Son of a Preacher Man

by Karen M Cox

  She was a blonde, blue-eyed beauty, pink-cheeked and soft-spoken. Charlie asked if she’d like to take a walk with us over to the quarry. There was a lake there, deep and cool, and maybe they could take a swim since it was such a hot day.

  Jeannie stammered, blushed, and said she’d ask her father. He waved her off, but then he called her back, and I overheard him say, “Take Lizzie with you. I don’t want you off by yourself.”

  That meant I was stuck with Lizzie Quinlan while Charles chatted up her sister. I was annoyed and bothered at having a girl foisted on me like that, especially a girl like her.

  “Charles”—I hissed under my breath—“I don’t want to walk out with her. My dad’s the minister here.”

  “So?”

  “I don’t want people to get the wrong idea,” I said, remembering my father’s stern look.

  “Because you’re walking to the quarry with Lizzie and Jeannie and me?” Charles shook his head. “Don’t pay no mind to Marlene’s rumor mill. She’s just being spiteful. Besides, Jeannie and I will be there too. Nobody will say anything.”

  “I saw how the other boys looked at her—some of the men, too. What Marlene says about her is right, isn’t it? She’s fast and loose.”

  Charles sighed. “What they say doesn’t matter. You—” He froze, and I realized that the subject of our conversation was most likely right behind me. I whirled around and found myself face-to-face with wounded eyes that hardened the instant I looked into them.

  “Don’t worry—fast and loose isn’t catching. So, you can keep your pristine reputation, you son of a…preacher man. A square like you is safe from the likes of me.” She spun around and marched toward the house in a fascinating display of incensed feminine indignation.

  Words of apology stuck in my throat. Charles looked dismayed and went after her. I heard her say, “I’ll still go, Charlie, so Jeannie can go out walking with you. But keep that arrogant, holier-than-thou jerk away from me, okay?”

  When we started out a few minutes later, Charles immediately forgot his promise, and he and Jeannie quickly fell back, walking hand-in-hand and talking quietly. Lizzie forged ahead, stalking toward the quarry as fast as her shapely legs would carry her.

  It was hot. Sweat plastered my hair against my temples and beaded on my upper lip. Walking behind Lizzie didn’t do anything to help me cool off either. Her hips swayed enticingly from side to side as she walked up the path, and the curls in that ponytail kept bouncing up and down, up and down. It was downright distracting. Even though I was twenty-one years old, I didn’t know all that much about girls, just whatever I’d managed to overhear in the boys’ locker room. I led a pretty sheltered life, and no one shared his girl-knowledge with the preacher’s kid. But I knew enough to realize Lizzie Quinlan upset my equilibrium, and I didn’t like that one bit.

  We arrived at the lake in about twenty minutes. Lizzie plopped down on a tree stump a few feet from the water. When I stepped up to the shoreline, I could hear her muttering to herself. She gingerly peeled off her shoe and her harsh intake of air caught my attention.

  Concerned, I approached her. “Are you all right?”

  “Fine.” Her voice snapped like a whip, and she turned to the other shoe.

  I kneeled in front of her, frowned, and picked up her foot to inspect her heel.

  “Get your hands off me!”

  “You’re bleeding,” I said without emotion. I picked up the shoe and studied it. There was a flat heel, but the leather was stiff and unyielding, and the toes were pointed so much they must have hurt her feet. “No wonder. Why would you wear these impractical shoes to hike out here?”

  “Maybe they’re the only ones I’ve got.”

  “Are they?”

  “No.” She replied hastily, but I wasn’t convinced. I’d seen the condition of her family’s house.

  “Come on.” I held my hand out to her. Words of apology for what I’d said would sound empty at that point, but I could show her some kindness. That would restore my faith that I was, in fact, a Christian and a gentleman.

  “Where are we going?” She looked wary.

  “I’ll help you down to the water. It will feel good on your blisters, don’t you think?”

  “Perhaps.”

