by LoRee Peery
He managed to keep the hat hidden while he opened the door to follow Moselle outside, then he remained inside the open truck door until she turned, after positioning the coffee in holders.
“What?”
“I didn’t see you bring a hat and I know how easily you burn.”
“You’re right! I think Mom has something inside I can grab.”
“Got it covered.” With that announcement, Eric produced the floppy straw and set it on her lap.
“Eric, you’re the best.” Her lighthearted pronouncement turned serious when she caught his eye.
He couldn’t have kept his love hidden any more than he could keep his Bible at home when he left for church.
She lifted a hand and held his jaw. Did his stomach really drop?
She ran her index finger over his top lip and then kissed him, ever so softly. “Thanks.”
He blinked, unable to move his noodly legs.
Moselle thumped him on the chest. “Let’s get puppy Dear, and make a day of it.”
He blew a gusty breath and sprinted to his side of the truck.
Moments later, parked in the drive at the side of his brick ranch house, they opened their doors in tandem.
“My work space isn’t as pretty as yours,” Eric announced, self-conscious for some reason when they passed through the garage.
“It’s a nice shop.” She ran her eyes over the birdhouses and neat rows of tools hanging on pegs above the bench. “A couple of these houses are fantastic!”
She traced a long finger over the hunter green roofline of a finished birdhouse resting off to the side. “I need to have Mom see these. Since she’s the buyer for Frivolities, bet she could sell ‘em for you.”
Jovial puppy yips interrupted and almost drowned out Eric’s warning. “She’ll run right out so be ready.”
Moselle hesitated.
“What’s wrong? Not scared of a rambunctious pup, are you?”
“N-o-o. I was just wondering if Beth ever lived in this house.”
The puppy seemed to go crazy, thumping on the other side of the door, but Eric took the time to reassure Moselle. He wrapped his hands on either side of her face and kissed the top of her head. “She’s never even stepped on the porch.”
“Oh. I’m so glad.” Her relief was palpable.
He dropped his hands to her shoulders. “And now, Dear.”
Eric turned to open the door, but before he had a chance to scoot the pup out of the way, Moselle knelt right on the threshold and gooed over Dear, never giving his living space a glance.
Would he ever understand a woman’s logic?
Eric scooped up Dear’s water dish from the floor and her leash from its hook. Then they were on their way.
It proved to be a perfect summer day on the Goldenrod Trail, created from the old railroad track in the area. They walked for two miles, took turns carrying Dear when she tired, and retraced the same route. Lush pastures and turning-to-gold wheat fields were broken up by scattered clusters of cedars. Birds flitted everywhere in the trees and bushes where they lined the path.
Eric valued their time together, and took every opportunity to fill his senses with Moselle. It was a great day to be alive, to bask in the Lord’s gifts. He thanked God for how much she enjoyed the scenery.
Moselle appeared to have trouble holding in her exuberance.
“Eric, these colors are magnificent! The daisies, blue flax, and so many different yellow flowers take my breath away. God does such a fantastic job of mixing them all up.”
He reached for her hand and pulled her to stand in front of him, just to wrap his arms around her. In the process, her hat drifted to their feet. Dear pounced at the fluttering copper and gold ribbon.
Moselle giggled.
Eric bent his head, drawing in her scent. She smelled better than the great outdoors, sweeter than any flower.
“I know just the spot for lunch.” He kissed her on the back of the neck and then released her.
Dear had fallen asleep with the hat between her paws. He picked her up and handed Moselle her hat, then cradled Dear until they were back at the truck.
On their way again, he crossed the highway and followed a rock road into a development of acreages. He parked in front of a log home and they piled out.
“Who lives here?”
“One of the firefighters. He’s out of town but we have permission.”
He put the cooler in his backpack, and handed a blanket to Moselle to carry before he toted the thermos and water bowl for Dear.
They went through a gate into the back yard. Eric unhooked Dear’s leash and turned on a hydrant to fill her water dish.
“A gazebo!” Moselle exclaimed, and skipped in that direction.
“That’s where we’re having lunch.”
She planted a peck on his cheek and had the blanket covering the center of the wood floor before he stepped inside.
He laughed over her pleasure and set the cooler on the built-in bench.
“All the food groups,” Moselle remarked as he spread out their fare.
Eric’s pulse picked up when she repeated his earlier thought. They were meant to be together.
He tied Dear out of reach, but she twitched her nose in the air at almost everything they ate. Eric relented and gave her two mini sandwiches.
He and Moselle took turns feeding each other bites. A few honey bees joined the picnic. They lapsed into gales of laughter watching Dear try to snap the bees from the air.
He offered her a plum when it was time for dessert. His was gone in two bites. Then he couldn’t take his eyes off her mouth as she ate her fruit. He wanted to taste the juice that moistened her lips.
She looked toward the creek on the other side of the back fence, watching the birds. Her excitement filtered into him. He’d never been happier.
“There’s a kingfisher. And a waxwing.” She sat with her right wrist bent over her knee. Could she have relaxing, country moments like this in Kansas City? No way.
