“Why else?”
“Beats me.” Jenny’s eyes indicated another motive that involved Eddi.
“Don’t even go there,” Eddi challenged. Nevertheless, she wondered if when Dave left her crying at the altar he’d gone straight to Houston. “I don’t ever expect anything to come of Dave and me. While I might be in—” Eddi stopped herself and looked past Jenny, toward the oak armoire. She’d been about to admit what she had barely acknowledged to herself.
“You might be in what?” Jenny prodded while a grin overtook her features.
“I was just going to say that if Dave had any feelings for me when he asked for us to get to know each other better, I think he’s fully recovered. The man acts like he doesn’t care whether he ever sees me again.”
“That’s not what you started out saying,” Jenny said.
“Okay, then,” Eddi blurted. “I’m in love with him. There! Are you happy now?”
Eddi tossed the pillow at her sister.
“I knew it!” Jenny crowed in a singsong voice that echoed childhood laughter.
“You’re such a glory hog,” Eddi teased but soon sobered. She moved toward her dresser and toyed with a silver-plated hair brush she never used. “I’ve come to the conclusion that I . . . I was wrong about Dave.” She avoided looking at herself in the dresser mirror. Admitting she was wrong went against every grain of her professional training. “He isn’t a jerk after all, is he?”
“No joke,” Jenny said. “I never really agreed with you on that one, anyway. I think this whole thing with Linda proves that.”
“Yes, and he’s developing a ministry to help people get off drugs.” Eddi raised her gaze to the mirror’s lower half and examined the reflection of her bed’s patchwork comforter.
“I guess it’s time for me to tell my secret now,” Jenny admitted. “I knew you had a thing for him the first time we saw his house. That’s why I was laughing,” she claimed. “I could see it written all over your face, but you wouldn’t dare admit it.”
“Well . . .” Eddi walked back to the bed. She sat beside her sister and rested her weight on her elbow. “He said all those horrible things about me and made me mad.”
“But I don’t think for one minute he meant a word of it.”
“That’s what he said when he sort of proposed—or whatever you want to call what happened in his ministry building.”
“Eddi, if you want the absolute truth from me, I still can’t believe you turned him down flat,” Jenny said. “I know you were mad about what happened with Calvin and me and all that business about those lies Rick Wallace told you, but still, William Fitzgerald Davidson—one of the most eligible bachelors in America—asked you to possibly marry him and you didn’t even consider it.” Jenny rested her hand on her short hair and scrubbed her fingers through her bangs.
“I know, I know,” Eddi relented. “It all seems so ridiculous now. The way I feel tonight,” she sighed, “I can’t believe I turned him down, either.”
“Jenny?” Calvin’s muffled call floated from the hallway.
“Oooh, that’s Calvin.” Jenny stood. “I guess I need to get to him.”
“Sure thing. By all means, don’t keep him waiting,” Eddi teased.
“Believe me, I won’t,” Jenny said over her shoulder.
Eddi rose to her feet. “The brisket needs to be taken from the oven, anyway.” As Jenny stepped into the hallway, Eddi moved toward the window and parted the blinds with her fingertips. Dave’s truck cruised across the parking lot toward the exit. Wishing she were in the vehicle with him, Eddi began to pray for one of Jenny’s miracles . . . for a second chance with Dave Davidson.
Dave steered from the parking lot and kept sight of his rearview mirror. He longed for Eddi to run out of her home and call him back. He was only rewarded by the sight of a pair of striped felines trotting across her yard.
He propped his elbow on the door’s ledge and pinched his bottom lip. I should go back, he thought. This is crazy. I’m keeping my distance, waiting on her to make a move. She’s making no moves. What if she never does?
“Do I stay walled up like this for the rest of my life?” he questioned. “I could grow old, get gray, and die without ever getting married at this rate!”
He pressed the brake and decided to go back and tell Eddi exactly how he felt. But remember the last time you tried that? he reminded himself. She slashed you to strips with her tongue.
