Skinny Dipping Season

by Cynthia Tennent

  Then I saw J. D. at the entrance to the dining room, illuminated by a sea of glittering white lights.

  The room around me disappeared.

  He was dazzling in a white button-down shirt open at the neck, a navy sport coat, and khaki pants. I always thought his uniform made him look sexy, but tonight he was sizzling. His clean-shaven face and the slight curl of the hair above his ears made me want to back him up against the wall here and now.

  He greeted several men at the bar. Then his eyes grazed the crowd and spotted me. I performed a little bow. He nodded his head and the gleam in his eyes was unmistakable. He wasn’t even listening to the man talking to him. We were drawn to each other like magnets that finally faced the right way.

  “Well, hello,” he drawled when we were close. He scanned me from head to foot. “I feel like we haven’t quite been introduced.”

  “I feel the same way,” I added. “We could have saved ourselves some time if we’d met looking like this.”

  “Yeah, but it wouldn’t have been as much fun.”

  Before I could tell him about all the hundreds of funny things that had happened today, I heard someone at the microphone trying to get everyone’s attention. I didn’t think I could wait another minute, so I stood on my tiptoes to talk in J. D.’s ear. But I was shushed by Marva, who appeared behind me. Someone whistled with their fingers to quiet the noise.

  As the hush descended in the room, Sheriff Howe crouched and spoke into the microphone. “I want to thank everyone for making this another fantastic Timberfest today, and to the ladies who have organized this beautiful evening.” A smattering of applause and hoots spread through the crowd. He continued: “I don’t want to take too much time from the evening. I know you all want to go back to socializing and enjoying the dinner that will be served in a few minutes. But I also know how you are once you get a little food and drink in you. There’s no way I can compete with ribs, corn, and Nestor’s Pottawatomi pie.”

  The crowd laughed and Joe O’Shea yelled out, “Make sure you get to it before Marva does, Liam!”

  Marva reached out to hit him in the shoulder.

  “I hear you’re pretty good at finishing it off yourself, Joe,” said the sheriff.

  The crowd laughed louder now.

  He continued. “Well, as you all know, I’ve been gone this summer. It was hard to be away so long, but it was great for Anne Marie and me to spend time with our children and grandchildren. Things are taking on a new perspective the older I get. Winters are making my bones ache and I can’t keep chasing down those speeders from downstate forever. So . . . I’m just warning you now that I don’t know how much longer I have in this uniform.”

  Low protests mixed with the clapping of several older people—his friends—who understood why the sheriff felt that way.

  I saw a muscle throb in J. D.’s neck. He would have been a great sheriff. But if Sheriff Howe retired . . . there went J. D.’s strongest advocate.

  “So, this summer I left you in the hands of someone who has enough energy to keep you all in check, and cares about Truhart as much as I do. He doesn’t give a hoot about looking pretty or being popular, he just cares about everyone. Even those who may not always be easy to watch out for . . .” I could swear the sheriff was looking directly at me. Heat rose to my face.

  “You may not realize it, but crime was down fifteen percent this summer. Reports were filed on time, and we ended up under budget for the first time in five years. And I know there may have been some concern about this summer.” Now Sheriff Howe looked Regina Bloodworth’s way. “But the fact is that I owe a lot of thanks to one person for keeping things in check. We haven’t given out a lumberjack award before. But the ladies in town have decided that we need to fix that.”

  He pulled out a wooden statue of a lumberjack that I could swear I had seen on the shelf in Booties. “The very first lumberjack award from the Truhart Timberfest goes to John D. Hardy.”

  For a brief and agonizing moment the room was silent.

  Then it erupted into applause and cheers. J. D. gazed around the room, stunned by the reaction. But I went a little crazy. I threw my arms around J. D. and screamed my joy. He was stiff from shock.

  “Speech.”

  “Speech!”

