake had inherited from Levy Gunther. A tidy little box-shaped place with white siding, black shutters, and outrageous crops of red impatiens spilling from window boxes on either side of the front porch; thick and bushlike along the walk. And recently trimmed, Ellen noticed, as she followed Jonah up the front steps.

  It spoke volumes about the kind of person he was that he’d not only moved into his father’s house and kept his father’s shop open, but trimmed his flower beds and in essence maintained the man’s life while he wasn’t able to—in spite of the fact that he barely knew him and harbored no little bitterness toward him.

  “What can I do to help?” she asked a short time later. He had immediately offered her a variety of drinks—from which she’d chosen a glass of white wine—and asked her to make herself comfortable. But she couldn’t just stand around the neat little kitchen watching him do all the work. Not that he didn’t look perfectly capable of it. “You know, I don’t think a man’s ever cooked for me before.”

  “I’m the first?”

  “You’re the first.”

  “Well, I don’t know if throwing slabs of meat on the barbecue is really cooking,” he said, looking up from his slicing and dicing of the salad parts. “But I’m trying to impress you here, so we’ll go with that.” He motioned to the counter in front of him. “And the mangling of vegetables, of course.”

  There was no mistaking his eagerness to dazzle her. The table set for two with candles and flowers was endearing. His frequent glances at the level of the wine in her glass and his constant awareness of her position in the room were heartbreakingly sweet.

  She took a sudden left turn and went that way.

  “Jonah,” she said impulsively.

  “Yes.” He stopped everything to answer her.

  With two and a half steps and all the courage she could muster, she wedged herself between him and the counter and said, “I’m already impressed.”

  No words could describe the subtle change in his expression that spoke directly to her heart, that seemed to welcome her home and promise an exciting adventure at once. His gaze, tender and wondrous, roamed slowly over her hair to her lips, across her cheeks and chin, deep into her eyes, and around inside her soul, claiming it all as his own.

  “So am I,” he whispered before he covered her mouth with his, the knife clanking on the countertop behind her before she felt his arms wrapping her slowly, surely in his embrace.

&n
bsp; Life was so easy when you knew all the right steps to get you through it.

  Reaching out for the stars wasn’t necessary—not when everything she wanted was right here on earth. Reaching out and taking what she wanted was what life was all about. Reaching out, she looped both arms about his neck, took him into her heart, and sighed her satisfaction in knowing that with a little resolve, a little courage, and a little green book, she could have life her way. With that knowledge and Jonah’s arms around her, there was nothing she couldn’t do, nothing more she wanted.

  Reach for the stars indeed. Funny how small the universe became when the love inside you was so vast. Aside from the scent of him, the taste and texture of his skin, the pressure of his arms and his hands gliding over the curves of her body, and the unbelievably spectacular explosions of sensations inside her head ... well, the rest of the cosmos seemed to shrink to the size of a pinhead.

  She was the surest thing in his life. He’d never known anything like her. Truly. Never. He could barely recall his mother, hardly knew his father, had never had a home. He’d always classified himself as a moderately ambitious man, because while he’d possessed the drive to achieve, he’d found it difficult to be absolutely certain of his decisions—not in his mind, but in his heart. The facts were always straight. The risk factors were always shaved down to a thread. Still, in his heart he was always afraid he’d walk straight into a pit of quicksand and be swallowed up whole. Until now ...

  He lifted his face from hers just to look at her again. Her eyes opened slowly, dazed and dreamy. Her lips were moist and rosy from his kisses. Her breathing was erratic. The pulse in her throat jumped wildly. He smiled and kissed her again to keep her that way. She’d stepped into that pocket of uncertainty inside him and filled it completely. Like a ball and socket or an elusive puzzle piece he’d been searching for all his life ... There was still so much he wanted to know about her, but nothing more he needed to know. For the first time in his life he was absolutely, unequivocally, unconditionally, without reservation sure of something—her, and his love for her.