Bittersweet Passion

by Peggy Webb

  “I’m just like Dad. And so I’ll take the liberty of speaking for him…get out of that rut and move forward, Daniel.”

  Daniel laughed. “You sound just like him.”

  “Yeah, well, I’ve been accused of having a whiskey voice. I tell them it’s just my natural sexy self.” She kissed him on the cheek. “Bye, bro. Have fun, and I mean real fun.”

  Daniel was relieved that he’d confided in her. What was it his dad had always said? When you’re faced with climbing a mountain, it’s always best to have a dependable partner.

  He could count on Hannah, not only to be supportive, but to keep secrets, if necessary. And right now, the last thing he wanted the rest of his family to know was that the family’s minister had taken to frequenting Babe’s.

  Skylar’s rakish Thunderbird was in the parking lot. As he parked beside it, he wondered if he’d arrived in time for her last set.

  Skylar was in the midst of one of her favorite torch songs when Daniel came in. “Come Rain or Come Shine.” All of a sudden she knew what it meant, that old saying—My heart stood still—and Daniel kept watching the side the words of the song took on a meaning so personal her skin felt hot.

  Gazing across the room she saw how it was possible to love a man as no one had ever loved, no matter what the circumstances. Were storms buffeting the house? Never mind, as long as you had each other. Was everybody who knew you opposed to the union? No problem, as long as the two of you stood together. Was the man in question a doctor of divinity and the woman a red-hot singer distinguishable from a stripper only by the tiniest wisp of clothing?

  No amount of solidarity could hold back the storm of protest that would churn up.

  Oh, help.

  Skylar had done the unthinkable: she’d let her guard down and now she was in love with the one man in the world she could never have.

  She knew what she had to do, but the idea of it made her almost physically ill. She had no heart for outrageous flirtation. She had no stomach for portraying herself as cheap and sleazy in front of Daniel Westmoreland.

  But she had to. Didn’t she?

  Skylar got through her set, never taking her eyes off Daniel. Why not? As long as she was on stage she was safe. Untouchable.

  The minute she left the stage, Pete cornered her.

  “What’s wrong, Sky? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  “Worse.”

  “Want to tell an old pal about it?”

  “It’s Daniel Westmoreland. He’s out there.”

  “Here? In Babe’s? It can’t be. I thought he was some hotshot preacher in a big church over in Atlanta.”

  “He is.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Skylar did. Only too well. She ruined everything she touched. It was that simple.

  All of a sudden she started to cry. Pete gave her a clumsy hug, patted her back, and said, “Now, now, it can’t be as bad as all that.”

  “It’s worse.” Sniffing, she leaned back and wiped her face on the handkerchief he handed her. “I’ve gone and fallen in love with him.”

  He pondered that for a while, his brow knit and his eyes squinted.

  “What’s so bad about that? Daniel Westmoreland is a great guy and you’re the tops.” He punched her playfully on the arm. “Hey, Sky. I think that’s great.”

  Skylar didn’t point out the obvious to him. After all, here was a man who believed in fairy tales. He described his wife as “the princess who kissed a frog” and his children as “his perfect angels.” What could you expect from Pete except a rosy point of view on romance?

  “Thanks, Pete.” She gave him a smile.

  “Hey, that’s more like it. Can I get you anything before I go home?”

  “No, thanks, Pete. I’m fine.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “You bet.”

  Skylar waited until Pete had left the club before she went onto the floor to launch her new act. Thank goodness, he wouldn’t be around to see it. If she were lucky, she would have to do it only once.

  That should be enough to send Daniel Westmoreland heading for the hills.

  Daniel kept watching the side doors for Skylar. He knew she’d seen him. In fact, it seemed to him that she’d sung every love song straight to him. Wasn’t it logical she’d come out to say hello? And if not that, wouldn’t curiosity bring her out?

  But no matter how hard he stared at the doors leading backstage, they remained firmly shut. He took a long swig of lemonade, trying to decide whether to keep waiting or to go charging backstage. Babe’s was a small club. He wouldn’t have any trouble finding her dressing room.

