Cupid's Bow: The First Generation Boxed Set

by Storm, Melissa

  “Now I know what you’re thinking. I still maintain you and Harry would have made a lovely match, but that’s not what this is about. A certain Sargent First Class by the name of Rockwell stopped by this morning, and asked if it might be all right to take you out this evening.”

  Deborah couldn’t hide her smile. “He did?”

  “He did. A very nice young gentleman, so of course I agreed on your behalf.”

  “Did he say where he’d be taking me?”

  “No, but he did leave these for you.” Her mother motioned toward a bouquet of wildflowers resting in an etched glass vase on the counter.

  Deborah wandered over to the kitchen and leaned down to smell the flowers’ sweet fragrance. “Did he say when he’d be picking me up?”

  “I told him anytime after four would be fine, which is why you need to get dressed. Now.”

  “Okay, okay.” Deborah laughed. She liked that her mother seemed every bit as excited about this date as she was. They continued to talk as Deborah slipped into the dress and picked a simple pearl set from her jewelry box.

  “You should take a cardigan too. It might get be chilly tonight—and please let me do something with that hair of yours.”

  “Yes, Mother.” Deborah finished getting dressed, then allowed her mother to powder her nose and curl her lashes.

  “Mother, really. I’m sure Rip isn’t expecting me to get all gussied up like this.”

  “That, my dear, is why you must. Gentlemen like to be kept guessing. It keeps them interested. Now pucker your lips, so I can apply a touch of pink.”

  Deborah rolled her eyes, but complied anyway. Partway into this impromptu beauty session, a knock sounded at the door.

  “Stay here,” Mother whispered. “I’ll get it. Make him wait a little.”

  “Let me guess, gentlemen like that too?”

  “Well, of course, they do. Now shush. You’ll give us away.”

  Deborah chuckled to herself and listened as her mother’s light footsteps crossed the house. A second later, she heard Rip’s voice. “Good evening, ma’am. I’m here to pick up Deborah for our date.”

  “Well, c’mon in. Deborah’s still getting ready, but you can wait with me and her father in the living room.”

  Deborah wondered how long she’d need to wait in order to appease her mother’s wishes. The whole ritual seemed silly to her, but she knew better than to disobey. Besides, she really didn’t know the first thing about courtship, having only ever been on one prior date.

  She ran through the lyrics of Mona Lisa in her head, imaging Rip’s beautiful voice. When she reached the end, she decided she’d waited long enough and poor Rip had probably already been subjected to more than his fair share of her mother’s merry badgering.

  “I’m ready,” she sang, walking out into the living room, a bit unsteady in the heels her mother had insisted upon.

  Rip stood and kissed her on the cheek. “You look sensational.”

  She smiled coyly, doing her best to impress both Rip and her mother. “Are we ready to go?”

  “Yes, indeed.”

  “Where are you taking our Deborah?” her father asked, coming over to clap Rip on the back.

  “If you don’t mind, sir, I’d really prefer to keep it a surprise.”

  Her father laughed, and Rip joined in nervously.

  Eager for her surprise, Deborah took Rip’s arm and tugged him toward the exit.

  “Well, you two best be off,” her mother chirped. “Have fun.”

  “And be home by ten,” her father added. They clicked the door shut behind them.

  “I’ve never met anyone’s parents before,” Rip confessed once they were seated in the cab of his truck together. “They seem nice.”

  “Thank you.” Butterflies flitted within her chest. He’d met her parents and received their blessing. Her mother would no doubt want to hear everything about their date, and then it wouldn’t be long before she started dropping little hints about marriage; after all, it had always been her dream for Deborah, to marry a nice, young man and to do so early, so she could have lots and lots of babies. She suspected the fact that she was an only child had not been by choice and often pitied her mother for this loss.

  She looked out the window in silence as the truck pulled away from her house and onto the main road. “So now will you tell me where we’re going?”

  He grinned a Cheshire grin. “You’ll find out soon enough, until then it has to be a surprise.”

