Pearl Jinx

by Sandra Hill

  But, holy moly! It was amazing that any human could contort his body in such a way without falling. Incredible strength, balance, and patience were the key, of course. Still, everyone marveled at the feat Caleb was accomplishing.

  And he passed under, clearing the pole, setting a new record at twenty-three inches.

  Thundering applause, cheers, and a rebel yell from John followed Caleb as he walked back to Claire. He said nothing but waggled his eyebrows at her, then took the longneck out of her hand, raised it, and drank thirstily, setting down the empty bottle on a nearby table.

  Every hair on Claire’s body was standing at attention as she watched him.

  Then he leaned against the wall next to her, ignoring the crowd, which was shouting for more.

  “You’re not going to try any lower?”

  He shook his head.

  “Could you go lower?”

  He remained silent.

  “Ah, come on, Caleb. You can’t really go any lower. Can you?”

  He grinned. “Wanna bet?”

  “You know, I used to think you were a grim ol’ scrooge, but you’ve been doing a lot more grinning lately.”

  “That’s because I want to get laid.”

  She should have been insulted at his bluntness, but she just shook her head at him. “What incentive do you need to try again? And getting laid is not on the table.”

  He pretended to be pondering her question. “The kiss . . . I know, the kiss should take place topless.”

  Oh, my goodness! “Who would be topless? Me or you?”

  Once again, he pretended to ponder her question. “Both.”

  The picture in her head would probably be cemented there for all time. “And if you lose, what do I get?”

  “All your freakin’ paperwork completed before noon tomorrow.”

  She really didn’t think he could manage twenty-two inches. She wasn’t sure anyone ever had. “Okay.”

  He sauntered out to the middle of the dance floor. The bar had already been lowered, the band was playing “Limbo Rock,” and the crowd was singing, “How low can you go?”

  Caleb demonstrated another feat of extreme physical fitness by clearing the pole again. The crowd went wild. Tante Lulu was standing on a table, cheering. The Jinx team members had formed a sort of cheerleading squad, led by John, shouting, “Caleb! Caleb! Caleb!”

  A waiter handed Caleb a cold beer as he walked back to her. The man wasn’t even breathing hard.

  “You lied to me, Caleb. You’ve done the limbo before, haven’t you?”

  “No, but we had barbed-wire exercises on the O-course that make limbo dancing kid sport. And believe me, that paperwork of yours was the barbed wire I was imagining on my way under.”

  While he took a draw on his longneck, he eyed her with amusement, ignoring the crowd’s shouts for more.

  “You’re quitting?”

  “Yeah. No reason to make more a fool of myself than I already have.” Another drink of beer. “Unless I had a powerful reason to try once more.”

  “Like?”

  “Hmmmm. Like maybe that topless kiss takes place horizontally.”

  Claire just knew that if she found herself topless, lying down with this man’s lips on hers, more than kissing would take place. Was she ready to commit to that? She shook her head. “I’m folding.”

  “That’s okay, baby. I still consider myself the winner.”

  Watch out, Carrie Underwood, here comes Lizzie . . .

  Everything was going according to Tante Lulu’s plan.

  Until Lizzie got up on the bandstand, with encouragement from that rascal nephew of hers, and began to belt out the rowdy song “Redneck Woman,” with the band accompanying her. That was when all hell broke loose.

  Caleb was on the other side of the room, making goo-goo eyes with Claire. So at first, he didn’t realize it was his Amish sister singing and gyrating her hips. In fact, Tee-John was up there with her, gyrating his hips, too. Tante Lulu was gonna smack that boy’s hiney when she got a hold of him.

  When the song ended, the band leader said, “That was just great. Give a big hand to the next American Idol. This little gal will be tryin’ out this fall. And now, how about another song? Another Gretchen Wilson song, ‘When You Think about Cheatin’.’ Good choice, Lizzie.”

  Caleb drew his head up slowly and pivoted at the mention of his sister’s name. His jaw slackened as he noticed her up on the bandstand. “Noooo!” he roared, rushing toward the stage.

  It took Adam, John, and two bouncers to hold him back.

