by Webb, Peggy
“Are you Miss Clementine Brady?” The man standing on her doorstep was young, freckled, and holding the most enormous bouquet of orchids Clemmie had ever seen.
“Yes,” she said.
“These are for you.”
Clemmie took the flowers inside and set them on the hall table. They made even the shabby hallway look elegant. She took the card out and read, “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate. Michael.”
One of Shakespeare’s sonnets, she thought. Michael was truly a romantic.
She started toward the kitchen, then turned back and snatched the orchids off the hall table. She couldn’t bear to leave them behind. She figured she’d carry them from room to room all day long, so that she could see the delicate purple blossoms and be reminded of the man she loved.
Hurrying to the kitchen, she put the orchids on the cabinet in plain view and tried to decide what sort of breakfast she could put together in five minutes. While she was standing there, Harvey stuck his head in the doorway.
“Clemmie, I heard the doorbell.” Spotting the flowers, he came into the kitchen. “Nice. I don’t suppose I have to ask who sent them.”
“No. It was Michael.”
Harvey tried to look happy for her, but only succeeded in looking like a floppy-eared puppy that had been wet down with a water hose.
“Listen, Clemmie, if you haven’t already made breakfast for me, I think I’ll get a bite in Fulton. We’ve already started rehearsals on our Christmas symphony and I need to be there early.”
“Thanks, Harvey.” She smiled at him. “Don’t forget your umbrella. It looks like it might blow up a storm.”
“I’ve got it. Bye, Clemmie.” He waved a bony hand at her and left to get his tuba.
“Dear, sweet Harvey,” she said softly. She knew that he’d seen she didn’t have any breakfast prepared. She’d bet that he’d even known about her late-night date with Michael. After all, he could hardly miss a white stallion outside his window.
Clemmie quickly filled two bowls with cereal and poured two glasses of juice. With one last look at her orchids, she left the kitchen. She could hardly manage to take them and the breakfast tray at the same time.
Miss Josephine was already dressed and waiting to be helped down the stairs to breakfast. With her sprigged muslin dress, her dead corsage, and her carefully rouged face, she looked as if she might be waiting for a tea party.
She smiled when she saw Clemmie. “What a surprise, my dear. Is that breakfast?’’
“Yes,” Clemmie shouted. “There are only the two of us. I thought we’d eat at that table beside your window. Watching the rain will be nice.”
“Well, we could eat in the stable, but why don’t we eat at that table by the window? We can watch the rain.”
Clemmie put the tray on the table and dragged two chairs across the floor. After they were seated, Miss Josephine regaled her with stories from her past. Clemmie knew that she was required only to listen.
“Junior took me down to Luther Whitman’s for a fall barn dance. It was the end of harvest time, you see, and everybody was celebrating getting their crops in from the field. Skip Bradley had his fiddle and old man Rufus Trent had a washtub and a broom rigged up with wire. It made a lovely bass drum.”
Miss Josephine paused for breath. Clemmie smiled and nodded and listened to the wind pick up speed and the rain slash against the windows. Miss Josephine wiped the juice from her mouth and continued her monologue. She described her dress in great detail. In fact, she described every dress at the barn dance.
As Clemmie listened to Miss Josephine’s tales of her dear departed Junior Wade, she thought of Michael. The need to confide her love welled up inside. Why not? Miss Josephine was the perfect confidante. She would listen without hearing, and she would make no judgments and give no advice.
Miss Josephine was talking on, “Of course, Junior had kissed me before, but not like that. It was so romantic.”
Clemmie filled the pause. “Michael’s romantic, too. I guess that’s one of the reasons I love him.”
“No, dear, there weren’t any doves in the barn. But there was hay. Junior pulled me behind one of the hay bales and kissed me like there was no tomorrow. That night, I thought we’d have each other forever.”
“I know I won’t have forever with Michael. I’m merely an amusement for him, and even if he did fall in love with me, what in the world would we do? I can’t leave Peppertown and he can’t leave Hollywood. I have my brothers to take care of, and then there are my boarders. Oh, I know the schoolteachers and Harvey could find someplace else, but what would happen to you, Miss Josephine?”
