***
“You have such beautiful cheekbones,” Rebecca commented as she tickled them with a soft brush. “Okay, take a look.” She handed Marsha a hand mirror.
Marsha took a deep breath before lifting the mirror. Rebecca had been working on her face for more than half-an-hour, using products Marsha had never heard of. Her usual makeup routine took about three minutes. She was a little afraid that she would look like she belonged in a sci-fi movie.
Examining her reflection, she exhaled in relief. She looked like herself, only somehow more polished. Rebecca had used at least five shades of eye shadow and yet the shadow was barely discernible, only her green eyes seemed larger and brighter. Her cheeks looked warm and velvety, like ripe peaches, and her lips were dewy and fresh. The silver strands in her hair shimmered, highlighting the soft waves framing her face.
“You are an artist.”
Rebecca laughed. “I had a good canvas to work with. I need to go, but you’ll be lovely in that outfit. Have a wonderful evening. Just don’t …”
“Just don’t what?”
“Nothing. Just have fun. I’ll give you a call when we get back Sunday, all right?”
Rebecca packed her equipment, gave Marsha’s dog a goodbye ear rub, and left in a flurry of air kisses. The house seemed quiet after she left. Marsha felt a wave of unease pass through her. Was she doing the right thing?
She reached for the silver frame resting on her dresser. She and Eric looked so happy, all dressed up in unaccustomed finery. They had been celebrating their thirtieth anniversary as well as their retirement. Eric was smiling at her, looking even more handsome than usual in his best suit. His brown hair, still thick and shiny, was carefully combed and his kind face radiated contentment. That day had been full of promise as they greeted all their friends and former colleagues at the party their kids had arranged. The next day, they had talked about the party and debated whether they would celebrate their fiftieth anniversary with another party or a special trip. Who would have guessed they would never even make it to thirty-one?
Still, she was grateful. She’d had thirty years with the man of her dreams. Her parents had been underwhelmed when she told them she intended to marry a fellow teacher. They had hoped for a son-in-law in a more lucrative profession. Once they met Eric, however, their objections faded. His thoughtfulness was obvious to anyone who spent more than a few minutes with him, and his devotion to her was never in doubt. He worked hard as a teacher and later as a principal, but he never short-changed his family. He was closely involved with the children’s sports and activities, and seldom missed a family dinner.
What would the kids think of her going on a date? They were both out of state, Jason working on his masters and Amy building her career. They would no doubt be surprised, but Marsha didn’t think either of them would have strong objections. After all, she didn’t butt into their love lives.
Lindy, her cocker spaniel, came to check on her, looking up with melting brown eyes. Marsha rubbed the sweet dog’s head. Lindy used to adore Eric, sitting at his feet and gazing up at him. Marsha had done her share of gazing too. Even after thirty years, she found Eric as attractive as when she saw him in the teacher’s lounge that first day. The way he looked at her always made her feel beautiful. He was gone, but she still loved him desperately. Did she have any business going out with another man?
She knew Eric loved her. He wouldn’t want her to be lonely. If he were the one left alone, she would want him to find someone else. Still, he might not approve of her choice for a first date.
Rebecca said Ben had been married six times. Six times. She had tried not to look shocked. She didn’t realize Rebecca had been married four times either. She met Rebecca while teaching a beginner’s cooking class at a local gourmet shop about a year ago. Rebecca stayed afterward to chat and help her clean up. She mentioned that she and Dan hadn’t been married long, and she wanted to surprise him by learning to cook. They grew to be friends. Marsha had met Rebecca’s son and his family, and so assumed Rebecca had been married before, but somehow the fact that it had happened three times before had never come up in conversation.
Marsha might be out of her league. Ben and Rebecca had been meeting and dating, marrying and divorcing, while she had been happily raising kids and teaching school. She didn’t know the rules of dating. Then there were Rebecca’s misgivings. Maybe she should just cancel.
She shook her head impatiently. Just how big a coward was she? It was dinner, for heaven’s sake. Ben seemed nice enough. Maybe he was just the man she needed to get her dating feet wet, since there was no likelihood he would become a permanent part of her life. He was just passing through, so if the date were a complete failure at least she wouldn’t have to face him again.