  Deborah laughed. “You and your surprise.”

  “It will be worth the wait, I promise.” He snuck a quick glance at her. His handsome face sent the butterflies into a tizzy once again.

  About half an hour later, they pulled onto the busy streets of the big city. Deborah’s mouth dropped open in awe as she took in the dizzying array of pedestrians, lights, and sky-high buildings. She hadn’t been to the city for at least a year, and every time she managed to come back, it was as if the place had doubled both in size and population.

  “We’re here,” Rip announced, parking across from a large concert hall.

  “Now will you tell me?” she pleaded. Surprises were fun, but at the same time she’d prefer to know what they’d be getting into come evening.

  He opened the door for her and offered her his arm. “I suppose now’s a good a time as any. We’re seeing a certain crooner on the big stage tonight.”

  “It isn’t…?” Her throat constricted with excitement. She couldn’t finish the sentence.

  “None other than old King Cole himself.”

  Deborah squealed and wrapped her arms around Rip. “Oh, thank you. Thank you so much.”

  He beamed, then leaned in to whisper, “You know, I’d really like to kiss you right about now, but this is a very public place and I’d hate to embarrass you.”

  Deborah offered her cheek. “Until we can find some where a bit more private,” she teased, then tugged him by the hand toward the concert hall. As they got closer, she began to wonder where all the other show-goers had gotten to. Were she and Rip enormously early? Not even the ticket collector had shown up yet.

  “I don’t understand.” Rip furrowed his brow. “The concert’s supposed to start in half an hour.”

  “Let me see the tickets.” Deborah waited as Rip fished the two folded admittance stubs from his wallet and studied them with consternation.

  His lips moved as he read over the fine print on the tickets. “Oh, darn.” He handed them to Deborah, a look of utter embarrassment plastered upon his face.

  “The concert was yesterday. No wonder I got such a good deal on these.” He groaned as he crumbled the tickets up and threw them in a nearby trash bin.

  “Hey, never you mind now, you hear?” Deborah stroked his arm and smiled. “I wouldn’t change how we spent yesterday evening for all the Nat King Coles in the world. Honest, I wouldn’t.”

  And when Rip still didn’t cheer, she decided propriety could be damned, pulled his face toward her own, and gave him a full, bedroom kiss. He kissed her back hungrily, also clearly having had enough of propriety and not enough of her mouth on his.

  When they pulled apart, Deborah noticed a man wearing a janitor’s uniform and pushing a broom across the sidewalk while staring in their direction. Maybe he’d been here last night too.

  “Excuse me, sir.” She grabbed Rip’s hand and pulled him over to the stranger. “Nat King Cole, could you tell us where he’s singing tonight?”

  “Nah, ma’am. He was here last night.”

  “I understand. I’d like to find out where he went next on his tour. Could you tell us please?”

  “I can’t, but maybe this will help.” He reached into the dust bin and pulled out an advertisement for Mr. Cole’s tour across America. “That’s him, innit?”

  “Ah-ha!” she shouted, smoothing the paper in her hands and thrusting it toward Rip. “Austin at eight. That’s not too far. We can still make the end of the show.”

  “But what about tickets
?”

  “The way I see it, we have at least an hour to figure that out. Let’s scoot!”

  “Thank you!” they called back to the man as they both ran to Rip’s truck, holding hands. Seemed they were in store for an adventure or two that night.

  Chapter 8

  Austin presented an entirely different picture than the city they’d visited before. Here cars were parked everywhere pell-mell. Some had been pulled up onto the sidewalks in desperation to find a spot for the sold-out show.

  While they drove, they’d hatched up increasingly hare-brained schemes as to how they’d get into the concert. But when they arrived, it only took Rip slipping the attendant a fiver. He wasn’t sure whether he should feel relieved or cheated that their crazy plans to sneak in had been rendered moot.

