A Child of Her Own

by Beverly Barton

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah. You told me all about this brilliant idea of yours to date Rick for several weeks to see if y’all have anything going for you besides great sex.” Deanie bent her knees, crossed her ankles and braced her hands on top of her thighs. “What I don’t understand is, if you and Rick share great sex, why do you need anything else if you’re just going to have an affair? My guess is that you’ve got marriage in the back of your mind.”

  “Lord. you’re as bad as Aunt Birdie. She’s already planning a June wedding.”

  “Some people would look the other way if all you want is an affair with. Rick, but they wouldn’t accept your marrying the man.” Deanie rubbed her hands up and down her thighs, then clasped her knees. “There are a few people already on the warpath. Powell Goodman thinks you made him look like a fool, a cuckolded fool and—”

  “Powell is not my husband or my fiancé.”

  “The point I’m trying to make is that you’ve made Powell an enemy that Rick may have to deal with sooner or later, and Mara Royce is going to give you trouble—big time trouble. She’s already stirring a stink with the twirler mothers.”

  “Name me one twirler mother who likes Mara? Everyone resents her using her husband’s and father’s wealth and their social position to try to intimidate people.” Lori Lee removed a red, button-up knit jacket from a dresser drawer, threw it over her shoulders and loosely tied the sleeves around her neck.

  “Mara has spent the past two days contacting every twirler mother to solicit their opinion about your carrying on with a man like Rick Warrick,” Deanie said.

  “I’m not surprised. My carrying on with Rick wouldn’t bother Mara half as much if Rick didn’t have a beautiful daughter who has more talent in her little finger than Mara’s Steffie has in her whole body.” When she headed out into the hall, Lori Lee motioned for Deanie to follow. “Come on downstairs with me. I’ve got to load up my picnic basket and eat a bite of breakfast before Rick gets here.”

  Deanie uncrossed her legs, bent over and put on her shoes, then stood and stretched her arms over her head. “You’re right about Mara, but that still doesn’t mean she’s not going to give you hell. And there are some people who’ll listen to her, even if they don’t like her personally. You know the ones I mean.”

  “The people she easily intimidates,” Lori Lee said, halting in the doorway. “The mothers who are so afraid Mara will exclude their daughters from the list of Steffie’s friends.”

  Rubbing her back as she crossed the room, Deanie walked over and put her arm around her best friend’s shoulder. “Look, hon, you know that Phil and I will go to battle for you, and Aunt Birdie is ready to take on the whole world, not only the local powers that be. And I’m sure Eve and Tom Nelson are on our side, but before we gird up our loins and sharpen our swords, I want to make damn sure you know what you’re doing.”

  Lori Lee raced down the stairs, wanting to escape the hard, cold facts Deanie had presented to her, but she knew she couldn’t run away from the truth. She was risking a great deal. Her good reputation and several old friendships were on the line, and there was always a possibility that Mara Royce’s influence on other parents could hurt her Dixie Twirlers business. And she stood a very real chance of getting her heart broken. No matter how much she wanted things to work out for her and Rick, she knew the odds were against them.

  Deanie caught up with Lori Lee in the kitchen, where Lori Lee busied herself packing plastic-and aluminum foilwrapped items into a large basket.

  “If you’re going on an early Saturday morning picnic, why are you dressed like Freddie the Freeloader?” Deanie asked.

  “I’m not going on a picnic.” Lori Lee closed the basket lid, then turned and opened the refrigerator, pulling out a milk jug. “Rick is painting Eve and Tommy’s house to earn extra money to pay for Darcie’s costumes for the recital and other twirler events during the spring and summer. So I told him if he’d pick me up about seven-thirty, I’d help him paint and we could spend the whole day together.” Lori Lee set the milk on the table, then retrieved a bowl, spoon and a box of shredded wheat from the kitchen cabinets.

  Deanie slid down into one of the oak chairs at the table. Shaking her head in puzzlement, she snorted. “Hmph. I’ve heard it all now. You’re actually looking forward to helping Rick paint a house? You, Lori Lee Guy, the girl who whines if she chips a fingernail. The girl who won’t run to the grocery store without putting on her makeup and fixing her hair. The girl who washes her hands a dozen times a day because she can’t stand for them to be dirty?”

