The Happy Hour Choir

by Sally Kilpatrick

  Sam tipped his hat, reminding me of an old-time cowboy, and Tiffany gave us the widest grin I’d ever seen. Peering past the gauzy curtain on the door, I watched Sam escort Tiffany to his pickup then help her up into the cab. Beyond them, dark gray clouds hung on the horizon.

  “Don’t worry. He’ll be here.”

  I looked at my twinkly-eyed fairy godmother of sorts.

  “I don’t know what to say to you.” I shook my head and tried not to think of the handful of condoms that weighed down my purse.

  “I may be old, but I’m not dead,” she said. “He’s a good-looking man. I should have taken advantage of a few more good-looking men in my time. Before I got too old for that mess.”

  “You planned this for me just as much as for Tiffany.” I wanted to smack myself for being so stupid as not to see it from the get-go. I sucked in a breath. But Luke had seen it. First, my adrenaline soared at the thought that he saw the ruse and went along with it, then those same emotions dipped faster than a determined kamikaze because he wasn’t there. Maybe he had changed his mind after our discussion on the porch. Maybe he’d decided he didn’t want to be manipulated by a little old lady.

  Ginger shrugged. “I gotta do what I gotta do. How many dates have you been on in your life?”

  Well, the ill-fated date with Roy, Jr., had been my first date. Then there were a few hookups after hours at The Fountain after Hunter died. As to formal “dates,” I could count them all on one hand.

  She reached up and pinched my cheek. “I’m not saying you have to marry the man, but I’ve seen a whole heckuva lot worse. Besides, I have to get you in the habit of dating. No one’s going to hand you condoms and push you out the door when I’m gone, and you don’t want to end up an old cat lady, do you?”

  “I like cats,” I sniffed. I couldn’t cry or it would ruin my mascara. No doubt that had been part of Ginger’s devious plot as well.

  Fifteen minutes later, Luke still hadn’t shown. I paced the floor as though I’d actually wanted to go on the date. Ginger had wilted into her chair—she hadn’t planned on this possibility. The phone rang, and I jumped for it.

  “Hello?” My voice was entirely too breathless.

  “Beulah, thank goodness. I got a flat tire in Harlowe Bottom where there is no cell reception to speak of. I think I’ve walked halfway to town trying to get a signal. It’ll take me a few minutes longer because I have to walk back to the car and I can’t find my tire iron, either.”

  A flat tire. Of course. Relief washed over me, and I couldn’t believe I had even for one minute thought Luke might not show. How could I have doubted him?

  “You want me to bring you a tire iron?” I wondered if he could hear the relief in my voice.

  “Would you?”

  “Of course. I’ll be right there.”

  I had just hung up the phone and grabbed my purse when he called for me again. “Hey, Beulah, why don’t you call Tiffany and tell them where we are and to go ahead without us?”

  They’d done just that, but my heart warmed at his thoughtfulness. “Okay, I’ll text her and be right there.”

  Luke hung up, and I texted Tiffany. When I looked up, Ginger was smiling at me, the prettiest smile I’d seen in months. “See?”

  “Did you arrange for the flat tire, too?”

  “No, dear. I can’t bend over like I used to, and I’m fresh out of thumbtacks. Now, you go and have fun doing whatever you end up doing. You look beautiful, and I couldn’t be prouder of you.”

  I held out my skirt. Ginger and Tiffany had picked out the sour-apple-green sundress with the Queen Anne neckline. Ginger said it went well with my red hair and green eyes. Tiffany had loaned me her platform sandals to give me some height, and I noticed Ginger wasn’t suggesting I exchange them for Dr. Scholl’s.

  Thunder rumbled in the distance.

  “Go, go, Cinderella, before the clock strikes midnight!”

  Ginger pulled me down to her height so she could kiss my cheek. I instinctively reached up to rub away the lipstick but noticed she wasn’t wearing any and frowned. No eyebrows today, either.

  “Go on, quit worrying about me,” she said as she sank carefully into her chair. “I’m going to watch some old movies, I think. Maybe something with Cary Grant.”

