Lily of the Springs

by Carole Bellacera

  Betty stared at me, obviously stunned at my outburst.

  I took a deep breath and gentled my tone, “Why do I put up with him when he gets like that? It’s simple, Betty. I love the man. Have ever since we were younguns…and that won’t ever change.”

  ***

  After putting Debby Ann down for her afternoon nap, I curled up on the couch with Ladies’ Home Journal, and within moments, I’d become engrossed in a novel excerpt by Anya Seton. It was just the sort of novel I loved—the sort I’d write if I had the talent to do it—one full of romance set in an exotic foreign country, and by the time I’d finished the first page, I’d already decided I was going to pick up the real book next time I was at the drugstore.

  It was just after three when I heard Jake’s key in the front door. My body tensed, and for a split second, I wondered if it was fear I was feeling. But no, of course it wasn’t. Apprehension, maybe, as I wondered what kind of mood he’d be in after last night’s ruckus…but not fear.

  I laid the magazine face-down on the couch and composed my face into a smile as his combat boots clumped down the hallway. He appeared in the doorway of the living room, dressed in his fatigue uniform. Exercises must be going on at the post today, I thought, searching his face for a sign of his mood.

  “You’re home early,” I said lightly, hoping against hope that all was well.

  He seemed to be having trouble meeting my eyes. And wasn’t his face a little flushed? Finally, he cleared his throat. “I was afraid you wouldn’t be here.”

  I looked down, my fingers playing with the fringe of my cut-off jeans. “Why not? It’s my home, ain’t it?”

  When he didn’t speak, I looked up at him and caught the tormented expression on his face. “Sorry about last night,” he said softly. “Guess I had too much to drink.”

  “Yes, I reckon you did.” I didn’t want to forgive him too easily. He had to know that what he’d done was dead wrong. “And I reckon you’ve got some apologizing to do…and not just to me.”

  I’d stopped by Barbara’s apartment on my way back from Betty’s, but no one had answered the door. Maybe she’d gone out. Or maybe she just hadn’t wanted to answer, knowing who it was outside. But I couldn’t let more time go by without an apology, so I’d gone home and scribbled a note on the stationery pad I used to write Mother every week.

  Dear Barbara: I am so very sorry for the horrible things my husband said to you last night. I know it’s not much of an excuse, but he was very drunk, and he just gets ornery sometimes with the drinking. I just want you to know that I was pleased as punch that you came to my party, and I hope we can be friends in the future. Yours Very Truly, Lillian Rae Tatlow.

  I’d slipped the folded note under Barbara’s door, and hoped for the best. But Jake really needed to be the one to apologize. Surely he knew that.

  I opened my mouth to say exactly that, but he beat me to it, giving me that soulful look he knew I couldn’t resist. “Don’t you worry, I’ll take care of the apologies. But you’re the only one that really matters to me, Lily Rae. I just got to know you’re not mad any more.”

  As always, my resistance melted against his boyish charm, even knowing deep down inside that his apology to the others…if he ever got around to doing it…might not be all that sincere. But how could I stay mad at him when he looked at me like that? All contrite and adorable like a mischievous little boy who’d got caught with his hand in the cookie jar?

  I sighed. “’Course I’m not still mad. Come here, you.”

  He gave me his trademark lop-sided grin—the one that always sent flutters through my heart, and then strode purposely toward me. I met him halfway. He took me into his arms and kissed me thoroughly.

  Within seconds, my body was on fire, as if he were the kindling and me, the log of wood. His hand found its way under my cotton blouse, and with unerring ease, he unfastened the hooks of my bra. Then, still kissing me, he slipped both hands under my blouse and loosened bra, cupping my breasts tenderly in his palms. I moaned into his open mouth, my brain spinning.

  He broke the kiss and skimmed a wet trail up my cheek to my ear, murmuring, “Is the baby sleeping?”

  “Yes,” I gasped, clutching his muscular arms, breathing in the healthy male scent of him.

  “Good. Come on.”

  He led me into the bedroom, and still holding onto me, drew the shades down. Moments later, both of us were stripped naked. We tumbled onto the bed, and in the sleepy heat of the summer afternoon, he made love to me. As I writhed under him, I told myself I’d blown it all out of proportion. Jake had his faults, but he wasn’t a bad guy. He didn’t mean half the stuff he said. And he had said he’d apologize to Barbara, hadn’t he? I was sure of it.

  And then I stopped thinking.

  ***

  “I’ve got a surprise for you,” Jake said.

  Zipping up my cut-offs, I looked over at him. He lay on the bed, propped up against a pillow, naked as a jaybird and smoking a cigarette. A light sheen of sweat glistened on his arms and chest in the afternoon light that crept beneath the edges of the drawn shades.

