The Curl Up and Dye

by Sharon Sala

  “And I love you, whether you like it or not… whether you return the feelings or not. All I could think about last night was how close I’d come to losing you, and how pissed I would have been at myself for never telling you what was in my heart.”

  Her fingers fisted in the fabric of his shirt, a subconscious urge to hold on to this feeling. Her voice was shaking, but she’d never been more certain of how she felt.

  “Oh Michael, I love you, too. I didn’t realize how much until I thought I had lost you. It was all I could do Thanksgiving Day not to scratch out Honey Andrews’s eyes.”

  “God bless The Curl Up and Dye,” Mike muttered.

  “What?”

  “It’s nothing. Just a reference to a piece of advice someone gave me.”

  LilyAnn’s heart was hammering so hard she could barely breathe. Finally, the universe was through punishing her for taking too much for granted.

  “Mike, I know you’re very sore…”

  His eyes narrowed as his pulse began to race.

  “Not that sore.”

  Lily touched the puffy side of her mouth, then traced the shades of bruising around her eye.

  “And I don’t know what you think about making love to a woman with a face like this.”

  “Purple is my new favorite color,” he said softly.

  “Did you lock the front door?”

  He exhaled softly, as his life suddenly made perfect sense.

  “Yes.”

  “Am I going to have to beg?” she whispered.

  “Only when you want me to stop,” Mike said, as he pulled his sweatshirt over his head and dropped it on the floor.

  LilyAnn gasped at the sight of the bruises on his torso.

  “Oh my God! I don’t think—”

  He put a finger over her lips. “And I can’t think, so that makes two of us. Take off your clothes, LilyAnn, or your first experience with me will be in hospital scrubs.”

  LilyAnn was shaking when she started to undress, then paused, suddenly reminded of body image and the possibility of rejection. But when she saw the love in Mike’s eyes and the tremble in his hands, she knew it was going to be all right.

  “Oh Jesus,” Mike whispered, as the last stitch of clothing fell to the floor at Lily’s feet. “You are even more beautiful than I ever imagined.”

  LilyAnn started to cry. “I’m sorry I went and died on you, Mike.”

  “No, honey, you didn’t die. You just got stuck in time. Come to bed with me, LilyAnn.”

  She threw back the covers and stretched her long, leggy length upon the sheets.

  Mike slid in beside her, raised himself up on one elbow, and very, very gently, kissed her mouth. Not like he wanted to, but enough to get the message past her puffy lower lip that she was never going to be lonely again.

  “Your skin is like satin,” he whispered, as he cupped the heavy fall of her breasts, then mapped the contours of her body.

  “Woman,” he said softly, and kissed the side of her cheek. “Beautiful, sexy woman.”

  LilyAnn’s heart was pounding. It felt like she’d been waiting for this moment all her life.

  She looked up at the light fixture above the bed. The last cognizant thought she had was of a spiderweb strung from one globe to another and that the spider was gonna fry. After that, time lost all meaning.

  When all was finally said and done, Mike came apart in her arms. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t speak. His strength was spent. He thought his love for LilyAnn had been perfect, but he’d been wrong. Nothing had prepared him for all this. He buried her face against the curve of his neck and held her close, his muscles trembling, his heart full of an emotion without the words to express it.

  And then Lily’s telephone rang.

  Mike rose up. “Do you want to answer?”

  “Lord, no. I couldn’t make sense if I tried.”

  Mike grinned. “So, I was that good?”

  LilyAnn sighed. “You were that good.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Would you say that right now, I pretty much have you under my spell?”

  Her mouth tilted upward at one corner. “Pretty much. Why?”

  “Hold that thought. I’ll be right back.”

  She frowned, watching as he rolled out of bed and began pulling on his clothes.

  “What on earth?”

  He pointed. “No questions. Remember, you’re under my spell.”

  She fell backward on the bed, grinning as he ran out of the room. She could hear his footsteps as he went down the hallway, then through her living room. When she heard the front door open and shut, she swung her legs off the bed and made a quick trip to the bathroom.

