The pack was undeterred. Each boy had been meticulously dressed, their khaki uniforms spotless, and neck-ties secured perfectly. Someone had coached these boys well, and I found myself scanning the crowd in admiration and wondering who their chaperones were.
“It most certainly is sir, eight months to be exact. Which is why if we have any hope of making it to one of America’s greatest treasures, Yellowstone National Park, every dollar pledged gets us one step closer to our dreams.”
I cut my eyes at Jake, my cheeks beginning to ache from a deep smile. These boys were good. America’s treasures? Dreams?
“Ok boys,” Jake said smiling. “What are you selling tickets for?”
Jake winked at me when the young scout leader took me by the hand, and they pack the pack proudly trotted us toward a car dealership tent – housing a fancy little Porsche coupe. It might have been a wonderful prize, were it not for an incredibly unfortunate paint job, reminiscent of lime-green Jell-O.
“The dealership couldn’t sell that thing to a blind person,” I leaned in, whispering to Jake. We couldn’t help it and both giggled.
“And exactly, how much are raffle tickets for this fine piece of automotive machinery?” Jake prodded.
“Before we tell you the raffle price, you should know that the car is valued at $135,000 dollars,” the lead scout chimed.
I could feel my face blanch. “For that?” I blurted out loud. The red-faced boy looked stricken, and I wished I hadn’t said it. The look on his face made me wonder if he knew the car’s owner. Another one of his teammates immediately took over, and continued pitching.
“Which is why a twenty-dollar raffle ticket is a good investment. If you win, that’s a huge return!”
Twenty bucks! Bless these poor boys, no wonder they were struggling to sell tickets.
Jake paused, considering it, then pulled out his wallet – earning a yelp of excitement from the scouts when he produced a crisp hundred-dollar bill. One of the boys ran to get an adult to make change, and authorize the raffle ticket purchase.
The boys leapt a foot off the ground when Jake said that we’d take five tickets, and he didn’t need change.
“That was really sweet,” I said, looping my arm in Jake’s as we walked into the beer garden.
“I was a scout once. I guess I still have a soft spot for them. Especially ones that were hustling as hard as those kids were,” he laughed.
Tables were filling quickly in the beer garden. As we scooted into a two-seater wrought iron set, I was thankful we’d made it when we did. Strings of pale yellow and white patio lights twinkled across the courtyard, zagging this way and that, creating a ceiling of light that resembled fireflies paused in the early evening sky.
My stomach groaned in relief when Jake returned with a large charcuterie platter, then came back with a Belgian beer, and a white wine for me.
He set the stemmed glass down with a smirk. “Wine for the lady. In the beer garden,” he said. The metal chair scraped against the cobblestoned courtyard as he sat down. “Thought you might be hungry.”
“Starving. This looks great – thank you so much for grabbing it. I appreciate it.”
“You bet,” he smiled.
“So, I had a question,” I began, took a deep swig of wine.
Jake’s blue eyes met mine. There was an unmistakable tinge of worry there. “What’s your question?”
“In the tent – before we were practically booted out, you’d mentioned someone in your squadron had told you about this festival.”
“Yep, I did. I’m guessing your next question is am I military?”
I nodded quietly.
He didn’t answer immediately, and wrapped a wedge of cheese in prosciutto before popping it into his mouth. Finally, he answered. “I was. Twenty-one years to be exact. Joined right after college, when I was 23. Air Force.”
“Really? James, my brother – he was Air Force too,” I said. “But, if you came to sell your pie truck to him, I’m guessing you probably already knew that,” I sighed.
Jake surprised me with a laugh. “Well, contrary to popular belief, not everyone in the military automatically knows each other. But, yes – I did read about James’s story in one of the military magazines. It was in one of the ‘lifestyles and next chapters’ sections as a featured story. They talk about that a lot in the military – what’s next, after you take the uniform off. I guess that’s why I wanted to do something different, work for myself for a bit, after I got out. Maybe get creative and have some fun.”
