by Hope Ramsay
“My father’s going to come and get me, just as soon as he has a free weekend where he’s not playing in a pool tournament.”
Dash felt for the kid. How many times had Dash told himself the same thing? Dash’s daddy had been a rodeo rider always promising to come home after the next rodeo on the circuit. It sounded like Todd’s daddy loved pool more than his boy. Dash prayed the man wasn’t some kind of hustler or gambler.
The puppy crawled into Todd’s lap and started washing his face with a darting pink tongue. The kid’s lips quivered. “I can’t even keep him,” he said, stroking the dog’s floppy ears.
“Well now, that can be arranged,” Dash said as he sat on the porch railing. “Aunt Mim has no objections to the puppy. I have no objections either. And your momma is a guest in this house until she can fix up the apartment above the theater. So she doesn’t have much to say about it. I reckon the dog can stay. Which means we need to find him a name. I’ve been calling him Boulder Head. What do you think of that?”
The corner of the boy’s mouth lifted just a little. “That’s a stupid name.”
“Yeah, but it describes him. It’s like someone stuck a head as big as a boxer’s on a frankfurter’s body. That is one weird-looking dog you got there.”
The kid sniffled and stared down at the dog’s face for a long time. “He’s not weird looking. We should call him Champ.”
“Champ?”
“Yeah. He’s got a head as big as a boxer’s, right?”
“Yeah, I guess. Champ it is, then.” Dash paused for a long moment. “And, uh, I went up to Orangeburg this afternoon, and I got you something.”
The kid raised his head.
“It’s in my car.” Dash nodded toward the Cadillac in the drive. “Go on and get it.”
The kid hopped down from the steps and ran to the car. He opened the passenger’s side door and found the PSP Dash had bought that afternoon.
“You bought me a new one?” The kid looked really confused.
“Yeah I did. See, I probably shouldn’t have destroyed your property like that. But I reckon it worked out because, if I hadn’t, we might not have found Champ.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“And there’s another thing. If you’re going to be living in this house, you’re going to have to do some chores. I was twelve when I came to live in this house, and I was required to mow the lawn. And Uncle Earnest—that would be your great-grandfather—insisted that I work at the movie theater and that I go to church and a bunch of things that I wasn’t all that wild about. But there were some good things. I got to help out at Mr. Nelson’s stables, and I like horses. And I got to play baseball.”
“I hate sports. I’m not any good.”
“Have you ever played football?”
He shook his head. “My dad did in college. He was an offensive lineman. He’s always talking about how he almost made it to the NFL.”
Dash had to stifle a snort of laughter, because the boy was built like an offensive lineman. He might only be twelve, but he was one big child. Dash couldn’t wait to introduce him to Red Canaday, the Davis High football coach and one of Allenberg’s Pop Warner football commissioners. Dash made a mental note to run up to Orangeburg tomorrow and buy a football.
“Well, maybe you just haven’t had much chance to play anything but that video game. So here’s the deal. You can play that game in the evening after you finish your homework and walk the dog. I also need your help with some repairs around the house.”
He didn’t mention anything about tossing a football. He would try to ease into that one slowly, like Aunt Mim had suggested.
“You’re kidding, right?”
“Nope. It’s all that stuff in order for you to keep the dog and the game. Deal?”
Champ stood at Todd’s feet wagging his tail and looking up at the boy like he hung the moon. The dog was more eloquent than Dash could ever be. Todd left the game on the front seat of Dash’s car and got down on his knee and petted the dog. Champ responded by wagging his tail and giving the kid a bunch of sloppy puppy kisses.
Dash tried not to smile, but he couldn’t help it. He said a quiet prayer of thanksgiving to the angels who looked out for lost kids and abandoned dogs.
Just then a tornado hit the front porch. It came down the hall with fists clenched and blond hair bouncing. “You know I’ve been standing in the kitchen stirring the gravy, trying to control my temper and figure you out. I give up. What do you mean, I’ll have to go into business with you?” Savannah put her fists on her cute little jean-clad hips.