Somehow, he had to convince Moselle that she must stay in Platteville.
He made sure the lid was on the thermos bottle before he inched closer to her side.
As soon as she tossed the plum pit into an empty sack, he leaned in. He grazed his knuckles down her arm, wishing he could count each freckle.
He wanted to know all of her. What were her grown-up dreams? Did she want to be a mom?
Above the breeze, the puppy, and the birdsong, he heard her gasp. She turned toward him. He felt her breath on his cheek.
“Moselle,” he managed before he crushed her mouth beneath his.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and turned into him. With her so close, Eric felt invincible. God had done a miraculous thing when he created this woman. Created her to complete him.
Breathless moments later, he said, “Let’s wrap this up. I’ve got a surprise after we come back from the tallgrass prairie.”
“I don’t know how you can top lunching in a gazebo.”
Dear seemed content and sleepy in the shade so they left her in the backyard. Their footsteps thumped over the bridge. They went a hundred yards further before they reconnected with the Goldenrod Trail.
Before long they stood scanning the tallgrass prairie. Moselle said, “I wish I knew all these grass names.”
Eric probably knew a few, but who could think at the sight of Moselle against such a scenic backdrop, covered in varied vegetation and mixed grasses? Her beauty surpassed it all.
He wanted a lifetime with her.
On the return walk, near the spot in the creek below the gazebo, they came to a stop at the sight of a great blue heron where it stood regally on one leg.
Eric wanted to stand on one leg, take a regal stance before Moselle, and claim her as his own. Instead, he claimed her hand and pulled her close to his side.
Did he dare tell her that he wanted to spend a lifetime with her? Could she commit?
****
After scaring off the blue he
ron, Moselle envisioned Eric standing regal, proud of her in some way.
Or was he wearing a tux at the front of the church?
She shook off the picture. Even though they’d cleared the air, there was too much baggage behind them. Not to mention the rumors of Beth sticking around. Moselle was crazy to daydream an imagined lifetime with Eric.
Besides, she had many things to occupy her time through the rest of the summer. She needed to help her mother and take care of her aunt so the people in town were convinced Moselle was a good woman rather than a girl easily used.
She wanted to get better and better working on her art, and come up with that elusive name for the shadow boxes from Frivolities.
The biggest challenge that faced her, the constant needling reminder, was the need to find out about another bank loan in order to make Use it Again, Sam part hers.
She didn’t want to go back to Kansas City.
But Eric hadn’t asked her to stay.
For today, she’d pass the time basking in how special Eric made her feel. She’d return to Kansas City with far better memories than when she had left Nebraska the first time.
He still held her hand, and drew her to the driver’s side, where he stowed the backpack and thermos behind the seat. She loved to watch his muscles ripple when he moved, the way he made her feel safe with his powerful chest and shoulders. His inner strength got to her, too. He tossed the picnic blanket next to the passenger door and took Dear from Moselle’s arms.
Placing the puppy on the blanket, he said in a firm voice, “Lie down.”
“As for you,” he said with a smile, “I want you in the center seat.”
She shot him a mock salute. Then she fished for the seat belt and got comfortable on the bench seat.
Soon, Dear lay at her side, the puppy’s small body putting off serious body heat.
Her other side was just as warm, where Eric’s movements brushed against her. She tried to focus on where they were going, but got lost on the gravel roads and the distraction of sitting so close to Eric.
When he turned the truck into the entrance to the Wildlife Safari, she clapped her hands in girlish glee.
“I love this surprise!” she grabbed his biceps, which felt like warm granite, and rubbed her cheek against his shoulder. Eric’s deep rumbling chuckle thrummed through her.
“I like surprising you.”
He paid the entrance fee, handed her the map, and rattled over the cattle guard on the roadway. During the slow ride through the Wildlife Safari, either his hand covered hers or his fingers made circles over the back of her hand. The bison and deer herds reminded her of her beginnings. Had elk with their majestic racks also grazed here earlier in history?
Thank You, Lord, for choosing Nebraska as my place to grow up. And thank You for Eric and whatever future we may have together or apart.
She didn’t want to face her future place apart from Eric, come September.
For now, she listened to honking sandhill cranes, and memorized the flamingo colors, planning to use their impression somehow in a shadow box.
They left Dear in the truck and hiked to the wolf area. She shivered when golden wolf eyes met hers. Their color wasn’t the only thing that matched Eric’s. She had been aware of his restless restraint throughout the day, a wild side she intuited lay just beneath Eric’s skin.
And matched hers.
****
They’d spent the day together, yet Eric followed his compulsion to tell Moselle good night. Waiting for her to be finished with Bible study had him all riled up, patience long forgotten. He simply needed to see her before he closed his eyes.
Eric waited until all the women left Geneva’s house before approaching the steps. As though she had sensed him standing in the shadows, Moselle stepped onto the porch.
