by LuAnn McLane
“And you look handsome in your suit.” I’m thankful that my voice only cracks a little.
“You know I’m not much on gettin’ gussied up.”
“You wear it well,” I assure him. Wet Willie starts singing Tim McGraw’s “My Little Girl” and I swear my gruff old daddy’s eyes tear up.
“Won’t be long and I’ll be walking you down the aisle.”
“Daddy, I have to get me a boyfriend first.”
He winks at me. “Any boy would be lucky to have you, Macy-girl.”
“Oh, thank you, Daddy.”
“I’m not just runnin’ my mouth. I mean it,” he says while dancing surprisingly smoothly. When the song ends he gives me a hug. “Have some fun. I’ll be leaving with the older folks in a bit. If you’re drinkin’, don’t be drivin’.”
I nod. “Luke said that I could stay here.”
“Luke, huh?” he says, and rubs his chin. “Solid young man, that one. Seems to me you’re gettin’ on pretty good with him. You two make a fine-looking couple.”
“Daddy!”
He shrugs. “Just an observation,” he says as we walk to the edge of the crowd. “Don’t go gettin’ riled up.”
“Maybe that’s my problem.”
Daddy stops in his tracks and gives me a questioning look. “What do you mean?”
“I tend to get all fired up once in a while. Maybe it scares the boys away,” I tease.
“Don’t you go changing a thing about yourself,” he says with surprising firmness.
“Daddy, I was really only kiddin’.”
“Were you?” he asks with more insight than I realized he has about me. “You know, your personality is a lot like your mama’s too. Quiet as a church mouse but I could get her goin’ in a heartbeat.” He chuckles. “Used to love to get her all riled up.”
“You still miss her, don’t you?”
He rubs a hand down his face. “Not a day goes by . . .” My throat closes up and I have to swipe at another doggone tear. Pretty soon there won’t be a drop of moisture left in me.
“Aw, Macy, I didn’t mean to get so melancholy.”
I reach up and cup his chin. “Daddy, I love it when you talk about Mama. Keeps her memory alive.”
“I was lucky to have her if only for a little while.” He grabs my hand and squeezes it. “You go on back up there on the dance floor and kick up your heels.”
“Okay.” I lean in and give him a kiss on his cheek. “You all right to drive?”
“Yeah, just had a couple.”
“’Kay.” I watch him leave and have to wonder about his mood. I suppose weddings are hard for him. I never thought about it until now. Oh, Mama, I think to myself, why’d you have to leave us so soon? I look skyward and think of the song “Holes in the Floor of Heaven,” hoping that she is looking down seeing Jamie Lee get married and me dancing with Daddy. Oh, wow . . . I inhale a shaky breath and let out a long sigh but then the thought occurs to me that even knowing what he knows now, Daddy wouldn’t change a thing. Squaring my shoulders, I decide that from here on in I’m going to start living my life with no regrets. With that thought in mind I kick off my toe-pinching shoes and head to the dance floor to start whooping it up.
Dancing in a bridesmaid’s dress isn’t an easy task but I manage. As the night wears on the older crowd heads home, except for Miss Irma, who has amazing stamina for a woman her age. Deciding it’s time for a cold-beer break, I head for a tub and fish my hand into the melting ice. A moment later Jamie Lee joins me.
“Ohmigod, Jamie Lee, look!” I point to Miss Irma, who is busting a move with Brandon, who is being good-natured about the whole thing, bless his heart.
“The crowd’s thinning out,” I observe. “Just the diehards remain.”
“Yeah, even Mama and Daddy called it a night.”
I take a sip from my longneck and then grin. “Oh, I don’t think they’re calling it a night . . .”
“Ew!” Jamie Lee says in mock horror. “My parents do not have sex.”
I raise my eyebrows.
“Okay, they did, but only twice. Right now they’re in there snorin’.”
“I think it’s cute that they’re still so in love.”
Jamie Lee’s expression softens. “Yeah, if Griff and I can be as happy as the two of them, I’ll be blessed.” She swallows hard and I give her a little shove.
“Do not make me cry again! My tear ducts are plumb wore out.”
Jamie Lee laughs. “Hey,” she says a little too casually, “have you seen Luke lately?”
