by Linda Apple
With the I am woman hear me roar thoughts, I almost missed the Oxford exit. I jerked the car onto the lane and skidded to the shoulder.
For pity sakes, MK. Get a grip.
The nearer I got to the meeting place, the faster my heart beat. When I reached the square, the lovely gardens with orange, red, and yellow mums distracted me from the returning niggle of worry. Just the thing I needed to calm down. I circled around the square and spied a car backing out of a parking spot in front of Bouré.
A good sign? I pulled in and checked my makeup before getting out. In my mind I heard Lexi say, “Go get him, girl.” And that is exactly what I intended to do.
I strode through the door and glanced around the room. A gentle-looking man with a thin wisp of hair across his head looked up.
Colin.
I waved and walked to him. He looked as relieved as I felt. His countenance reminded me of my husband’s expression when he arrived home from a long business trip.
He stood. “Hello, Mary.”
“Hi, Colin.” He reached for my hand. The moment we touched I felt as if I was the one who had come home.
We sat across from each other at the table. “I can’t believe we are finally meeting.”
“Me either. You are more beautiful than I thought.”
Okay, he’s a keeper. He recognized a goddess when he saw one. I smiled and admired his face. His picture hadn’t done him justice. But it was his voice that made my knees weak. It reminded me of warm honey, deep, sweet, and gentle.
“How was your trip from Tupelo?”
“Good.” Panic slammed me. I just knew I’d get caught in a lie. I had to tell him the truth—and soon, but I couldn’t muster the courage. “How about yours?”
“Same here.” He studied my face. “I know this sounds funny, but I feel like I know you.”
“Yeah, I’m getting the same feeling.”
Colin looked at his hands. “I have a confession to make.”
My excitement plunged. Okay, here it comes. He’s married. I’m sure of it. This was too good to be true.
“My name isn’t Colin. I gave a fake name.”
I understood. I had done the same thing. Perhaps I should confess too. Instead I asked. “Okay, what is your name then?”
“Stan Montgomery.”
“Oh. My. Lord.”
Chapter 13
AVALEE
The Secret
What day is this?
Since leaving New York, I had asked myself that question every single morning. My days flowed from one into another and much to my surprise I liked it. Tyrannical urgency had given way to slow and steady. Things got done without self-imposed panic. My book was nearly finished, the business plan was coming along nicely, and Preston Gardens finally had a fresh, new focus. Dad would have been so proud. A pang of sadness washed over me. I missed him.
Mom called upstairs, “Avalee? The coffee is on. I’m getting ready for church.”
“Thanks, Mom.” I supposed I should go with her, but this morning I really wanted to stay home and have coffee with Jesus on the front porch. “I’ll be down in a minute.” Kicking the chenille bedspread off, I stood, stretched, and then peeked out the window to check the weather.
Molly Kate’s car wasn’t in the driveway?
Ugh, Molly Kate? Please don’t tell me you spent the night with a total stranger. But, on the other hand, what if she hadn’t? Oh Lord, what if he had hurt her? Or worse? I could just kill her for doing this. That is, if she wasn’t already dead.
I grabbed my cell and stabbed in her number.
“Hello?” Her voice sounded husky with sleep.
“Molly Kate! Where in heaven’s name are you?”
“What?” She yawned in my ear. “Wait a minute.” The rustle of sheets, the soft padding of slippers, and the door clicking confirmed my suspicions.
“You slept with him, didn’t you?”
“Calm down Avalee. And quit acting like my mother. I’m fifty-six, for heaven’s sake. And no. I didn’t sleep with him.”
“Where are you then?”
“I’m at his house, but in my own room.”
“Uh huh, then why did I hear you get out of bed and walk out?”
“You’d never make a private investigator.”
A toilet flushed. “Oh.”
“Sorry, but you deserved that. Anyway, we had a few drinks, and he didn’t want me to drive. I’ll be home this afternoon.”
The swarm of stinging bees eased in my chest. “Well, what happened? What’s he like?”