  Several voices called for J. D. to take the microphone. I let go of his upper body and gave him a push toward the front of the room. He shook his head, but was propelled by the crowd as people reached out and grabbed his hand on the way to the small stage. I could swear it was Bootie whistling and hooting the loudest in the back of the room. Even some of the men who’d been reluctant to accept J. D. at the beginning of the summer were clapping.

  When he stepped up onto the platform, Sheriff Howe offered his hand, but thought better of it and hugged J. D. before handing him the microphone. For a moment J. D. merely stared down at it, trying to figure out what to say to the town he had thought hated him.

  Nestor was in tears and the ladies around him had their hands on his back. Corinne placed her arm around my shoulders.

  J. D. scanned the room as it grew quiet.

  Finally, he leaned down to the microphone.

  Taking a deep breath, he gazed out at the people of Truhart. “I didn’t expect anything like this,” he said.

  “That lumberjack is as hunky as you, J. D.,” someone yelled from the back of the room. I was pretty sure it was Flo. J. D.’s face turned beet red. His voice was hoarse and he had to clear his throat. But everyone politely smiled and tried not to embarrass him by showing they noticed.

  “Thank you, Sheriff, for all that you have done for me. I don’t know what I’ve done to earn this.... I’m really honored.” He looked over at me. “It took a very special woman to help me understand how important it is to have people who believe in you. Thank you.”

  It was brief, but J. D. was too overwhelmed to continue.

  He headed back to me and people congratulated him along the way. A small crowd gathered around us. He looked down at the statue. “I thought the whole town would hate me after Booties.”

  “Are you kidding?” said Sheriff Howe, coming up behind them. “Everyone practically stood in line for the last few days, bearing witness to the fact that you were only defending yourself from Dylan Schraeder.”

  Sheriff Howe nodded at me and raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t even need her statement.”

  Bob Kettelhut piped up: “And we watched you dealing with Elizabeth this summer and realized you had a whole hell of a lot more patience than the rest of us put together.”

  Joe O’Shea added, “Yeah—if you can put up with her, you can put up with anyone!”

  J. D. stilled and glanced down at me, probably worried I would take it the wrong way. I put my hands to my face to push back the heat and I laughed, earning a solid kiss from J. D.

  It wasn’t until much later that J. D. and I stood inside the doorway of Grandma’s house.

  “Do you think anyone will know that we left before the fireworks?” I asked.

  “I doubt it. And if they do, they’ll know why. You haven’t been able to keep your hands off me all night.”

  “What? You’re the one who kept pulling me into the cloakroom. I thought Addie Adler was going to burst a seam when she walked in on us.”

  “Hmm.”

  I pulled on J. D.’s hand to stop him from entering the house. “I can’t help it if lumberjacks turn me on. Did you have any idea about that award?”

  “Not a clue.” He put his arms around me and leaned back against the door frame.

  “I thought you were going to be demoted or something.”

  “Me too,” he said, lowering his head to nibble on my ear.

  “So do you think there’s a chance you’ll ever run for sheriff when Sheriff Howe retires?”

  His lips moved lower and nuzzled my neck.

  “J. D . . .”

  “Hmm?”

  “I know your name is John, now. Sheriff Howe said it. But what’s your middle na
me?”

  J. D. lifted his head and frowned in the dim moonlight. “We’ve got the rest of our lives to talk, E. Can we do other things right now?”

  “Come on. I said I love you first. You owe me a secret.”

  “Where did that logic come from?”

  “Skinny dipping. You jumped in first and I had to tell my secret. Saying I love you is like skinny dipping.”

  He sighed and kissed me on the nose. Then he leaned down and whispered in my ear.

  I choked on a laugh. “Disco?”

  “My mother was a Bee Gees fan.” He put a finger over my mouth to stop my laughter and looked very bashful. “I keep meaning to change it.”

  “And you were teasing me about my twerk?” I said, pulling his hand away.

  He silenced me with a kiss. For that, I decided to help him with his new name. Maybe Delectable or Dreamy.

  “Wanna take a towel and go to the swim dock?” he murmured.

  “I don’t want to be the one to corrupt the future sheriff.”