Dave contemplated the nuance of her every expression tonight. Not once had she observed him with anything more than detached interest when he was talking to Linda. Even during recent play practices, Eddi had restrained from the “come closer” look she’d offered at church that Sunday morning he had followed her to the altar. Dave finally concluded that since Eddi had been so cold after that day, she really hadn’t wanted him to talk to her at the altar. So she was taking every measure not to encourage him toward more conversation.
Dave winced and pressed the accelerator. The engine revved. The truck rolled forward. He couldn’t take the chance—not tonight. The stakes were still too high; his heart was still too sore. His aching pride was no more ready to risk her rejection today than it had been two weeks ago.
Thirty-Two
The night of the first performance finally arrived. The cast huddled backstage and discreetly watched as the room gradually filled with guests. Mrs. DeBloom had space to seat 104 people. According to her report, the first night was sold out. So were the next three weekends.
The smells of catered roast beef and peach candles trailed Eddi as she lifted her skirt and took the back stairway leading to the second floor. She desperately needed some quiet time to calm her nerves. Playing the leading lady was proving more stressful than she’d ever imagined—especially with a county full of people clamoring for a brilliant performance. The London Times had raved about everything from the cast to the costumes to the dinner theater until the whole community buzzed with expectation. London’s mayor was even on the guest list for this evening.
“No pressure here, right?” Eddi mumbled as she entered the large hallway onto which all the bedrooms and library opened. The ceiling towered nine feet overhead and featured a relief design painted in shades of cream.
Eddi squinted against the chandelier decorated in crystal droplets and eyed the ceiling’s artwork. The sounds of tinkling silverware, the front door opening and closing, and the faint hum of voices diminished as Eddi discovered the solace needed to gain her composure.
She adjusted the demure English bonnet tied under her chin and admired the princess design of her costume—created blue-gray, exactly as she had requested. Since her dress covered her shoes, she had been able to wear a pair of flats that she found at the local deparment store. She was thankful they were as comfortable as the costume.
Eddi slowed her pace and gazed up at the long row of portraits gracing the hallway wall. The best she could guess by the fashions, some of the portraits dated back a couple hundred years. A recurring family resemblance reminded her of the life-size portrait downstairs—the dark hair and eyes, the stern face, angular and tawny, the mysterious smile that hinted of both good humor and intelligence. From there, her mind drifted to the man who resembled so many of the men in the portraits.
She had watched for Dave ever since she arrived half an hour ago. So far, she hadn’t spotted him. Although he hadn’t said much at last night’s dress rehearsal, Eddi detected a change in him. She couldn’t define the reason, but she sensed that Dave had made a decision he didn’t plan to negate. Until the closing lines of the play, she had hoped the decision might involve her. Then, Dave’s cell phone rang and he abruptly dismissed himself. Eddi assumed he was heading for the building behind his house.
After weeks of embarrassed silence, Eddi finally came to the conclusion that she must thank him for intervening on her sister’s behalf. She loathed giving the man any reason to suspect she was pining for his affection or chasing him. Nevertheless, Eddi concluded a mere than
k-you wouldn’t indicate her love. She simply could not open herself to his potential scorn.
With a sigh, she wandered toward the library. Double sliding doors eight feet tall afforded passage to the room about which so many of the cast had raved. Eddi pushed against the handles. The panels grudgingly parted with a coarse groan. When she stepped through, the smell of leather and old paper hung in the air. Eddi closed the doors and absorbed the room’s ambiance. Four broad windows filled with amber glass reached from floor to ceiling and produced an odd, golden glow. The sun wouldn’t be setting for an hour. Its amber rays, heightened by the colored glass, mellowed the richness of the mahogany bookcases lining the walls.
Eddi circled the room and didn’t bother to penetrate the aisles of bookcases. Nevertheless, her attention rested on titles from Plato to photography. Many were old and worn. Some looked new. A plain writing desk done in oak had been placed between an eighteenth-century piano and a large globe in a metal frame. Imagining herself as a classical author, she pulled out the chair and sat down. Eddi posed as if she were about to pen a brilliant line that would reverberate through the ages.