She’d lost the apron she’d been wearing in the kitchen, but her cheeks looked pink, and there was a little smidgen of flour on her navy T-shirt that kind of accentuated her assets, so to speak. Oh, boy, homemade biscuits for dinner. His mouth started watering.
“Well now,” he said, leaning his backside into the porch railing and folding his arms over his chest, “I think the words are self-explanatory. You’re going into business with me. Actually, I think it’s more accurate to say that I’m going into business with you.” He smiled.
She gave him her imperious-princess look. “I am not going into business with you.”
Well, that was predictable. But he wasn’t going to give up. Hettie had asked him for his help, and he regarded it as a test. Besides, if Hettie had asked him to swim the English Channel in his birthday suit, he’d have done it with a smile. “Princess, I hate to disagree, but you and I are about to become partners.”
“Over my dead body.” She turned and stalked back into the house.
“Mom really hates you, doesn’t she?” Todd said in a snarky tone.
Yes, she did. And Dash had the feeling that once Savannah made up her mind about something, she wasn’t ever going to change it.
CHAPTER 6
On Sunday, Savannah sat in a pew at Christ Church letting memories wash through her. How many times had she heard this hymn? Enough, at any rate, to know the words:
Father of all, to Thee
We breathe unuttered fears,
Deep hidden in our souls,
That have no voice but tears;
Take Thou our hand, and through the wild
Lead gently each trustful child.
The words seemed appropriate, seeing as she had taken the step of severing her ties to Baltimore. On Friday, she’d taken Todd down to the school and signed him up for the remainder of the term. On Saturday, she got herself a part-time job at the doughnut shop. The boxes of stuff she’d shipped before she left had arrived.
She was officially here in Last Chance, and she was staying.
When services ended, she followed Aunt Miriam, Dash, and Todd down the aisle toward the double doors where Reverend Ellis stood wearing his Episcopalian regalia. His sermon today had not been terribly original, but he sure was easy on the eye. That probably explained the big crowd at church this morning. Or maybe it was just being in the Bible Belt. People down here sure did take their religion seriously.
When it was her turn to greet the minister, he took her hand in his. “Welcome back to Christ Church.”
His hand was big and warm. His eyes were sky blue. He was handsome. But she was not interested. “Thank you. It was a nice sermon.” Actually it had been long and boring, but sometimes a white lie was necessary.
The preacher smiled. His dimples came out. “I guess you’ll be wanting to sign Todd up for Sunday School. The kids are pretty busy this time of year, what with planning the Easter hunt as part of our Jubilee.” He glanced down at Todd.
Todd looked up with a frown. He opened his mouth.
At that moment, everything went into slow motion. Todd was about to say something embarrassing, or heinous, or rude, or maybe all three. And there was no way to stop him. She could see him taking a deep breath, she could see the wheels turning in his sharp, snarky little brain, but it was too late to slap her hand across his mouth and muffle the words.
She braced herself.
And then Das
h jumped right into the fray. He squeezed Todd’s shoulder so hard that the kid squeaked instead of holding forth on his opinions about egg hunts and Easter and Last Chance. Dash didn’t let go of her son’s shoulder. But he did smile at the minister and say, “Todd would love to attend Sunday School, Reverend. In fact, I think he’d make a great altar boy.”
The minister turned his blue gaze on Dash, his soft lips pressing into a small grimace that spoke volumes about the minister’s views on Dash Randall. “Dash,” he said with a curt nod.
“Bill,” Dash replied in a like manner, then looked up at the sky. “Looks like it’s going to be another warm day for March, don’t you think?”
Without waiting for a response from the minister, Dash pressed forward, still clutching Todd by the shoulder. Miriam and Savannah had no choice but to move on, letting the parishioners behind them have their post-service moment with the preacher.
Savannah didn’t know whether to be grateful or furious. “Let him go,” she hissed as they stepped down the church steps.
