Life Unexpected

by J A Stone

  Corey had followed her heart and Tripp’s lead and gone to Auburn for college. She had imagined things would progress to the next level when she was there with him all the time. If her sorority had a social event and she needed a date, she called Tripp. And he always seemed more than happy to accept her invitation.

  She’d also felt comfortable going over to the KA house uninvited to hang out with him and his friends. Corey had assumed she was going to KA’s Old South event with him because he’d spent so much time describing in detail how the KAs rode their horses up to the dorms to deliver invitations in their Confederate uniforms. She’d assumed he was telling her so that she could prepare for the event. So on invitation day, she’d hung around the dorm lobby waiting for her name to be called to go outside and get her invite. Girl after girl went out and came back beaming, but Corey’s name was never called.

  Later, she learned that he had invited Martha Anne Ringson, a strikingly beautiful blonde cheerleader from Alexander City, weeks earlier. Corey supposed she had no one but herself to blame. Tripp had never actually told her he was going to invite her. Still, she felt certain he must have known how much she wanted to go.

  After that, she stopped going to the KA house uninvited, and worked hard to separate herself from Tripp. Occasionally, while still at Auburn, they would grab a bite to eat and catch up with each other, as old friends do. But Corey never again fooled herself into thinking that Tripp considered her anything more than a friend. After Tripp graduated from Auburn, he and Martha Anne got married. Corey did run into him once or twice at the beach while she was still at school. But once Corey went off to law school at Ole Miss and then took a job in Atlanta, even those infrequent run-ins with each other at the beach ceased.

  A car horn beeped outside the window and pulled Corey back to the present. She looked outside and waved to Tripp, who was standing by his white Yukon and waving the beach umbrella at her.

  “Thanks for rescuing the umbrella,” Corey said when she got downstairs. “You might have saved me from third-degree burns.”

  “No problem,” Tripp said as he put the umbrella in the storage shed. Then he turned and opened the car door for her. This simple act took Corey by surprise. No one had opened a car door for her in a very long time.

  As she climbed up into his SUV, she said, “Tell me about this Sunset Grill. The last time I was here, we had Toucan’s Pizza Palace and the Wonder Bar.”

  “It has been a long time since you were here. Did you know the Wonder Bar burned down?” Tripp glanced at her as he was backing out of the driveway.

  “Oh yes,” Corey answered. “Diane had to call and tell me that important bit of news. They should build a shrine there to all of the underage drinkers who had their first drink at the Wonder Bar.”

  Tripp laughed. “That’s not a bad idea. We certainly had a few experiences there, didn’t we?”

  “Yes, sir, we did. Do you remember the night I decided a sloe gin fizz was my signature drink?”

  “I’ve tried to put that night out of my mind,” Tripp answered with a smile. “It isn’t a memory I want to hang on to.”

  “I still can’t stomach Hawaiian Punch, or really anything with that particular color of red.”

  Their conversation remained light and casual, mostly focusing on other beach landmarks that had changed since their childhood, until they pulled up in front of the Sunset Grill. It was an old warehouse on wooden pilings that had been painted sapphire blue and decorated with netting and rusty anchors.

  “I know it looks a bit touristy,” Tripp began, “but if you still like fried oysters and shrimp, you’re going to love this place.”

  As they were walking into the restaurant, Corey saw a tall, thin, dark-headed man in the distance, and something about him reminded her of Luke. A sliver of guilt washed over her as she realized she hadn’t thought of Luke for the last couple of hours. When she looked down, the wedding ring she still wore on her ring finger seemed to be shining more brightly than usual. The hostess seated them in front of a large window overlooking the water. The sky was a collage of purple, pink, and blue streaks—an aftermath of the storm and a picture-perfect setting for lovers. Corey’s guilt raised its head again.

  “I’m Tonya. I’ll be your server tonight.” Corey recognized Tonya as the quintessential beach waitress—a bleached blonde with leathery skin who was closer to forty than she’d ever admit to being. Her slightly wrinkled white blouse was straining to contain her Dolly Parton–size breasts. “Can I get you folks something to drink before I take your order?”