  At the same time, the front door of the tavern opened and in walked Caleb’s twin brother, Jonas, clearly embarrassed to be inside a saloon. People were gawking at him and at the spectacle Caleb was putting on. Meanwhile, Lizzie continued to sing.

  When Jonas realized that it was his sister singing, and that she was dressed in English clothing, not as a Plain person, he roared, “Noooo!” just like his brother and made for the stage.

  Two waiters kept Jonas from jumping up on the stage. And wasn’t that a sight! Him in his Amish britches and straw hat and short beard!

  Tante Lulu exchanged looks with Abbie, and the two of them headed toward all the commotion. Claire was already there, trying to calm Caleb down. Mark and Lily had left a short time earlier. Together. Praise the Lord! And St. Jude! Famosa and the massage lady had left together, too. Tante Lulu could guess what they were doing. Hanky-panky with a twist.

  “Are you crazy, Caleb? All she’s doing is singing,” Claire said.

  “All she’s doing is singing,” he mimicked, “in a bar, surrounded by booze, dressed like some kind of mall rat, with horny guys drooling over her. My mother trusted me to take care of her. Dat predicted I would lead her into sinful ways.”

  “Singing is not sinful,” Claire argued.

  “It is when it’s in an ungodly house of liquor,” Jonas added. “What were ya thinkin’, Caleb, ta bring a young girl inta this place of sin? Yer dummkopf all right, touched in the head just like Claire said.”

  “I said that?” Claire frowned with puzzlement.

  “This is not a place of sin. What century are you two lunkheads livin’ in? Besides, does ya think I’d be here if sinnin’ was goin’ on?” Tante Lulu asked, full of indignation.

  No one answered her.

  “And she had all of us as chaperones,” Abbie added.

  No one answered her, either.

  Just then, a tall woman walked up. She must have been close to six feet tall, and all of her curves were poured into a pair of white jeans, a tight red shirt that said ‘I’m a nurse, Wanna play doctor?’ and red leather cowboy boots. Tante Lulu’s kind of girl! “That gal’s jeans fit tighter’n a bride’s behind,” she remarked aloud, cocking her head to the side for a better view.

  Abbie looked askance at Tante Lulu. Her new friend wasn’t used to her ways yet. Jonas’s face was so heated up he might have been havin’ a stroke. Caleb just shook his head at Tante Lulu as if she was a hopeless cause, which she wasn’t. How could she be with St. Jude on her side?

  The blonde bombshell, who resembled her niece Charmaine, was tapping on Jonas’s shoulder.

  That amazing fact caused all the commotion concerning Lizzie to die down as everyone turned to see what the woman wanted.

  Jonas glanced over his shoulder, then did a double take. “Wha-what?”

  “Wanna dance, sugar?”

  Jonas turned all the way around to see if she was talking to someone behind him.

  She wasn’t.

  Tante Lulu slapped her leg with glee, and Abbie smiled from ear to ear. This was turning into one of the best nights she’d had in years. And Abbie probably didn’t get out much, either. Not that Tante Lulu didn’t get out. It was just that people—her nephews in particular—treated her like she was fragile glass just because she was eightysomething. That’s what the young folks called it today. Twentysomething. Thirty-something. Eightysomething.

  The woman took hold of Jonas�
�s hand and pulled him into the center of the dance floor. Lizzie had left the bandstand and hightailed it for the restroom. Smart girl! The band was now playing a slow dance, that old Elvis ballad “Love Me Tender.”

  Jonas seemed to be arguing with the woman, who just smiled and put her arms around his neck, yanking him closer. He pulled her arms off his shoulders, but she just moved them to his butt. The expression on Jonas’s face was priceless. Like someone had goosed him, when all the woman had done was cup his sweet cheeks. Maybe Amish women didn’t pinch their hubbies’ hind ends. Too bad!

  Meanwhile, the woman was swaying from side to side against him while Jonas stood stock still.

  Even Caleb was smiling now.

  Two old codgers—seventysomethings, at least, and twins to boot—came up to her and Abbie.

  “Hi, I’m Amos,” one of them introduced himself.