“Ah,” I said, leaning back against the chair, wineglass in hand. That certainly explained how and why Jake had zeroed in on our food venture.
“My brothers – there’s three of us, we all ended up joining the service. We, uh, didn’t have the most stable life growing up,” Jake said, taking a long drink of his beer, as if trying to tamp down painful memories threatening to resurface. “The military was our way of gaining a big family I guess.”
I traced my finger slowly around the lip of my wineglass. “So, there’s not a Mrs. Jake Hall running around out there somewhere?” I couldn’t help myself. I couldn’t ask him questions fast enough. With each passing moment, each glance, each touch, I craved more.
Jake cut his eyes at me. “That sounded a little jealous,” he said, a playfulness crossing his face.
“I’m not jealous!” I said, a little too quickly. “I just figured that you probably would be married, or had been at least once. And, that maybe you had a family out there somewhere,” I asked.
A statement like that could go one of two ways, but I had to know. My heart filled with hope when he laughed, and didn’t immediately clam up.
“No, there isn’t a Mrs. Jake,” he said, smiling softly. “Got close once, but well – let’s just say we both wanted different things, and we each thought the other one would change.”
“Oh,” I said. “What kinds of things?”
Jake swirled the last of his beer in the thick glass mug, before draining the last foamy dregs of it.
“Kids for one thing,” he said quietly. “That tends to run women off, when you throw down the ‘no kids’ gauntlet.” He carefully watched my reaction.
Truth be told, my heart fluttered in my chest. “That … tends to work both ways,” I said. He gave me a puzzled look. “Everyone always assumes I must hate kids. Just because I don’t want any of my own doesn’t mean I hate children. I guess I like the idea of just having an epic romance with someone. Just the two of us you know?”
Jake nodded. “And maybe I just grew up too different, wanted too much adventure, that tended to run any potential wives off, I don’t know,” he sighed, drawing in a deep breath.
“So, as far as family running around out there – my oldest brother Drew got out about a year ahead of me, once his tour was finished in Colorado Springs. Then me. And now we’re just waiting for Chris to come home, and hopefully we’ll all go into business together.”
The silence grew and stretched, even though people continued to fill the last of the tables surrounding us.
“Where’s Chris now?” I asked, hesitantly.
“God willing, finishing up a three-six-five in Iraq,” Jake said, quietly looking at his shoes, and picking at a stray thread on the seam of his jeans.
I tried searching for the perfect words, some calming sentiment that I could say and tell Jake everything was going to be ok. But, anything in that vein would have been false platitudes. Who was I to know if anything would be ok – when I had been far from ok, for so long, myself?
Instead, I simply reached out for his hands, holding them both tightly in my own. My heart raced in my chest when Jake curled his hands around mine, lacing his fingers between my own.
Speakers and microphones bleated into the darkening night sky. The last crowds from the story tents poured out into the street. Against the growing hum, and snippets of conversations, Halloween music filled the air.
“What is that?” I said in a rush. My hea
rt had gone from a race to a gallop. Out of all of the holidays – Halloween was firmly my favorite.
“Ghost stories?” Jake asked.
I was already standing, my body bursting with the giddiness of a young child seeing Santa for the first time. “Can we go?”
“Promise you’re not going to get scared?” he grinned.
“Well, I might. So, I guess it’s a good thing that a big, strong handsome man is coming with me, right? Unless that is, you’re the one that’s going to be scared,” I said.
“You know I just might. Maybe I can find someone to hold me,” he said, circling his hands slowly around my waist.
My breath caught in my throat. Jake eyes met mine, then traced down my face, and focused on my lips. He began to lean toward me, and I imagined just how amazing it would be to feel his lips pressed against mine – when an elderly lady caught the edge of her walker on an adjacent chair leg, and tipped sideways into Jake.
He managed to catch her before she fell, and she gushed apologies. She was sweet and I was certainly glad this knight in shining armor had saved her, but the moment was gone.