  “A glass of your house pinot grigio,” Corey said, hoping it would make the guilt go away and return her mood to what it had been in the car. She wondered idly if northwest Florida had the monopoly on women of Tonya’s type. In all her time in Atlanta, she’d never run into anyone who looked quite like her.

  “How about let’s get a bottle?” Tripp asked, looking at the wine menu. Corey nodded in agreement.

  “Here’s to old friends,” Tripp said, holding up his glass after Tonya had made quite a production of opening the bottle.

  “Old friends,” Corey repeated, clicking her glass against his, and then, regardless of good wine etiquette, she took a very large gulp. In a few minutes, the wine began to take effect, and Corey felt herself start to relax.

  “So . . . what kind of lawyer are you?” asked Tripp. “The kind that follows an ambulance to the hospital?”

  Corey smiled slightly. “That sounds exciting, but no, I do mostly trusts and occasionally real estate transactions.”

  “Your husband—he was a lawyer, too, same kind of law?” Tripp asked.

  Corey felt that pang of guilt once more. “Yes, he was a lawyer. But trust law was too boring for him. He worked for the district attorney downtown at the federal courthouse. Did you hear about that prisoner who escaped and shot up the courtroom and killed the judge?”

  “Yeah . . . I did,” Tripp said.

  “Luke was in the courtroom that day.”

  “Wow . . .” Tripp shook his head. “Do you ever get bored doing your kind of law?”

  “Bored? Me? No way. I get a perverse thrill out of knowing that Mabel Johnson’s ne’er-do-well kids are never going to break the trust I just set up for her. They’ll get their allowance for the rest of their lives, but they’ll never get their hands on that principal.”

  “Y’all ready to order?” Tonya was back, and they still hadn’t looked at their menus.

  “How about you bring us another bottle of wine?” Tripp suggested. “And we’ll be ready by then.”

  Corey started to say that she rarely had more than two glasses of wine, but then she decided she had way too good of a buzz going to stop.

  “Going with the specialty of the house? Fried oysters and shrimp?” Tripp asked after Tonya had departed.

  “I haven’t put a piece of fried food into my mouth in years, so sure, why not? I guess it’s about time.”

  After taking their orders, Tonya was back immediately with their house salads—iceberg lettuce, large wedges of tomatoes, and a few croutons sprinkled on top. Corey had gone all out and ordered regular Thousand Island dressing on her salad, and she didn’t even ask for it on the side, as she usually did.

  “Okay, enough about me. Tell me about you.” Corey tried to spear one of the tomato wedges dripping with dressing, but her fork wouldn’t go in, and it scooted across the plate and onto the table right in front of Tripp’s plate. “Whoops,” Corey said.

  Tripp scooped it up immediately and plopped it into his mouth. “Five-second rule, right?”

  Corey couldn’t believe what he’d just done. “Right.” She grinned, wondering if he followed that rule when he attended bank luncheons. “Are you still working for the Gulf Coast Bank? And how are your parents? I bet your Mom still bakes cookies for you every afternoon, doesn’t she?”

  Tripp looked suddenly sad. “Yes on the bank, but no on the cookies. Mom has dementia. They tell us it’s not full-blown Alzheime
r’s, but I don’t know what the difference is. We found out a couple of years ago and just recently had to put her in an assisted-living home. Dad goes and sits with her every day and doesn’t do anything else. I wish I could get him to come down here for a few days and go fishing. But he won’t hear of it. He has to be there, he says, whether she knows him or not.”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” Corey wondered if Diane had told her about Tripp’s mom during Luke’s illness and she’d forgotten. Luckily, their dinner arrived just then. Corey had never seen anything, even in the finest restaurants, that looked as good as the fried perfection placed in front of her. Upon her first bite, her taste buds remembered what fried food was all about and rejoiced. They both ate heartily for a while in silence.

  “You were right. This is really good,” Corey finally said with her mouth full of food, not wanting to stop long enough to talk.

  “I told you so,” Tripp said smugly, in a voice she remembered all too well from when they were kids.