  Lori Lee prepared her cereal, then sat down and began eating hurriedly. “I figure that working together on something as aggravating as painting a house is a good test for our relationship.” She munched several more bites, then jumped up and emptied the remainder of her food into the garbage disposal. “If Rick and I can spend the whole day together without wanting to kill each other, then maybe—”

  “You are out of your mind,” Deanie said. “I think your brain has short-circuited or something.”

  Loud knocking at the back door gained both women’s immediate attention, and they glanced in the direction of the sound. Rick Warrick stood just outside, peeping in through the glass panes.

  Lori Lee ran to the door, opened it and grabbed Rick’s hand. “Come on in for a minute and say hello to Deanie. She stopped by on her way to the mall. I’m all ready to go.” She led Rick inside the kitchen. “I packed lunch for us. I thought you and Darcie and I could have a backyard picnic.”

  “Hello, Rick,” Deanie said. “She’s packed enough food for Eve’s whole family, too, so be careful not to throw your back out when you lift that basket.”

  Rick chuckled. “I’ll be careful.” He slipped his arm around Lori Lee’s waist. “I hate to rush you, honey, but we need to get going. And I think I should warn you that we’re going to have three little helpers today. Eve’s boys and Darcie have white painter’s caps on and brushes in their hands.”

  “Oh, how I envy y’all,” Deanie said sarcastically. “If I weren’t on my way to a day of misery shopping the sales at the mall, I’d come along and help.”

  “The more the merrier,” Rick said. “It looks like with all the help I already have, this job could take a lot longer to finish than I originally thought.”

  “Well, don’t let me keep y’all.” Standing, Deanie glanced at Rick’s arm holding Lori Lee close to his side. “I’ve done what I came by to do.” She checked her slacks pocket for her car keys.

  The three walked out the back door together, Rick carrying the heavy, food-filled basket in one hand and possessively clasping Lori Lee’s waist with the other.

  Deanie opened the driver’s door of her black Pontiac Bonneville, then turned and waved. “Well, don’t have too much fun today. If I hear of any homicides in Tuscumbia, I’ll know one of you murdered the other.”

  “Don’t buy out the stores.” Lori Lee waved goodbye as Rick helped her into his pickup.

  He placed the picnic basket in the truck bed, hopped in the cab and backed his pickup out into the gravel alley. “I wanted to kiss you this morning, but when I found Deanie in your kitchen, I thought I’d better wait.” Putting the truck in park, he reached over and pulled Lori Lee into his arms.

  Sighing, she closed her eyes and lifted her arms around his neck. They kissed, their lips devouring, their tongues mating, and when they finally pulled apart, they were both breathless.

  “You look sexy as hell in those old clothes,” he told her, caressing her hip.

  “Flattery will get you whatever you want, you know.”

  “If only that were true, I’d be spending the whole day in bed making love to you instead of painting Eve’s house and baby-sitting three kids.” Slipping his hand under her shirt, he covered her breast and squeezed gently.

  She jerked on his wrist, pulling his hand away from her body. “Rick! Someone might see us.”

  “So?” Snapping around, he faced the windshield and clutched t
he steering wheel. “This being celibate is hard on a man.” He peeked at her out of the corner of his eye. His lips twitched with a restrained smile.

  Lori Lee laid her hand over his belt buckle, then playfully waltzed her fingers up and down his zipper. He sucked in his breath. She cupped him through his jeans. “Very hard,” she said, then removed her tormenting hand.

  “Woman, you’re going to be the death of me.” Gripping the steering wheel with white-knuckled ferocity, he knocked the gear into drive and revved the engine.

  Lori Lee loved the way Rick kidded her, the way he made talking about sex so easy. He was an uninhibited man who was helping her tear down the restrictive walls she’d built around her life. With him, she felt free and just a little naughty. And when they made love, she was every bit as wild as he was.

