by Abby Knox
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Oma, I’m failing to see what you suddenly having more money in your checking would have to do with Boone or me.”
“Well, the entire quilting bee group text exploded this morning. Everyone in the group who is a widow received back every cent they ever gave to the church.”
“Huh,” I say. “A glitch in the church’s accounting software?”
Oma sounds exasperated with me now. I have to giggle at the thought of all the little old church ladies using group text together. “Honey,” she says slowly, the way she does when she feels like she’s not getting through to me. “Not just this fiscal year. All of it, over time, ever.”
“What? But what does that have to do with Boone?”
“He’s the one who made the transaction! He had access to the discretionary account where they deposit his paychecks and other special offerings, and those dummies never checked on it. Everyone is hopping mad about it.”
My jaw drops.
“Oma, I gotta go.”
Chapter Twelve
Boone
“Listen, Leslie, I’m not denying I moved the money. But it was discretionary spending. I didn’t use it on myself. I returned it to its rightful owners. I decided it wasn’t right to be taking money away from widows on a fixed income, whether or not they gave it freely.”
This conversation is not going well.
“Well, I don’t know what to tell you, Boone. We’re going to have to talk to the lawyers about this mess.”
It was never my intention to burn any bridges, but I knew that if I had told the church elders I wanted to give back the money, it would have been intercepted. And if I was still an employee and not on probation, I would not have had any say in what happened with that particular fund, and my plan would not have worked.
When Leslie and I end the call, Delilah slides the glass door open and comes inside.
“The look on your face tells me everything I need to know. You just spoke to Louisa, didn’t you?”
She nods solemnly and places her phone down on the kitchen island slowly, like she’s in shock.
“The look on my face forgot to tell you one other thing. I fucking love you, Boone.”
The dark clouds part and the storm inside me subsides. Delilah, my beautiful, foulmouthed angel elevates me above the worry about what the future holds. A hard but sweet lump forms in the back of my throat. I feel a powerful, unfamiliar urge building inside me. Say it back, dummy.
My arms slide around her. “I love you too, Delilah.”
The delicious slide of our lips together is familiar but feels different at the same time.
“Can you handle having a sweetheart who might be investigated for mishandling money?”
She grins and it’s full of mischief. “You’re the only person I want to fuck shit up with. Maybe you will and maybe you won’t. Either way, it was the right thing to do.”
I pick her up and spin her around while she whoops in laughter. “Now would be a good time to go and do the surprise I had planned for today.”
Once again I find myself behind the wheel of her car, taking directions.
“I do at some point want to drive my own car again,” she says when we pull into the lot of a strip mall.
“I know you do. You might just have to wait until this protective high I’m on wears off a little. Besides, I’ve never driven a car like this in my life, so just let me enjoy it. Where are we anyway?”
Delilah points to the sign on the building.
I laugh. “Are you serious?”
“As a heart attack,” she says. “And after this, we’re going to get you good and drunk for the first time in your life.”
Nodding, I get out of the car to open her door. “Sounds like a solid plan.”
The pair of us leave a couple of hours later with matching heart tattoos with each other’s names. Mine on my chest, and hers just above her pelvic bone. I’m not gonna lie, I was not happy about watching that tattoo artist get to know my sweetheart’s lower abdomen so up close and personal.
Delilah steers us to a park, where we lay out a blanket, feed each other chips, and she pours me tequila shots to celebrate our matching tattoos.
Pretty soon, I’m so tipsy I feel like texting my sister. I don’t know why, since she and I almost never text each other. Up until she met her fiancé, Daniel, she never even owned a smartphone. The love in my heart and the booze in my system makes me feel so warm and nostalgic that I want to tell the whole world about this amazing woman with me. Midway through sending the second photo of Delilah, Molly calls me and I put her on speaker. I don’t even have time to say hello before she jumps right in.
“You know you have to bring her to the wedding this weekend,” Molly says. Shit, I almost forgot about her wedding.
“I haven’t asked her yet,” I say, shooting a shy smile to my sweetheart, who’s sprawled out next to me on the blanket.
“I ain’t asking, I’m telling. I’m writing her down as your plus one and tell her I said ‘welcome to the family’.”
Putting Molly on speakerphone is a risk on a normal day. But today, it could have been lethal to my newfound relationship.
“Welcome to the family? Jesus, Molly, we just started dating.”
Molly scoffs. “First of all, since when does my goody-two-shoes brother take the Lord’s name in vain? They teach you that in the county lockup? And second of all, I know things. I took one look at that photo and I said to Daniel, ‘Daniel! Come here and look at my future sister-in-law,’ but then he was too slow on the uptake on that one so I went ahead and called you to tell you this. Don’t fuck it up, Boone.”
Ordinarily I would tell her off for being so bossy. But I’m in too good of a mood.
I look up at Delilah, who’s looking back at me and smiling, eyes shining.
“Well, at least she didn’t run away screaming yet,” I tell Molly.
There’s a brief silence on the other end of the phone, and then Molly blurts out, “Are you drunk? You sound weird.” All I can do is cackle.