Evaporated on the air like smoke.
20
The festival organizers had pulled out all the stops for the ghost stories. As we approached, the Victorian lampposts dimmed in succession, leading the way to the gazebo near the creek, where the ghost stories would be told. Tiki torches surrounded the perimeter of a large grassy area, and the gazebo – white and wedding picturesque by day – now loomed eerily in the dim light cast from a dozen old-fashioned kerosene lanterns clustered on the steps. An ivory full moon peeked over the pines, glowing brighter as it readied for its journey across the night sky.
My heart hammered with excitement as Jake led the way and we found a cozy space on the grass. In the small parking lot where sound equipment had been set up, a quilt vendor was packing up for the day. Jake darted over and the vendor beamed at making one last sale before heading home for the night.
Jake spread a lovely red and white checkered quilt across the dry, but cool grass and we huddled down.
Unlike the larger storytelling tents perched around town, the gazebo venue offered no chairs. Most guests simply plopped down right on the lawn. Others were festival veterans and had camping chairs ready to go, while a few others – had brought something to spread out over the lawn to sit on.
A woman dressed in a flowing black dress slowly ascended the gazebo steps and a hush fell over the crowd. She outstretched her hands slowly, the audience shifting nervously, every single one of us ready to fall under her storytelling spell.
“Tonight,” she began, “I must warn you, that something wicked this way comes.” Her voice was deep. Husky. If there had been tryouts to tell ghost stories, my guess is that she would have been cast after five seconds.
A shiver snaked down my spine as the narrator revealed the tales that she would be sharing that evening, including Ray Bradbury – one of my absolute favorites.
A flood of goosebumps raced down my arms. Ghost stories alone would have been enough to do the trick, but Jake had just slid his arm around my waist and pulled me in close to him as we listened to the next story.
My heart and my brain declared war on each other. The heat from his body, the clean and deeply masculine scent of his cologne, the silver moonlight tracing along his face – all of it was perfect. Beyond perfect.
One perfect weekend. One perfect chance at adventure. And then my life would have to go back to the way it was. As much as I didn’t want to admit it, the stroke of midnight was coming.
Yes, I’d found a way to sink the pending deal for Knoxville’s newest store, and knew there would be hell to pay for it. And, yes it just so happened that a very handsome and eligible bachelor had in a way, been responsible for that.
But, said handsome and eligible bachelor would also be taking the proceeds from the YIPPEE PIE YAY back to Colorado with him. He had come to Tennessee to sell his truck – and he had. His path was leading him back west, while mine carved out meandering circles of uncertainty.
At best, Jake would be a weekend fling, and the full gravity of that knowledge pressed down hard. Instinctively, I pulled away from him, away from the sadness that would come by letting my heart get too close.
Jake sensed it immediately.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, tracing a hand first down my shoulder, then across my hip and resting his palm on my knee.
I shook my head. “Nothing,” I mumbled.
“I think you are many things Molly McGill, but a good liar is not one of them,” Jake said, leaning in close and whispering the words against my neck.
I tried turning my face away from him, trying to make sense of this swirl of emotion firing along my nerves like lightning – but turning away only exposed more of my neck. Jake slowly pressed a kiss behind my ear, then traced several more down my neck.
His hand curved against my cheek. And, logic be damned, I leaned into him.
Heat melted across my shoulders, and down my body as Jake pressed his lips to mine, soft as the Tennessee moonlight at first, before kissing me with a need that matched my own.
A burst of applause pulled us apart. The event had finished, and the crowds began to stand and filter back to Main Street. I didn’t trust my legs to cooperate, and let Jake get to his feet first, then pull me up. Back on two feet, my head spun a bit from the delicious combination of a magical evening, wine, and a stolen kiss.
“Shall we head back?” he asked.
I thought about our suite at the Evergreen Inn. Two lovely beds. Two lovely rooms. Too many wonderful possibilities.
And too short of a weekend.