  “And I’m Andy,” the other said, “We’re farmers from Pine Grove Mills. Do you gals wanna dance?”

  Abbie was poleaxed by the prospect.

  Tante Lulu jumped at the chance.

  While the two pairs were walking to the dance floor, Tante Lulu checked out their butts. They had none to speak of. At first she was disappointed, but then she had to admit she’d lost her own butt about 1982. The men were short, but that didn’t matter, and even if these gents’ hair was pure white, there was lots of it, sort of like Bill Clinton, who was a hottie, for sure. What was it they said about men with snow on the roof?

  Yep, life was looking good. Thunderbolts a-flashing. Family problems to be solved. And boyfriends for her and Abbie.

  Whoo-ee!

  Paybacks can be hell . . . or heaven . . .

  Life was not looking so good for Caleb.

  Fifteen minutes ago, he’d been flying high. Well on his way down the fast track to hot, sweaty, screaming sex.

  But then he’d noticed his sister on the stage of a barroom belting out some raunchy song about redneck women. His plan was to get Lizzie out of here ASAP before anyone of the Plain persuasion heard about this abomination, and yes, that’s what the Amish would consider Lizzie’s performance. But Lizzie had disappeared into the ladies’ room.

  If that wasn’t bad enough, his brother had shown up and been hit on by some barroom tart and was now sitting at a table, waiting for Caleb to clean up the mess. The tart hadn’t given up. She was sitting at the table with him, enthralled. Jonas didn’t have it in him to be impolite to a lady. As a result, Caleb wouldn’t be surprised if the babe showed up at Jonas’s home one of these days. That should give the neighboring elders something to talk about for the next, oh, let’s say decade.

  Tante Lulu and Abbie had discovered senior citizen stud muffins and didn’t want to go home yet. In fact, Tante Lulu came up to him now and asked, “Ya got any of those little blue pills on ya?”

  “Hell, no!”

  “No need ta get snippy. Aintcha ever had a noodle instead of a cannoli?”

  He put his face in his hands. When he glanced up, Tante Lulu was gone and Claire was in his face. He liked that better.

  “Caleb, be gentle with Lizzie. She’s afraid to come out of the ladies’ room.”

  “Why? What does she think I’m going to do?”

  “Send her back home.”

  “Oh, well, that’s not a bad idea.”

  “She didn’t think she was doing anything wrong.”

  Claire was talking logically. That meant her alcohol buzz must be wearing off.

  Damn!

  “It’s my fault anyway, cher,” LeDeux said, plopping down into a chair next to him. “She wouldn’t have gone up on that stage if I hadn’t encouraged her.”

  “Can I send you home?”

  LeDeux ignored his jibe. “Holy crawfish! Is that my aunt dirty dancing with that old fogey? Who knew she had a bootie to shake like that?”

  “She and Abbie hooked up with those two farmer dudes. I think they’re planning a double date for next Saturday. Isn’t that cool?” Claire remarked.

  “Yeah,” LeDeux answered.

  “No,” Caleb said.

  “Maybe I should ask what his intentions are.” LeDeux flashed a big ol’ grin.

  “I heard your aunt tell those guys about The Red Zone. Do you think she would actually go to a strip joint?”

  LeDeux leaned back in his chair, still grinning. “Did I ever tell you about the time she and Charmaine entered a belly dancing competition? Guess who won?”

  I’ve landed in a zoo.

  “Back to Lizzie. She’s talented, Caleb. Really talented,” Claire told him. “Did you hear her?”

  “No, I was too busy trying to keep the flames from shooting out my ears.” Actually, he did hear part of that cheatin’ song, and while he didn’t know jack shit about music, he could tell she was pretty good.

  “You should give her a chance,” LeDeux said.

  “You should mind your own business.”

  “You know what they say down on the bayou, mon cher.”

  Oh, God! Another half-assed Cajun saying!

  “Crawfish gotta stick together when the fishing nets come.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  “Friends stick together. Your business is my business.”

  “I’m your friend, too.” Claire put a hand on his arm.

  He looked at her hand, then he looked at her flushed face, and then he looked at that teaser of a blouse. “Friend, my ass!”