She reached for the plumed pen resting near a dry inkwell at the back edge. The instrument warmed in her palm. As she held it, lines of poetry from Shakespeare and Bradstreet and Frost coursed through her mind. All vestiges of tension drained from her body, and Eddi no longer felt the need to rehearse her lines. The fear of forgetting them evaporated.
Eddi relaxed and gazed upward at one of several portraits hanging around the library. After scrutinizing the ones in the hallway, Eddi paid little attention to the paintings in the library. But this portrait spoke to her as none other; for it was of the man she’d grown to love. She held her breath and felt as if the keen brown eyes were peering into her very soul. Dave, dressed in the finest of business suits, stood with his arm on a rest, his mouth lifted in an intriguing smile that suggested he wouldn’t dare reveal his secret.
Her pulse responded to the image just as it did to the man. Earlier in the summer, Eddi couldn’t wait until the play was over so she could distance herself from Dave. Now, with only a mere six weeks of performances, she wondered how she would live without interacting with him.
The library’s door slid open and broke her reverie. Eddi jumped. She pivoted toward the doorway and encountered the gentleman whose portrait she’d been absorbing.
“Dave!” she blurted.
He looked at Eddi as if she were the last person he expected to see. “Eddi!” he exclaimed.
“What are you doing here?” the two said together.
Eddi laughed, and Dave followed suit. “I came up here to escape, actually,” she said.
“Me too.” Dave stepped into the room, closed the door, and watched Eddi as if he were gauging her level of acceptance.
A voice within encouraged Eddi to graciously welcome Dave into her quiet time. She decided that as long as his behavior suggested no hint of scorn, she would set aside her reserve, if only for a few minutes. Once again, she darted a heavenward plea for the miracle of another chance with this remarkable man.
“I told Aunt Maddy I was going upstairs and that I’d be back five minutes before curtain time,” he explained and moved toward her. “I made the mistake of walking through the audience on my way backstage. Believe it or not, a teenager stopped me for my autograph. Before it was over, we’ll just say I had a small group of admirers.” His smile held a hint of shyness Eddi had never noticed.
I can imagine you did, she thought. His hair was long again, and he had brushed it back in the style characteristic of the early nineteenth century. The waves hung just below the collar of his black suit, whose coat touched his knees. During the last two weeks, Dave had grown short sideburns. He appeared to be every bit an English gentleman from ages past.
“You’re certainly looking your part, Mizz Boswick,” Dave claimed as he stepped closer, pausing when he was six feet away.
“And you, dear sir.” Eddi mimicked a British accent, bowed her head, and curtsied.
“Would that those were our only lines,” he grumbled and hung his head.
“Humph. I can’t believe you’re worried about your part!” Eddi said. “You had your lines virtually memorized after our first practice, didn’t you?”
“Well,” he hedged, “I guess I was close. I’m just hoping my part doesn’t escape me the minute the curtains go up. I’ve never done anything like this before, you know.” His inviting smile suggested he had no intent but to charm.
“And you’re doing a remarkable job.” Eddi ran her fingertips atop the writing desk and decided now was as good a time as any to thank him for his intervention with Linda.
“And it would appear you’ve likewise done a wonderful job with Linda and Rick,” she added.
Dave lowered his gaze for a second and then observed her. The amber sunshine intensified the sparkle in his dark eyes . . . eyes that bespoke a man who had endured hardship but refused to be defeated, a man whose intelligence ran as deeply as his feelings.
“So my secret is out,” he admitted.
“Yes. Jenny told me the night you dropped Calvin off at my place. You should know you can’t keep anything a secret around the Boswicks.”
“Let me guess,” Dave placed his fingers near his temple. “Linda broke her promise to me not to tell, and told Jenny anyway. But Linda made Jenny promise not to tell. She, in turn, made you promise not to tell.”
Eddi rocked back on her heels and smiled. “Something like that,” she admitted, “except Jenny wound up telling my parents, as well. We know about everything, by the way, the summer-Santa business and the whole nine yards. Some things have to be shared.”