  “You’ve always been so sure of yourself,” Corey said. “You never could stand it when I beat you at something.”

  “Well, you were just a girl, and younger than me too!” Tripp exclaimed.

  “Only two years.”

  “But still a girl!”

  Corey kicked his leg hard under the table.

  “Aww . . . that hurt. What are you, like ten years old?”

  Corey was surprised at her instinctive childish response, but Tripp had always been able to push her buttons. “My esteemed law partners in Atlanta would be shocked, thoroughly shocked,” Corey said, trying to make a joke.

  Tripp refilled their wineglasses. “Seriously, do you like your work?”

  Corey paused to think carefully. “I’m good at what I do.”

  “And Atlanta? Somehow I never pictured you as a big-city girl.”

  “Maybe not at first, but Luke was definitely a big-city guy, and I loved him,” Corey said honestly.

  “And now?”

  Corey thought for a minute. How did she feel about Atlanta now that Luke was gone? She’d never given it much thought. “I love Atlanta,” she finally said.

  Tonya cleared their plates. “How about some dessert?”

  “Looks like you could use a little fattening up,” Tripp said.

  Corey started to decline, as she’d already eaten more than she normally would have in a day. But then the night would be over, and she was really enjoying herself. “Sure, why not?”

  “As I remember, your desserts always had to have chocolate in them, right?”

  “Of course!”

  “We have chocolate bread pudding,” Tonya offered.

  “Great. Bring us one, and how about two coffees?” Tripp asked, looking at Corey.

  “Decaf, please. I feel like we’ve been talking about me all night. Come on, catch me up with what’s going on in your life.”

  “You know Martha Anne and I are divorced, right?” Tripp asked. Corey nodded her head that she did. “It’s not something I’m too proud of,” he continued. “We wanted different things. My idea of fun is coming here and fishing or going to Auburn for a football game. Hers was flying to New York for a play. She lives in Atlanta now and is going to design school. Apparently, she loves Atlanta too. Who knows . . . maybe she can decorate your house for you one day.”

  “I don’t see that happening in the near or distant future. Martha Anne and I never hit it off too well, if you didn’t know. She was beautiful, though. I will give her credit for that.”

  “Funny, the longer I knew her, the less beautiful she was. I guess the silver lining is that we didn’t have any children.”

  Corey wasn’t sure how to reply to that comment, but luckily their dessert and coffee arrived. Tonya definitely wasn’t one to disappear for too long. She was probably anxious to free up their table for one of the groups of people milling around the hostess stand. “I’ve really enjoyed dinner. Why don’t we go dutch on the bill?”

  “Why, ma’am, I don’t know how they do things up there in Atttt-lanta,” Tripp said in his best southern drawl. “But down heah, when a gentleman invites a girl to dinna, he pays the tab.”

  Corey laughed. “Okay, okay. Still a Kappa Alpha gentleman to the core, right?”

  “Of course,” Tripp said with mock humility. “Once a KA, always a KA. Hey . . . do you by chance remember our old KA chant?”

  “Yes!”

  Tripp smiled. “So, how many damn Yankees were there?”

  “Ten thousand,” Corey answered without hesitation.

  “And how many Rebel soldiers?” Tripp continued.

  “Ten.”

  “And what did the Rebels do?”

  Together, and rather loudly, they both said, “Charge!” just as Tonya arrived back at their table with the check.

  “Well, of course I’ll charge it,” Tonya said, looking confused, and Corey and Tripp burst out laughing, which made Tonya look just that much more confused.

  As they stood up to leave, Corey placed her hand on Tripp’s arm. “I haven’t laughed like that in a very long time. Thanks.”

  Tripp said nothing in reply, but Corey thought his brown eyes that suddenly reminded her of chocolate seemed to darken just a bit.

  CHAPTER 5

  As Corey began to maneuver around the tables in the restaurant, she realized she was more than a little bit tipsy. And she found the big step up into Tripp’s Yukon to be a bit of a challenge.

  “Need some help?” Tripp asked from behind her. “I can give you a little push from the rear.”

