by Peggy Webb
Amanda put her hand on the forlorn spot right over her heart. “Maxine, do you mind if we don’t talk about this right now?”
“Sure. There’s always work to be done around here. In fact, I hear three frayed dresses calling my name.” Her step was jaunty as she started toward the back room. “Lead me to a needle.”
Amanda’s conscience smote her. She figured that lately she’d been about as much fun as a case of indigestion. In her zeal to keep Tanner at bay she’d probably run off all her friends, Maxine included.
“Maxine, do you remember that time in sixth grade when you and I were so glum?”
“That time we both made C’s on our spelling tests because we couldn’t spell discombobulate and disestablishmentarianism?”
“That’s the time. I still can’t, can you?”
“Heck, no. And it never has mattered one way or the other.” Maxine’s grin was devilish. “Unless it caused me to lose my second husband. He always was a stickler about things like that.”
“You recall how we got ourselves out of the dumps, don’t you?”
“You mean . . .” Maxine’s eyes got big and sparkly.
“Precisely. Man the fort. I’m going to Tudberry’s.”
Grabbing her sweater, Amanda raced out the door and down the street.
o0o
Everything about Tudberry’s looked the same as it had when Amanda was a child, even the display window. The little red wagon and the red fire truck were shinier, but she’d swear that the dusty old teddy bear with the faded ribbon was the same one she’d seen there twenty some years ago.
Mr. Tudberry was a hidebound traditionalist. Knowing that some things never changed made Amanda feel good.
She passed through the dimly lit aisles of dolls and dart boards and baseball bats and tricycles, until she came to the place she sought—Mr. Tudberry’s sports center. It could be called a sports center only in the loosest sense. Actually it was a mixture of sporting equipment piled together around an old poster of Esther Williams in one of her movies.
Mr. Tudberry himself was in the center of all the confusion. With his tufts of white eyebrows sticking up like an owl’s, his glasses almost falling off his skinny nose, and his brown wool sweater hanging on his body as if on a skeleton, he looked exactly as she remembered.
“Well, now.” He always greeted his customers by rubbing his hands together, and if he ever said anything besides “Well, now,” the whole town would consider it a miracle.
The familiar routine comforted Amanda.
“Merry Christmas, Mr. Tudberry. How are you?”
“Can’t complain.” He always said that, too, right before he did complain. “Of course, the old arthritis is actin’ up. Must be some bad weather comin’ on. And the dentist wants to pull all my teeth and give me a false set. Can’t stand the thought of the dad-blamed things. Ever since Clarence got his, he can’t eat a thing except infernal milk and cornbread.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“We all have our aches and pains. The price of getting old, I guess. Well, now. What can I do for you?”
“Do you still have hoola hoops?”
When Mr. Tudberry chuckled, he sounded like a couple of turkey gobblers locked in a closet. “Nobody’s asked for hoola hoops in a month of Sundays.” He began to rummage through an assortment of basketball hoops and tennis nets and badminton rackets. “Nope. Don’t get much call for them anymore. Not since that craze. When was it? Sixties? Seventies? Whoops. Here they are. If they’da been a snake, they’da bit me.” He held up a fluorescent orange plastic hoop.
Amanda bought two hoola hoops, said good-bye to Mr. Tudberry, and hurried back to her shop.
Four customers were browsing leisurely through the racks of blouses. She leaned the hoola hoops against the brass hat rack, then went about her business of selling.
As soon as the last customer was out the door, she brought out the hoops.
“Here, Maxine. One for me and one for you.”
Maxine hooted. “You don’t expect me to use that thing, do you? I’m likely to throw my back out of joint.”
Amanda slipped the hoop around hips. “Where’s your sense of adventure? One never forgets how to do this.” She began gyrating in a remembered rhythm. The hoop made three shaky revolutions around her hips, then skittered to the floor. She picked it up and started again. “There’s nothing to it, Maxine. Watch this.” This time the hoop stayed up for six revolutions.