  Then again, maybe she’d already gone home. Maybe she’d rushed to her car the minute she finished her set and was driving along in the moonlight with the top down.

  He sat nursing his lemonade and trying to decide his next move, when all of a sudden the door on the right swung open and there was Skylar.

  Lord have mercy, what was she wearing? Not much. That was for sure. The provocative red dress she’d worn on stage was staid by comparison. A tight little tube of a dress, so short it barely covered the subject. Bodice cut so low it didn’t take any imagination at all to picture her breasts. Tiny straps he’d heard his sisters refer to as “spaghetti straps” holding the whole thing in place. And one of them slipped off her shoulder as she bent over the first table she came to.

  Daniel thought she’d pop right out of her dress. Apparently so did the man she was talking to. He got this look on his face…like a man who’d won the sweepstakes. A greedy man.

  Daniel banged his glass so hard onto the table the ice rattled.

  Across the room Skylar ran her hand lightly through the man’s hair then moved on, her strap sliding dangerously low, the front of her dress held up by gravity and two very seductive nipples. Clearly visible.

  Daniel gripped his drink so hard it was a wonder he didn’t break the glass. Skylar’s so-called dress was thin, almost sheer. And she was wearing nothing underneath except a minuscule thong.

  By now every eye in the house was on her. She pranced across the crowded club, ignoring the men who called, “Hey, doll, over here, this way.” She was headed straight to Daniel.

  But not in a hurry to get there. That much was plain. Grabbing hands impeded her progress, but Skylar didn’t seem to mind. In fact she encouraged it, stopping to lean way down low and chat, here patting a cheek, there bestowing a kiss on the top of a bald head. Pandemonium followed her. She left dozens of panting, openmouthed, boggle-eyed men in her wake.

  When she came even with Daniel, she propped one hand on his table and purred, “Hello, preacherman. What’re you doing here?”

  She leaned dangerously low, and Daniel had no more control over the direction of his gaze than a robot operated by madmen.

  “Watching the show.”

  “Good.” Skylar looked into his eyes and for a moment she wavered.

  Later Daniel would wonder if, in that brief moment, he could have done anything to change events. He would wonder…and regret.

  Skylar slid into his lap, and the shock nearly jolted him from his chair. Instead, he sat perfectly still, holding onto his glass and his sanity by sheer force of will.

  Out of the corner of his eye he noticed heads swiveled their way, hostile faces, envious eyes, greedy smirks. Hair on the back of his neck bristled, and the air tasted of trouble.

  “What are you trying to do? Start a riot?”

  “No, just a teeny, weeny little fire.”

  “Where?”

  “Here.” She executed a series of moves with her hips that had him gritting his teeth.

  “You’ve succeeded.”

  “Good.” She leaned close to his ear and whispered. “Why don’t we see what we can do about it?”

  “Here?”

  “Backstage. In my dressing room. I have a little cot just for that purpose.”

  What was she trying to do?

  Tempt him beyond any man’s capacity
to resist. That much was certain.

  But Daniel saw more than the blatant seduction, more than the bold sensuality. Underneath her sleazy gold dress and her brazen ways, Daniel saw a vulnerable little girl who didn’t believe in her own goodness, a scared little girl who would go to any lengths to keep from being hurt again.

  He scooted her off his lap, stood up and grabbed her hand.

  “Come on.”

  Her eyes widened and her face paled, but she recovered quickly and gave him a saucy smile.

  “Eager beaver, aren’t you? Oh, well, all of you are just alike.”

  Too disturbed to reply, he led her through the crowd, impeded at every turn by men grabbing her any place they could get a handhold. Daniel gritted his teeth so hard his jaw hurt.

  The front door was only a few steps away. If he could endure a few more minutes of torture without breaking heads he’d get down on his knees in thanksgiving.

  Suddenly Skylar balked. “Wait a minute. This is not the way to my dressing room.”