“Shot right in the stomach. That’s what happened.” Clemmie jumped when Miss Josephine snapped her fingers. She’d been so caught up in her own confessions, she’d hardly been paying attention to what the old lady said. “Just like that,” Josephine continued. “I’ll never forget that day they came and told me he’d been mistaken for a deer and shot plumb dead. Of course, my loss was Heaven’s gain. Junior went up there to make some lucky angel happy. Believe you me, when I get there I’ll tie a knot in her wings. Junior’s still mine, and I mean to have him.”
Clemmie suppressed her smile. Leaning across the table, she patted Miss Josephine’s hand and murmured, “I’d love to have Michael, too. Just once, you understand. I want to know what it’s like to give myself completely to the man I love.”
“Of course he loves me, and you’re sweet to say those nice things about my dear departed Junior. But my time’s a comin’. Why, I’ll walk right up to that sassy angel and say, ‘You’ve had your turn. Now it’s mine.’“ Miss Josephine slapped her thigh and laughed. “Lordy, won’t we have a time?”
“Yes. You will surely have a time.”
“Somebody’s committed a crime?” Miss Josephine’s hands fluttered up to her face like two withered butterflies. “Why, child, why didn’t you say something sooner? Why we could all be murdered in our sleep. I’m anxious to see Junior again, but not that anxious. Mercy me!”
Clemmie’s private confessional was over. She spent the next ten minutes dealing with Miss Josephine’s latest fantasy, then picked up the breakfast dishes and carried them down the stairs.
Thunder rumbled and lightning flashed. The old boarding house trembled under nature’s onslaught, its shutters clattering and its windows rattling. Clemmie was happy to see the rain, but she worried about her house. Taking her flashlight she went into the attic to see if her roof had sprung any new leaks. Much to her relief, there were no telltale puddles on the hardwood floor, and the beam of the light picked up no damp patches on the ceiling.
She stood in the middle of the crowded attic, giving thanks for small blessings. In the corner her sewing machine beckoned to her. While she was up there, she might as well finish sewing that shirt she’d started two weeks ago for Daniel. She’d planned to return the velvet dress to Michael and thank him for the orchids, but she’d wait until the rain slackened. She didn’t like driving in a downpour. And besides, surely the company would not be filming in this weather. The chances were small that they would need the green velvet dress.
The rain came down without mercy.
By five o’clock that afternoon, Clemmie had decided she’d better go ahead and return the dress. The weatherman had predicted rain for the next two days. Putting on her boots and raincoat and tucking the velvet dress and its box carefully into a plastic garment bag, she headed for her car.
She knew it was foolish to go out in such a rain, but what if Michael needed that velvet dress for one of his scenes? She certainly didn’t want to be responsible for holding up a motion picture simply because she didn’t like driving in the rain. No sir, she thought as she opened her umbrella and stepped outside. It would be dark soon. She’d best go while she still had some daylight left.
A gust of high wind got under the hem of her raincoat and whipped it up around her legs. Fighting to keep the rain-slicked g
arment bag from slipping out of her hand, she jerked at the garage door. For once it cooperated.
In a matter of minutes Clemmie was easing her car out of her driveway and creeping through Peppertown. Her hands gripped the steering wheel and she leaned forward, squinting so she wouldn’t miss the turnoff.
She didn’t know what she’d expected when she got to the movie encampment. Certainly not the bedlam she saw. With her motor still running and her wipers going, she peered through the windshield. It looked as if the company was moving full speed ahead. Bright neon yellow slickers shone through the gloom. They were everywhere—perched atop the crane, huddled behind the cameras, clumped in the canvas director’s chair. She thought she spotted Michael, but she couldn’t be sure. That tall form in the yellow slicker could have been anybody.
She sat in her car a while, watching. There was no need to get out yet. She’d only add to the confusion. When she saw a break in the action, she’d sprint across the pasture and hand Michael the velvet gown. She’d say, “Thank you for letting me wear the beautiful dress. Oh, and thank you for the orchids.” Then she’d leave. She wouldn’t embarrass both of them by saying, “Michael, I’ve fallen in love with you and I don’t quite know what to do about it.”