She would think of it as a practice date. Okay, that made it a little easier to handle. It was like a dress rehearsal, a chance for her to learn the ropes, to find out what dating entailed in the twenty-first century. She glanced at the clock. She had spent so much time wavering, she would have to hurry to get dressed before Ben came to pick her up. She blew a kiss at Eric’s picture and hurried off to her closet.
The apricot dress and soft suede jacket looked fine, but the paisley scarf wasn’t working. When Rebecca had demonstrated how to drape it, it looked so easy, but now it kept coming out lopsided. She was still standing in front of the mirror, fussing with the twists, when the doorbell rang and Lindy started barking. Oh well, it would have to do. She gathered her courage and opened the door.
Ben was waiting on the front porch. When he saw her, his eyes widened just a little, just as Eric’s used to when she looked her best. Then he smiled. “Hello, Marsha. Don’t you look nice.” Lindy was sniffing his boots and he bent to scratch her blond head. “Who’s this?”
“This is Lindy.”
“Hi, Lindy. You’re a sweetie.” He straightened up and offered his arm. “Are you ready?”
Was she ready? Probably not, but she could fake it. She picked up her purse and placed her hand on his elbow. “Let’s go.”
He led her to the curb, to a brand-new Cadillac the color of a candied apple. It stood out among the pickups and sub-compacts parked along the street like a girl in a prom dress dining at Denny’s.
“Nice car.”
“Thank you. I got it for the trip. I decided if I were going to do a real American road trip, I needed a Cady. Too bad the new ones don’t have tail fins.”
She gave him an amused smile. “Yes, it’s a shame.”
“I was tempted by a cherry condition 1962 Lincoln Continental, but I decided that a new car was probably a better bet when driving alone through the desert.”
Marsha thought of the eight-year-old white Chevy in her garage, and her eyes crinkled at the corners. “Too bad you had to settle for such a pedestrian vehicle.”
Ben laughed. “I know. The things I have to put up with.” He opened the door for her and held it while she settled into the comfortable leather seat, closing it carefully behind her.
He slid in behind the wheel. “Marsha, what are your feelings about dancing?”
“Positive, I guess. What do you mean exactly?”
“I’m asking if you would rather go to a restaurant with a dance floor or shall we go somewhere else?”
“What kind of dancing?”
“Country swing, I think. I’m basing this off Google, you understand. You probably know more than I do. I don’t remember the name of the restaurant, but it’s just a couple of blocks past the Hilton.”
“I know the place you mean, although I haven’t been there in years. Sure, let’s try it.” Dancing? Why not? If she were going to make a fool out of herself, she might as well go all in.
The restaurant was large, with tables scattered around the edges of the room and a small band playing softly at the other end of the wooden dance floor. A few couples were dancing a two-step. Ben had a reservation, and Marsha wondered what he would have done if she had nixed dancing. The hostes
s seated them immediately and a server came to offer drinks. Ben ordered a locally brewed ale and Marsha a glass of white wine. They studied the menu.
“The trout sounds good, although I’m a little leery about ordering fish in Arizona,” Ben said.
“These days we have all sorts of modern conveniences like refrigeration and airplanes. I think I’ll risk it.”
Ben grinned at her. “All right then. I’ll order the prime rib and if the trout is inedible, I’ll share.”
“That’s very generous of you.” The waiter brought their drinks and took their orders. Marsha sipped her wine. “So tell me more about your road trip.”
“No, I talked all afternoon. It’s your turn. Tell me about yourself.”
“I’m afraid I’m quite boring.”
“Now that I don’t believe. Rebecca says you were a school teacher?”
“Yes, I taught home economics at the high school.”
“So what did you teach? Cooking? Sewing?”
“Yes, cooking, nutrition, sewing, family planning, budgeting, household management. All those things that have gone out of fashion.”
“They may have gone out of fashion, but they’re still important skills. Were your classes all girls?”
“No, about the time I started teaching, the schools decided they should no longer be sexist. It varied from year to year, but my classes usually ran about sixty-forty. Of course, some of the boys just took it to be near the girls, and had no interest in actually learning. They thought it would be an easy A. They were sorely disappointed.”
“I’ll bet. What did your husband do?”
“He was a high school math teacher when we married. Later, he was promoted to elementary school principal.”