  Once inside, Deborah pushed her way through the crowd, never once letting go of Rip’s hand. They ended up so close to the stage they could hardly believe it. Rip held tight to Deborah’s waist as they swayed in time to the lyrical songs, and even sang right along with Nat on a few of his favorites. Being there amidst all the other writhing concertgoers, Rip felt emboldened, truly alive, and maybe even a little free—which he found rather funny considering all the bodies were packed together like sardines in a can. Having the prettiest girl in the entire state on his arm and knowing she was truly happy to accompany him lightened Rip’s heart in a way nothing else had managed prior.

  When the show came to a close, he and Deborah made their way back to his truck. She skipped like a schoolgirl, chattering away about how amazing the evening had been and thanking him profusely for planning the most perfect surprise anyone could ever imagine. “I would have liked for it never to end,” she said. “That we could stand there, dancing side by side for all eternity.”

  Rip squeezed her hand and smiled. “I would have liked that too.”

  “Maybe it doesn’t have to.” She stopped walking, forcing the stream of foot traffic to divide in order to pass her.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean.” Her eyes hinted at mischief. “That it doesn’t have to be over.”

  He laughed and pulled on her arm to try to get her to move again. “Maybe it doesn’t have to, but it has. Why else would everyone be headed to their cars?”

  Deborah dug into her purse and pulled out the crumpled advertisement the janitor had given her. “Let’s see. Tomorrow he’ll be in New Orleans. Oh, please say we can go!”

  As much as he liked the idea of carrying their date into the next day as well, Rip also remembered… “Your father said to be home by ten. We’re already going to miss your curfew by at least two hours.”

  Deborah blew a raspberry. “Oh, c’mon. We’re already late, so what does it matter really? Tell you what, we’ll call him from a payphone and explain. He’ll have no choice but to agree.”

  The conflicting desires of remaining with Deborah and obeying her father’s wishes battled it out, and ultimately his growing affection for the girl triumphed. “Okay,” he said softly. Then louder, “Let’s do it!”

  Deborah cheered and pumped an unladylike fist in the air as they raced each other back to the truck.

  “I can’t believe we’re doing this,” he murmured while jamming the key into the ignition. “You sure bring out another side of me, Deborah.”

  “I wouldn’t do it with anyone but you,” she whispered sweetly and leaned in to plant a kiss on his cheek. “Now step on it!”

  * * *

  Deborah had shocked even herself by suggesting they follow Nat King Cole and his crew to the next venue, but she couldn’t imagine saying goodnight to Rip and letting their magical evening come to an end. Oh, her father would be livid. She had no doubt about that, but she needed to do this for herself and for Rip too. At each of their meetings, he’d relaxed more and more into their time together, going from that brusque stranger glowering at her over a basket of muffins to the light-hearted suitor who accompanied her tonight.

  She had bid her James goodnight once upon a time, and then had never seen him again. Part of her worried saying goodbye to Rip would also mean the end, and—well—she wasn’t ready for things to be over. The concert, the courtship, the special feeling in her stomach whenever his lips brushed against hers.

  “Oh, pull over here.” She motioned toward a campground on their right. “We’ll need some place to sleep for the night.”

  Rip frowned. “I don’t think I have enough money for a motel.”

  She blushed. “That’s okay. It wouldn’t be proper for us to…anyway. I mean, we aren’t…well, you know. Besides, this here truck is plenty comfy. Unless, I don’t suppose, you have a tent hidden somewhere under here?” She rummaged through the emergency kit Rip kept stashed beneath the bench seat, but came up short.

  “No, sorry.”

  “That’s okay. We’ll make do. After all, isn’t that part of this adventure we’re having together? C’mon, let’s go for a walk.” She pushed her door open before Rip had the opportunity to cross around the vehicle and assist in a display of gentlemanly behavior. Deborah wasn’t much for tradition anyway, especially if it meant she had to sit and wait for help in opening a lousy door when she was plenty capable of taking charge on her own.

  “Are we in Louisiana now?” she asked as they walked hand in hand down a dirt trail leading into a ravine.

  “Only just. We crossed the state line a few miles back.”