“I’m impressed, Amanda. But then, your equipment’s better than mine.”
Amanda picked her hoop off the floor. “The hoola hoop?”
“No. The hips. Mine are carrying about six pounds of extra baggage.” She stepped into her hoop and did a brave bump and grind. The hoop banged her toes on the way to the floor. “Ouch. Probably chipped my polish, to boot.”
“Trouble is, you don’t have the rhythm.” Amanda got her hoop going. “We used to sing. Remember?” She started singing.
“Greenville, are you ready for this?” Maxine said, joining in now.
They laughed and gyrated and sang every old “doo-wah” song they could think of. A few customers who drifted in thought they were crazy, but that didn’t bother Amanda. The hoola hoops had served their purpose. They’d helped her put Tanner out of her mind for an entire afternoon.
o0o
While Amanda was hoola hooping, Hallie was driving through the town in a manner that made even Tanner’s hair stand on end.
“You burned rubber back there at the stoplight, Hallie. It’s a wonder Lard Pritchard doesn’t put you under arrest.”
Her bracelets jangled as she leaned over and patted his cheek. “Smile, brother. I’m just taking a little tour of the dear old hometown.”
“You’re going so fast, you can’t see a thing.”
“I like adventure.” She whizzed past a McDonald’s at such a speed the golden arches looked like a smear of butter.
“If you don’t mind, get me home in one piece. I don’t plan to walk down the aisle to the altar in a body cast.”
“Love’s turned you into an old sourpuss.” She turned the Cadillac around—on two wheels, Tanner speculated—and headed toward home. Hallie pretended to pout, but Tanner knew she was faking. She was hardly ever upset, and besides that, when they passed Coot Sampson’s farm, she forgot she was supposed to be mad at him and laughed out loud.
“Hey, Tanner, remember when I use to date Coot Sampson?”
“How can I forget it? You took the label off a tube of Ben Gay and told him it was love gel. He stayed out of school a whole week.”
“Served him right for trying to grope me in the oleander bush.” As the car shot around the last curve toward home, Hallie blasted the horn. It played The Eyes of Texas Are Upon You. Then she skidded the last thirty feet, sending gravel spewing up behind them.
Tanner laughed. Hallie loved entrances, and she sure knew how to make them. She was a Donovan through and through.
He took her hand and helped her from the car. “Come on, Hallie. It looks like my surprise has arrived.”
The surprise was parked near the barn, a luxurious horse van, watched over anxiously by a young man with hair the color of straw and ears as big as Arkansas.
Tanner shook his hand. “Johnson. You made good time.”
“Yep.” Johnson tipped back on his boots and tried to look straight at his employer, but his eyes kept straying toward Hallie. “You said you wanted Napoleon as soon as possible. I didn’t see any need to lollygag around. He’s already unloaded and in the barn.”
The three of them walked through the barn door. Inside was a gorgeous thoroughbred, a Tennessee walking horse with a long, finely muscled back and a coat that gleamed like black onyx in the sunlight.
Tanner patted the horse’s muzzle. “What do you think, Hallie?”
“I think I’m in love. Is this the horse that has won so many trophies?”
“The same. Amanda used to have a romantic notion about riding off
into the sunset. Somehow old Josephine didn’t seem to fit the bill.”
Hallie put her face on the horse’s shiny neck. “Tanner, if Robert had been more like you, I might have stayed married to him—in spite of his money.”
If he hadn’t been so attuned to his sister’s moods, he might not have heard the breathless catch in her voice. It was the first time since her divorce that she’d shown the slightest vulnerability. A great protective urge welled up inside Tanner. “Would you like to ride him?”
“Would I?” She flung herself at her brother and squeezed him around the chest. “You’re a sweetheart.”
As Tanner saddled Napoleon, he imagined sitting in the saddle, putting the horse into a canter. He could almost feel the high, rolling motion beneath him, sense the twisting and turning of horse’s back feet. To his mind the Tennessee walking horse had always been the most sensuous breed. Their smooth, graceful gait was almost like being rocked in a cradle of love.