I shrug.
“You gonna make your move, Macy?”
“No!”
She waggles her eyebrows. “I’ll get Wet Willie to play a slow song.”
“Don’t you dare!” I protest, but of course it’s pointless. I stand there for a minute but then think about my daddy who only had Mama for a short while. If Luke is the one for me, why wait another day? Maybe it’s high time that I really do make my move.
4
What Was I Thinkin’?
With a lift of my chin I decide to locate Luke and ask him to dance. Fueled by more alcohol than I usually consume, I thump my bottle down and decide that it’s about time to take matters into my own two hands. Trying not to be too obvious, I glance around but I don’t spot Luke anywhere. I’m thinking I’ll go in search of him, pretending to head to the bathroom, which isn’t such a bad idea anyway. My heart starts to pound at the prospect of finally doing what I’ve wanted to do for a long time but when Jamie Lee has Wet Willie play “Stairway to Heaven,” I start to lose my nerve. With a defeated moan I pick up my beer bottle, and I see Miss Irma snag Brandon again. Now, if she has the nerve to ask a guy a good fifty years her junior, then surely I can ask Luke, right?
Right! I thump my bottle down again and as if on cue I see Luke walking my way. My heart starts beating faster when I see that he’s approaching me. I smile, letting him know that I was thinking the same thing and search my beer-soaked brain for something pithy to say when he asks me to dance to one of the most notorious make-out songs of junior high dances . . .
But my thumping heart sinks to my toes when I realize that Luke isn’t coming toward me, because he pauses to speak to Mindy Morgan. I swallow a groan. Mindy Morgan. Tall, blond, and of course skinny, she’s everything I’m not . . . Oh and did I mention she’s the type of arm candy that Luke has always dated?
“What was I thinkin?” I mutter darkly, and take a long slug of beer that suddenly no longer appeals to me. If Jamie Lee were over here instead of dancing she’d tell me to get a grip and to think this situation through. But Jamie Lee’s wrapped in Griff’s arms . . . As a matter of fact, it seems like everyone except for me has a dance partner, including Miss Irma!
I start thinking how to remedy this intolerable situation and then it hits me. I’ll cut in. Yeah! The doggone song lasts like ten minutes. I’ll just wait here for a reasonable length of time, like a few seconds, and then politely tap skinny Mindy on her bony bare shoulder. There now, I feel pretty good about taking control of my destiny. I’ll just wait a few more polite seconds before making my move. My hands are trembling a little but I can do this! After taking a deep breath I take a step toward the raised floor but just as I’m ready to step up, skinny Mindy presses her cheek to Luke’s cheek, because of course, unlike me, she’s tall enough to do so, and now that my feet are bare I’m even more vertically challenged.
So what, I tell myself. I consider putting on my shoes but my toes curl at the mere thought. Gritting my teeth I remain on task and take another step up until I’m actually on the dance floor. But then I see Mindy say something in Luke’s ear, probably something flirty and sexy because he tips his head back and laughs. All-righty then . . . my bubble is burst, my nerve is gone, and to make matters even worse I see Luke look my way. God, how pathetic I must appear hovering at the edge of the dance floor, all short and sweaty.
Well . . . hell.
I decide to head to the bathroom inste
ad of standing here looking like I belong in Loserville. But on the way I pick up my purse, scoop up my painful shoes, and head to the makeshift parking lot, hoping to catch a ride home. I know that Jamie Lee will be disappointed that I left but I’ll call her and make up an excuse that I suddenly felt sick to my stomach, which unfortunately isn’t far from the truth.
As luck would have it, Fred Farmer is leaving and offers to give me a ride home. Fred’s name would have been funnier if he truly was a farmer but he owns the hardware store in Hootertown that’s unfortunately being financially threatened by the big chains. I rent the apartment above his store from him but as soon as my lease is up I plan on moving to Jamie Lee’s flat above the Cut & Curl, making my commute to work a mere walk down a flight of stairs. I haven’t told Fred yet and since he’s kind enough to give me a lift, I decide that now is not a good time to bring it up. He’s such a nice man and always reminded me a lot of Fred Rogers. He even wears Mr. Rogers-style sweaters, moves and talks real slow, except, of course, with a Southern twang.
