by Beth Duke
I bit my lip and looked up at him. “And?”
“And I called a buddy to run your plate. Because your eyes are beautiful and you wear awkward ripped jeans and I loved the part of your heart I saw that day. And no, I didn’t stalk you, outside of a quick Facebook and Twitter search that didn’t tell me much. But I sure watched for you to come back into the bank.”
“You could have...”
“I could have placed myself in your path a hundred different times, but it felt wrong. Then that kid did me the enormous favor of scraping off a bunch of your car’s fender. Kinda felt like I was in that place and time for a reason.”
“But you waited for me to ask you out.”
He laughed. “Yeah, I loved that part. If the conversation had gone differently, though, I probably would’ve found a way.” He took my hand in his and squeezed it before letting go. “Anyway, I want you to know I’ve been thinking about you for a long time, Veronica Jean. And after that bold confession, I’m going for more beer. You need anything?”
“No, thank you.” I smiled up at him. “Maybe a first kiss at sunset on this pretty lake after you’ve been all romantical...”
“That’s not a word,” he said.
“Believe me, I know.”
Rick pulled me out of the chair and wrapped his arms around me, then kissed me long and slow. I responded like a teenager full of pent-up Friday night hormones. He swept my legs around his waist and carried me to a picnic table at the end of the deck, sitting on top with his feet on the bench and situating me on his lap.
I pulled away and said, “I don’t usually do this, Rick. I mean...”
“Neither do I,” he interrupted, shaking his head. He laughed softly. “Let’s try it and see if it’s fun.” He kissed me softly, barely touching his lips to mine. Every molecule in my body answered.
I was oblivious to the world until I heard the stupid “Cops” theme droning on. For a second I thought the neighbors had turned on a TV. Rick smiled apologetically as he drew his cell from a back pocket. “I gotta change that ringtone, huh?”
I nodded and looked at the phone. It displayed a flying monkey from The Wizard of Oz and the name Victoria. “I’m sorry, Ronni. This will just take a minute.” I tried to get off his lap but he held me fast with his free arm.
“Yes?” he said, rolling his eyes upward. “Victoria, that’s not fair. I’m at the lake. It’s going to take me an extra hour to get there. Why the hell didn’t you tell me before?” He sat and listened, screwing his face into a scowl. “Okay, ten o’clock. Bye.”
I managed to pull free and stand. “Well, that was a mood killer.”
“I’m sorry. She and Sir Humphrey Knowsalot need to take the boys to a faculty birthday party tomorrow at three, so I have to get to Tuscaloosa two hours earlier. Victoria loves to dress them like little bookish nerds and parade them around the university. Probably puts bow ties on them. If she thinks I’m having fun tonight, she likely made the whole thing up. She’s a conniving bitch who directs my life from Revenge Hell.”
“Revenge? I thought she left you.”
“I was not a model husband, Ronni. I was and am, however, a model dad. Josh and Jeremy are my world.”
“I’m not even sure I want kids.” The words left my mouth before I tasted them.
“You don’t know that. You’re too young to make decisions so huge.”
I sighed and stood up, glorious makeout session forgotten.
He shook his head and held out his arms. “Where were we?”
“It was a good stopping point,” I replied. “We’re moving too fast here.” I returned to my chair and picked up my wine.
He nodded cheerfully. “I agree. I didn’t bring you here to hook up tonight, Ronni. I never bring women to the lakehouse on a first date. This place is special to me, and I just wanted to sit and talk—get to know you— in the moonlight, I swear.” He looked into my eyes. “I’m going for that beer now. When I get back I want your life story, Ronni Johnson.”
I wondered if there was enough chardonnay in the world, and figured I might as well find out. I was halfway through the bottle when Rick returned. He set a small cooler of beer next to his chair and looked at me expectantly.
“There’s not much to tell, Rick. I did not have a happy childhood. I’d like to leave it at that and talk about movies or music or global warming. Any other subject you’d care to name.”