Dash ignored Savannah’s request and kept his big hand on her son’s shoulder. “Princess, you have no reason to be riled at me. I just saved Todd from screwing up his life.” He looked down at the boy. “Son, you don’t dis the minister in this town. Not if you’re smart.”
They reached the landing and headed down the path to the fellowship hall at the back of the church where coffee was being served. Dash finally let go of Todd’s shoulder.
The boy stopped before they reached the door. His face was a study in resentment and anger. “Why’d you do that? I’m not going to help anyone put on some lame Easter egg hunt. I’m old enough to know that there is no Easter bunny. And I’m sure as hell not going to Sunday School.”
He said these words loud enough for just about everyone to hear.
Before Savannah could scold him for his poor and untimely choice of words, Dash was all over him.
“Son, you don’t use language like that in a churchyard. And you don’t say rude things to the minister. And you don’t embarrass your mother, or me, or Aunt Mim. Not while you’re living with us. Is that clear?”
“I don’t want to live with you.”
“I get that, but you are living with me and you will show some respect. And while you’re living here, you will go to Sunday School, whether you like it or not, because that’s what the children in Last Chance do. And becoming an altar boy would probably straighten you out some. Do I need to remind you of that little deal you and I worked out the other day?”
Todd’s brown eyes widened with surprise, then narrowed with a look of pure disdain. “That had nothing to do with Sunday School. And besides, you are not the boss of me.” He looked toward Savannah, expecting her to take his side.
Savannah had to hold her entire body in check as her momma lion instincts kicked in. A part of her wanted to spit right in Dash’s eye for talking to Todd that way. But another part of her felt supremely guilty for not having sent Todd to Sunday School in the past. When she was a little girl, she had been required to attend vacation Bible school. Granddaddy had insisted upon it.
She counted to three, took a deep breath, and shot Dash an icy stare intended to put him back in his place. The issue was not whether Todd needed discipline. She knew her boy was a brat. But she had come here to take charge of him, not to cede the territory to someone else.
She looked down at her son. “Todd, you’re grounded. When we get back home, you have to stay in your room, without your PSP, and think about why it’s not acceptable for you to use curse words in the middle of a churchyard.”
“But, Mom, I don’t—” His voice pitched up into a whine she knew very well.
“Not now. We’ll talk about this after we get home. And just so you know, I went to Bible school when I was a child, and most of the children around here go, too. Now, why don’t you help Aunt Miriam into the fellowship hall? Dash and I will be right in.” She gave Todd one of her patented motherly scowls. He seemed to understand that further argument was futile.
“C’mon, sugar, I’ll bet they have some cookies for a hungry boy like you,” Miriam said. Savannah blessed the old woman as she and the boy headed back down the path toward the fellowship hall.
Savannah turned toward Dash, feeling another rush of adrenaline. “That was uncalled for,” she hissed.
“No, it wasn’t.” Dash’s intensely blue glaze was filled with irritation.
“Look, Dash, I’m Todd’s mother, okay? I would appreciate it if you would respect that. If he needs discipline, I’m the one who should do it.”
“Okay, I respect that. But, princess, you need to start acting like his mother. That boy is rude. If I hadn’t stepped in, God knows what he would have said to Bill. And if he said something ugly, it would get around until Lillian Bray heard it. And that wouldn’t be fun for him. Take it from me. I’ve been there.”
Irritation flared into full-fledged fury. This was precisely the kind of thing she’d left Baltimore to escape. She might take criticism from her mother and mother-in-law because of family ties, but Dash was hardly family. She needed a big jock who got sloppy drunk at honky-tonks telling her how to be a model mother like she needed a root canal.
“Back off, cowboy,” she hissed, trying to keep her face as neutral as possible while the parishioners paraded by on their way to fellowship. “Todd is my child. I will raise him as I see fit. You can keep your thoughts to yourself. And don’t you ever make a decision for my child again without consulting me first.”