  Smiling, Lori Lee sat beside Rick as they drove through downtown Tuscumbia and up Sixth Street. As they passed Barber’s Appliances, Lori Lee waved at Mindy Jenkins who was putting packages in the trunk of her car.

  “I’ve got something I want to tell you,” Rick said just as they passed the old post office building. “I’m going Monday to apply for a loan at Colbert Federal. That’s where Bobo has always done business. I should know something one way or another within a week, maybe before your big spring recital.”

  “You’ll get the loan,” Lori Lee assured him. “Then Lewis Heating and Air-Conditioning will be all yours.”

  “God, I hope so. My whole future depends on getting that loan.”

  “Are you going to change the name once you’re the boss? I think Warrick Heating and Air-Conditioning has a nice ring to it, don’t you?”

  “Yeah, I like the sound of that. Warrick Heating and Air-Conditioning.” Rick grinned, thinking about how close he was to achieving his dream of owning his own business. “Who knows, maybe one of these days it’ll be Warrick and Sons Heating and Air-Conditioning, or even Warrick and Daughters, if all my kids turn out to be girls.”

  The sun went behind the clouds, casting gray shadows on the earth. Even though the truck cab was toasty warm, a chill shivered through Lori Lee. All the color drained from her face and a wave of nausea rose in her stomach. All my kids. She heard Rick’s words replaying over and over again in her mind. She shouldn’t let what he’d said upset her. After all, she’d already known Rick wanted more children when he remarried. Maybe the wisest thing for her to do was be honest with him now, before their relationship became more serious. If there was even the slightest chance that marriage was in their future, Rick had a right to know she could never give him the children he wanted.

  But there would be time enough to bare her soul to Rick, to open the unhealed wounds of her heart and tell him her deepest, darkest secret. It wasn’t as if he’d said that he loved her. It wasn’t as if he’d asked her to marry him.

  If and when the day came that their relationship grew into something more than a sexual one—the way they both hoped—then she would tell him. But not today, not when they were both so happy and their lives filled with promise. Today she would enjoy sharing every moment with the man she loved. Tomorrow she would worry about losing him when he found out the truth.

  Recital night was always a madhouse. Even though Lori Lee was the most organized person on earth and had everything perfectly planned down to the last detail, unexpected problems and minor emergencies seemed to be par for the course. Someone misplaced a baton. Someone else forgot their gold tights. Another got last-minute stage fright. And at least one mother had hysterics.

  Lori Lee had realized several years ago, after her first Dixie Twirlers’ recital, that without Aunt Birdie’s assistance and the cooperation of her students’ parents, she wouldn’t have been able to pull off such an elaborate production so smoothly.

  While Lori Lee announced the events and introduced the students performing in each upcoming act, Aunt Birdie oversaw the girls and their mothers. With several costume changes, equipment to be moved, props to be placed and the correct music set to play, one small oversight could easily ruin a production number.

  The Deshler gymnasium was packed with parents, relatives and friends, each person expecting their little twirler to be the star performer. The humming roar of their voices drowned out all but the loudest noises, and the body heat generated by the crowd raised the inside temperature by a good ten degrees. Lori Lee was thankful that this April Saturday night had turned out to be a bit chilly.

  Rick had presented both her and Darcie with a yellow rose before the recital began, and during each of Darcie’s group performances, Lori Lee had searched the sea of faces and focused momentarily on Rick. In her heart, for the briefest of moments, she and Rick truly shared his daughter.

  During intermission, Lori Lee went into the dressing rooms to congratulate her students and give encouragement to those she felt needed it. She paused when she walked past Darcie, reached out and caressed the child’s plump cheek. Darcie beamed with happiness.

  Lori Lee spoke softly, her voice a mere whisper, mouthing the words more than speaking them. “You were wonderful.”

  Standing several yards away, in the center of a group of mothers and daughters, Mara Royce complained. “I, for one, am opposed to any child receiving preferential treatment.”

  “Unless that child is her Steffie,” Deanie Webber said quietly when she placed her hand on Lori Lee’s shoulder. “Mrs. Dr. Royce is upset that Steffie wasn’t given a solo number for the recital.”