  By the time I reached Harlowe Bottom, it was misting. The road stretched flat and straight through the swamp, so I quickly saw Luke’s car.

  Luke leaned against his little roadster, oblivious to the precipitation. He had jacked the car up, but that was as far as he could get without the tire iron.

  I stepped out of the car, and he gave a low whistle. “I had intended to say you were a sight for sore eyes, but that was even before I saw how pretty you’re looking tonight.”

  I blushed to my core. His compliments were far different from the lewd remarks I usually got in The Fountain. Come to think of it, I hadn’t heard as much whistling and carrying on in the past few nights. It’d been really, really quiet in there. Almost too quiet.

  I handed him the tire iron and he set to work. He was wearing khakis and a polo, a look that had really grown on me. Unfortunately, it was raining harder, and he was destined to ruin the knees of his pants by kneeling on the soft mud of the road’s shoulder. “Why don’t you get into the car so you don’t ruin your dress?”

  “I’m not so sweet I’m in danger of melting,” I said. “You might need my help.”

  He wrenched off the flat tire and rustled in his trunk for the spare. The rain pelted us relentlessly, steady enough to make me blink and for drops to roll down my nose.

  And then Luke Daniels let loose with a couple of four-letter words that made me giggle.

  “Reverend Daniels,” I said in my best Southern belle impersonation as I stepped to the trunk to see what had caused such a string of curse words. “I cannot believe such filth would come out of your mouth.”

  “My spare is flat.” He ran his fingers through his hair, and it lay limp on his forehead this time. “What are the odds of that?”

  I dangled my keys in front of him. “You can use mine.”

  Luke headed for my car just as a pickup with only one working headlight eased toward us. I shielded my eyes against the bright light and the rain. It was Mac.

  His brakes squealed as he eased to a stop beside me then had to reach over to manually roll down the window. “Hey, there, Beulah. You need any help?”

  “I think we’ve almost got it,” I said.

  “No, wait!” Luke ran up to the side of the truck. Rain pelted us now. “Got a spare, Mac?”

  “Nope, sure don’t. Why don’t you lock her up and head on home until this mess quits so you don’t catch a cold. You can put on a new tire tomorrow.”

  “Probably a good idea,” Luke conceded. I had to agree, since the fall rain was chilling me to the bone.

  Mac went on his way, and Luke locked his roadster and put everything in order.

  “What’s wrong with my spare?” I asked once we were both safe in my car. I shivered from being wet. The Toyota’s heater had given up the ghost some time ago so the fan was blowing cool air on me. I reached over to turn it off.

  “I think the more appropriate question would be where is your spare?” Luke showed only a hint of irritation and waited patiently for the question to register.

  Then it was my turn for a string of four-letter words. I have to confess, Luke was quite the amateur on that score, too. I had put the spare on the Caddy last spring, but I had forgotten to transfer it from the Caddy’s trunk to mine when we got a new tire.

  Luke grinned. “I’d say we’re even now.”

  I guided the car on the road with a squeal of tires. “But I’m not the preacher.”

  He frowned, and I wished I could take back those words.

  When we got to the parsonage, we sat there for a moment. He could send me home, or he could ask me in, but we both knew what had happened the last time he let me through the door.

  “Why don’t you come in and
dry off?” he said.

  I started to speak, but I couldn’t find the particular words I needed.

  “I know it’s not what we had in mind, but we can watch a movie and pretend it’s a date. I don’t know about you, but I’ve been really looking forward to tonight.”

  I smiled.

  “Unless you’re so miserable you need to go home.”

  “No, I’m not miserable.” Which was funny because, although I had always liked piña coladas, I had never much cared for getting caught in the rain. Especially not a cold fall rain. “I think I was looking forward to tonight, too.”

  “Well, let’s go build a fire even if it’s not yet October. I’ll see if I can find some clothes for you to borrow.”

  He bolted out of the car before I could contradict him. I stepped out then sat back down in the driver’s seat to reach behind and grab my purse.