  “Too late.”

  “I’m sort of serious.” I drew back. “I feel like I’m going to screw things up again and ruin everything.”

  “I’m going to love you, sweetheart, even if you make mistakes and screw up.” He wasn’t joking now. “I would have loved you even if you had made me lose my job, you know.”

  “Well, I would hate myself. I get why they like you. But I can’t believe everyone is being so nice to me.”

  “Maybe they just saw all the good things in you and decided you were worth the extra work. I did. Besides, I have a feeling you’ll be starting book clubs and running the town by the end of the summer.”

  A smattering of fireworks erupted in the distance and the night sky flashed. J. D. was outlined by the flicker of color that rose higher in the sky behind him. For a moment, he resembled one of the creatures of the night I’d read about in my paperback books this summer.

  “My squeaky-clean sheriff’s-deputy routine is a cover-up. I should warn you that I definitely have a darker side. In fact, I think right now we should—” What he whispered in my ear made parts of my body throb.

  “Oh . . .” I couldn’t think of anything to say to that.

  “Do you have a problem with it?”

  “No. But that gnome is definitely winking at you.”

  He looked over my shoulder at the gnome, watching over Grandma’s house from the coffee table. “Glad to know he’s on my side.”

  And as the lights flashed over the town of Truhart, I knew I had come home at last.

  You are cordially invited to the Wedding of Year . . .

  Welcome to Truhart, Michigan: population 1300 and dropping. Not exactly where you’d expect to find a celebrity wedding. As Maid of Honor and the famous bride’s big sister, Annie has to plan a wedding suitable for a princess. But what she didn’t plan on was seeing Nick Conrad again. Her older brother’s best friend who left Truhart for the big city, Nick just happens to be Annie’s embarrassing childhood crush. He’s also the Best Man.

  Keep reading for a special preview of A Wedding in Truhart by Cynthia Tennent.

  I turned back to the center of the room and raised my glass higher as everyone around me finally said, “Hear, hear,” at the end of Henry’s toast. Then I drank the entire glass in one gulp.

  Behind me someone shouted, “Who is your maid of honor, Charlotte?”

  “Why my sister, of course!” she said without hesitating. “Annie!”

  I choked up . . . literally, when the bubbles from the champagne flew up my nose. While I sputtered and my eyes watered, everyone clapped politely. Then I felt a solid hand pat my back. I looked up at Nick through wet eyes.

  “She is really touched, isn’t she, Charlotte?” he said loudly. Everyone laughed and went back to their conversations.

  Except me and Nick. He stared at me, that unnerving expression plastered on his face. He reached for my glass and put it on the table next to him.

  “Can we have some water here?” he asked a passing waiter.

  “I’m okay,” I assured him.

  “Are you?” he said, sounding like he didn’t want an answer. Before I could say anything, he put his arm around me and practically pushed me toward an oversized potted plant at the side of the room.

  “What’s wrong with you?” I asked.

  “I’m just saving your hide from getting ripped open, Bump.”

  “What—”

  I looked back to see Scarlett Francis being waylaid by an older woman.

  “You had better hope she forgets that little comment you made, or else you will be speared and roasted over an open fire.”

  “Are you suggesting I’m like a pig on a spit?”

  Nick frowned, looking me up and down. “No. You definitely don’t look like a pig . . .” I could have taken it for a compliment, but I knew better. “Did you even get a chance to eat something?”

  “Yes I did. I had a bite of the fish paste on a miniature piece of bread . . . Oh, I mean the salmon pâté.” I bent my wrist daintily for emphasis and grinned.

  “You’re not that out of place and you know it.”

  “You’re right. But someone forgot to tell a few of these people.”

  “Charlotte seems to enjoy it here, and she’s made a lot of friends.”

  He ruined my fun. I knew I was being childish. “Well I have to admit, I like Henry a lot. You met him in school?”

  “Studying for our statistics final, freshman year.”

  I imagined Nick diligently working away in the library, surrounded by textbooks and friends. But that was where my imagination stopped. I knew so little about him since he’d left Truhart.

