The Dixie Virgin Chronicles: Belinda (Book 1)

by Peggy Webb

  Much love,

  Molly

  From: Joanna (joanna@hotmail.com)

  To: Janet, Molly, Bea, Clemmie, Catherine, Belinda

  Re: Those SHOES!

  Cat, those SHOES were to die for!!! Where did you ever find them? Now that I’m back, I wear then everywhere. The nuns here at the Santa Maria Magdalena Colegio y Conservatorio de Arte y Musica are about to have heart failure. They tell me silver shoes with four inch heels and rhinestone buckles are INAPPROPRIATE. Hello? I’d DIE before turning myself into somebody APPROPRIATE!!!!

  Oh, Belinda, I LOVED your wedding. Reeve is DELICIOUS LOOKING. Enjoy every minute of your honeymoon. Your Virginia is going to be SO happy! I’m dying to ask about the salacious details, but even I won’t go that far.

  The only fly in the ointment was that I didn’t get to see Kirk. Wouldn’t you know my guardian would have business in Europe while I was in America! I hope he’s not turning into some OLD guy while I’m slaving over my books here in Madrid. LOL

  Big Hugs!!!

  Joanna

  From: Clemmie (Clementine@yahoo.com)

  To: Molly, Joanna, Janet, Belinda, Bea, Catherine

  Re: Still Smiling

  Every time I look at my pretty bridesmaid dress hanging in the closet, I smile. If I could bottle our laughter and stories and sell them for a buck a pop, I’d have enough money to pay off the mortgage on my little boarding house. Gracious, I still laugh out loud about Joanna’s escapade with the bullfighter. I can just picture the look of shock on his face when he scaled up the espalier, landed in the wrong room, and Sister Mary Margaret dumped dish water all over his suit of lights! I don’t hear stories like that at Peppertown. Mostly I hear from my dear boarder, Miss Josephine, about her latest fantasy of her dead lover. Still, she does spice things up a bit.

  Janet, it’s fun that you’re close enough to visit now. I hope you’ll take a break from the hospital so we can have a gab session! And when Belinda gets back from her honeymoon in Paris, I’ll cook lunch for the three of us!

  Hugs,

  Clemmie

  From: Catherine (Catherine@yahoo.com)

  To: Janet, Molly, Joanna, Belinda, Bea, Clemmie

  Re: Heaven

  OMG, when I came up for the wedding, I felt as if I’d left Hell and landed in Heaven! Not that I’m complaining. I totally LOVE vet school, but it was great to ditch my sneakers and put on high heels. It was even more fun to forget about the gestation period of elephants and watch Bea flirting with that cute groomsman. What was his name? Joe something or other. He’s not my type, but he did have some obvious charms. Those muscles! LOL.

  Belinda, sweetie, now that you’re the ONLY one of us married, I guess I’ll have to stop calling you a Dixie Virgin. How FABULOUS is that!

  XOXO

  Catherine

  From: Belinda (belinda@yahoo.com)

  To: Catherine, Janet, Bea, Clemmie, Molly, Joanna

  Re: Paris!

  You sure can, Cat! And I’m not saying another word!!!!

  Xoxox

  Belinda (Mrs. Reeve Lawrence! Can you believe it!)

  From: Bea (bea@bellsouth.net)

  To: Belinda, Catherine, Janet, Clemmie, Molly, Joanna

  Re: Dixie Virgins

  Listen, Belinda will always be a Dixie Virgin! It’s more about being an independent woman than what happens to your Virginia. Though I do hope Belinda’s Virginia is now shouting hallelujah. Matter of fact, I think I heard it all the way from Paris to Dallas! Yee Haw!!!!

  Hugs,

  Bea

  Chapter One

  Harvey was missing. He hadn’t come home for the past two weekends, and Janet was getting worried. As she parked her car in front of her apartment, she decided she’d have to do something about him. Soon. But first she had to soak her feet. It had been a long day at the hospital.

  A light rain was falling, and when she got out of the car she pulled her coat close against the chill.

  “Is that you, Janet?”

  Molly’s dad, who was her next-door neighbor, always greeted her that way. Because of the little chill in the air, only his head stuck out his front door.