  When she emerged, she started toward the closet for something to wear and then stopped, remembering what had happened the last time.

  “But he’s not here and I am,” LilyAnn muttered.

  Her hand was shaking as she opened the door. It was still dark inside, but she knew where her sweatpants were hanging. She grabbed a pair and a shirt to go with them and backed out.

  She had the pants on and was pulling the sweatshirt over her head when she heard the front door slam again. She turned toward the doorway as Mike raced into the room, his eyes flashing and a wide smile on his face. He’d obviously changed into clean clothes and brushed his hair, but when he approached her, he stopped short of an embrace and then took a deep breath.

  “Some might say this is rushing the issue, but not for me. I’ve waited most of my life for this moment.”

  He took a small black box out of his pocket and dropped to one knee to open it. The diamond inside was a solitaire, and it was huge.

  Once again, Mike had left her speechless. All she could manage was a shaky, “Oh my, oh Mike, how long have you had this?”

  “Nine years.”

  Tears were streaming down her face.

  Mike had imagined how this moment would be for so long that the reality almost felt like a dream.

  “I have loved you for as long as I can remember, and I will love you for as long as I live. Will you marry me, LilyAnn? Will you live with me… love me… will you be my wife?”

  Now she was laughing through tears.

  “Yes, yes, a million times, yes.”

  Mike stood as he slid the ring on her finger.

  “It fits!” she cried. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him soundly. First on the lips, then on both cheeks, then back on his lips again, while laughing through tears.

  “I feel like I’m flying. Oh Mike, I didn’t think I would ever be happy again.”

  “I had a couple of days like that myself,” Mike said. He eyed her sad, puffy lip, wanting to kiss her so bad, but settling for a hug. “Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”

  Lily was almost bouncing as she hugged him, then held out her hand to eye the ring, then hugged him again.

  “Merry Christmas, Mike! This is the best Christmas ever!”

  “We should celebrate,” he said.

  “On New Year’s Eve. We’ll celebrate on New Year’s Eve,” Lily said.

  “Yeah, great idea! One of my clients gave me two invitations to the New Year’s Eve ball out at the country club. I wasn’t going to go, but maybe now… would you like to go?”

  “Oh yes! I’ve never been! Oh no! I don’t have anything to wear!”

  He rolled his eyes. “And why didn’t I see that coming?”

  She thought of Kitty Carlton’s Unique Boutique on East Main and the racks of gowns she always carried this time of year. They couldn’t all be gone.

  “Don’t worry. This I can handle,” she said.

  Mike smiled. “Honey, of that I have no doubt. It is my blessing that you are one of those women who can handle pretty much whatever life dishes out.”

  She hugged him, being careful not to squeeze where the bruises all were, then tilted her head just enough to see her own reflection in his eyes.

  “Mike?”

  “What, honey?”

  “Uh… are you sore?�
��

  He grinned. “Not that sore.”

  “If my face is too ugly to look at, you can always close your eyes.”

  He kissed the side of her cheek, then the tip of her nose.

  “Hell no, I’m not closing my eyes,” he growled. “I like raccoons, and besides, purple is my new favorite color, remember?”

  She shivered.

  Mike ran his finger down the side of her face as she stood there smiling… waiting.

  “My beautiful, sweet, sexy woman, how many times are we going to do this before you remember you need to take off your clothes?”

  Lily blinked. “Oh. Right.” She peeled the sweatshirt over her head and dropped the sweatpants where she stood, then frowned at him.

  “Well, this is a little awkward. What are you waiting for?”

  “For my brain to quit misfiring.”

  She turned toward the bed as she heard his shoes hit the floor.

  ***

  Ruby was covering up Sue Beamon’s gray roots with a brown rinse when George, from the Pots and Posies flower shop, came into the salon with an enormous bouquet of fresh flowers.

  “These are for you, Sister. Where would you like me to set them?” he asked.

  “Anywhere you can find a spot. I’ll move them later if I need to, and thanks!” Ruby said.