“How long were you married?”
“A little over thirty years.”
Ben looked impressed. “That’s a long time. Congratulations. What’s your secret for a long marriage?”
“Don’t get divorced?” She laughed at his expression. “Seriously, I don’t know that we had a special secret. We just enjoyed each other.”
“Maybe that is the secret. Did you have any trouble adjusting after you retired and spent all day together? My brother is looking for a hobby because he’s driving his wife insane.”
Marsha looked down, blinking rapidly. After a moment, she blew out a breath and looked up. “We celebrated our retirement and thirtieth anniversary in May, and he died in September of the same year. We really didn’t have time to get on each other’s nerves.”
Ben’s eyebrows came together. “I’m sorry, Marsha. I didn’t mean to make you sad.”
“I know.” She forced a smile. “Say didn’t you mention something about dancing?”
“I did indeed. Shall we give it a try while we wait for our food?” Ben stood and offered his hand. Marsha accepted and he led her to the dance floor.
He took her hands and they began the basic swing slide, pivoting as they went. He began to twirl her as they danced, effortlessly passing her head under his arm. She smiled up at him. It had been years, but she and Eric used to go dancing once in a while, and she was glad to find that she wasn’t too rusty. The next dance was a lively two-step, and they had just finished and returned to the table when the waiter brought their food.
Marsha tried a bite of her trout while Ben watched.
“So, what’s the verdict?”
“It’s excellent. Your prime rib is safe.”
“Too bad.” He winked. “I was sort of looking forward to sharing.”
“Would you like a taste?” she asked.
“If you don’t mind.”
Without thinking, she put a bite of fish on her fork and held it up to him. It wasn’t until he ate off her fork that she realized she had crossed a boundary. She and Eric always tasted each other’s food, and she had offered out of habit. Fortunately, Ben didn’t seem to notice. “That is good. Next time, I’ll trust your judgment.”
They finished their dinner, enjoying their conversation. When the waiter suggested dessert, Ben ordered cherry cobbler so she ordered lemon mousse. They danced a slow waltz while they waited. The difference in their heights was a little awkward, but Marsha had to admit it was pleasant pressing her cheek against Ben’s chest as they glided across the floor.
After the dessert, the waiter brought coffee and the check. Ben signed the credit card slip, but they sipped their coffee slowly, drawing out the evening.
“We talked about my work but not yours. What did you do for a living?” Marsha asked.
“I hunted oil. My brother and I started a company together. We would look for likely acreage and lease it. Then we’d run seismic and if that looked promising, we’d drill some exploration wells. He’s the engineer; I’m a geologist. He’d design the wells, but I got to be there when we were drilling, look at the cuttings and logs, and make the final decisions.” His eyes sparkled. “The thrill we’d get when we found pay was just incredible. Of course, we drilled our share of dry holes too, but you can’t win if you don’t play.”
“So, you’re a Texas oil man.”
His face creased into a wide grin. “That’s right. I’m afraid I was no J.R. Ewing, though. No shady backroom deals or illegal practices. We just loved looking for oil. I always felt like I was doing my part to keep the American dream alive, to power the nation, but the truth is, I just loved hunting.”
“You’re retired now?”
“Yes. A major offered us big money, so we sold off the company a couple of years ago. I missed it at first. I thought maybe I’d dabble a little on the side, just a private investment in a well here or there, but I’ve found that I’m not as eager to hunt as I used to be. Maybe I’m like an old hound who would rather lie on the porch than chase rabbits.”
“Is that what you do, lie on the porch?”
He wrinkled his nose. “I tried it for a little while, but it got monotonous. Then I tried my old standby, chasing after pretty young things, but that didn’t have the same thrill as it used to, either.”
She raised an eyebrow. “No?”
“No.” He shook his head. “I found I was just going through the motions. I don’t want that anymore. The trouble is, I don’t know what I want. That’s when I decided to go on this road trip. I thought maybe I should see America, to go experience all those things I never had time for when I was working, and Route 66 sounded like a good place to start.”
“And how has it worked out?”
“Pretty well. I love seeing all the landmarks and history. Always before when I traveled, it was all about getting to my destination as fast as I could. Now, I’m taking the time to smell the roses, and to talk to people. I’ve found some characters out there with amazing stories to tell once I took the time to listen. The only thing I’m missing is someone to talk it over with at the end of the day. I think I’m lonely.”
