“… real sweet.”
“Isn’t that fine!”
“Just like a movie…”
Frank appeared to the right and she waved, delighted to see him in full costume. His brown eyes were bright with laughter.
Brooks introduced Caroline quickly to Jennie. The old woman looked her up and down. “Yup, I see how it is, son. I see how it is. There’s no blamin’ you.”
Caroline shot him a glance and her shrugged, his face a little pinker. She spoke up, worried about the ruining the dance. “Ma’am, I haven’t had any practice. Maybe we should pair Brooks with another girl.”
“No, you’ll do. It’s not hard to learn. You just follow your man, hear?” She clapped her hands and moved to the front. “We’re a-goin’ to dance a little ditty called ‘A Sure Thing’. Everybody try a few allemandes and a few turns.” She winked at Brooks and walked to the front. The guests faced each other, moving in unison, laughter peppering the air.
“Brooks, I really don’t think I can-”
“Here.” He took her hand and moved her to the side. A short, dark man in a T-shirt that read ‘Swingers Do It Better’ nodded hello and grabbed her hand, swinging her back to face Brooks. “See, there’s one move down.”
She started to laugh. “But I can’t just let you do all the work, passing me back and forth.”
“You could.” He smiled, his dimples deepening.
The couples started to line up and Jennie called partners to the right. The fiddler started, slow and sweet. Then the others jumped in after a few bars. The dancers were bobbing their heads and smiling across the line to the folks on the other side. Debbie Mae waved and grinned from her place two dancers down.
“Men allemande half to the left,” Jennie called to the beat, counting steps in between. “Left one half and half a hey. Ladies chain and circle right. Do-si-do and make it right, back to your man and face each other.”
Caroline was giggling by now, stumbling over her own feet, desperately trying to keep track of Brooks. Other dances moved in and out of her view, hands grabbed hers and swung her around.
Brooks was back in front, his eyes bright. “Good to see you again,” he said over the music.
And then he was gone, turning left and a woman appeared. She had a beautiful pin of a dragonfly pinned to her shirt and she lifted a wrinkled hand to Caroline. All she could do was mirror the woman’s movement and she watched in fascination as they turned smoothly together, almost as if they were both participants, instead of Caroline bumbling through the moves.
Brooks came back again, and all the men bowed to their partners. Jennie called out “Gypsy turn” and she saw his mouth go tight. It wasn’t such a hard move after all, though. He held up his hands and she put her palms to his. They did a full turn on the spot and she craned her neck to see what the other guests were doing.
“Look here, at me.” His voice was soft, as if he wasn’t sure whether to instruct her or not.
Jennie called out another gypsy turn and then went the other direction. She locked eyes with him, feeling the heat of his hands against hers. For just a moment, she felt the room shift and the guests faded away. It was only the two of them, and the music. But it wasn’t Brooks and Caroline any longer but some other couple, from long ago and in another place. A couple that couldn’t drag themselves away from the music and movement and heat of the dancing.
Then he was gone and the short African American man was back. He gently guided her right hand to his, turning her toward his partner. The woman smiled broadly at Caroline and called out, “You’re doin’ a real fine job!”
Back they went, ladies chain and circle right. Brooks appeared and her gaze sought his without being told. She didn’t want to look at her feet. She wanted to look into his eyes, to know the man beside her in a way only a dancer can know another.
Jennie called out, “Court’sy turn!” Brooks took her left hand in his and put his right arm around her waist.
“Give me your other hand,” he said.
She reached for his right and they stood shoulder to shoulder, moving in a complete circle. He let her go and she went blindly to the next movement, the next dancer. Her heart was in her throat. Jane Austen really was a genius. A pretty turn, some handsome men, and she didn’t even know where she was anymore.
The song ended with a long formation of hand-offs, until finally they were face to face one more. The last notes sounded in the barn and Brooks bowed, his expression inscrutable.