Delilah pipes up. “Yes, ma'am. That’s my fault. We were celebrating your brother getting his first tattoo. Sorry.”
Delilah doesn’t try to shy away from the fact that she’s the instigator. I could not love her more.
“I guess I should tell you the truth. I sort of fucked up and lost my church. I haven’t been acting properly penitent since I got arrested last week.”
Molly shushes me like my drunk ass is pointless. “Say no more, big brother. Just get your ass and that sweet girl you love here, and we’ll figure out how to tell Mom and Dad. They get back right before the wedding. I’m guessing you don’t have a parsonage to live in anymore. You and Delilah can stay in the guest room in Daniel’s house until I figure out what to do with you.” Then she hangs up before I can respond.
I turn to Delilah. “So, you’re gonna have to go to this wedding with me because if you don’t, my sister might kill me, and then where will you be?”
Delilah grimaces at first but then her face lights up like she got an idea. “I don’t have anything appropriate to wear to a wedding. But…I think I have an idea.”
Chapter Thirteen
Delilah
“Your sister might be my new best friend, but your mother hates me.”
Boone and I are settled into one of the spacious bedrooms in Daniel’s house, which backs up to Molly’s dog rescue ranch and the location of tomorrow’s festivities.
I’m not exaggerating. Molly all but insisted Boone and I move into Daniel’s house for the rest of the week leading up to the wedding, and she and I hit it off immediately. Daniel and Boone seemed to know each other, and upon our arrival, the two of them talked animatedly about my car for a while before setting off to prepare the barn for the reception.
To say that a dog rescue ranch might be the happiest place I’ve ever been is an understatement.
“I’ve never had a dog of my own,” I admitted to Molly on Wednesd
ay night when we first arrived.
I was thankful that Molly didn’t give me a pitying look like most people did. She just smiled and said, “If you want one, just pick one. Just not that one, that one, or that one,” she said, rattling off names to a small crew of canines that seemed to follow her everywhere. “Those are actually permanent residents. And you can’t have Terrence, he’s a paying boarder and kind of a little bastard anyway.”
As the week goes on, Molly and Boone discuss how to break all the news to their parents about Boone’s arrest and other troubles. It’s finally decided that they’ll let their mother enjoy Molly’s wedding as much as she can, and leave the bad news about Boone until after the reception.
Being introduced to the parents at the engagement party is exactly as awkward as I’d expected it to be. Fortunately, his icy mother and confused father have little time to give me the third degree because, well, their daughter is getting married. On top of that, it looks as if it’s not exactly the kind of wedding Molly and Boone’s mother would have wanted.
“I’m glad you and Molly get along so well. But don’t worry about my parents. Believe me, when they hear the news, all the negative attention will be on me, not you.”
I roll my eyes at him. “They’re going to think all of this was my influence,” I say.
He slides in next to me under the comforter on the bed that is starting to feel like home to me. I don’t want to get attached to this place, but I can’t help it. I like the house, I like the neighbors, and I really, really like the dogs.
“Nah. Just watch, they’ll blame it all on Molly and her bad influence on me. She is kind of responsible in a way, always dragging me into her misadventures. She’s the one who talked me into helping her bust up that puppy mill up the road last year, and after what I saw there, I haven’t been the same since.”
My hand finds his face in the dark to pet his hair and smooth my fingers over his forehead. “You’re a good man, Boone. I’m glad you dragged me outta that church.”
Every moment since meeting this man has been exciting, erotic, or both, but drifting off to sleep in his arms thrills me unlike anything we’ve done yet. For the first time in my life, a man has not just told me he loves me, but made me feel it down to my bones. He holds me like I’m a precious gift. Every time I move or adjust myself during the night, he delivers a sleepy kiss to my forehead, the top of my head, my cheek, my shoulders. The sweetness of it all almost makes me forget that the next few weeks could be a firestorm of legal trouble and parental conflicts.
The next morning, the ceremony takes place out in a pretty patch of woods behind the dog ranch. It’s a beautiful morning and a simple ceremony, and Molly is absolutely stunning.
Boone stares at me all morning like I’m a bad girl, and I don’t hate it. However, it distracts us from the one job we have: releasing a crate full of Bichon puppies at the moment the bride and groom are pronounced husband and wife. Blame the moony eyes we’re making at each other, but while we’re distracted, the puppies work open the latch, and the small crowd of a dozen people get a little extra chaos thrown into the works when the litter escapes. While the rest of the guests don’t seem to be too bothered by it, I get the hairy eyeball from Boone’s mother, who has already spent the morning—when not fussing at and hassling Molly—staring thoughtfully at my tattoos.
The reception is just as small and intimate: an afternoon barbecue picnic and barn dance.
My anxiety prevents me from enjoying any of the food or the dancing, however, and Molly picks up on it quickly. She marches over to me and takes me by the arm, Boone by the other and marches us up to where her parents are sitting, drinking virgin mimosas. Also known as plain orange juice.
“Mom? Dad? Daniel, Boone, Delilah and I have some things we need to get out into the open. It’s time for the cobbler.”