  She took my hand, and we sat on a large rock near the water’s edge. I let her go as soon as she was settled with her feet dangling in the water. Touching her made my hands tingle, and that was probably not a good thing. If that was the way she affected all the males of the human species, no wonder they watched her from barn windows and from behind farm implements. I stood and looked behind us at Jeannie and Charles. They were sitting on a boulder more than twenty yards away, heads together, shoulders touching.

  Lizzie Quinlan followed my gaze. “No matter what you think about me or my family, my sister is a nice girl.” She stuck her chin out, her tone defensive.

  “Charles seems to like her.”

  “He does—and don’t you ruin it either by lying about her. She deserves to be happy.”

  “I don’t lie.” I was starting to feel defensive myself. I had no opinion on the matter—no knowledge of whether Jeannie was a nice girl or not. I picked up a stone from the water’s edge and skipped it across the lake.

  “I know what you think about us. I can see it in your disdainful, little scowl. Hear it in your haughty voice.”

  She leaned back on her elbows, her feet splashing and churning the water under them. The sun lit her hair in a coppery halo around her head, making her look like a fiery, avenging angel. Her eyes blazed flames at me too, and I stood, mesmerized for a long minute, drinking her in.

  In a flash, her expression changed. The fire in her eyes was gone. I was sorry to see it go because it drew me like a moth to a flame, but what replaced it was even more alluring—and disturbing. It was as if the clear, bright flame had been doused by water, turning it to a heavy, smoldering steam. I swallowed—hard. Never before had I understood what people meant by a “come hither smile,” but now I saw one right in front of me and knew it for what it was. Before I was even aware of what I was doing, my feet propelled me over, and I sat on the rock beside her.

  She cast a quick look along the shore line and behind her to Jeannie and Charles’ now empty rock. They must have taken off into the thicket of woods. I wanted to throttle Charlie for leaving me in the clutches of Lizzie Quinlan—and clutched was definitely how I felt at the moment.

  She started unbuttoning her blouse.

  I leapt to my feet and backed up a couple of steps. “What are you doing!” My voice sounded harsh and cold, but my heart was pounding.

  She smirked. “Going swimming. We are at the lake after all. Don’t worry, preacher boy; I’ll keep my undies on.”

  She slipped off her blouse, primly folded it, and laid it on the rock. Then she shimmied out of her shorts. Standing up, she stretched her arms high over her head, and looked at me, cocking one eyebrow up in challenge. Then, clothed only in bra and panties, she jumped into the lake.

  I watched her disappear beneath the surface and then dark, wet curls appeared a few feet from where she had gone under. She squealed,“Oooh, it’s cold!”and wiped the water out of her eyes. “It feels good though. You should get in ’cause it’s a long, hot walk back. Or can’t you swim?”

  “Oh, I assure you, I can swim.”

  “Then why don’t you get in?”

  The water looked inviting, and so did the mischievous look she was giving me. I stripped off my shirt, socks, and shoes, and tossed them in a pile next to hers. “I’m not taking my jeans off.”

  Her white belly rose to the surface as she glided away from the water’s edge. “Suit yourself, but they’ll get awfully heavy in the water and mighty clammy feeling on the way back.”

  She kept treading water about ten feet from the rock. “And if you come back with wet clothes, everyone who saw us leave the house together will know you’ve been swimming with me.”

  I thought of my father’s
stern countenance. She had a point there. I put my hand on my belt and then stopped. “Turn around.”

  “You don’t got nothing I ain’t seen before.” She was deliberately provoking me now. If it had been anyone else but me, I might have even laughed at the absurdity of the situation.

  “If you want me to go swimming with you, you’ll turn around.”

  “Sissy-pants.” She huffed and turned her back.

  I quietly slipped into the lake. My feet touched the bottom, and the water was up to my waist, but I knew there was probably a steep drop off a few more feet out. She had exaggerated how cold it was, although it was refreshing. Moving silently through the water, I swam up behind her, dove under the surface, and tugged on her foot. Even underwater, I heard her shriek. I popped up, right beside her, grinning.

  “Why you little…” She sputtered, wiping water out of her eyes. “You scared me!”