Clemmie’s wipers made quiet swishing noises as she watched.
o0o
The rain had been a blessing in disguise.
Michael’s yellow slicker rattled as he stood up. They had needed a storm for one of their sequences, and nature had obliged. He glanced at Rick Love, sitting hunched over in his director’s chair. He could tell by the look of satisfaction on his face that Rick was pleased with the day’s work. The real thing was always better than special effects.
Michael was glad the day’s work had gone well. Filming in this kind of weather was always tricky. And nature might not provide another storm for a retake.
Behind him, Rick yelled “Cut,” and excited actors came streaming past. There was a lot of good natured jostling and back slapping and general high spirits as everyone released the tensions of the day.
Michael moved along in the stream of people, chatting with Lonnie Bobo, one of the lead actors, when he spotted Clemmie up ahead. She was stepping out of her car, clutching her red raincoat around her throat and holding on to a red umbrella. Michael had his hand lifted in greeting when one of the extras, a high spirited young eighteen-year-old, head down against the rain, broke into a run and barreled into Clemmie.
She went down in a tangle of wet raincoat and spiky umbrella. Michael tore loose from the crowd and sprinted toward her.
The boy who had bowled her over was bending down, flapping his arms and apologizing. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you. I was hurrying to my car so I could go and get a pizza.”
The young jackass, Michael thought. “No harm done,” he heard Clemmie say. No harm! Why she was sitting in a large puddle of water and she was wet and muddy from head to toe. She’d be lucky if she didn’t catch pneumonia. She might even have a broken bone.
“I’ll take over. She’s mine.” Shouldering the boy aside, he knelt beside Clemmie. He was so rattled he didn’t even know what he had said.
The boy still hovered uncertainly. Clemmie smiled up at him. “I’m perfectly fine. Really. Go on and enjoy your pizza.”
“You’re sure?”
Michael wanted to lift him up by the seat of the britches and toss him into his car. Why didn’t the young simpleton just move out of the way instead of keeping Clemmie sitting in the mud, talking? Before she could say anything else to the boy, Michael scooped her up and cradled her against his chest.
“It’s all right, sweet,” he murmured to her. “I’ll take care of you.” He stood up, kicked the ruined umbrella aside and strode off toward his trailer.
Much as Clemmie loved the idea of being carried off by the man she loved, she had a soft spot for the young man who had knocked her over. He reminded her of her brothers.
“Michael,” she said, tugging on the front of his slicker, “take me back immediately.”
“What?” He never even broke his stride, just kept hurrying toward his trailer as if she were a life and death case.
“I said take me back to that poor young man. He was upset.”
“He damned well should be. He nearly got you killed.”
She had to smile. Michael was acting worse than an overprotective grandmother. “Killed?”
“Tackling you like a linebacker. Not to mention letting you wallow around in the mud in this weather.”
This time she laughed outright. “Michael, I’m perfectly fine. Just a little wet. Take me back this very minute.”
By now they had attracted an audience. Rick, who had seen Clemmie go down, and Jay, who had witnessed Michael picking her up, had joined them. They didn’t want to miss a bit of the action between these two.
“Like hell,” Michael said, bulldozing forward.
“Then I’ll go on my own.” Clemmie shoved against his chest and tried to get out of his arms.
Rick and Jay hooted with laughter.
“Looks like the lady means business,” Rick commented.
“Go to it, Clemmie,” Jay said. “Teach the old boy some manners.”
Still holding on to Clemmie, Michael whirled around and scowled at them. “Don’t you two have something better to do besides gawk at me?”
“Well, we could go over to your trailer for a three handed game of stud poker.” Rick couldn’t keep the knowing grin off his face.
“Or we could pick up Chinese food and bring it over,” Jay said, deadpan. “Dinner for four.”