  She smiled at him. “It’s me, Mr. Jed. How have you been today?”

  “Excellent, my dear!” Mr. Jed inched farther out his door as Janet started up her sidewalk. In his corduroy pants and a sweater with leather elbow patches he looked like a comfortable version of George Clooney. “I’ve made hot chocolate. Want some?”

  “That sounds good. Your place or mine?”

  “I’ll bring it over there so you relax. You’re working too hard. Molly will never forgive me if I let you collapse from exhaustion.”

  Mr. Jed vanished back into his apartment. Two things Janet loved most about her first floor apartment were Molly’s dad and her little postage stamp patio/yard. Mr. Jed had a joyful spirit that gave her a lift after dealing with sick children all day, and her yard was so small that it never accused her of neglect by looking naked without all the petunias, zinnias, forsythia and whatever else ordinary, sane adults in Tupelo planted in their flower beds.

  Janet fitted the key into her lock and pushed open her front door. The fragrance of peach potpourri greeted her. She stood a moment, inhaling the sweet scent and enjoying the peace; then she hung her coat on the hall tree and led Mr. Jed into her living room. It was small but comfortable, with plenty of bookshelves for Janet’s medical books and enough room left over for her second-hand sofa and a fat, cushy chair she’d found at the flea market. The only touch of class was a Ming vase, which her parents had insisted on giving her as a housewarming gift, though she’d argued a temporary apartment was not a new house.

  “Awful quiet in your house,” Mr. Jed remarked as he sat down in a chair and placed the tray of hot chocolate over a scruff mark on the yard sale coffee table.

  “It is. Especially since Harvey’s not here. Have you seen him lately?”

  “That big stray mutt that comes over here every weekend?”

  “Yes. I haven’t seen him in a couple of weeks.”

  “Probably courting. That’s what everybody else is doing these days—everybody except you.”

  Janet waved her hand in airy dismissal. “I’m a career woman, Mr. Jed. You and Harvey are enough for me.”

  It was true: she was satisfied with her career. Not that she didn’t like children. On the contrary, she loved them. That’s why she had chosen pediatrics. But her internship demanded so much physical and emotional energy she didn’t have enough left over for a serious relationship.

  She sipped chocolate and enjoyed a neighborly chat. By the time she stood at the front door waving goodbye to Mr. Jed, it was dark and the wind had picked up speed. She felt a rain storm in the air and thought of Harvey, out there on the streets somewhere, cold and friendless and hungry.

  “Harvey,” she called into the darkness. No friendly dog face appeared. No wagging tail thumped her front door, and no big pink tongue licked her hand. She couldn’t imagine spending another Friday evening without Harvey.

  She ducked inside her apartment, bundled into her raincoat and went back out to the car.

  Her apartment was on the corner of Jefferson and Madison, directly across from the library. She took the Madison Street exit, turned the corner at Jefferson and cruised slowly down the street, looking right and left for the mutt who was part golden retriever, part mournful hound dog, and all heart. At the First Baptist Church she turned north on Church Street toward the elementary school. Harvey liked children. He could be on the playground, waiting for a group of Girl Scouts or watching a late soccer practice. Though why anybody would be practicing in this weather, she couldn’t imagine.

  The rain came down in earnest as she drove slowly along. She passed a large man wrapped in a heavy raincoat and carrying a big black umbrella. He looked sinister on the dark, lonely street. Not many people walked the streets in weather like this. She started to pass him, then changed her mind. Obviously she was overworked to be th
inking of one of her fellow citizens as sinister. Tupelo was the friendliest town she knew, and besides the man might have seen Harvey. Feeling a little bit foolish, she backed up and lowered her window.

  “Excuse me,” she called.

  The man jerked up his head, as if she had startled him. There was nothing sinister about his blue eyes. Or his face. Under the streetlights it looked as open and friendly as a dance club on ladies’ night.

  “Yes?”

  The voice was nice, too. Rich and crisp, like dark red apples.

  “I’m looking for my dog—Harvey. Have you seen a large tan dog?”