  “Well, how about that? It is possible to scare the rough and tough Lizzie Quinlan.”

  She swam back to where she could touch the bottom and the water came up to her shoulder. “Who said I was rough and tough?”

  I shrugged and did a lap out and back a few yards. When I returned, she looked at me with eyes dark as a midnight sky.

  “Don’t believe everything Marlene Miller tells you about me. She hates my guts because, once upon a time, her boyfriend broke up with her and asked me out. He said she was a prick-tease.”

  I’d never heard that word before, but I had a pretty good idea what it meant. “Did you go out with him?”

  “Yep.”

  I didn’t respond.

  “Don’t you want to know what we did?”

  “Nope.” I paused. “So, I shouldn’t believe anything Marlene says about you?”

  “Believe what you want.”

  “I want the truth.”

  “The truth? Who cares about the truth! According to the Orchard Hill gossip ring, every boy in town has had a piece of me.”

  The blood drained from my face at the vehement disdain in her tone, and then it rushed back into my cheeks after I realized what she meant. To hide my embarrassment, I leaned back to lie on top of the water, my face to the sky, and closed my eyes. “And ye shall know the truth and the truth shall make ye free. John 8:32.” I opened one eye and looked at her. “That’s what my father would say.”

  “What would your father say about you skinny-dipping with me out at the quarry?”

  “We aren’t skinny-dipping—that means swimming without any clothes on.”

  “Like he would believe we kept any clothes on.”

  “He would believe it if I told him it was the truth.”

  She said nothing, and I sneaked a peek at her out of the corner of my eye. Her eyes were open, and she was floating on her back a few feet from me. The white fabric covering her breasts stuck up above the water, and the outline of her nipple was visible. I felt my insides leap in response and closed my eyes again.

  We floated that way for several minutes. She was apparently lost in her thoughts, and I was trying to control mine.

  It was a shock when her wet head bumped my rib cage. We both spluttered and flailed in surprise, and I inadvertently pushed her under me. She wriggled in panic, and I grabbed her around the waist and lifted her back up above the water. She was coughing and trying to catch her breath.

  “Are you okay?” I was breathless and trying not to think about her bottom so close to my hip. “Can you stand?”

  She shook her head and held onto me. “The water’s too deep.” She froze, a momentary rigidity flashing through her body and her limbs. I was confused until I realized what she must have just felt with her leg. Embarrassed, I almost hurled her toward the water’s edge. She regained her footing, and the smoldering, come-hither look was back. I stared at her, breathing hard from being so startled—or that’s what I told myself anyway. I turned and stared across the lake, trying to get myself under good regulation. And that’s when I felt her warmth up close behind me. Small, wet hands slipped around me and pressed my back to her front. She laid her cheek against my back, and I felt her hands glide down the sides of my body.

  I seized them and held them away from me. “Why are you doing this?”

  “Why not? Aren’t you the least bit curious, Billy Ray? I’ll bet my bottom dollar you’ve never been this close to a girl before.”

  “Curiosity has nothing to do with it. Men and women shouldn’t touch each other like this until they’re married.”

  “Is that what your father says?”

  I looked over my shoulder at her, trying to recruit my best scowl. “Yes.”

  “Does this mean you’re going to marry me now?” Her eyes radiated amusement, and I rolled mine and faced out toward the lake again.

  “No.”

  “No,” she said softly. “I didn’t think so.”

  I let her hands go. She moved back a little but was still close behind me. The eddies created by the motion of her hands and legs were like liquid fingers swirling around my body. It was almost as if she continued to touch me, except I felt it everywhere.

  “So, does your father preach about the virtues of chastity?”

  “Sometimes.”

  Her laugh had a bitter quality to it. “He’ll have a helluva time convincing the guys around here to give it a go.”

  “That doesn’t mean he isn’t right.” I finally got up the nerve to turn back around and face her.

  “You’re such an innocent, Billy Ray.” Her face was serious for a minute and perhaps a little sad. Then, a wicked glint lit up her eyes. It was such a rapid transformation that I was smiling before I could stop myself. She moved farther out into the lake.