  “I know.”

  “Where are you taking me?”

  “Out of here.”

  “No.” She jerked loose, seething with outrage. “I’m not leaving with you.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, Daniel could see a beefy-looking man with tattoos on his arms and his hair swept upward into a pompadour heading their way. He looked like something that ought to be handling snakes at a two-bit carnival.

  “You’re going to get more than you bargained for if we don’t leave. Now.”

  “What’s the matter, preacher? Can’t take the heat?”

  “Come on, Sky. Please.”

  “No. You go ahead. I’m staying.”

  She whirled away from him, and though he called out to her it was futile. She rushed back into the crowd…and straight into the arms of the snake-handler.

  “I got just what you lookin’ for, dollbaby,” he said.

  In that instant everything Daniel had always believed about himself went up in smoke, leaving him to face the stark truth: Every man has his breaking point. Even Daniel.

  He never knew how he reached Skylar so fast, but suddenly he was beside her, holding her around the waist so tightly he feared she might break in half, his other hand clenched into a fist at his side.

  In readiness? To keep from punching the man’s face?

  Daniel hoped he never had to find out. He hoped to escape the potentially explosive situation.

  “The lady is with me.”

  He hoped he sounded convincing and just edgy enough to break bones if he had to. It helped that he was tall and had the build of a football player, thanks to all that basketball and baseball he played with the church’s youth group, plus a very good set of barbells in the basement of the parsonage.

  “It don’t look that way to me. In fact, ’pears to me the little lady has had a change of heart about you, Buster.”

  “No, she’s with me.”

  “Well now, why don’t we just ask the little lady,” the man drawled, and Daniel braced himself for the worst.

  Skylar wished she were anywhere in the world except slap dab in the middle of a horrible situation she’d created all by herself. She held her arms close to her sides to control her trembling.

  What had she done? What had she been thinking?

  Of course, it was obvious. She hadn’t been thinking at all. She’d merely seen herself cornered and reacted. As she always did. And with disastrous results.

  Well, not yet. But soon. She could see it coming. The flying fists, the punched-in faces, the bloody noses. The headlines.

  Oh, Lord, the headlines…Daniel’s name smeared all over the paper. The terrible consequences. His reputation ruined. His career over.

  Why oh why hadn’t she thought of that before she went barging off on her fool’s mission? Why hadn’t she simply done the sensible thing and written him a polite note saying, Please stay away from me. I’m not interested in you. I don’t want you to call. I don’t want you to drop by. I want you gone. Period.

  Why hadn’t she done that?

  She felt something bitter in her mouth. The taste of fear and regret.

  Daniel stood beside her like a rock, and in front of her was an evil apparition who looked more monster than man. Trouble in tattoos. Disaster in the making.

  And only she could stop it.

  But at what price?

  Waiting for Skylar’s answer, Daniel tensed every muscle in his body. His jaw ached, his head hurt, even his skin felt too tight.

  “I’m with him,” Skylar said, and it took Daniel a second to realize she meant him. When she turned, he saw the glisten of unshed tears in her eyes. “Take me out of here.”

  He would risk no more confrontations, no more narrow escapes, no more grabbing hands. With one swift move he picked Skylar up and carried her from the club.

  It had turned cooler, fall coming to Mississippi at last, and the moon rode the sky like a galleon plowing through a sea of stars. Any other time Daniel would have stopped to appreciate the splendor of the heavens. Tonight he had only one thought in mind: getting Skylar out of harm’s way.

  Thankfully, she lay in his arms, acquiescent. Daniel didn’t stop until he’d reached his car. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if he didn’t have to stop? Ever. Wouldn’t it be great if he could keep Skylar in his arms? Wouldn’t it be remarkable if he could keep on walking until they’d come to a place where two people could be completely safe and freed from the expectations of society, a secret paradise cut off from the rest of the world?

  Still holding on to his precious bundle, he flexed his knees so he could reach the car door, then he set her on the front seat.