“That was amazing!” Debbie Mae grabbed her arm, excitement in every line of her face. “Isn’t this fun? Aren’t you having a great time?”
Caroline nodded, feeling as if she was coming back to herself after a long time on a good book. “I’m a little… thirsty.” It wasn’t what she was but maybe a cold drink would help shake the fog from her brain. It was a good fog, but she felt off-kilter.
“I’ll get you something.” Brooks strode off toward the punch table.
“Having fun?” Manning stood behind Debbie Mae, glancing over her outfit. “You look real nice.”
“Thank you. And you’re the second person in two minutes to ask me if I’m having fun. Of course I am! You should be worrying about Brooks.”
Manning nodded, his lips quirking up. “I do worry about Brooks, believe me.” He turned to his wife and winked. “I’ll be right back.”
He walked away and Caroline let out a sound of exasperation. “Those two are downright difficult to figure out.”
Debbie Mae took her arm and walked her toward the food table. “Ignore him. He’s mad there are no hush puppies. You’ve got to try the flummery. It’s perfect!”
She tried not to grimace at the sight of the quivering towers of multicolored jelly. She bent down and peered at one. “Is that… a boiled egg in there?”
“Sure is! They suspended all sorts of things in the middle. There’s sweet flummery and salty flummery and if you’re really lucky you might get one that has olives and plums together. I’ve heard it’s really tasty.”
Caroline had a vision of the pickle and raisin casserole and fought back a laugh.
“There you are,” a low voice said on her left. She looked up to see Frank smiling down at her. He was perfectly dressed in Regency attire, although his tie was a bit crooked.
“I’ve been trying to call you,” she said, offering her hand the way a Regency lady might.
He bent low over it, eyes locked on hers. His lips touched her skin and she waited for some kind of emotion to zap through her system. But nothing came, just the warm press of his lips on the back of her hand.
“Frank.” The tone in Brooks’ voice was enough to make Caroline snatch back her hand.
He stood behind them, holding a cup of punch. His face was tightly controlled anger. “How is Lauren?”
Frank glanced at Caroline and rolled his eyes, laughing. “Fine, I guess. She’s around here somewhere.”
“You guess? I figure you’d know better than that.”
Caroline glared at him, willing him to stop with the hints. He was mistaken about the kissing in the car, she was sure of it.
Frank didn’t respond for a moment. He smile faded and he seemed to take stock of Brooks. “I saw her on the way in. She looked spectacular.”
“You mean, you met her around the back before the dance.” Brooks stepped forward, putting the cups of punch on the table. “See, Frank, I walked my bike around the corner so it would be out of the way. I saw you two back there.”
Caroline looked from one to the other, bile rising in her throat. Why would Frank pretend not to know Lauren? Why try so hard to be unimpressed with her beauty, her talent?
He shrugged. “So, we had a little momentary diversion. It’s the summer air. The costumes. No one can resist a man in breaches, you know. I’m sure-”
Frank broke off abruptly as Brooks stepped forward, hands clenched. He looked for all the world like he was going to take a swing. Caroline put a hand on his arm, alarm coursing through her.
“Get away from her. I don’t want to see you talking to her again. Don’t call her. Don’t invite her to lunch. Don’t touch her. Ever. Again.” His voice was deep and calm. He was more angry than she had ever heard him.
“Okay, back off, buddy. I’m going.” Frank turned on his heel and walked away.
Caroline could feel the tension pulsing through Brooks’ arm. “Hey,” she whispered.
He turned and seemed to see her for the first time. “Sorry about that. You know I can’t stand a liar.”
She nodded. It was something that really set him off. But this was more than losing respect for a man who fudged the truth. This was about Lauren. He had warned Frank away from Lauren in a way that was completely proprietary, like a man would who found a creep touching the woman he loved.
The music started up behind them and Brooks tried to smile. “Ready for another round?”
She shook her head. “It’s just a bit warm in there. I think I’ll sit down for a moment. You go ahead.”
He glanced at her, then dropped his eyes. “I’m sorry you had to hear that.”