  “I like it.”

  “Me too.” He squeezed her hand as a twinkling display of lights flickered across the night sky.

  “Wow,” Deborah whispered. “It’s like God just flipped on a switch.”

  “Or like the fireflies are in support of our romance.” He stopped walking and put a hand on each side of Deborah’s waist. “I am too. Rooting for us, I mean.”

  And they kissed. His mouth on hers was wet, searching. He hugged her tight to his body, and she could feel the growing desire as it struggled against his undergarments. He pulled back and searched her face, a smile tugging at the corner of each of his warm hazel eyes. The stars above shone down upon them as the fireflies continued their delicate dance across the horizon.

  Suddenly a very strange feeling overtook Deborah. Not desire, not love, not any emotion she would have expected from such a romantic evening. Guilt and guilt alone gnawed at her gut, tore down the happy butterflies, so their wings no longer tickled her insides. She pulled away from Rip as if his skin was white hot.

  “What’s the matter?” he murmured, drawing close to comfort her.

  James. James was the matter, but how could she tell him that? It was no fault of his she had pledged herself to another first. No fault of his that James had gone missing somewhere near the forty-first parallel and had stayed in that amorphous space, neither alive nor dead, for more than a year. What if he was still out there, a battered prisoner of war, clinging desperately to his life so he could make his way back to her? What if he were dead and she hadn’t taken the time to properly mourn him before falling into the arms of another?

  What if Rip returned to war and befell harm too?

  What if? What if? What if?

  The myriad possibilities danced through her mind, not one of them offering a happily ever after. Rip stared at her, his face a mask to whatever feelings he hid within.

  “I’m just…very tired is all. Can we call it a night please?” Deborah stalked off toward the truck and let herself into the cab. And though her vexation continued, she eventually fell asleep nestled up against the cold car door. She’d much rather have been tucked safely in the arms of a man she was increasingly smitten with.

  Why did everything need to be so complicated?

  * * *

  The next morning Deborah awoke to find herself wrapped in the very arms she had shunned the previous night. Rip slept serenely with a smile upon his face, breathing softly in time to the beat of her own heart. She carefully freed herself from his embrace and eased the car door open. The sun had begun to rise across the way
, and she found herself walking swiftly in pursuit of the treeless horizon to get a better look.

  Brilliant purples, oranges, and pinks took over the sky, and she watched, allowing the colors to take over her too. Deep breath in. Deep breath out.

  Whether due to the sun’s arrival or the good night’s sleep, Deborah felt better in the light of day. Waking up in Rip’s arms had felt right. Sleeping within them had also felt right, because she’d managed to slumber straight through the night, a feat she rarely managed even tucked into her own bed at home. And she couldn’t remember making her way over to Rip’s side of the cab. Seemed her subconscious knew precisely what to do, even if her waking mind was fraught with hesitation.

  “I’m allowed to be happy,” she told a curious bunny that had hopped across the path. “I’m allowed to carry on with my life.”

  The bunny sniffed at the air then continued on his way, and Deborah sighed. She willed her mind blank, tried to start over with her day. The sun continued to climb, dispersing its colors as it rose.

  Suddenly, inspiration.

  She hadn’t brought her writing journal, so she began to place words together in her mind. Yes, it would be the perfect way to set things right.

  Chapter 9

  Rip’s body fell beneath the snow, deeper and deeper, its weight pinning him in place. Even though frigid air swirled around him, he felt uncontrollably hot, sweaty. The snow’s moisture seeped into his clothes, his bones… his mouth?

  His eyes shot open and he stared straight into the face of a beautiful woman, her body covered his, writhing as she continued to kiss him. And then it all returned to him—the concert, the campgrounds, Deborah’s sudden change in disposition toward him. He was so dreadfully confused.

  “Good morning, sleepy-head.” She worked her fingers through his hair, pulling his face forward to meet her own. She’d flip-flopped on him again, but rather than fretting about it, he chose to relax and enjoy this surprise show of intimacy.