  Even though Ginger’s gift couldn’t weigh more than a few ounces, my bag still felt weighed down.

  Chapter 28

  For all of my drunken bravado on a certain night that would live on in infamy, stepping into Luke’s house this time scared me. We would be alone, and things could happen. To give myself to a man while sober would be new and intentional. To give myself to a man I actually had feelings for would be different still.

  Not that Luke tackled me at the door.

  No, his eyes held a patient, calculating look.

  He offered me some of his old sweats and then closed the door to give me privacy. When I came out of his bedroom, practically swallowed by his Vandy sweatshirt and matching pants rolled up five times, he’d already made a fire. He changed quickly and bustled around the kitchen making a tray of cheese and crackers, veggies and hummus.

  “It’s not much, but I’d planned to let someone else do the cooking tonight.” Ah, there were the dimples.

  “Looks like a feast to me.” I was mainly glad to have something to do with my hands. I dragged a baby carrot through hummus and wondered what was going through Luke’s mind. So he’d been looking forward to the date. What did that mean? He wanted to see the movie or he wanted to see me?

  We ate in silence, and I wanted a glass of wine or a beer almost as much as I needed oxygen. I didn’t have to look into his fridge to know it was bare. Then I felt guilty for needing such a crutch.

  “Trivial Pursuit?” he asked.

  I nodded, even though that wasn’t the pursuit I’d had in mind.

  We played in front of the fire and finally found some small talk about church, the choir, and folks around town. I thought he would cream me at the game, but I won the first round and he won the next. He might have history and sports, but I had entertainment and literature. We split the difference on science and geography.

  “Well, I wonder how Tiffany and Sam are doing on their date?” he finally asked while we stared into the fire. I wanted to move to the couch since his sweatshirt was getting warm and I didn’t have a T-shirt on underneath, but I didn’t want to ruin the moment. It was a moment I’d always envisioned since my relationships with men had been quick and frenzied and never in the least domestic.

  “I’d imagine they’re getting along just fine,” I said.

  “And what about you, Beulah? How’s your night going?”

  I felt his stare on me but kept looking into the fire. My heart hammered. “I’d say it’s been close to perfect.”

  When I forced my eyes to lock with his, I saw hunger. He upended the board as he reached for me, and game pieces rattled across the room. “Not quite perfect.”

  I expected his lips to crush mine, but he surprised me with a soft-yet-insistent attack. Then he deepened the kiss, which sent my arms around his neck to draw him closer. He pulled me underneath him, and I almost passed out from the unexpected bliss even as my heart raced with that old apprehension. I’d never wanted a man like I wanted him.

  I’ve never really wanted a man at all.

  The realization skittered down my spine just as his hand reached under my sweatshirt and cupped my breast. I arched into him with a gasp. He yanked his sweatshirt off my body, and it was his turn to gasp at the white lacy confection I’d chosen for a bra.

  Turnabout was fair play, so I yanked off his shirt and reveled in the planes of his chest. He picked me up to sit on his lap so we could kiss while skin to skin, and we both groaned at the delicious feel of it. Finally finding my confidence, I pushed him back and straddled him, pinning his hands above his head so I could better explore his jawline. In the past I’d always taken this position, one of control. I had given up my body, but always under my terms.

  He flipped me over to return the favor.

  My breath caught when his hands clamped down gently over my wrists, but he must have thought it was surprise rather than the first stab of panic.

  Kissing me thoroughly, he tested each breast but somehow missed the hammering of my heart underneath. His leg found a particularly sensitive spot at the juncture of my thighs. Pleasure and pain, past and present intermingled, and I couldn’t catch my breath. I fought and clawed until I found myself huddled on the couch gasping for breath.

  “Beulah?” His beautiful blue eyes widened. Tears coursed down my cheeks, but I only squeaked when I tried to talk.

  He sat down at the other end of the couch and tentatively opened his arms, crushing them around me when I crawled over to his side.