  George waved as he exited the shop. At the same time, Vera was curious as to who they were from.

  “Hey, Sister, want me to bring you the card?” Vera asked.

  Ruby grinned. She knew Vera wasn’t into being helpful so much as nosy, but what the heck.

  “Yes, sure, that would be great,” Ruby said, and then squeezed the last of the color onto Sue’s hair, worked it into the roots, and put a little plastic cap on her head while the color was setting.

  “Here you go,” Vera said, and held the card out for Ruby to read. “You might want to read it out loud,” she added.

  Ruby stifled a chuckle. “Well, of course I want to,” she said. “It reads… ‘Thank you for the suggestion. Mike D.’”

  Vera frowned. “Who’s Mike D.?”

  “Dalton. Mike Dalton,” Ruby said, smiling to herself.

  “What suggestion?” Vera asked.

  “I’m sure all will be revealed in due time,” Ruby said.

  Mabel Jean frowned, which made the scar on her forehead wrinkle up to form the letter C. “Is it a secret?”

  Ruby rolled her eyes. “What part of ‘wait and see’ don’t you guys understand?”

  “Well, you must have given him one heck of a suggestion,” Vesta muttered, as she stuck a clip in the last roller on Mrs. Dawson’s hair.

  “Am I ready to get under the dryer?” Mrs. Dawson yelled.

  Vesta nodded. “Yes, you’re ready,” she said, and helped the old woman to a dryer, handed her a couple of magazines, and set the timer before going back to her station to clean it up.

  She glanced at Vera and then mumbled. “I swear to goodness, I wish that woman would leave her hearing aids in her ears instead of carrying them in that pill bottle in her purse. They’re not doing anyone a bit of good there.”

  The bell over the door jingled again. Ruby turned to look as LilyAnn walked in, resplendent in black slacks, a blue sweater, and a shiner in varying shades of lavender and purple.

  Ruby peeled off her disposable gloves and dropped them in the trash, then went to meet her.

  “Oh honey! It is the best thing ever to see you walk in here with that smile on your face, but your poor little eye! Does it hurt?” Ruby said.

  “It’s not so bad if I don’t touch it,” Lily said.

  The moment LilyAnn’s hand went toward her eye, Ruby saw the ring. She squealed, then grabbed Lily’s hand and turned it to the light.

  “Lord have mercy! Is that thing real?”

  LilyAnn was grinning so wide it made her face hurt.

  “Yes, ma’am, it is real, and so is my engagement to Mike.”

  Ruby laughed out loud. Now the bouquet and the mystic message on Mike’s card made sense.

  Mabel Jean was gluing bits of bling onto Rachel Goodhope’s new nail polish, but she was happy for LilyAnn and wanted in on the conversation.

  “When’s the wedding?” she asked.

  “This coming Valentine’s Day,” LilyAnn said.

  Vesta frowned. “My stars! That doesn’t give you much time to make a big wedding happen.”

  “That’s because we’re not having a big wedding,” LilyAnn said. “In fact, we’re not getting married in Blessings at all.”

  “Why?” Vera asked.

  “Because all of his family is in Colorado, and what’s left of mine is in Florida. However, when we get back from the honeymoon, we’re going to have an open reception for family and anyone in Blessings who wants to come.”

  “Okay then,” Ruby said. “You have just redeemed yourself.”

  “Where are you going to get married?”

  “Jamaica.”

  “Take me with you.”

  Everyone laughed at the woman sitting in Vesta’s styling chair. It was no secret why Alma Button would want to run away from home. She had six boys who, on a daily basis, made her regret her decision at seventeen years of age to forego life in a nunnery, and she wasn’t even Catholic.

  “Sorry, Alma, but I intend to be the only female under Mike Dalton’s radar,” Lily said.

  Although the shop was full of chatter and good wishes, Rachel Goodhope had stayed silent. From the moment LilyAnn walked in, and through the entire congratulatory process, she had felt out of place. She’d made a fool of herself about Mike, and LilyAnn knew it, and then there was that thing about T. J. Lachlan. That was a secret Rachel would carry to her grave.