  Plain speaking . . .

  Jonas finally extricated himself from his newfound woman friend. He would have much to confess at the next meeting of the Mennonite deacons.

  Laura Jones, a nurse at Huntingdon Hospital, had latched on to him like a bear on a honey pot. She was tall, blonde, and buxom, and, jah, he had noticed her body. Even Amishmen, and Mennonites, appreciated a good bosom.

  The woman had invited him to have dinner with her on Saturday night. Jonas had been ferhoodled at that; Plain women did not make overtures to their men; though, truth to tell, he had been flattered. When he’d politely declined, she’d asked if he was afraid of her. More like she should be afraid of him. Those red boots of hers had planted some mighty indecent ideas in his head. And he had not been with a woman in seven years. Tsk-tsk-tsk! He was a grown man with three children. He should not be thinking about red boots and bosoms. Leastways, that’s what he told himself.

  He made his way toward Caleb and sat down with a sigh of disgust.

  Claire and the Cajun fella left to give them some privacy. Caleb watched as they began dancing, bending their bodies sinuously to the rhythm of the music. Indecent, really, though he hated making judgments. Hard to believe, with all that had happened, that the tavern was still crowded, the band playing, everything going on as usual.

  “So, how’d you lose your girlfriend?” Caleb asked him.

  Girlfriend? Oh. He must be teasing. I hope no one saw me gawking at her bosom. Suddenly, he recalled a time when he and Caleb were nine years old, and they’d been fascinated by Mrs. Fisher’s massive breasts. Especially after they’d come across her in the barn one day after Meeting and saw her husband rubbing his hands over those breasts. Old Mr. Fisher had been grinnin’ like crazy.

  “I tol’ her I left my horse outside, untended,” he answered.

  “Did you?”

  “I don’t have a horse, Caleb.” If you’d stuck around all these years, you would know that, brother.

  Caleb laughed.

  “It’s not funny.” Well, jah, it is, but it’s best not to encourage you. Ah, Caleb, how did we get so far apart? How could you have left like that? How could we have let you leave?

  “Oh, yes, it is funny, big brother. When was the last time you got some?”

  “Some what?” Oh, good Lord! He must mean that. “For shame, Caleb!”

  “Are you really my brother?”

  “Jah, I am.”

  “When was the last time you got laid?”

  “Shush! You shouldna talk ’bout things like . . . that.”
<
br />   “Like sex?” Caleb’s eyes twinkled with merriment. This was the old Caleb, the one he had missed so awful much. Not the grim, overserious fella he’d witnessed since their reunion.

  “This will prob’ly amuse ya, but I have only ever been with one woman, my wife, since I got married.”

  Caleb’s eyes went wide, eyes that he knew mirrored his own. “The wife who died seven years ago?”

  He nodded.

  Caleb howled with laughter. “You must give new meaning to blue balls.”

  Jonas was unaccustomed to such coarse talk, but not really offended. This was his brother. They should be able to say anything to each other. “I alveese intended ta remarry.”

  “And?”

  “I never found anyone I liked enough, I guess.”

  “Same here.”

  “I saw ya makin’ eyes with Claire. ’Pears ta me ya like her well enough.”

  “Yeah, I’m liking her a little too much.”

  “And that is a bad thing?”

  “Marriage and family and all that . . . I gave up thoughts of that a long time ago. And believe me, Claire isn’t into casual sex. We only met two days ago, but already she wants to have my baby, for chrissake!”

  Jonas’s jaw dropped. “She told you that?”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  “Why aren’t marriage and family for you?”

  “Because losing family is too hard. I won’t risk that. Not again.”

  Jonas understood. Being cut off from family was a horrible thing. Like cutting off an arm or a leg . . . or cutting out the heart.

  “So, what are you doing here?” Caleb asked.

  Jonas flinched. He shouldn’t need a reason for seeking out his brother. “I came ta warn you.”

  “About what?”

  “The church elders held a council tonight led by Bishop Lapp. About you.”

  “Me? What did I do? It’s too early for them to know about Lizzie. And son of a gun, that jackass Lapp is still around?”