“I’m surprised. I suppose I should have known, but I’m not always the most observant.” She felt her stomach tighten into a knot and she lowered herself into a chair. She saw how he acted that day she’d mentioned Lauren, the day he’d said he was staying for the summer. It was obvious. To anyone but her.
“Brooks, you can’t hide over here.” Manning jogged over. “There are way too many women here for you to stand in the corner.”
He opened his mouth to say something, and seemed to think better of it. Seconds later he was moving across the dance floor, taking up a position directly across from Lauren.
She swallowed back the ache in her throat. He’d been trying to tell her for so long and she hadn’t wanted to know. She never wanted anything to change, but the world didn’t work that way. Everything changed. Even the deepest of friendships.
“It is not every man's fate to marry the woman who loves him best.” – Mr. Knightley
Chapter Twenty
Brooks watched Frank hover by the exit until the dance was over. Lauren had smiled politely through their turn as partners but as soon as the last notes sounded, she made her way to the same doorway, slipping out into the night. Frank followed, glancing behind him.
He was glad he hadn’t actually punched the guy. Nothing worse than a good party devolving into an all-out brawl. He tried to force down the fury but every time he saw Frank bending over Caroline’s hand, and putting his mouth to her skin, he wanted to hit the man. He should have told her alone, should have broken the news some other way than announcing in mid-conversation. But what he’d seen behind the barn was not a momentary indiscretion. It was two seasoned lovers taking their chance at reacquainting themselves with the pleasures they had already sampled. Hands had roamed places hands didn’t roam on a first date.
He glanced at Caroline’s face and his chest went tight. She looked crushed. Frank had promised many things, spoken and unspoken. He guessed that the job offer was really the least of her attraction to Frank. The guy was handsome, smooth, and a lot more fun than a journalism professor.
The dance went on for what seemed an eternity. He tried his best to keep her attention, but she didn’t seem to be able to focus. Their eyes would meet, she would look pained then glance away. He cursed Frank and his slime-bag, cheating ways.
“I feel weird.” Caroline blinked a few times. “Do you feel weird?”
Brooks shrugged. “How weird? We’re all dressed like people in a Jane Austen book. I think weird comes with the territory.”
“My head feels woozy. Maybe it’s the heat.” She stood up and fell against him. “Ugh. Sorry. I wonder if I ate something bad.”
“What did you have?” he asked. He looked at the table of wobbling structures and hoped she didn’t have food poisoning.
Debbie Mae came up and her eyes opened wide. “Have you been drinking?”
“Me? Not a drop!” Caroline protested but her words were slurring together.
Brooks sucked in a breath. “Oh, boy. I think I know what happened.” He searched the barn until he found Blanche.
He jogged over and said, “Someone’s been messing with the punch again.”
She laughed. “A little. I don’t see how you can have a party with virgin punch.”
He groaned. “Grandma, we’ve got people driving. You can’t just dump a liter of rum into the punch bowls.”
“It was only one bowl. The other one is fine. Nobody’s complaining.” She waved a hand. “See? Everybody’s having a great time.”
Not bothering to respond, he went to find Jennie Purdy. He explained as best he could and she nodded. Grabbing the microphone, she called out for quiet. “We have a little bit of news. Looks like there was a misunderstandin’ at the punch table. Looks as if one bowl has got some liquor in it. We don’t want any of y’all to be in danger driving back to town. If you had the rum, we ask that you find a ride home.” The sound of murmurs and laughter filled the hall. “If you’re in doubt, you come on up here and I’ll smell ya. I can usually smell it real clear when a person’s been drinkin’.” With that she turned off the microphone and stood at the ready, waiting to offer her services to the guests.
Brooks went back to Caroline and held out a hand. “Keys, please.”
“No argument from me.” She plopped them in his hand. “But this doesn’t mean I’m riding home on the back of that old bike.”
He grinned. “No, I’m not that mean. I’ll drive you back.”