As Tanner gave Hallie a leg up, he thought about Amanda, about riding with her on the horse. Desire ripped through him.
He glanced down at his watch. It had been only an hour since he had seen her, and already he wanted to grab time by the neck and pull it screaming toward the night. He considered running all the way back to the shop, writing her a check for the business, locking the doors, and carrying her off into the sunset. But he supposed that wouldn’t work. He’d have to learn to wait like a sensible man.
“The devil’s pitchfork!” he muttered.
Hallie leaned down from the saddle. “Did you say something?”
“Nothing worth repeating. Have a good ride.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Amanda decided a long walk in the moonlight would help her forget everything—the planes zooming across the sky that afternoon, Tanner’s proposal, and most of all, her love for him. Dressed in jeans and a sweater, she left her house and started down the block. Although the temperature had dropped, fifty degrees was still warm for December. There was no wind, and the stars hung in the sky like tinsel on a Christmas tree. It was jeans-and-sweater weather, football weather. Amanda kicked at a twig. Why did everything have to make her think of Tanner? She missed him so much, she had to hug herself to hold in the ache.
She lengthened her stride, keeping her mind busy by checking off the houses as she walked. She passed the Crumpets’, who were sitting in front of their picture window with the blinds open, watching Wheel of Fortune as if their lives depended on keeping the TV set warm. The Rogers’ house was dark. They’d probably gone to Minneapolis to visit their daughter for the holidays. Music poured forth from the Grahams’, Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer, amplified loud enough so that the grandmother, who hadn’t heard anything since Pearl Harbor, could feel the vibrations and tap her feet. Amanda made a mental note to take Grandma Graham a box of those peppermint bonbons she loved. The Pickens children were in their front yard playing a last game of hide-and-seek before their parents called them in from the dark.
“Hey, ‘Manda,” Sue Lynn called. “Santie comin’ to see you?”
Amanda stopped on the sidewalk and spoke to the six-year-old. “I hope so, Sue Lynn. Do you and Richard have your stockings hung?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Eight-year-old Richard ran up and tugged her hand. “Wanna see?”
“Yes. That would be lovely.” The Pickens children tucked their sticky hands into hers and led her into their house. She properly admired their stockings, politely took a candy cane they offered, chatted briefly with Martha Sue and Eddie Wayne, then went back outside to continue her walk.
She was halfway down the next block before she noticed her cheeks were wet. Sniffing, she rubbed her face with the back of her hand and sat down on the curb to eat her candy cane.
That’s how Tanner found her.
“Is this a private party, or can anyone join in?”
She looked up to see him sitting on an amazing black stallion with a silver-studded saddle and bridle that would put Roy Rogers to shame. The moonlight reflected off the tears on her cheeks.
“The horse is invited.”
He slid off and sat down beside her. “You’re beautiful when you cry.” He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, put one arm around her, and dabbed her tears away. “What’s wrong, love?”
The sweet croon of his voice undid her. “It’s this candy cane.” She held the sticky treat aloft.
“What about the candy cane?” He caressed her back as he gently prompted her.
She buried her face in his shirt and clung to him, heedless of the peppermint. “Oh, Tanner.” She squeezed him tighter, squashing candy juice against his back. “Christmas is for children. When I see little stockings hung by the chimney, I mourn for the children I never had.”
“We’ll have children. Lots of them.”
She lifted her face, her eyes wet with tears. “We could have had children, Tanner. I find that very sad.”
“Don’t mourn the past, Amanda. Think of the future. We’ll have so many little Donovans, there won’t be room by the chimney to hang all the stockings.”
She smiled up at him. “You make it sound possible. But then, you were always an irrepressible optimist.”
He ruffled her hair. “Feel better?”
“Yes. I don’t know why but I do. You always had the knack for curing my blues.”
“Good. How about sharing that candy cane?”
There was some resistance as she pulled it away from his chamois shirt. Green fuzz clung to the sticky candy.