  The big man ambled slowly toward her car. He didn’t walk or stroll; he ambled, as if the sky were pouring sunbeams on his head instead of raindrops—as if he had nothing but time on his hands.

  “That’s a funny coincidence. I’m looking for a dog myself. George. A big, shaggy mutt with reddish hair and a tail that wags all the time.” The man was beside her car now, and he leaned into her window. “I don’t suppose you’ve seen him?”

  His smile was sincere and a little crooked. She smiled back.

  “No. I’m afraid not. Sorry I can’t help you.”

  “Me, too.” He patted the car door almost absently and looked as if he were going to say something else; then he backed away. “Good luck.”

  “You, too.”

  As she drove off, she glanced in her rearview mirror. He was still standing there, not quite on the sidewalk but not quite in the street, either, the big umbrella dangling by his side, raindrops pouring over his head. His wet hair made a dark cap of curls around his face.

  She was at the end of the block before she realized she hadn’t even glanced in the direction of the school. Harvey could have been standing on his hind legs saluting the flag in the front yard for all the attention she’d been paying.

  She rounded the corner, scanning the thick hedges that bordered the football field. A block down the street she parked her car. The only way she could possibly find her dog in the dark was to make a thorough search of the campus on foot with her flashlight. She decided to start with the football field.

  o0o

  After the woman drove off, it took Dan Albany two minutes to snap out of whatever spell he was in. He’d thought himself acquainted with every good-looking woman in Tupelo, but somehow he’d missed that auburn-haired beauty in the aging red Corvette. And she liked dogs. That was a plus. If she also liked cream-filled cupcakes, greasy hamburgers, soggy fries, kids and soccer games in the rain, she’d be just about perfect. But he hadn’t even asked her name.

  Shaking his head to clear it, he sent raindrops flying. With a sigh, he lifted his umbrella and continued down the street in search of his dog. He even laughed aloud at his foolish fancies.

  “Well, Coach,” he said in that jocular way he had of addressing himself when he felt he needed a good talking to, “it’s just as well. Classy looking ladies driving Corvettes aren’t usually the old-fashioned type who enjoy life on a shoestring budget.”

  Not that he was looking, anyhow. Life had a wonderful way of just happening, and he figured one day his sweet, old- fashioned dream woman would waltz into his life. Though why it hadn’t happened in thirty years, he couldn’t say. Maybe he should be looking.

  But first, he had to find George.

  He made a quick tour around the school building; then he walked down the hill toward the football field. The hedges would be a good hiding place for a dog, especially if he’d been hurt and was seeking shelter from the rain.

  He had almost reached the stadium gates when he heard the whimper.

  “George,” he shouted. “Is that you?”

  The dog whimpered again. It was unmistakably the sound of the shaggy red stray who had shown up on his doorstep six weeks ago and become his part-time dog.

  Bending low and training his flashlight into the dark, he spotted George on the other side of the fence, huddled in a thick patch of shrubbery.

  “Stay there, George. I’m coming.”

  He sprinted toward the padlocked gates and was halfway over the fence before he saw her—the woman from the Corvette. She was racing across the football field, her green coat unbuttoned and flapping behind her.

  “Hey,” he yelled.

  Without breaking stride, she glanced in his direction. “I think I’ve found Harvey,” she called. “I heard him over there.” She continued running toward the bushes where Dan had spotted George.

  He heard his raincoat rip as he jumped down onto the football field. Small matter. He’d patch it. What really bothered him was the disappointment that gorgeous woman would feel when she discovered she’d found the wrong dog.

  He caught up with her just as she’d reached the dog.

  “Oh, Harvey. You poor thing.” Oblivious of the mud, she knelt beside the big dog and cradled his head.

  “George.” Squatting beside them, Dan addressed his dog. George acknowledged his master with a faint wag of the tail.

  The woman looked up at him. “Did you say George?”

  “Yes. That’s my dog.”

  “This is not George. This is Harvey—my dog—and he looks like he’s hurt.” She pushed the bushes aside and bent closer to the dog. “Would you mind moving back a bit, so I can see him better?”

  “If you’ll step back, I’ll get him out.” He broke some of the larger branches that were trapping his dog.