  Despite the open windows beneath us and an electric fan on the top of the dresser that ineffectively stirred the hot air around, it felt like it was over a hundred degrees in the little room. The curls at the back of my neck clung damply to my skin and the discarded cotton blouse I scooped up from the floor felt as soggy as if it had been forgotten in the bottom of a laundry basket on the way to being hung on the line.

  “A surprise, huh?” I asked, buttoning my blouse. I moved over to the window to let the blind up some. Maybe get a little outside air in. Even if it was hot as blazes outside, it might help a little.

  Jake released a stream of smoke and gave me an enigmatic grin. “Grab my fatigue pants over there. Got something in the pocket for you.”

  I arched an eyebrow at him. “Lord, Jake Tatlow, don’t you look like the cat that swallowed the canary! What you got up your sleeve?”

  His grin widened. “Nothing up my sleeve,” he said. “But check the pockets of my fatigues.”

  I giggled. Now, this was the Jake Tatlow I’d fallen in love with. Why couldn’t he be this playful and sweet all the time?

  He watched as I grabbed his pants off the floor and rummaged through one pocket, finding nothing but a matchbook from a diner near the post.

  “It’s in the other one,” he said, still wearing a self-satisfied grin.

  My fingers found a small envelope. I drew it out and stared at it. “What’s this?”

  “Open it up and see.”

  I drew two tickets out of the envelope. “Oh…” I tried not to show my disappointment when I read what they were for. Slim Whitman―one of Jake’s favorite country music singers who had a thing about yodeling―a sound I found about as pleasant as nails clawing down a blackboard. But…I reminded myself…it was a night out, so I pasted on a bright smile. “Hey, that’s super, Jake! Where’s this Overton Park Shell, anyway?”

  Jake’s grin grew bigger. “Memphis.”

  I gasped. “You’re taking me all the way to Memphis to see a singer?”

  He nodded. “I reckon it’s about time we got away from here for a spell. It’s on a Friday, so the Sarge will probably let me out early. We’ll get there in plenty of time. And if it don’t cost an arm and a leg, maybe we can get a room in one of them motels and come back the next mornin’.”

  I stared at him, trying to wrap my brain around this amazing turn of events. “But what about Debby Ann? We’ll have to get Merline to baby-sit, and you know that costs money. She just upped her charge to fifty cents an hour.”

  For a split-second, he looked outraged. “That’s highway robbery! But…” He gave me a wink. “Friday’s pay-day. Anyhow, you let me worry about the money. Just hire the baby-sitter.”

  I gave him a happy grin. “You betcha.” I peered down at the tickets again. “Never heard of these other fellas. The Blue Moon Boys. Have you?”

  Jake shrugged. “Nah
. Must be the warm-up act. Probably some no-talent cusses we have to suffer through before Slim takes the stage. We can always arrive late. Seats are paid for.” He gave me a wink and crooked a finger at me. “Hey, come here. Don’t this deserve a kiss?”

  I grinned and walked over to him. “I suppose it does.” I bent down to kiss him.

  With a whoop, he wrestled me down on the bed and rolled on top of me, nuzzling my neck. When I felt his penis hardening against my thigh, I wished I hadn’t gone to all that trouble putting my clothes on again.

  ***

  “Oh, my Lord, he’s just too much!” I shrieked.

  Clinging to Betty, I jumped up and down, screaming at the top of my lungs along with all the other young women at the open-air shell in Overton Park. Betty grinned, and in her excitement, dug her nails into my bare arm. I’d mentioned to Betty about our tickets to Slim Whitman, and she’d up and bought two for her and Eddie, and I hadn’t dared tell Jake about it, figuring it was best if we just “ran into them there. And that’s exactly what had happened. No sooner had we got to the gates when Betty had shouted out my name, waving frantically like she hadn’t seen me in years, instead of just that morning.

  Jake had been put out, of course. I could tell that by the ugly glint in his eyes. But maybe our last fight was too fresh in his mind, and he’d remembered how he’d promised to do better. When Betty and Eddie made their way toward us, Jake shook Eddie’s hand and gave Betty a curt greeting.

  “Shake it, baby!” Betty yelled, waving wildly at the bandstand with her free hand. “Oh, honey boy, you’ve got the right moves!”

  Up on the stage in front of a giant rainbow background, the Blue Moon Boys, consisting of two guitarists and their front man, a brown-haired boy with electric blue eyes and full, molded lips, began another song. The girls in the audience shrieked even louder, especially as the lead singer began to do his leg-shaking thing again. Betty and I were no exception.