His breath caught somewhere in his chest. She was beautiful, standing in the yellowish glow of the porch light, more irresistible than ever before. The look on her face was shadowed, but the way the porch light outlined her shape shot his heart catapulting up to his throat.
This feeling he had for Moselle was so much more than the exhaustive, fleeting lust he had felt as a teenager. It had to be more than emotion. She completed him.
She reached inside the door, never breaking eye contact.
When the porch light went out, it was as though he still saw its glow surrounding her.
He paused on the center step. She stood on the edge of the wooden porch floor and wrapped her arms around his neck.
Lyrics from a Vince Gill song, played earlier on country radio while on his way home, raced through his thoughts.
This woman weakened his knees.
He searched for the right words.
And then all thought ceased with the power of their kiss.
Moselle pulled back and her breath whispered across his lips. “Sometimes I wish…”
Her voice sounded dim under the buzz in his head.
“…that if I was moved into my loft,” she nipped his earlobe, then kissed it. She continued, “You could spend the night.”
It took a second to register.
Was she trying to be funny?
He couldn’t laugh anymore than he could catch his breath.
She lowered an arm and walked her fingers up his chest.
His breath came short and ragged. Who was this woman coming on to him?
“Then Kate Rawlins and her crew would be justified in the news they spread.” Moselle’s voice didn’t even sound like it belonged to her.
He wondered how he could even think.
She was a siren calling to his past weakness.
The air was too heavy.
He stiffened, reared his head back.
She tightened her hold on his shoulder.
Eric retreated over two steps onto the ground. “I don’t know you anymore!”
He drove his fingers through his short hair and bent over, hands grabbing the backs of his knees. No all-out jog had taken his breath like her whispered words.
When he thought he could speak, he straightened. “We need to put the skids on things, right now. I can’t think straight.”
“Is that so bad? Kind of flattering to know I have that effect on you.”
She took a step down and Eric shot his arm out to stop her.
“Wait.”
His mind raced for the right words. What steamed out was the furthest thing from what he really wanted to say. “Beth appears to be a more mature Christian than you at the moment.”
She hissed in a breath and stopped with one foot poised in the air. She croaked, “Really.”
The heated anger she spewed hit him like the fiery blast from a fuel tank in flames.
“Go ahead. Go back to Beth then if you want. I imagine Rainn is experienced. I’ll see if he’d like to spend time with me.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
How could mere words cut to the quick like this?
“What’s happened to you, Moze? I absolutely don’t know who you are.”
She acted like this after a Bible study?
Eric couldn’t race away from her fast enough.
Moselle’s Insurance
16
Does compassion include groveling? Moselle believed that she was right with the Lord as far as her own sin was concerned. At least, that’s what she told herself. She could see more clearly the full picture concerning the women she studied in the Bible. And thanked God for their examples.
She experienced contrition and knew she had done a wrong against Eric. So far she hadn’t mustered up enough courage to face him.
The days passed into the heat and full humidity of summer.
Life marched on.
Well, some days it crawled. The days were much longer when all three women lumbered through Lanae’s illness. At times she was weary and irritable and sleepy. She kept repeating that she couldn’t taste anything, so why eat. Bible study was out of the question for Lanae, because she couldn’t concentrate.
All three tried to keep their focus on Lanae’s healing. At least the liver tests so far looked hopeful. Moselle and her mother practiced patience in their care giving skills, reading the Bible aloud and singing to help lift Lanae’s spirits.
Lanae even asked to borrow Moselle’s Tim McGraw CD and Moselle often heard the line, Live like you were dying.
Moselle wanted to live life to its fullest, and her spirit soared with Tim’s voice on the long high note at the end of the song.
The only thing missing from her life was Eric.
She kept busy creating the shadow boxes, frustrated that she had no name for them. Muse. Meander. Frolic. Roar. All kinds of frivolous, yet meaningful to the signature Frivolities item, circled through her thoughts.
She always came back to “Frivolities Memory Box.” Then she’d kick herself mentally for getting hung up on such a trivial thing.
It was Eric that she really wanted.
She’d haphazardly contacted the bank in town and made a couple calls to loan officers in Lincoln. Bank officers were not risking new loans on unproven businesses, especially not a local loan for a distant enterprise that wouldn’t benefit Platteville.
Except for the coffeemaker, initial Frivolities expenses had come out of the older women’s CDs and savings accounts.
Moselle got a kick out of making the loft feel more like home each day. She’d sit on the deck in the evening twilight, attempting to enjoy sunsets without Eric. She had tucked the blue checkered table cloth away because it reminded her of the day she had given him Dear.
That memory led to a picture from years earlier, when the two friends frolicked with Buddy on lazy summer days. She got just as muddy as Eric and his dog. Her mother never hesitated to discipline Eric right along with her. They’d sloppily washed the kitchen floor more than once after wallowing near, and in, the creek.
Moselle let out a pent-up breath on a long whoosh of air. She looked around, pleased with her part in the craziness.
Frivolities thrived. Even Rainn Harris, whose presence struck a girlish chord in her mother, had ventured in for a unique gift to give his sister.