“I’ll tell all you gals when we get together tomorrow night for Martini Monday. That way I don’t have to keep repeating it. And you won’t believe in a million years what I have to tell you.”
A soft smack sounded over the phone. Molly Kate’s voice went up an octave. “Oh, you’re up.” Another smack.
For crying out loud. The last thing I wanted to hear was them making out.
Then she said, “Hey, I’ve got to go now. I’ll see you later.”
“But—” She hung up. She actually hung up on me. Right in my ear. Well, of all the nerve. And what was I not going to believe? Arrrrgh, darn you, Molly Kate.
Momma stepped in my room. “You going to church?”
“No, ma’am. Not this morning. I will next week, okay? I think I’ll meet with Jesus on the porch swing.”
“I’ve had many a discussion with him on the porch.” She furrowed her brow. “Honey, are you feeling all right?”
“Yes, ma’am. Why? “
“You look a little flushed.”
Small wonder seeing how Molly Kate nearly scared the life out of me. “I’m fine. You go on. Is there anything you want me to start for lunch?”
“No. I’ve got lemon chicken cooking in the crockpot. I cooked the vegetables yesterday. All I need to do is heat them up when I get home and fry the potatoes and onions.”
I followed her down the stairs to the kitchen. “Would you like me to drive you to church?”
“No, it’s too pretty a day. I think I’ll walk.”
“Okay. Say a prayer for me.”
“I will, but while you are having your visit on the porch, put in a good word for me, too.”
“As if I need to. You are one of God’s favorites.”
“Honey, he loves us all the same.” She slung her purse on her arm, kissed my cheek, and left.
I sipped my coffee and watched through the window as Momma sauntered down the sidewalk. No telling who she’d invite to lunch. Perhaps it was better for me to stay home so I could start heating the food before she returned. After I refilled my cup, I headed to the porch. It wouldn’t do to keep Jesus waiting.
I loved my peaceful time of solitude with God. It always gave me clarity. The cool, crisp fall morning made my senses sing as I watched a lone hummingbird dart back and forth sipping from the feeder. Preparing for the long flight to his winter home no doubt. I sure would miss those little guys.
An hour passed, and my stomach began to grumble. The ol’ tummy was getting a little too used to the new ways of eating and had grown quite demanding. I decided to tame it with just one piece of toast and make it wait until lunch. I stood to go back into the house, but stopped when I saw Ty pulling in our driveway. He waved and jumped out. I noticed again how his grin pushed in deep dimples. Marc didn’t have dimples. Or at least I didn’t remember them. I held the door open.
“Come on in. What brings you out so early?”
“I thought you might like to join me for a bike ride along the lake. This is a beautiful day for an outing.”
“Sounds fun. But I’m having some toast first. Want some?”
“Toast? At Miss Cladie’s? What is this world coming to?”
Just then I remembered one of his favorite childhood treats. “Okay then, how about toasted pound cake?
“Say, now you’re talking.”
“Pour yourself some coffee. It’ll be ready in a jiffy.”
I sliced the cake i
n generous pieces, slathered them with butter and slid them in the toaster oven. Soon the rich aroma of butter and vanilla filled the room. When the slices were brown and crunchy, I pulled them out and put them on plates, two for Ty, one for me. I could easily have eaten all three.
“Here you are.”
He leaned his head over the plate and took a long sniff. “Man that smells good. It’s been awhile since I’ve had this.”
Images of him eating toasted pound cake as a nine-year-old boy flashed in my mind. My attraction to him seemed wrong on so many levels. But have mercy, he was one fine-looking man now.
I cut off the corner of my piece with the edge of my fork. “Been a while for me, too. Scott wouldn’t let me eat anything like this.”
“Your gay roommate?”
“Yeah. I sure miss him.” I popped the bite of cake in my mouth. The toasty sweetness bathed in butter transported me to a happy place. Ty must have been in his happy place, too, because he never looked up from his plate until he finished.
“Man, that was good.” He caught my gaze with his impossibly sexy eyes. “Now how about that bike ride?”
“I’m going to need it after this breakfast.”