  “Don’t move.”

  He sprinted around the car, half expecting her to bolt, but when he got to the other side and slid behind the wheel, Skylar was sitting with her shoulders slumped, her head down, her long dark hair covering her face.

  “Skylar?”

  No answer. Daniel gently caressed her upper arm. Her skin felt cold to his touch. Reaction was setting in.

  “Sky?”

  She looked up at him, her eyes enormous and shimmering with internal grief, her face etched with the tragedy of her private hell.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “For everything.”

  Now was not the time to ask questions. Now was not the time to pry for motives, push for answers. At the moment Skylar needed a friend, not a counselor.

  “Hey, no problem. You rescued me and I rescued you right back.”

  That brought a hint of a smile to her face. He turned the key and started to drive with no destination in mind. Anywhere would do as long as it wasn’t Babe’s.

  He drove along the high bluffs where the past whispered through the trees. He passed the antebellum mansions where General John C. Pemberton made the agonizing decision to surrender a city that had been known as the Gibraltar of the Confederacy, and where General Ulysses S. Grant slept for three days following the forty-seven-day siege of Vicksburg.

  Far below him two mighty rivers converged, the Yazoo and the Mississippi. Tonight Daniel saw the rivers not as they were, lit by thousands of electric lights from the shops and restaurants and houses and gambling riverboats, but as they must have appeared to Newitt Vick when he first thought of founding a city on their banks. Pristine and beautiful. Nature’s perfect highway where a man could load his cotton on a barge and go south all the way to New Orleans. Or north through Mark Twain country, all the way to Minnesota.

  He felt a kinship with the city and with the vanished glory of its past. He wanted to turn to Skylar and say, Did you know that Vicksburg was founded by an itinerant Methodist minister? A man defined not by his profession, but by his vision?

  Instead, he drove in silence, drove until he saw out of the corner of his eye how Skylar sat taller, lifted her chin higher, tilted her head at a proud angle.

  “Daniel, will you take me back to get my car now?”

  “Yes.”

  He found
a small graveled farm road almost hidden by trees that snaked off the highway toward the vast fields beyond. Daniel turned the car and headed back toward Babe’s.

  Skylar’s car was the only one in the lot.

  “I’ll follow you home.”

  “No…please,” she said, and then after he’d seen her safely to her car she held out her hand. “Thank you, Daniel.”

  Her hand was small-boned and graceful. Cradled between his own it felt fragile as the wings of a baby bird. Daniel held on longer than necessary, marveling at the power of touch to move a man to tears.

  “Thank you,” she whispered once more, and then she drove away.

  He stood in the parking lot until her car had disappeared down the street. Then, honoring her request, he drove in the opposite direction, back to Belle Rose.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Skylar supposed she could hide in her parents’ house with the faded slipcovers and the outdated draperies and the worn carpet, but that had never been her style. Besides, if she had any hope of launching a successful campaign to keep Daniel away, she had to go about her business as if nothing had happened, as if her outrageous performance at Babe’s was an everyday occurrence.

  And so she fed her cat, put on her tight black jeans and a bright red sweater that would raise eyebrows, then set off to the nursing home. As she approached she began to rehearse what she would say if she saw Daniel—something that would cement last night’s impression of her in his mind.

  “Hello, preacherman, nice buns.” She made a face in the rearview mirror. Maybe she’d be more subtle. “Well, hello, preacher, I thought I’d come slumming again today.”

  She made a gagging sound. She couldn’t denigrate her nursing home visits even to help a worthy cause, i.e., saving the Reverend Westmoreland from his own misguided intentions.

  Tomorrow she’d probably think of a dozen clever retorts, but for today she’d play the coward. That was it. Avoid him. Even if it meant neglecting one of her patients.

  The first thing she’d do after she’d parked her car and gone inside would be to hurry down the hall toward Michael Westmoreland’s room. Hoping the door would be open. Hoping for a glimpse of Daniel. Hoping she could pass by without any expression whatsoever on her face.