“Ah, the summer Santa.” Dave inserted his hand into his jacket pocket and gazed toward the window. “I thought that was kind of clever, even if I have to say so myself.”
And really appealing, Eddi thought. She didn’t mention she would relish his being her Santa any season he chose. Then, she imagined Dave in a Santa suit, white beard, and snowy eyebrows. A giggle tottered out.
“Now you’re laughing at me,” Dave accused with a lazy drawl.
“No, honestly.” Eddi shook her head. “It’s not you. It’s not even the red suit—just the white beard and eyebrows you’d have to wear.”
Dave joined her laughter.
“All I can hope,” Eddi said, “is that Rick honors his vows and treats Linda right. I’d hate to think she married him only to have him abandon her or—”
“I think he’ll do fine,” Dave assured. “I’ve got a couple of guys on it.”
“Ah, yes,” Eddi said. “That would be Larnell and Klynell Howell.”
Dave nodded. “They’re making sure he even goes to church. It’s not that I have so much faith in him,” Dave admitted. “But I do have faith in the power of God and the influence of godly people.” He extended his arms. “Hey, it worked with me! I could have been every bit as bad as Rick, but for God’s grace.”
Eddi thought of that picture of Laura Schock. She started to ask him about the woman but stopped herself. If Dave and she ever got close, she was certain he would answer any questions she might pose.
As Dave’s gaze lazed across her features and settled upon her lips, Eddi leaned against the desk.
“We really need to talk,” Dave began. “I . . . I’m afraid we got off on the wrong foot earlier this summer.” He offered a guilt-ridden smile. “I said some things about you and to you that I’ve wished a million times I could take back. And the way I acted in the dugout at the picnic—” he shook his head—“it was uncalled for.”
Eddi’s knees began to quiver. “I guess I should say the same thing,” she admitted. “I can think of a few times I was less than, well, kind.” Her pulse thudded at her throat, and Eddi could only pray this was leading up to her miracle.
Dave walked forward and reached for her hand. Never breaking eye contact, he lifted her hand to his mouth, pressed his lips against her skin, and closed his e
yes as if in rapture. “Mmm, you smell so good,” he murmured against her knuckles.
Consumed by a delicious shiver, Eddi swallowed and fought against collapsing.
Dave lowered her hand and rubbed her palm with his thumb. “Eddi, I’ve got a confession to make . . .” he started.
“Oh?” she whispered as her lids drooped.
“Yes. When I got backstage, I asked Calvin if he’d seen you. He said he saw you heading upstairs, so I followed you up.”
“You did?”
“Yes. I did. It took me a few minutes to figure out which room you were in, but I did find you.”
“Yes . . . yes, you found me,” Eddi babbled.
“I wanted to tell you I haven’t said anything much to you these past few weeks because I’ve been afraid.”
“Afraid?”
His lips wobbled with a hint of vulnerability. “Yes. I didn’t want to set myself up for another rejection.” He searched her eyes, begging for some sign that would destroy every scrap of apprehension.
Eddi allowed the veil to drop from her heart and silently revealed her undying love.
“But finally,” Dave continued with more confidence, “I came to the conclusion that we weren’t getting anywhere like that. I decided before last night’s practice that I was going to put myself out of my misery and tell you how I really feel. If you wouldn’t have me, then so let it be. Then,” he shook his head, “wouldn’t you know it? I got a call and was tied up until after midnight.”
“One of the kids you’re trying to help?” Eddi prompted.
“Yes.” He lowered his gaze.
The last scraps of Eddi’s reservations melted. She no longer worried about whether or not Dave would think she was chasing him. All that mattered was that they finally spoke their hearts.
“I guess I should tell you that I was afraid, too,” she admitted.
“You were?”
“Yes. I haven’t really communicated with you since that night in your little building because I . . . I convinced myself that I didn’t want you to think I was chasing you.”
First Impressions: A Contemporary Retelling of Pride and Prejudice Page 28