  When Mabel Jean finished Rachel’s nails, Rachel laid cash on the manicure table, hoping she could slip out without notice. But when she turned to walk out, she found herself face-to-face with LilyAnn.

  She made herself look up at the bruises on LilyAnn’s face, the puffy lower lip, and a black eye no amount of makeup could ever hide.

  “Oh my,” she said softly. Without thinking, she lifted her hand toward Lily’s face, and then caught herself and stopped. “I am sorry… so, so sorry that happened to you,” she whispered.

  Then she ducked her head and hurried out of the shop.

  “What was that all about?” Ruby asked.

  LilyAnn frowned. “That was weird.”

  “How so?”

  “Like everyone else, she just pointed to my face and said she was sorry. But it didn’t feel like commiseration. It felt more like an apology.”

  “That is weird,” Ruby said. “But what else is new? There’s always something weird going on around here. So, did you come in for a special reason, or did you just come to show off your new ring?”

  “Both,” LilyAnn said. “I came to ask if you know anyone in town who does alterations.”

  “I know someone,” Mabel Jean said. “Mrs. Ling. She does all kinds of sewing, including making the cheerleader outfits for the high school. She has a sign in her shop that says ‘Alterations and Tailoring.’”

  “Where does she live?” LilyAnn asked.

  “Across the street from me. She has a little shop in what used to be her garage. Here, I’ll write the address down for you.”

  “Thanks, Mabel Jean,” LilyAnn said.

  Ruby, being Ruby, wanted to know what was going on. “Are you going to have her make your wedding dress?”

  “No, nothing like that. I have something I need altered for the New Year’s Eve ball at the country club. Mike is taking me to celebrate our engagement, so I better hustle. I have to go back to work tomorrow and need to get all of this set in motion before I do.”

  Ruby frowned. “Should you be back at work?”

  LilyAnn thought of the workout she and Mike had been giving her bed and smiled.

  “Yes, ma’am. I think I’ll be fine.”

  The bell jingled over the door as she left.

  ***

 
An hour later, LilyAnn left Mrs. Ling’s house with a spring in her step, confident that her gown would be ready in plenty of time. She was on her way home when she remembered she needed some things from the grocery store and headed for the Piggly Wiggly.

  ***

  T. J. Lachlan regained consciousness a little over twenty-four hours after LilyAnn clobbered him with the vase. Even before he opened his eyes, he guessed he was in a hospital, but he couldn’t think why. The last thing he could remember was putting the house key under a rock at his uncle’s house and driving away.

  He hurt in so many places that he was convinced he had been in a wreck and, at the same time, wondered why his balls were so sore. He moved his leg just a little to accommodate the pressure and started to readjust them under the covers when something yanked hard against his wrist.

  He opened his eyes, but everything was blurry. When he tried to move, he heard a man’s raspy, cigarette voice.

  “About time you woke up.”

  He turned toward the sound, blinking rapidly to clear his vision as a man’s face came into focus.

  “Are you my doctor?”

  “Nope. I’m Harnett Easley, your court-appointed lawyer.”

  T. J.’s heart skipped a beat. All of a sudden his head was pounding so hard it was making him sick.

  “My what?”

  “Your court-appointed lawyer.”

  T. J. shifted his gaze from the man to the bed rails, and then to the handcuffs.

  “What the hell?”

  “Do you want to tell me your side of the story?”

  “What story?” T. J. cried, and then moaned because the sound of his own voice made him ill.

  “I don’t want to put words in your mouth, but maybe a rundown of the wounds you suffered that put you in here might help you remember. You have a fractured skull, severely swollen and bruised testicles, you’re missing a piece of your right ear, and your face looks like you tried to kiss a bobcat.”

  T. J. flashed on a face.

  “The blond bitch did it.”

  “That’s what I heard. What I need to hear is your side of the story of what you did to her, and you can start with why you broke into her house.”

  “I’m going to puke,” T. J. whispered.

  “I’ll get a nurse,” Easley said, and headed for the door.