His lips narrowed into a thin line, so unlike his usual half smile. “Okay, Savannah, I’ll stay out of it. You and the boy just keep away from me, though. I swear, I hear that kid say one more rude thing about Miriam or Last Chance or anything, and I’m gonna take him right out to the woodshed. He’s as spoiled as you used to be.”
Stupid, stupid, stupid. Dash filled a Styrofoam cup with coffee and took a sip that scalded his tongue. It took a great deal of self-restraint not to let fly with a colorful expletive. But he managed—depriving the blue-haired Lillian Bray, who stood behind the refreshment table, from obtaining another reason to dislike him. Miz Lillian was the chairwoman of the Ladies’ Auxiliary, a group that was synonymous with gossipers anonymous. Any right-minded male in Last Chance made sure he put on his best manners when addressing the old hen.
He could chalk one up for his side. Anytime he could thwart Lillian Bray counted as a moral victory for his gender.
He headed off to a vacant corner where he could brood in peace. What on earth had he been thinking, jumping in like that and telling the prissy Reverend Ellis that Todd would attend Sunday School? And where the heck did that last comment about taking Todd to the woodshed come from? Shoot, the boy needed discipline, but not a beating. Dash knew firsthand about the difference. He’d been walloped one too many times as a boy before he’d come to live in Last Chance. Guilt and dark emotions percolated in his gut.
He scanned the crowd of parishioners, and of course his gaze got stuck when it reached Savannah. That demure pink dress and those high heels made her look like Go to Church Barbie. Sex appeal oozed from every pore in her body while she still managed to exude a certain regal quality. After just a few days of living in the same house with her, Dash was having trouble ignoring the fact that she had a winning smile and way of putting most people at ease.
But not him. She did not put him at ease. Especially not at the bathroom door, where he always noticed her long legs and her soft, round curves.
Finding Savannah attractive was confusing and complicated, not to mention annoying as hell. He had a weakness for blondes. And it was showing up right on cue, eighteen months into his recovery. He needed to recognize this lust for what it was—just another old habit he needed to fight.
He watched his cousin as she helped herself to some coffee and then engaged the minister in a conversation. She was flirting with him, and Bill didn’t seem to mind. Oh, boy, he could practically hear the gossip. Everyone knew Bill
was looking for a wife who was good in the kitchen, and Savannah was some kind of cook.
“Hey, Dash.” A sultry voice pulled him away from his speculation about Savannah and Bill. He looked to his left to find Hettie Marshall, dressed in a light purple dress that kind of matched her eyes. How the hell had she snuck up on him? Usually he spent his Sundays watching her every move.
Shame and confusion washed through him. How on earth had Savannah managed to make him forget about Hettie?
“So,” Hettie said, “how are the plans coming for the theater?”
He sighed. “Hettie, I’m the last person on earth Savannah wants as a partner. The plans are nowhere. She got a part-time job pushing coffee at the doughnut shop. She’s staying, but she’s kind of given up on the theater.”
“Well, you’ll just have to work harder to convince her not to give up. I can’t imagine why a woman would turn down an angel like you.”
“A what?”
Hettie looked down her beautiful nose at him. “An angel investor. The proper definition is a person with deep pockets who takes on a project because he or she believes in it, not because it will necessarily lead to any significant income.”
“But that’s just it, Hettie, I don’t believe in this project.” He was tempted to tell Hettie that if she cared so much about The Kismet, she could be an angel. But Dash knew that Hettie’s late husband had left her with a lot of financial issues.
The truth of it was that Dash wanted to help Hettie, not Savannah. But Hettie was too proud to take his help.
And so was Savannah.
Which put him smack dab in the middle of a conundrum.
“Come on Dash,” Hettie wheedled. “I know you. You’re a very generous person on the inside. And you love that old theater just like you used to love Mr. Brooks. Can’t you see your way through to doing this? For your own self if not for the town?”
He finished the bitter brand of coffee in his cup and then crumpled the Styrofoam. “Hettie, you don’t understand. My uncle used to call Savannah ‘princess,’ and she is just about as proud as one. She won’t take my money or my help. She hates me. She always has.”