  “Who hurt you?” The tone of his voice said “Thou shalt not kill” was a commandment he was willing to break.

  “I need to go.” I tried to scramble out of his embrace, but he held me tighter.

  “No. You’re not running away from me this time.”

  “I’ve got to go. I need to check on Ginger. I—”

  “What you mean is you need to run away because I’ve discovered some kind of deep, dark secret.”

  You knew at some point you would have to tell him everything. You knew it.

  I wrestled against him again, but this time he was expecting it and he held me close for an entirely different reason. I slumped against him. “I was stupid to think for even a minute I had a chance with you.”

  He had the gall to snort at me. “You’re being stupid to think for even a second that you don’t. Tell me.”

  I lay back into his arms, and I told him the whole story from beginning to end. I told him about my parents, about the Vandivers, and about losing Hunter. Almost choking on the words, I told him about my quest for what was so special about sex and how rumors of my sluttiness were greatly exaggerated.

  I sat up and looked him in the eye. “And the sad thing is I want to have sex with you right now—just not like that.”

  He cupped my cheek. “You really know how to stroke a guy’s ego, you know that?”

  “I know how to stroke something else,” I said, planting a hand on his crotch. My words sounded hollow, not my own.

  His hand grabbed my wrist, and his eyes turned harsh and dark. “No. Not with me.”

  The world flickered black. He was going to kick me out now that he knew the full story. He was going to be a goody two-shoes and kick me out. All of the cheese and crackers threatened to come right back up as I scooted to the edge of the sofa. “I’ll get my purse.”

  “Stop running!” His arm held me like a vise. He lifted my chin, forcing me to look into his eyes as he thumbed away the damned tears I couldn’t seem to stop. “That’s not what I meant. When, if we have sex, it’s going to be because you want to and because you’re sharing all of yourself, not just your body.”

  The when gave me hope.

  “You would still . . . ?”

  “What kind of man do you think I am?”

  A good one. One who’s way too good for me. I swallowed hard. “Right now. I’ll give you all of me right now.”

  “No, no you won’t,” he said with a sad smile that still managed to show his dimples. I couldn’t help but touch them, marvel at them. “Not yet, anyway.”

  “But someday?”

  “Someday,�
� he agreed as he pulled me tighter and planted a warm kiss on my scalp. The warm feelings cascaded down my head and over my body, a baptism of fire instead of water.

  “Hey, you did me a favor,” he said with a chuckle after we’d been staring into the fire for quite some time.

  “I did?”

  “You sorely tempt me. That’s twice now I’ve come close to breaking my vow of chastity.”

  “What?”

  “Fidelity in marriage and chastity while single—that’s what we Methodist ministers vow to do. But you make me forget myself.”

  I blushed. At least I thought that was a compliment, and he still didn’t know about the wad of condoms in my purse, red foil, if I remembered correctly. I giggled.

  “What’s so funny, Miss Land?” he asked while lazily stroking my arm.

  “Check my purse.”

  He reached over to the little table on his side of the couch and came back with my purse.

  “Go ahead, look through there and find the little giftie Ginger gave me on my way out the door.”

  He pulled out the line of condoms and let them dangle in front of us. “Divinity school teaches spirituality, not stamina. I’m not Sting!”

  I shrugged and giggled some more as he held up the foil packets even closer. “These don’t expire for another two years. We could easily make that . . .”

  I froze. Was he saying what I thought he was saying?

  “Calm down, woman. We’re going to take this one day at a time.”

  I snuggled deeper into his arms. It felt good to be with a man who knew what he wanted, and that that something was me. Exhausted from unloading my burdens, I fell asleep while he stroked my hair with a relentless tenderness.

  Luke took me home at dawn with all of the foil packages intact, but I was happy nonetheless.

  “That was some flat tire,” Ginger said as I tried to tiptoe into the house. She had made it as far as her favorite metal chair and was looking wistfully at the coffeepot.

  “Need coffee?” I leaned against the counter and tried to figure out by looking at her if it was going to be a good day or a bad one.