“I know what that’s like.”
“I’ll bet you do.” He looked at her, his face more serious than before. “I admire you, Marsha. It must be hard for you. With the kind of life I’ve lived, I deserve to be lonely, but you don’t. You did everything right and yet you’re all by yourself, too. It’s not fair.”
“Why do you say that? That you deserve to be lonely?”
He shrugged. “I’ve led a selfish life. I’ve been through a lot of women, some good and some not-so-good; I didn’t discriminate. I just enjoyed them while the music lasted and then moved on to the next dance. I tried to tell myself that as long as I took care of them financially, I wasn’t hurting anyone, but of course I did. I hurt myself too.” His eyes seemed to focus on something in the distance. “I had two chances at real happiness, and I just pissed them away, chasing mirages.”
“Two chances?”
He nodded. “My first wife, Jenna, is probably the only woman who didn’t marry me for my money. We got married when I was in grad school, and we have a daughter, Katie. Jenna is a good woman, and a good mother. She deserved better. It took a while after our divorce
, but eventually she found a man who treats her the way she deserves to be treated.”
“You said two.”
“Well, then there’s Becca.”
“What’s the story with you and Rebecca?”
He took a sip of coffee. “I met Becca years ago when I was working in Arizona for a few months. I went to buy some furniture for my apartment and this pretty blond salesclerk looked at me with the most amazing blue eyes I’d ever seen. I swear I fell in love with her instantly.”
“It sounds like a movie.”
“It kind of felt that way, too. Fortunately, I’d just disentangled myself from a rather messy relationship before moving to Arizona. Unfortunately, Rebecca’s experience with her first husband left her without many warm and fuzzy feelings about marriage, and she was in no hurry to repeat it. However, she was working two jobs to support herself and her son singlehandedly, and she desperately wanted to be able to spend more time with him. By the time my project in Arizona was done, she had agreed to marry me.”
“Then what happened?”
“Against all odds, we were happy. I was working long hours, but Becca didn’t mind; she’s an independent person, quite capable of entertaining herself. When I did come home, she was always happy to see me. We had seven good years together, but then I made the mistake of taking another out-of-town assignment. I was gone to Wyoming for months at a time, and Rebecca couldn’t come because Matt was in school. I got lonesome, and there was a sweet little barmaid who was happy to keep me company.”
“And Rebecca found out?”
“I told her. I begged her to forgive me – swore it would never happen again.” He shook his head. “She said she knew when she married me I wasn’t the type to stay true to one woman, and now that it had happened, our relationship could never be the same. She forgave me, but the marriage was over.”
“Do you wish you were still married to her?”
“No.” He gave a little half-smile. “That was a long time ago. I’m just glad she’s found Dan. He makes her happier than I ever could. I just wish back when we were married that I could have been the kind of man he is.”
“But you still love her?”
“Yes, but as a friend. I just want her to be happy, and she is. I think she wants me to be happy, too.”
Marsha smiled. “Rebecca looks out for her friends. Do you know what she told me?”
“What?”
“She said you’re the perfect man for a fling, but don’t give you my heart.”
Ben laughed. “That’s sound advice, based on my history. What did you say?”
“I said you proposed dinner, not marriage.”
“That’s a very good point. What if I were to propose we spend tomorrow together, playing tourists? We could rent one of those ATVs and go take pictures from all the scenic overlooks and shop downtown. What do you say?”
She smiled. “I think you mean uptown. That’s where the tourists shop, and yes, I accept your proposal.”
“Wonderful. Then I’d better get you home and let you get your rest. Would eight be too early tomorrow? We could go out for breakfast.”
“Eight would be fine.”
They drove back to her house in comfortable silence. He walked her to the door. She toyed with the thought of asking him in, but decided that was a bad idea for a number of reasons. Now what? Did she kiss him goodnight? What was she, fifteen?
“Thank you, Ben, for a lovely evening.”
“The pleasure was mine. I’ll see you in the morning. Goodnight, Marsha.” He touched her cheek lightly and then turned back toward his car. A perfect gentleman.
Detour on Route 66 (Choices: Story Five) Page 2