“Have another glass of wine.” He reached over and filled my glass helpfully. “I want to know all about you, Ronni. Please.”
No one in my current life knew about my past. I’d opened up to Violet, of course, crying with her on more than one occasion. I took a deep breath and drained half the wine. “Okay,” I began, closing my eyes, “it may not be what you want to hear.”
“Try me.”
“My mother spent my early years pursuing whiskey and pills instead of paying attention to me. I was removed to foster care at five. I don’t know who my father is. I was passed around from family to family and never knew what a stable home looked like until the Johnsons adopted me. I was a teenager by then.”
“So Johnson is not your real last name?”
I glared at him. “It’s real to me.”
“What’s on your birth certificate?”
“Veronica Jean Edwards.”
“How old was your mother when you were born?”
“Sixteen.”
“And you have no idea where she is?”
“I don’t want to know, Rick. She is dead to me.”
“One more question: what is her first name?”
“Jocelyn.”
He stood and leaned over the railing, rubbing his head and looking across the water. “I thought you looked like her,” he said quietly.
I swallowed something sharp and felt it lodge in my throat.
Rick came over and placed his hand on mine. “She was living near Heflin four years ago. I arrested her twice for DUI and she fought the charges both times. Her boyfriend owned used car lots and hired a sleazy defense attorney for her. The first time she lost her license and got probation. The second...well, she’s been living in the Tutwiler Prison for Women in Wetumpka. She may be out now.”
I crossed to the railing and retched a barbecue sandwich and wine onto the grass below.
ten
VIOLET
Violet sat in Sam’s car, powdering her nose and watching the entrance to the pants factory. She’d been waiting for twenty minutes. Sam had left the car running so she could listen to the radio, and she drummed her fingernails impatiently on the dashboard in time with Peggy Lee’s “Golden Earrings”, eager to get to Atlanta for the surprises he’d promised. The parking lot was surrounded by dogwoods in bloom. She tried to focus on the birds flitting from tree to tree.
Ten minutes later he emerged, grinning and shaking the hand of a white-haired man in a business suit. Sam was carrying a briefcase—Violet thought he looked like a successful young tycoon.
He threw the case into the back seat and announced, “Sam Davidson, ma’am, Negotiator Extraordinaire and Oozer of Charm, at your service. Dad’s going to be very pleased with the fall selection and inspired to offer me a raise. Maybe he’ll sign the company over to me.”
“He should,” she replied, watching him shed his jacket and lay it carefully across the back seat. He loosened and threw his tie atop it, then jumped behind the steering wheel and slammed the door heavily.
Sam pecked Violet’s cheek perfunctorily and started the car. “Now for the fun part. Mr. Taylor almost made us late. I know way too much about his irritable colon and low fiber diet.” He shook his head. “Anything you’d like to know about the human digestive system?”
“No, thank you. Mine could use lunch, though.”
“You’ll love the restaurant. It’s a nice little place. Then we’re going to the Loew’s Grand for a movie.”
“Oh my gosh,” Violet replied. “The one where Gone With The Wind premiered?”
“T
he one and only. We’re taking in a matinee this afternoon before we go sightseeing.”
An hour later Sam parked on a side street in downtown Atlanta and opened Violet’s door. He led her to a colorful trolley car and helped her aboard, arm tight around her shoulders. The other passengers looked bored and ignored the sights Sam was busily pointing out. Violet decided they must be heading to or from work, and used to Atlanta’s splendor. Her mouth hung open at the buildings, signs and bustling streets.
“That’s Ponce de Leon Park, where the Atlanta Crackers baseball team plays. We’ll walk over there later,” he said. “There’s an amazing feature in the outfield.”
“I can’t imagine anything related to baseball I’d find amazing,” Violet answered as she kissed his cheek. “You’ve been to Atlanta a lot, haven’t you?”
“Yes, I have relatives over here. You’ll meet some of them later.”
Violet raised her eyebrows and said nothing. Sam hadn’t once taken her to spend time with his parents.