  “You leave my rear alone,” she replied. She grabbed the handle above her head and managed to pull herself into the seat. She felt exhausted from her efforts and stretched her head back and closed her eyes as the car started moving. When she felt the car stop, she opened her eyes to find that they were sitting at a red light.

  “Welcome back,” Tripp said, looking over at her.

  “I wasn’t asleep.”

  “Yeah, yeah, whatever you say.”

  When they passed the pier, Corey thought of their first kiss, and she couldn’t help but bring it up. “Tell me the truth. You’d never kissed anybody before you kissed me under that pier, had you?”

  “Of course not. Couldn’t you tell I was scared to death?”

  “All I can remember is how awful it was,” she said with a cheeky smile.

  Tripp stopped at another red light. “I can do better now,” he said with an evil grin on his face. He challenged her by leaning in toward her. Surprised, Corey started to turn her head away, but his hand reached out for her face and stopped its progress. Then his face followed his hand toward her face. Corey’s first thought was, He smells good, like the outdoors, or maybe sunshine. His lips touched her closed mouth, soft and timid. When she started to protest what he was doing, his tongue seized upon the opening of her lips and moved in. That sudden warmth, and the intensity of her emotions in response, was overwhelming. His hand moved to the back of her head, pulling her in closer, and the kiss became deeper. Corey felt as if she were literally melting right there in the car seat. A beep sounded from the car behind them, and they quickly disengaged, like two teenagers caught necking by their parents.

  With what sounded like a sigh, Tripp turned back to the steering wheel. “Not so awful now?”

  Corey was so stunned she couldn’t think of anything smart to say back to him. They drove in breathless silence for another minute. Corey thought each seemed to be waiting for the other to say something. Finally, Tripp cracked and said, “It’s still early. Do you want to go home or back to my house?”

  Corey knew he wasn’t asking her back to his house to watch television. Going home was the safe choice. They could shrug off what had just happened in the car. What had just happened? Things would remain the same between them. Whatever that was. Going to his house was taking a step into the unknown. Was she ready to take that step? Corey saw they were almost to their street; she needed to make a decision fast—stop a
t his house, or go on to hers. Why not take a chance? She hadn’t been kissed like that in a very long time either. “Umm . . . sure, your house would be nice.”

  His house was dark when they entered, and he didn’t turn on the lights. Once inside, he immediately pulled Corey into his arms. She made no effort to stop him this time. She feasted on his lips as eagerly as she had the fried shrimp and oysters back at the restaurant. When he suddenly pulled away from her and said, “I’ll be back in a moment—too much wine, I think,” she felt disoriented and unsure of what she should do next. The chill of the air-conditioning replaced the warmth of his arms. Corey saw the beach towel still on the bar where she’d left it earlier, grabbed it, and curled up on the sofa. Without Tripp’s nearness, she had the clarity of mind to wonder, What am I doing here?

  Before she found an answer, Tripp was back. Then she found it hard to concentrate on anything but what he was doing. He went to the kitchen and turned on a dim light and a classic-rock radio station. When Led Zeppelin’s “Stairway to Heaven” started playing, Corey felt the years fall away.

  “How many times did I have to listen to you try to play that on the guitar?” she asked.

  “Try is the operative word there. I never could actually play it. You want something else to drink? A beer or a glass of wine? I think I’ve got a bottle of pinot here.” Tripp opened a small lower cabinet and peered around, carefully shifting bottles as he searched.

  “I think I’ve had more than enough for one night.” She was beginning to feel drowsy again. She closed her eyes, put her head back against the sofa, and let the music wash over her, leaving a thousand memories in its wake. She remembered Tripp letting her drive his Chevy Bronco before she had her license, and how he’d taken the blame when she hadn’t put it in park and it had rolled into a telephone pole. She remembered her senior prom, and how they’d won the dance contest after outlasting all the other contestants.

  “Don’t you dare go to sleep on me,” Tripp said, walking back toward the sofa.

  “Let’s dance,” Corey said, offering her hand to him.

  “Okay.” He grabbed her hand and hauled her up from the sofa. He pulled her in close and wrapped his arms around her tightly.