I pressed my palm against his and we had just turned to walk back, when my heart sank.
Purgatory’s most notorious gossip, a dumpy woman named Debbie Fortenberry, was looking straight at me – and grinning like a possum.
My blood chilled at the sight of her, as she waved and waltzed over. “I thought that was you,” she cooed. “And who is your handsome gentleman caller?” she asked, shamelessly looking Jake up and down.
Jake answered her before I could elbow him in the ribs to ignore the question.
“Jake Hall,” Debbie repeated. “And will you be coming to visit us back in Purgatory?”
I answered quickly before he could dig himself a deeper hole. “Just an old friend, visiting for the weekend. So nice to see you Debbie,” I blurted, and tugged Jake along with me before he could provide her with any more ammunition.
As we walked back to the hotel, I couldn’t help but glance over our shoulders often, praying Debbie hadn’t decided to follow us. It didn’t appear that she had. I didn’t exhale until we crossed the threshold of our room back at Evergreen.
“You sure didn’t seem happy to see her,” Jake said, slipping off his shoes and giving Tiki a few head scratches.
I sighed. “I’m not. That was the deacon’s wife at Purgatory’s First Baptist Church, Debbie Fortenberry.”
“Surely a woman of God can’t be that bad?” Jake teased.
I scoffed. “I’m surprised that woman can actually hold a bible without starting to smoke.”
Jake burst into laughter. “Molly, that’s terrible.”
“It would be, if it weren’t also true. By tomorrow morning I’m sure she’ll have told half of Purgatory about my quote-unquote, gentleman caller,” I groaned.
“So what? We’re both grown adults. And besides, there’s no one in this room, that’ll know.”
“Know what?”
“Just how much I want to kiss you again.”
21
Lazy Saturday morning sunlight streamed through a set of gauzy curtains, and for a moment, I struggled to remember where I was. Then, the warm night of memories came flooding back. I could sense that Jake had wanted more, and who was I kidding, so did I, but my heart couldn’t reconcile that demand if Jake was leaving at the end of the weekend.
A soft thud landed on my bed, and Tiki
crawled onto my shoulder eager for some morning cuddles. “Hey buddy,” I said, scratching the top of his head. The sweet little cat purred so hard his eyes began to cross.
The suite’s front door clicked open, and seconds later Jake tapped on my door. The rich aroma of coffee sailed across the room instantly. “Coffee?”
I couldn’t have wiped the smile off my face if I tried, and Jake sat down on the bed and handed me the warm cup. It was a specialty blend, rich as a tiny Italian espresso, and heavenly.
Jake laughed and produced sugar packets from his jacket. “I did bring sugar if you wanted it.”
I shook my head. “Nope. But the thought was sweet, thank you.”
I reached for my phone on the nightstand, dismayed when I tried to click it on, only to be rewarded with a black, non-responsive screen. “Ugh,” I said, clicking it a few more times for good measure. “I actually don’t think I even brought a charger either.”
“I can throw it on mine, in my room,” Jake offered.
“That would be great – thanks.” I sighed, handing him the phone. “I told Tina I would let her know once I got back to the hotel last night, she’s probably worried sick.”
Jake squeezed my shoulder, and dropped a kiss on my forehead. “I wouldn’t worry too much about it. I mean, she knows which hotel you were staying in – and you checked in with her yesterday, and gave her the room number too, right?”
A small wave of comfort rested in those words. “That’s true, I did.”
“So – problem solved. If she needed you, she would’ve called.”
I eased back onto the mounds of fluffy pillows in relief. “You’re right,” I said, and smiled.
“And wouldn’t it feel good to be off the digital leash, even if it is only for the day?” Jake said, his deep blue eyes glittering with mischief.
And postpone the real world for just one more day? Yes, please.
“I like your style sir,” I grinned. “Give me just a few minutes,” I said, stretching and slowly getting up. The idea of one more perfect day sounded like heaven.
Sweetest Obsessions - Anthology Page 129