Sam jumped up and grabbed Violet’s hand to exit in front of Mary Mac’s Tea Room, promising her the best lunch she’d ever experience. A large woman with red hair in a messy bun greeted him at the door. She hugged Sam and extended her hand to Violet. “I’m Regina, honey. Welcome to Mary Mac’s.” She led them to a table near the front window.
Sam fluttered his napkin across his lap and announced, “I’m trying to fatten her up, Regina. We’ll have chicken and dressing, mashed potatoes, green beans and cheese grits.”
“Well, sugar, I’m bringing y’all fresh peach cobbler for dessert, too. That ought to help,” she answered. “She’s very pretty, Sam.”
Violet regarded Regina with a smile. “How long have you known Sam?” she asked.
“Since he was in short pants and spilling everything I brought to the table. His family’s been comin’ here long as I can remember.” She patted Sam’s back affectionately. “How’s your daddy and mama?”
“They’re doing very well, Regina. I told them I’d say hello and give you this.” He held out a small package wrapped in pink.
“White Shoulders? I was almost out!” she exclaimed. “Thank you, Sam. That is so nice of y’all.”
“You know I wouldn’t show up here without a present for you, Regina.” He glanced at his watch. “We need to hurry up so we can make a movie time at Loew’s.”
“Lunch is comin’ right up. I’ll bring some sweet tea to get y’all started.” Regina hurried off and returned almost instantly with sweet tea and a huge platter of food. The chicken and dressing—Violet’s favorite dish—was heaven on a plate. She stuffed herself as Sam watched with an amused smile.
“Are you going to have room for peach cobbler?” His eyes were wide.
“Can we come back for that later?” Violet suppressed a burp. “I think I need to walk for a while before I eat another bite.”
They hugged Regina goodbye, promising to return after the movie.
Violet blinked at the afternoon sunshine and clutched her stomach. “I’m probably going to fall asleep during the movie,” she told Sam.
He grinned and swung her to the opposite direction on the sidewalk, narrowly missing a woman pushing a baby stroller. “Then I have a better idea! I promise you’ll stay awake. First, though, we’re sneaking into the ballpark.” Sam grinned at Violet’s open mouth and pressed a finger there to shush her. “I’ve done it plenty of times.” He pulled Violet along to a narrow opening in the fence, hidden from the street. “Sideways,” he commanded, “squeeze.” Violet followed, compressing lunch as much as she could.
“There,” Sam pointed. “Have you ever seen that in a baseball stadium?”
Violet laughed. “Well, no. How do they play around it?” There was a stately, blooming magnolia tree in the back of center field.
“Balls that go into the tree are still in play. It makes for some interesting games.” Sam tugged her hand and they walked to the tree, which was much larger than Violet had thought. Sam pulled a pocketknife out and began to carve “VG + SD” into the bark.
“Sam, that’s silly,” she giggled, secretly pleased at the gesture.
“It will be here forever. At least, until they tear this place down to build something bigger.” He finished and put the knife away, then kissed her. “Maybe we’ll get married here.”
“Uh huh. Our parents would be delighted with that choice.”
“Who says they have to come?” Sam kicked at a dirt clod. “Come on. Our next stop is a better surprise.”
Violet eyed the huge building before they reached it and planted her feet on the cement. “No, Sam. I’ve never skated in my life. I’ll break a leg or wrist...”
“Aww, come on, Vi. The Rollerdrome is fantastic, and I’ll hang onto you real tight.” He pulled her close. “Trust me,” he whispered.
“You keep saying that.” She glanced at the entrance and back at him. “If I skate like a newborn giraffe, we’ll leave. Deal?”
“Deal.”
Sam carried the heavy skates and spent two minutes lacing his own, then ten minutes on Violet’s. He tugged and adjusted, lingering happily as he contemplated Violet’s lovely calves. He darted his eyes to the counter. The clerk was busy, so he slid his hand up her right thigh. She leaned to kiss him as she started to stand, promptly wheeling herself onto her backside with a resounding thump.