  “Steffie’s not ready for a solo number, and if she doesn’t practice more, she never will be. What I’d like to do is tell Mara to withdraw Steffie from twirlers, but that wouldn’t be fair to Steffie. Being part of my twirlers may be the only opportunity the child has to be treated like everyone else.”

  Mara raised her voice, speaking loud enough for everyone in the dressing rooms area to hear her. “I believe tonight’s trophies should be awarded on merit alone, and for no other reason. I shall be greatly upset if anyone receives a trophy for any personal reasons.”

  “Well, she’s warned you, hasn’t she?” Deanie patted Lori Lee on the back. “I know Darcie will receive a trophy because she’s talented and has shown remarkable improvement in the three months since she took her first lesson, but Mara will try to convince everyone that your relationship with Rick is the reason.”

  “Let her do whatever she feels she has to do,” Lori Lee said. “If Mara pushes me too far, she just might regret it.”

  “Well, well. I believe Aunt Birdie has finally rubbed off on you,” Deanie said. “I’ve always admired that woman’s ability to thumb her nose at the whole town and still have them kowtowing to her like she was a queen.”

  “Besides simply not giving a damn what people think of her, Aunt Birdie possess complete confidence in who she is. People around here respect two things she possesses. The ten million dollars she inherited from her last husband and her old Southern lineage. All four of Aunt Birdie’s great-grandfathers were Confederate soldiers, you know.”

  “Did someone mention my name?” Carrying a huge bouquet of red roses, Birdie pushed her way into the dressing area, her wide hips brushing several little girls’ shoulders as she passed them.

  “What have you got there, Aunt Birdie?” Deanie asked.

  “Flowers for Lori Lee. They just arrived.” Birdie handed Lori Lee the card, then tossed the bouquet into a nearby chair. “They’re from Powell. I took the liberty of seeing who they were from.” Birdie handed her niece the white card she held.

  Lori Lee read the message silently. Couldn’t let your big night go by without wishing you all the best. When you come to your senses, call me. I’ll be waiting. Love, Powell. She handed the card to Deanie, who scanned it quickly.

  “Sure of himself, isn’t he?” Deanie commented.

  “Too damned sure, if you ask me,” Birdie said.

  “I don’t have time to worry about Powell right now.” Lori Lee glanced at the red roses, then lifted her hand to her hair and caressed Rick’s yellow rose th
at she’d placed behind her ear. “Intermission is almost over.” She clapped her hands. “Let’s get moving, girls. We’ve got an appreciative audience waiting for us.”

  The trophies, which varied in size from six inches to two feet, covered two large tables that had been placed against the wall, behind the loudspeaker podium. Most of the fathers, including Rick, climbed down from the bleachers and aimed their video equipment. Rick had told Lori Lee that he planned to borrow Tom Nelson’s camera.

  Grandparents squirmed in their seats. Mothers wrung their hands and uttered silent prayers. The girls, dressed in their pink-and-white Dixie Twirlers uniforms, circled the gym.

  One by one Lori Lee announced the winners, and with each presentation came thundering applause. Everyone attending expected this phase of the recital to take extra time. Each child’s award was of equal importance to her and her family.

  “And this year’s award for Best First-Year Student goes to—” Lori Lee paused long enough to focus momentarily on Rick’s face “—Darcie Warrick.”

  Even with the distance between them, Lori Lee saw the sheen of moisture in Rick’s eyes. Or perhaps she just sensed it. Regardless, she knew, perhaps better than anyone, how much seeing his daughter win this award meant to him.

  Hesitant applause mingled with questioning murmurs. Darcie marched forward. With tears streaming down her sweet face, she reached out and accepted the shiny, twelve-inch-high golden trophy with her name printed in large letters across the front.

  Eve and Tom Nelson stood and clapped louder and harder than anyone, except Aunt Birdie. Trey and Mark jumped up and down, whooping and hollering. Rick zeroed the video camera in on Darcie. When Deanie and Phil Webber stood and continued clapping, several other parents joined them, and within a couple of minutes most of the parents were applauding Darcie’s win.