“You okay?” Mr. Farmer asks as we drive down the road in his big diesel truck. I know . . . it’s a far cry from my earlier limo ride, when the evening held so much promise.
“Tired is all,” I lie. “Mind if I open a window?” Suddenly I’m feeling a bit queasy. God, do not let me toss my cookies in Fred’s truck!
“Go ahead,” he says, but shoots me a worried glance. “You sure you’re okay?”
“Yes, just worn out,” I assure him, but then mutter a mental prayer and make a few deals with God if he will help me refrain from barfing. I will never again drink another beer as long as I live. No really, never. “And my feet hurt,” I feel the need to add.
Fred glances at the shoes in my lap and nods but I must look a bit peaked because he steps on the gas, throwing me back against the seat. “I’ll get ya home in a jiffy.”
I’m a little afraid to open my mouth, so I merely nod. The twists and turns of the country are a challenge to my stomach but the wind whipping in my face helps. I take big gulps of hay-scented air and in record time Fred pulls up in front of Farmer Hardware.
“Thanks, Mr. Farmer.” As I reach for the door handle I give him a smile since I’m actually feeling a teensy bit better. He looks so relieved that I almost laugh but I suddenly don’t have the energy.
“No problem, Macy-girl. You take care, now. You want me to walk you up?”
“No, I’m fine.”
“Okay, then.” He gives me a kindhearted Mr. Rogers smile as I shut the door.
I walk up the side entrance stairs in a sad, defeated, and not quite steady way. It’s not a surprise that I’ve forgotten to put my keys in my tiny purse but there’s one beneath the pot of purple petunias that look about as wilted as I feel. After tossing my purse onto the tiny kitchen table I pour a glass of water and go back onto the landing to water the droopy flowers, wishing it were as easy to perk myself back up.
After slipping out of my bridesmaid’s dress I carefully hang it on a special cushy hanger and smooth out the wrinkles. Even though I’m in a funky mood I have to smile. “Jamie Lee is married,” I whisper. I shake my head in wonder because in some ways it’s hard to believe since she almost messed things up with Griff, but I guess sometimes things have a way of working out even though it did take a bit of meddling on the part of her mama and me.
After slipping a Payton Panthers football shirt over my head I sit down on my bed, thinking that I really should call Jamie Lee and let her know what happened . . . well, not the Luke part, but that I wasn’t feeling well and all that hogwash. With a groan I get up from the bed and head to the kitchen and locate my phone in my purse, but before I hit speed dial Jamie Lee is already calling me. I can’t count the number of times that’s happened. Knowing that I’m going to catch some hell for leaving without seeing her off on her honeymoon I flip my phone open because I really do deserve to be bitched at a little anyway.
“Hello?” I say, careful to sound under the weather. I decide to add a cough for added drama.
“Just what do you think you’re doin’ leavin’ my wedding reception without saying good-bye?”
“I was feeling icky, Jamie Lee,” I protest in a sickly tone.
“You seemed fine earlier,” she says skeptically. It’s very hard to pull one over on her.
“I drank a bit too much,” I explain in a whisper as though someone might overhear, even though I’m the only tenant Mr. Farmer has other than field mice that like to slip in uninvited.
Jamie Lee pauses as if she might challenge my excuse but then says, “Well, I hope you don’t feel too hungover tomorrow. Hydrate and take an Advil or two,” she advises in a mature I’m-married-now tone. I’m about to get a little snippy with her but then she says, “I really wanted to give you a hug good-bye.”
“Don’t go gettin’ her upset,” Griff says in the background.
“My God, Jamie Lee, you two already sound like a married couple,” I tell her, and chuckle weakly. “I’m sorry that I left. I truly wasn’t feeling well.”
She pauses again and I just bet Griff is giving her the message not to go where she wants to go, mainly talking about Luke. “We’ll discuss this later,” she finally says. “By the way, you were a beautiful maid of honor.” Of course her voice cracks.
“Don’t you dare call me on your honeymoon, Jamie Lee! Give Griff your undivided attention, you hear me?” Of course she can since I’ve raised my voice to nearly shouting.