  The woman jerked her head up and looked him straight in the eye. “I’m a doctor. I know how to move him.”

  A doctor, he thought. And a bad-tempered one at that. Her big brown eyes were fairly sparkling with feeling. And he’d bet she’d never sat on a bleacher in the rain in her entire life. She was probably the symphony type.

  “Allow me to help you, Doctor.” He spoke with elaborate politeness that bordered on sarcasm. Fifteen minutes from now he knew he’d regret it, but he forgave himself. The death of a dream was always hard. Although it had been only a fleeting dream, he couldn’t help feeling a little disappointed and somewhat cheated. She was so lovely to look at.

  She smelled good, too. Even in the mud and rain, he caught the faint scent of jasmine in her hair.

  They worked together for several minutes to free the big dog. When they had him out of the bushes, the doctor bent over him.

  “He’s weak... probably from hunger, as well as loss of blood.” She continued her cursory examination of the dog. “Everything seems to be okay except the back leg.”

  Dan could see the dog’s right hind leg was a crushed mass of bloody flesh and exposed bone.

  “You’re a veterinarian?”

  “No. A pediatrician. An intern, actually, but I can patch him up until tomorrow morning. Then I’ll take him to a vet.”

  “ We’ll take him to a vet,” Dan countered. “It appears that George has two masters.”

  “Harvey.” Her eyes were alight again, but this time with humor.

  “Stubborn, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “My house is just up the block—the big white one with all the gingerbread trim,” he said. “I’ll take What’s-his-name up there, and you can follow in your car.”

  “It’s raining. We’ll all go in my car. My medical bag’s in it.”

  “You’d put a wet, muddy dog in your Corvette?”

  “He’s not a wet, muddy dog. He’s Harvey, and I love him.”

  Dan took in her tumbled auburn hair, her brown eyes bright with compassion. “You’re not half bad, Doc,” he said as he bent and carefully lifted the big dog.

  “Watch his leg,” she said.

  Dan laughed. “Just a little bossy.”

  “You’re not so bad yourself. Just a little—” pausing, she surveyed him from head to toe “—big.”

  They started across the football field toward her car.

  “Dan Albany.”

  “Janet Hall.”

  “I don’t know how you got over this fence, Janet.”

  “I climbed, just like you.�
�

  He thought that must have been a sight to see, but he didn’t say so. Dr. Janet Hall was wearing high-heeled pumps and a dress under her raincoat.

  By the time they reached the fence, the rain had slowed to a drizzle.

  “It’s going to be tricky getting across holding this dog,” he said.

  “Can you lift him over if I go first?”

  Dan judged the height of the fence. “I think so, but can you hold him? He’s a big dog.”

  “Yes.” She stuck her flashlight into her pocket and smiled at him. “Have you any idea how strong a sixty-five pound child who doesn’t want a shot can be? Subduing them long enough for an injection builds strength, if nothing else.”

  “Regular little tigers, are they?”

  “Absolutely.”

  With her coat providing cover, she hiked her dress up matter-of-factly and found a toehold in the chain links. A hefty breeze caught her coat and billowed it back from her body. Her legs were long and slim and lovely. As she climbed, Dan caught an intoxicating glimpse of lingerie. The doctor wore black lace under her tailored dress.

  Half-embarrassed for enjoying the view so much, he turned his head away and tried to take an interest in the trees. But they were just trees. Janet, on the other hand...

  He swung his gaze back to her. She was perched astride the fence, her dress hen caught in the chain links.

  “I seem to be stuck.” Her laugh was breezy and completely unselfconscious. “If I let go to free myself, I’ll lose my balance.”

  “Maybe I can help.” He lowered George onto the grass and reached up. His hand brushed leg. “Sorry.”

  “No problem.” She’d lied, Janet thought, as Dan caught hold of her hem and tried to work it free of the fence. The problem was that she was sitting on a fence in the rain with her dress hiked up to her hips and a strange, disturbingly appealing man touching her leg. And she liked it. Ordinarily she would never be caught in such an unladylike fix. But here she was, the most proper of the Dixie Virgins, soaking wet, displaying her legs like a Las Vegas showgirl and loving every minute of it.