  “What?” I asked, following her.

  “You better hold me up, son of a preacher man, or I’ll drown.”

  “No, you won’t—you can swim just fine.”

  “Maybe I can, and maybe I can’t.”

  I ignored her.

  “Maybe I will, and maybe I won’t.”

  I frowned at her and started toward the shore. “I don’t like playing silly games.”

  “Hold me close. I’m going under now.” She slipped beneath the surface.

  I snorted, knowing she’d be up in a second. Then I waited, telling myself that the water wasn’t that deep. She was so still though, I couldn’t even tell if she was there.

  I knew she was pulling my leg, but she didn’t resurface, and now I was starting to get angry. I pushed through the water and reached under until I found her arms and hauled her up, crushing her against my chest while I planted my feet on the lake bottom. She was laughing, sputtering, and gasping for air, and I shook her a little and growled at her. “That isn’t funny!”

  “I beg your pardon, but it is too funny.”

  I bent my face over hers, glaring at her. “Being reckless like that is a sure-fire way to get hurt.” My scowl bore into her, and her lips parted as the silly smile dimmed. We stayed like that, our eyes locked together for half a minute, and then I pulled and pushed her toward the shallow water. As soon as I knew she could stand, I thrust her away from me. “Stupid, little fool!”

  After slipping and losing her footing, she grappled for balance and stood up, returning my glare. “Why do you care if the town slut drowns?”

  I strode past her and turned to sit on the edge of the rock, arms folded across my chest. “I didn’t call you that—and I certainly wouldn’t want you to drown.”

  She seemed angry, and for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why. If anyone had a right to be angry, it was me. After all, it was me who was the butt of her joke.

  “Oh no,” she said in a voice heavy with sarcasm. “Then everyone would know we were together, and it would look so bad on your reputation and weigh on your conscience. You have such a big…conscience.”

  I picked up my clothes and headed off for the thicket, where I could wring out my boxers and get dressed in private.

  “No sense of humor,” she shouted at my
back.

  I whirled around and strode back to the water’s edge. She was out of the lake now, sunning herself on the rock in her bra and panties.

  “I don’t have a sense of humor about tricks like that. It’s cruel to make people afraid for you, just so you can laugh in their faces. And furthermore? Drowning isn’t funny. That’s how my mother died.”

  I turned my back on her and approached the cover of the trees once more. I yanked on my pants and left my shirt unbuttoned and flapping in the breeze. I carried my shoes and socks in my hand and beat a path back to the Quinlan house without looking back. I didn’t care if she, Jeannie, or Charlie stayed out there all night. Lizzie Quinlan might say she was the town slut, and maybe she was, and maybe she wasn’t. I had no idea and didn’t care. But she had a mean streak about her, and I didn’t have to bear the brunt of it.

  Chapter 3

  After supper, Dad walked me over to Dr. Miller’s office where I would sleep for the summer. Mrs. Miller had set up a nice cot for me in one of the patient rooms. There was a bathroom just down the hall, and before we arrived, she had Charles and his dad carry over a small armoire to store my clothes. It was plain living, nothing like my upscale room at Aunt Catherine’s, but it was a lot cozier than many of the places Dad and I had stayed during our traveling summers. Sometimes, we’d even camped out under the stars.

  Dad sat on the cot, watching me hang up my shirt and finish unpacking my clothes.

  “You sure you don’t want to stay in the Millers’ guest room? I know you’re grown, but you might get lonely over here by yourself.”

  “I’ll be fine. It will be good for me to get used to staying alone, and I’m kind of in the mood to be by myself anyway.”

  “I saw you come back to the Quinlans’ before the other young people. Something you want to tell me about?”

  I shook my head.

  “Ask me about?”

  I hid a smile, knowing he was referring to the birds and the bees. We’d never had “The Talk.” I’d found out about adult relationships between men and women through books and the gossip that ran through small towns like this one. I wouldn’t put Dad through the agony of explaining it. I had always tried to spare him those conversations—if I could find out some other way.