“Then get your helmet and let’s go. Where’s your bike?”
“Hanging on the rack in the garage.”
“I’ll get it.” He looked at my jeans. “You better change. Bike chains eat up pants like those.”
“Okay. Be back in a sec.” I jogged upstairs and put on a pair of capris. I found my helmet and skipped downstairs to join Ty. Skipping downstairs? At my age? What was it about Ty that made me act like a starry-eyed sixteen-year-old? Other than the fact he was drop-dead gorgeous and twelve years younger than me.
I really needed to walk this dog back to reality and resolved to do just that. But when I stepped outside and he beamed his smile at me, my resolved melted like sugar in hot tea.
We pedaled down Washington Avenue and turned left on Main Street. On Sundays, downtown Moonlight was like a ghost town. It still seemed strange to me. New York City didn’t close for anything. However, as people moved to Moonlight and started businesses, it wouldn’t be long until our little town would be open every day of the week. That thought made me a little sad.
When we reached Magnolia Drive, we turned right and pedaled up the incline to the park entrance. My legs burned from the strain against the hill. I hadn’t seen the inside of a gym for nearly two months, and I felt it. Darn it all. It took months to get in shape and weeks to lose it. Mental note to self, find a gym.
The minute we passed through the stone and timber gate, I had a moment of panic and silently begged that he not go to Marc’s and my secret place. To my relief, he turned onto the bike trail and rode past the large willow. Shafts of morning light glinted between the forest’s leafy canopy, sending golden coins on our path. The humidity had finally lost its grip, and we enjoyed a balmy seventy degrees. The breeze delivered a potpourri of fragrances: pungent pine, spicy wildflowers, and musty dried leaves. If this bouquet was a cologne, it would be called autumn.
Sumac bushes had turned bright red. Patches of purple coneflowers, lilac bellflowers, pink asters, and brown-eyed Susans waved on either side of the trail. Scott always said, “It’s great to be alive,” no matter the circumstance, good or bad. Today, I wanted to shout his mantra. It was indeed great to be alive.
Ty pulled up to a tree beside a swinging bridge, and I stopped beside him, thankful for the break. My legs were on fire. He hung his helmet on the handlebars. “Isn’t this fantastic?” He pointed to the water thirty feet below. “That’s Moon Creek.” Then he jogged about a third of the way across, turned, and signaled for me to do the same.
Throwing my hands up I shouted, “There is absolutely no way. I hate heights. I wouldn’t even look out my apartment window when I lived in Manhattan.”
“Oh, don’t be such a baby.” He jogged back, swooped me up, and broke into a gallop back to the middle.
I screamed and threw my arms around his neck, hanging on for dear life. Just a tiny peek over the edge made my heart do the jitterbug. “Have you lost your mind?” I buried my face in his chest. His muscles were taut and hard. He tightened his hold, and even though I knew my infatuation with him was hopeless, it felt so wonderful. His aftershave made me want to perch my chin on his shoulder and stay there even if we were dangling over Niagara Falls.
When he set me down, I clutched the ropes. “Don’t you dare make this thing move.”
Now, why did I say that?
A glint shown in his eyes, and he started rocking it from side to side. My hands locked into a death-grip. “If I could let go, I’d strangle you.”
He laughed and held out his hand. “Take a hold.”
“I can’t.” My wrists ached from clenching for dear life.
His brows lowered. “You’re serious aren’t you? I’m sorry.” He eased toward me and put his hand on mine. “Here, let me help.” With tenderness he lifted the fingers of my right hand and entwined them with his. With his other arm he circled my waist and pulled me toward him. I released the grasp of my other hand and held on to his waist.
He bent his face close to mine. “Better?”
My practical self said, “resist his lips being so close.” My woman self wanted to stuff a sock in my practical self’s mouth. To be honest, I could have stayed on that swinging bridge all day and night, as long as Ty held me. I managed to mumble, “Yes. Much.”
“You want to sit here and enjoy the scenery for a while before striking out again?”
I nodded.
He started to move his arm from my waist, but stopped. “You okay?”