“Good advice!” Griff says loud enough so that I can hear.
“Go see to your man,” I tell her.
“Macy . . .”
“I’m fine!”
“Okay, but just one thing. Mindy Morgan has been after Luke forever. I’m sure that she asked him to dance and not the other way around.”
I should have known that she had the whole thing figured out. I want to tell her to give it up but I play along. “Yeah, I shoulda shoved her skinny butt right out of the way.”
“There’s the attitude!”
“I would have too if I hadn’t been feeling so crappy.”
“Damned straight,” Jamie Lee says, even though we both know that I’m telling a big fat lie.
“You know—if I hadn’t been feeling crappy,” I reiterate. Telling her about my actual aborted cut-in of Luke’s dance would upset her on one of the most important days of her life so I decide to go for some humor. “Well, y’all make sure you get to sleep early since you have an early flight out. Jamie Lee, maybe you should take a sleeping pill, you know, to make sure you go out like a light.”
Jamie Lee laughs. “Yeah, I think I’ll do that.” She goes quiet for a second and then says, “You know I love ya, Macy McCoy.”
“I know,” I answer gruffly. “Just don’t go sending me a postcard sayin’ that you wish I were there, you hear me?” Griff hears me too and they both laugh before she hangs up. I have to smile thinking how happy they sound. I think that Daisy might get a grandbaby sooner than she thinks. With a sigh I head into the bathroom to wash up for bed but after slipping beneath the covers, I know I’ll just toss and turn while reliving the day’s events. My thoughts turn to Luke and I cringe when I recall that he actually saw me hovering at the edge of the dance floor. I’m so deep in my ponderings that when my cell phone rings it startles me and I yelp. Reaching over to the nightstand I grab my phone.
Holy crap . . . it’s Luke.
I contemplate not answering but it dawns on me that he’s probably worried, so I pick up. “Hey there,” I say a little too perkily since I’m supposed to be feeling sick.
“Macy?” Luke says. “Where are you?”
“Home.” I feel a twinge of guilt at the concern I hear in his voice. “I wasn’t feeling well.”
“Oh, you shoulda said somethin’. Mama has a whole cabinet full of medicine for about every ailment known to man.”
“It was just an upset stomach.” From seeing you dancing with Mindy Morgan. “No biggie.”
“How’d
you get home?”
“Mr. Rogers . . . I mean Farmer,” I admit, wishing I could say some hot guy instead.
“Oh, good, because there weren’t many guys who were still okay to drive. I had a slew of ’em bunk down in the barn.”
“I would never get in a car with someone who was drunk,” I assure him, forgetting all about my sickly tone.
“I wouldn’t think that you would.”
“You just did.” Oh why am I being so mean? He’s just worried. I know why! I don’t want his big brotherly concern. But still, I have no reason to be rude. “I’m sorry, Luke. I should have let you know I was leaving but when Mr. Farmer offered a ride, I took it. I think the strongest thing he had to drink was a cup of coffee.”
“I was just worried. When I noticed you were gone I went inside the house looking for you, and when you weren’t in Jamie Lee’s bed I”—he pauses and clears his throat—“realized that . . .”
My heart starts pounding a little harder and I lean back against the headboard for support. When he fails to finish his thought I can’t help myself and prompt, “You realized what?” My beer buzz fizzles and I suddenly go on all-systems alert. I hear Luke take a deep breath and blow it out and it suddenly hits me that he too has been drinking and that I shouldn’t put too much stock in whatever he’s about to tell me. Still, I want to know. “Luke?”
“I realized how much I . . .”
I grip the phone tighter but refrain from prompting him again. I can picture him running his fingers through his dark hair like he always does when he’s tired or upset.
“I realized how much I care about you,” he unexpectedly blurts out. My heart skips a beat but then I remind myself again that he has been partying all night.
“Thank you,” I say in a silly breathless voice while wondering where he’s going with this. When he fails to elaborate I decide I should try to get to the bottom of what he’s really trying to say to me . . . if anything. “I care about you too.”
“And you looked very . . . pretty. I don’t know if I ever said that to you . . . tonight, I mean.” Even though his words are a bit slurred, his voice is low and sexy.