“Beat it.” Michael knew he’d been bested when Clemmie, Rick and Jay all burst into laughter. “Where is that little pip-squeak you wanted to see?”
“Just getting into his car. If you’ll put me down, I can catch him and let him know I’m all right so he won’t worry.”
Michael tightened his grip. “I’m not letting you out of my sight until I have you out of those wet clothes.”
As he started toward the young man’s blue Maverick, Rick and Jay applauded.
“I’ll deal with you later,” Michael yelled over his shoulder.
He thought he handled the next few minutes with fairly good grace, considering that the young idiot Clemmie was talking to kept looking at her like a love-sick puppy. Michael kept a tight hold on Clemmie the whole time she was talking. Knowing her, there was no telling what she’d do next. She might even invite the careless dolt over to her house for gingerbread.
He shouldn’t complain, he thought. Standing in the pouring rain with Clemmie in his arms was a very pleasurable experience. Through the wet clothes, she was all woman. All sexy woman, he corrected, looking down at her. The rain had molded her silky raincoat against her body, outlining the proud curve of her hip, the sweet up thrust of her breasts.
Being concerned for her welfare was slowly giving way to being aroused. When the teenager finally left, Michael stalked back to his trailer in silence.
He mounted the steps and kicked the door shut behind them. His face was fierce as he looked down at her.
“Let’s get you out of those wet clothes.”
The way she looked at him, with those eyes so wide and innocent and startled, socked him right in the heart. If she’d known how close he was to ripping aside her wet clothes and taking her on the carpet, she really would be frightened. And hadn’t that been his intention all along? But not yet. Not while she was shivering and wet and cold. Not with those big eyes staring at him.
“You want me to undress?”
“Yes.” He put her on her feet and peeled off her wet raincoat. “I want you out of those clothes in two minutes flat.”
Now that the excitement was over, she was cold, Clemmie admitted to herself. But she didn’t know what Michael’s intentions were. If he wanted to make love, why was he scowling? And why was he in such a hurry for her to undress? Shouldn’t there be a little more romance to the whole thing?
She hugged h
er arms around her shoulders and shivered. Ordinarily she was content with herself exactly the way she was, but today she wished she knew what to do and say when a man said to strip off your clothes. Was she supposed to strip slowly, like Gypsy Rose Lee, one piece at a time? She could just picture it, the music blaring, the lights glinting on the stage, and Michael sitting in a front row seat, watching her. But she wasn’t wearing sequins and feathers. She smiled at the idea of herself trying to look seductive swinging a soggy sweatshirt over her head.
“What’s so damned funny?”
She jerked her eyes up to his. She wasn’t on a stage with lights and music. She was in Michael’s trailer, dripping water all over his carpet.
“Nothing. It’s just that...” Her teeth began to chatter.
“Damn.” Setting his mouth into a grim line, Michael tossed off his yellow slicker then turned back to Clemmie. “If you won’t get undressed, I’ll do it for you. Otherwise you’re going to end up with pneumonia.”
“That’s why you want me to get undressed?”
“Of course. What did you think?” Her bright pink cheeks told him what she had thought. “Dammit all, Clemmie. I may be a womanizer, but I’m not that bad. When I make love with a woman I do it with soft music and candlelight.”
“Oh, I feel foolish.”
He put a finger under her chin and tipped her face up. “You don’t look foolish; you look wet and cold. And I gave you the wrong impression.” Gently he took her shoulders and guided her toward his bedroom. “You can get out of your wet things in there. My robe is hanging next to the shower. Use it.”
He paced the floor while she changed. The thin trailer walls weren’t made to be soundproof, and he heard every sound she made. The dull thud of heavy wet jeans and sweatshirt against the floor made his heart beat faster. She’d be in her panties and bra now. He knew her shape, for he had memorized it with his hands.
A door slammed and he heard the sounds of running water. She would be in the shower now. Water spiking her eyelashes. Soap slicking down her firm, flat abdomen. He knew exactly how her soap slick body would feel. Ripe and luscious. He groaned as he thought of his hands on her, gentling those fine curves, plundering the sweetness of those thighs.