  “How are things back home?” Nick asked, changing the subject.

  I couldn’t help but notice he said home, not Truhart. It made my heart beat just a little faster. But I had to stop myself. He hadn’t said it deliberately. Since his father’s death, Nick seemed to avoid Truhart like the plague. Sometimes I wondered if he was ever coming home again.

  I couldn’t think of anything dramatic to say that would make us more interesting than this fancy hotel and his globe-trotting friends. So instead of trying to compete, I tucked my hair behind my ear and gave him Aunt Addie-style news.

  “We are having a beautiful summer. A little dry, but at least the temperature has stayed in the eighties. Echo Lake has been full of boats since Memorial Day weekend. Ian caught a pike last month that came in second in the Truhart Fishing Derby. The Timberfest is starting in a week, and I hear the planning committee is splurging on a giant bouncy slide this year. That might bring in the younger crowd! And . . . oh, we have a new bakery next to Ike’s Hardware.”

  His blue eyes flickered in the dim light from a nearby sconce and he smiled. I loved it when he smiled. It made me proud to know I had caused it.

  “Are you coming home anytime soon?” I couldn’t help asking.

  “I’d love to, but we’re in the middle of big project right now.”

  “Oh.” I looked down at the glass in my hand and tried not let him see my feelings.

  “How are Jenny and Melissa?” Nick’s sisters were old friends of mine. He smiled for the second time. I was on a roll.

  “Once in a while there is a little drama with a boyfriend, but they manage to stay out of trouble these days.”

  “They never were in much trouble. You made sure of that.”

  “Not always. I seem to recall a few occasions where they landed in a hornet’s nest or two, Bump,” he said.

  I rolled my eyes, irritated at the mention of an incident I would rather have forgotten. “That was a long time ago. Thanks so much for bringing it up, Nick. And you know very well that I was the only one who landed in the nest.”

  “That was your punishment for spying.”

  “We weren’t spying.”

  “Really? You and my sisters were just passing through and you happened to see some of us guys swimming?” Nick crossed his arms and tilted his head again.
His dark gaze made me feel like he could read my mind.

  “Exactly.” Well, I guess we had been curious. The summer before high school, Melissa and I decided that big, hairy seventeen-year-olds were a major point of fascination for us girls. While they swam in the tiny lake behind our golf course, we prowled around them, ducking from tree to tree, trying not to let the boys hear us giggling.

  “How was I to know there was a hornet’s nest next to the lake?” I asked.

  Unfortunately, one wrong step on my part blew our cover and had us screaming like babies as the angry swarm stormed the shore. While most of the boys laughed, Melissa and Jenny ran far from the emerging swarm and joined the boys by the opposite bank. But I couldn’t see because I’d closed my eyes in a panic. I heard a deep voice yelling nearby, but my mind didn’t register the words. The next thing I knew someone tall and strong hauled me up and ran with me, away from the buzzing mass. My rescuer and I hit the water hard. I came out of my panic in Nick’s arms as he unleashed four-letter words I had never heard him say before. After a few terror-stricken moments, while Nick repeatedly dunked my head under the surface, the hornets dispersed. Then he carried me, sniveling and shaking, out of the lake. As soon as my feet touched the grassy shore I began to weep in his arms, feeling the first effects of the stings. Poor Nick, I’m sure he was absolutely horrified to have such a pitiful soggy mess on his hands. He quickly passed me off to Ian who dragged me, bawling like a baby, all the way home.

  Miraculously, like the demigod he was, Nick wasn’t stung at all.

  Unfortunately, I had not been so lucky.

  “Poor Bump. At least you suffered no real harm.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I started high school three days later,” I said, grinning despite myself. “I have never been so mortified in my life.”

  “No lasting damage,” Nick said as he scrutinized my face for bumps.

  “Are you kidding? There I was on the first day of high school with three calamine-covered welts right in the middle of my face. I suffered an indignity beyond description. Everyone laughed at me.”