“I’m fine.” Sorta.
After he helped me to firmly ensconce my rear on the bridge, he shrugged off his backpack. “I brought some water and trail mix. Want some?”
“Water would be great.”
“Here.” He handed me a bottle and a package of the mix. While we snacked I began to relax, even though I was suspended in the air by this rope and board contraption. The crystal water tripped over small rocks and swirled around large boulders on its way to the lake. The ripples reflected the sun creating thousands of dancing jewels on the water’s surface.
“It’s so beautiful here, Ty. I didn’t know anything about this place.”
“I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but this bridge has been here since my grandpa was a boy. When I was a kid, he used to bring me here.”
“Did he bring Marc here?”
Ty watched the water. “I don’t really remember.”
Stupid, stupid, stupid. Of course he doesn’t. When Marc and I started college, Ty was only in first or second grade.
I felt Ty studying me. “Don’t go there, Avalee.”
“Where?” As if I didn’t know.
Without a word he turned to me and took my face in his hands, then lowered his lips on mine. The warmth of his kiss, the gentleness of his touch, silenced all the protests rising in my mind. I leaned into him giving him permission to taste to his heart’s content. I couldn’t help it. For the first time in a long time, I remembered what it felt like to be a woman—a desirable woman. When he pulled back, I caught my breath, embarrassed at my yearning.
He studied me before saying, “There are few things I am sure of, but I am sure of one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“We are supposed to be together.”
“But Ty—”
“Don’t give me that age thing.” He took me in his arms and kissed me again, long and lingering.
As much as I didn’t want to, I pushed back and opened my mouth to protest, but he took advantage and kissed me again, deeper and more intense.
My practical fifty-five-year-old self disappeared and my thirty-something self was reborn.
An hour before dinnertime, Ty and I returned to the house. We put up our bikes, and I hurried to the kitchen to warm up the food. Every time I thought of Ty’s kisses on that beautiful bridge my cheeks f
lushed. Hopefully the heat from the stove would fool my mother’s eagle eye.
Ty eased behind me and started kissing my neck. “Ty, stop. Momma could walk in any second.” I turned and he kissed me square on the mouth. Through silly, little girl giggles, I protested again. “Now, stop that. Want some tea?”
He put on his best little boy pout and said, “I guess so.” He inhaled. “What do I smell? Whatever it is, it’s awesome.”
“Lemon and garlic chicken. Want to stay for lunch?”
“Are you kidding? Sure I do.”
“Then you’ll have to help.” I pulled out bowl after bowl of food from the fridge and handed it to him to put on the counter. Then I handed him the potato peeler and a knife. “You peel and cube potatoes, and I’ll chop onions so Mom can fry them as soon as she gets home.
“Wow, this is a lot of food. Who else is coming for lunch?”
“Well, let’s see. It is Sunday, so Mom will ask everyone she sees on the way home from church. So I’m guessing you need to cube the whole five-pound sack of potatoes.”
“You’re kidding. Seriously?”
I angled my head and lifted the corner of my mouth in a smirk. “The whole thing.”
“Okay. Whatever you say.”
By the time Mom got home, all the veggies were in the warming trays and the potatoes were ready to fry. When she saw this, she clapped her hands together. “Why, bless your hearts. Thank you.” Without bothering to change, she donned her bib-apron and pulled out two thirteen inch skillets, glugged oil in both, added bacon drippings for flavor, and turned the burners on. In no time the mouth-watering aroma of frying onions and potatoes wafted through the house. While she worked she said, “I’m sure glad y’all made up all these potatoes. I invited Felix, Jemma, and Levi to lunch.”
I glanced at Ty. “Where did you see them, Mom?”
“Oh, Felix was by the shed. Jema and Levi were sitting on her porch.” She put her hand on Ty’s arm. “And you are staying for lunch too, you hear?”
Nodding at Ty, I gave him my I told you so look.
He grinned. “Miss Cladie, you couldn’t run me off if you wanted to.”
Momma handed us plates and utensils. “Good. Now y’all go set the table, and I’ll get the food dipped up.”