“I told you I can’t do this!” Violet started tearing at Sam’s careful lacing. He knelt down next to her and stilled her hand.
“Trust me,” he repeated, pulling her upright. “I won’t let you get hurt.” He steered Violet like a mannequin and helped her onto the rink. There were only two other skaters, a white-haired man and his grandchild circling effortlessly.
Violet tried to concentrate on the music. The Pied Pipers were singing “Open The Door, Richard.” It was a singularly stupid song in her mind, but the beat helped her move along, imitating the broad sweeps Sam made with his legs. Every time she stumbled she’d bend over in nervous laughter. Sam’s arms were strong, and he kept her upright.
“You really are clumsy, darling, but I love you.” Sam patted Violet’s head for a second, not daring to release his grip any longer. By their seventh trip around the oval Violet was feeling secure enough to demand he let her go. Sam shook his head. “You’re not quite ready.”
“I am, too.” He released her slowly, astonished to see her skate ahead. She picked up speed, then panicked as a curve loomed ahead. “How do I slow down?” she screamed. Violet’s deep blue skirt billowed behind her; a storm cloud giving chase. He reached her in time to catch her in a dramatic dip for a kiss.
“You couldn’t do that again in a million years, Sam Davidson,” Violet laughed as she opened her eyes. “Nice move.”
“Yeah, well, no more skating off by yourself. Let’s work on our couple’s routine today, shall we?” Sam pulled Violet’s waist close, watching the glee on her face as they sailed faster and faster. He let go long enough to speed up and face her. He grabbed her hands and skated backward, smiling as Eddy Arnold sang “I’ll Hold You in My Heart.”
“Sam...” Violet said.
“Shh. Just be quiet and enjoy this. I know what I’m doing.”
“But!”
“Violet, be quiet. Listen to the music.” He gazed soulfully into her eyes and clutched her hands tighter. “I could get a gold medal in backward skating.”
Violet jerked her hands away and grabbed the railing as Sam slammed into the grandfather, knocking him to the floor. His granddaughter screamed and skated across the rink. Violet watched in horror as the old man allowed Sam to help him to his knees, begging his forgiveness.
“I’m all right,” the stranger told him. “Why don’t you find another way to show off for your girlfriend for a bit while Katie and I finish skating? We’ll be here for another few minutes, then you can pretend you’re Sonja Henie on wheels all you want.” He nodded at Violet. “That all right with you, miss?”
“Yes, sir. I’m very s
orry,” Violet answered. The little girl scowled at her and took her grandfather’s hand.
“Your lipstick is all smeared,” she announced to Violet and the world. “Maybe you should go fix it while Papa and I skate.”
Violet stood silent as they took off. She arched her eyebrows exactly as Alice Glenn did to chastise her family, and Sam heard every unspoken word. He helped her off the rink and removed her skates, terrified to speak.
As soon as she’d replaced her shoes, Violet was out the door and stalking away. Sam ran to her side and matched her pace. His jaw was clenched tightly, and Violet noticed a vein throbbing in his neck. Neither spoke a word until they reached the car. Sam opened the passenger door as Violet handed him her heels, declaring, “My feet are killing me. Let’s just go home.”
“Not until we visit my cousin and his wife. They’re dying to meet you, and I promised.”
Violet sighed. “I guess I have no choice.” She settled into the seat and pouted, refusing to look at Sam.
An hour later they rolled up in front of a compact house surrounded by oak trees. A red-haired toddler was furiously pedaling a miniature Pontiac on the sidewalk leading to the front porch. He jumped out and ran to scream into the screen door, “Mom! They’re here!”
Sam helped her out and into a hug from a beautiful young woman with a drooling baby on her hip. “I’m Katie,” she said. “We’ve heard so much about you, Violet. Welcome.” She shifted the baby and grabbed his starfish hand to wave it. “This is Melvin, and the wild boy circling the yard is little Samuel. He’s named after his handsome cousin.” She pecked Sam on the cheek. “Y’all come in. Mel’s in the kitchen, where a good husband belongs.”