He hated the thought of leaving the Triumph leaning up against the barn, but Debbie Mae and Manning were already smelling each other’s breath. “Come on you guys, let’s head home. We’ll come back and get the cars in the morning.”
***
Brooks dropped Debbie Mae and Manning at Badewood. “I’ll take Caroline home and walk back from there.” She didn’t offer an opinion, still feeling like her head was full of fuzz. It made perfect sense to her. But then, probably any kind of plan would make sense right then.
“Why don’t you go out the back?” she asked, when they pulled up. He agreed, probably more to make sure she was actually going to be able to make the stairs to the front porch.
She felt clearer as she stepped into the night air. No problem getting the keys in the lock but she tried to be quiet anyway, just in case her mother was awake. The living room was dark except for the small stained-glass lamp glowing in the far corner. Caroline dropped her handbag on the low table. She’d never been so glad to be home and all she wanted to do was sprawl out on the couch.
“I think that was the longest party on record.” Fun, but all that dancing was better than an early-morning run.
Brooks closed the door softly, following her across the room, toward the kitchen back door. “It only felt that way. Heartbreak will do that to you.”
“Heartbreak?” Caroline stopped where she was, midway to throwing herself onto the cushions and shot him a look.
“Did you want some water? It’ll help with the hangover tomorrow.”
“Wait a minute. What heartbreak?” Caroline stepped into his way and put out a hand.
“Forget I said anything about it.” He rubbed a hand over his face.
“I can’t. You just implied I’d had my heart broken and as far as I can tell” she patted her chest like she’d lost something, “everything is still intact.”
“Well, I’m glad. I just assumed that you’d be feeling a tiny bit of pain and betrayal since you and Frank were so chummy this summer.”
Caroline felt her jaw drop. “Chummy?”
“Just an impression; don’t ask me to define the term exactly. I don’t always know what’s going on with you, anyway.”
“I said we were friends. I told you we might be working together.”
“That’s all? Really?” His eyes were narrowed. “It sure didn’t look that way when you were driving to Spartainville for lunch.”
Caroline rolled her eyes. “For heaven’s sake. I don’t understand why you’re being so jealous.” It was about Lauren, of course, but she couldn’t bring herself to say it.
“Right. And I still don’t understand how it happened Frank managed to weasel his way into everyone’s good graces when he didn’t have anything other than a handsome face and some flashy clothes.” He stepped closer, features half- revealed in the dim light. “But I can tell you one thing. If Frank hadn’t suddenly decided there was a better place to be tonight, he and I were headed to no good end. He was all over you.”
“All over me?” Caroline put her fists on her hips and tried to make sense of the conversation. “Did you get into the punch, too?”
“I’ve never been more sober.” He stepped closer still. The air seemed to vibrate with tension. Maybe he wasn’t angry about Lauren after all. The implications of that thought sent the world tilting under her feet. She swallowed hard.
“He’s a player, you were right. The first day we met him, you said he was a snake oil salesman. It was all true. Are you happy?”
“No.” He was near enough that she could feel a buffer of heat between them. His next words were so soft she strained to hear. “I’m not happy and I don’t know what to do about it.”
She shook her head, his words bumping up against her heart like ripples in a pond. “But why?”
He didn’t answer. The next moment he’d reached out, slipping his hand behind her head and placing the very softest kiss on her lips. There was an infinite pulse of time where neither of them moved. He leaned back and she met his eyes, stunned.
“Finley.” His voice was rough. “Now is when you tell me to get on home.”
Of course she should. It was late. They were tired. Rum punch had addled her brain. Something strange and incomprehensible was happening. The very best thing would be to put a firm hand to his chest and get some space.
Instead she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him as if she were drowning, as if he were her lifeline in a stormy sea. He let out a sound that was part groan, part sigh. His tongue touched hers for a fraction of a second and her knees went weak.
2 Emma, Mr. Knightley, and Chili-Slaw Dogs Page 19