Instead of a traditional wedding cake, Molly has made the biggest batch of their MeMaw’s old-fashioned peach cobbler that I’ve ever seen. It makes me glad I skipped the fried okra, because when this dreadful talk is over, I’m going to mash my face into a big bowl of that dessert.
Once the six of us are seated around one of the small rustic banquet tables, Molly says, “Boone, you go first.”
Boone shakes his head. “No way. I think we should soften the blow by telling them your news first.”
They bicker back and forth until their mother blurts out, “How about each of you tattle on the other, just like in the old days?”
Molly rolls her eyes. “Fine. Boone got fired.”
Their mother’s eyes pop open.
“What?”
Molly nods and barrels on with the whole story while their parents’ faces transform from looks of horror to embarrassment to resignation.
“Son, you could go to jail,” Boone’s father says.
“I realize that,” Boone says. “But Daniel says he’ll give me a job either way. Delilah and I are going to work for him, flipping houses. He said if I do go to jail, I’ll still have a job with him when I get out. I’m very, very lucky.”
Their parents’ stoic faces volley between Boone and Molly.
“Anything else?”
Boone chuckles. “Molly’s pregnant, so congrats!”
“Molly!” gasps their mother.
“I figured as much,” says their father.
Boone takes advantage of the focus being off him and covers my hand in his, leading me away from the table, out of the barn, and across the field back to “our” house.
“Amazing what can happen in one week,” he says, kissing the top of my head and inhaling sharply and then sighing, like he’s trying to absorb all of me into his body.
I smile. I hope Boone never stops doing that. “Has it only been a week?”
“Doesn’t seem likely that a person could fall so far, so hard, so fast,” he says.
“Really? I knew the second I saw you.”
His breath hitches when my hand slips under the hem of his dress shirt and finds the hard ridges of his belly.
“You gotta cool your jets a minute. I need to ask you something.”
I stop and hold my breath, thinking I might know what it is but still not sure. “What is it?”
“I know a lot of shit is about to go down. But there’s simply no other girl for me, and I would be the luckiest man alive if you would stand by me through it.”
I’m confused. “I’m already here, and I ain’t leaving. Were you worried that I might?”
“What I mean is, Delilah, will you marry me?”
I laugh. “I think your sister already decided my fate, but yes. Yes, I’ll marry you.”
Boone’s finger tips up my chin to meet my lips in a soft kiss that quickly turns hot and needy. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m feeling the need to take this inside ” he says.
I tug him by the waistband of his jeans and begin dragging my man up to the house. “Your momma will say we’re headed straight to hell.”
“Nah,” he says, catching me up in his arms from behind and pressing his face into my hair, provoking a surprised yelp of joy from me. The sensation of him inhaling my scent deep into his lungs thrills me, centers me and squeezes my heart. “Pretty sure you came from the good place, angel.”
Epilogue
Five years later
Boone
Our four year old twins Louisa and Betty squeal with delight as they try on their new roller skates that attach to the bottoms of their shoes. Louisa’s set is purple; Dana’s is pink.
Delilah, Molly and the twins’ five-year-old cousin Reba help attach the skates while Daniel and I stand at the back gate of the yard, preparing to show the girls their other present.
“Girls, did you say thank you to Oma Louisa for the skates she got you for your birthday?” Delilah reminds them.
“Thank you, Oma!” they chime together.
I watch the pair of them scramble to their feet with the help of Delilah and Molly, and I can already see trouble brewing.
<
br /> Daniel and I look at each other, each of us knowing what the other is thinking.
Oma, sitting in her lawn chair, shouts instructions at the girls. “Just remember, girls, no tripping and no elbows. You use your hips to knock your opponents down.”
“Delilah, are you going to do something about A-Bomb Betty over there?” I say.
My wife offers a half-hearted comment to her grandmother about teaching the girls that fighting is not the answer. But she’s also too busy tying on her own skates to really care about admonishing anyone. And so are Reba and her mother Molly. Watching this scene, I don’t know who’s more excited, the twins or the grown ups.
“OK girls, are you ready for your present from Daddy and Uncle Dan?” I say.
The two little raven haired hellions nearly fall over with excitement as Daniel and I open the back gate that attaches our family’s property to Molly’s and Daniel’s dog rescue ranch out back.
When the girls see what we’ve done, it’s a scream fest that can be probably be heard all the way to Corpus Christi.
The entire birthday party migrates through the gate so everyone can get a view of the small circular asphalt skating track that Daniel and I built together.
My Momma and Dad look horrified. Everyone else’s expressions change from anxious to impressed as the little girls take to the track immediately, like they were born for it.
Daniel hands me a Shiner and we lean against the fence, probably looking like a couple of cranky old dudes solving the world’s problems over a couple of beers.
“Our family’s kinda weird,” Daniel points out with a smirk.
We watch our wives, Reba and the twins squeal, shriek and laugh their way around the track. About a dozen or more dogs have joined the party, some trying to herd the little girls, others barking their fool heads off. Someone is definitely going to get hurt before this party’s over.