“I’m afraid I’ve ruined your shirt.”
“That’s a small sacrifice for the privilege of holding you in my arms.” He took the candy, stood up, and tossed it toward the garbage can on the corner. They heard a metallic ping as it hit the bottom of the can. Taking the handkerchief, he knelt beside her and carefully cleaned her hand.
The moment was sweeter to her than all the times he’d kissed her with fierceness and passion. She cherished everything about him—his tenderness, his compassion, his kindness. The Tanner she loved was the same fun-loving, passionate man she’d loved so long ago, but there was more to him, so much more.
With him kneeling before her in the moonlight, she gave in to her feelings. She knew they’d never share the kind of future that he envisioned for them—marriage and children and stockings by the fire—because Claude was still between them. Tanner had managed to push him to the back of his mind, but forgetting a problem wasn’t the same as facing it. What she and Tanner could have, though, was love. They could seize the time he had left in Greenville and make it their own. If he asked, and she knew he would, she’d go to him willingly and without regrets.
And after he was gone, she’d have beautiful memories.
“All done.” Tanner kissed her hand. “Now, how about a ride in the moonlight?”
Amanda stood up and patted the magnificent animal’s velvety muzzle. “Where did you get him?”
“From my stables in Dallas. After my experience with old Josephine, I called Johnson and had him bring Napoleon out in the horse van.”
“He’s beautiful. But, Tanner, what in the world are you doing riding on the city streets?”
“I drove him out to your house in the van. When you weren’t home and I saw your car in the garage, I guessed you’d gone for a walk. So Napoleon and I came to your rescue.”
“I don’t suppose it ever occurred to you to wait at my house?”
“Never.” He boosted her into the saddle and mounted behind her. “This is so much more romantic, don’t you think?”
She leaned against him. “Hmmm. Just my style. I’ve always wanted to ride into the sunset on a horse.”
“I’d supply the sun if I could. Will the moon do?”
She looked up into the sky and laughed. “You did that just for me, Tanner? You commanded the moon to shine?”
“I have connections in high places.” He turned Napoleon toward Amanda’s house, guiding him carefully on the dark city street. “Are you warm e
nough?”
“Yes. You create lots of body heat.”
“I can think of a number of ways to create more.”
“Would I enjoy them?”
“You used to.”
“That was so long ago, I barely remember.”
“Perhaps I should give you a refresher course.”
“On the horse?”
“Why, Miss Lassiter, what a bawdy suggestion.”
“I aim to shock.”
“You delight.”
Tanner reined Napoleon in next to the van. “I’ve planned a moonlight ride beside the river, Amanda. Do you need a warmer sweater?”
“As the old saying goes, ‘I’ve got my love to keep me warm.’”
“Yes, you do. And always will. Remember that.”
Tanner dismounted, swung Amanda from the saddle, and guided Napoleon into the plush horse van. It was an easy task, since both horse and rider had done it many times before.
They drove south of town until they came to one of their favorite old haunts, a secluded place beside a bend in the river. The moon painted a luminous path across the water, and the hardwood trees lifted their bare branches to touch the face of the sky. All the night creatures were tucked deep into their warm burrows and hollows. Even the fish sought refuge deep below the iridescent water. The winter silence was eloquent and beautiful.
Tanner and Amanda kept the silence as he unloaded Napoleon. Mounted on the horse’s back, they gazed across the river. Peace soaked into their souls.
“I love this place,” Tanner said quietly.
“So do I.”
“It’s the perfect spot to tell you all that’s in my heart.”
“Didn’t you do that this afternoon?”
“That sideshow with the planes and banners?”
“Yes.”
“That was merely to get your attention.”
“You did.”
“A real proposal should be more romantic. And private.”
“Tanner, please. You know how I feel.”
“Hear me out, Amanda.”
His voice was quiet and rich with feeling, but it held the steel edge of command that she couldn’t ignore. She half turned in the saddle so she could see his face. All the love he felt for her was there.