  I felt light-headed from screaming, and I swore Betty was about to faint, the way her eyes were rolling back in her head as she shouted out the singer’s name. “Ellis! Oh, my God, Ellis! Where have you been all my life?”

  I knew without looking that both Jake and Eddie were fuming in their seats behind us. Like all the other men in the audience, I reckoned. They just couldn’t understand why us girls were on our feet in excitement for the gorgeous, mellow-voiced Ellis Presley up on stage.

  I knew why, though. He was like nothing I’d ever heard before as he sang a rollicking tune called “That’s Alright Mama,” gyrating on the stage like an old man with palsy—except that he wasn’t old. According to the newspaper we’d picked up at the drugstore, he wasn’t even 20. What the newspaper didn’t say was that he was as pretty as a man could be with those blue bedroom eyes and sweet-looking lips. And he was a southern boy, too—from right here in Memphis.

  As far as I was concerned—and Betty and all the other girls in the audience—Slim Whitman could just stay backstage the whole blessed night. Ellis, there, was more than worth the price of the ticket.

  The end of the song was nearly drowned out by the shrill screams of the girls. Ellis threw up a hand, beamed a grin out at the audience and spoke into the mike with a heart-melting southern accent, “Thank ya very much. Goodnight and God bless.”

  And the Blue Moon Boys left the stage to groans of dismay from the females in the crowd. The night’s MC came out with a grin as big as Texas stretched across his fleshy face. “Put your hands together for the Blue Moon Boys, folks. We’re proud to say that y’all just witnessed their first live show, right here at the Overton Park Shell, and I got me a feeling we ain’t heard the last of them boys. Oh, and folks…the newspaper got Mr. Presley’s name wrong. It’s Elvis Presley, not Ellis. What’s more, we’ve got a special treat for y’all. Elvis just cut his first record at Sun Studio about three weeks ago, and every one of you, just for being here tonight, is gonna get a free copy!”

  The crowd roared. Betty and I hugged each other, just as delighted as all the other women around us. We were going to get to take Elvis…not Ellis…home!

  I caught Jake’s sulky expression as I twirled around. Well, it was clear he was no fan. Especially when he cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, “Get on with the damn show! Where’s Slim?”

  Betty and I looked at each other, and then Betty rolled her eyes. I grinned back. And we continued to dance up and down in excitement.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  I clutched the 45-LPM of Elvis’s single in my right hand as Jake and me followed Eddie and Betty up the stairs to the second floor of our apartment building. So much for staying in Memphis tonight, I thought. I should’ve known that as soon as Jake got some liquor into him, he’d change his mind about the motel.

  Right after the concert, he and Eddie had gone to the closest liquor store for a couple of six-packs, and the four of us had ended up on the banks of the Mississippi, drinking Pabst Blue Ribbon until they were all gone. Well, Betty and the boys drank the beer; I stuck to Coca Cola because I hated the bitter taste of beer.

  Funny how the men’s mutual dislike for Elvis Presley had brought the two of them together. Why, Jake had actually seemed to almost be hitting it off with Eddie by the end of the night. Still, I figured I was probably going to catch hell later for not telling Jake the couple was planning to be at the concert.

  By the time the men drank the last beer, they were laughing and messing around like they’d been best pals forever. Eddie, though, didn’t seem able to hold his liquor as well as Jake did. Betty had insisted on driving him back to New Boston, and he’d readily accepted. Jake, though, wouldn’t hear of me driving him. When I’d tentatively suggested he might be too drunk to drive, he hadn’t even bothered to reply, so silly, apparently, was the idea, but thank the Lord, he’d done a perfectly capable job of driving the four-hour trip home.

  Up in front of us, Betty, her arm around her stumbling husband, reached the top of the stairs and fumbled in her handbag for the keys to their apartment.

  “Hold him for me, will you?” she said to me, propping Eddie up against the wall.

  “I got him,” Jake said, grabbing onto Eddie so he wouldn’t slip to the floor.

  His blond head lolled to his shoulder, and through slitted blue eyes, he gazed at Jake. A slow, goofy grin crossed his handsome face. “What’d ya know,” he garbled. “You’re not such a bad guy after all, Jake the Snake.” He giggled. “Thass what Bets calls you anyway.”

  Betty shot her husband a glare as she turned the key in the lock. “Eddie! Don’t be crude!” The door opened. “Merline, we’re home!”

  I noticed the heightened color on Betty’s cheeks. Jake the Snake, huh? Well, that was no surprise. Betty had never pretended to like him. Avoiding his gaze, she turned to her husband to help him inside.

  Jake stopped her. “I’ll take care of him. You go pay the babysitter. Lily Rae, you got some money?” He grabbed hold of Eddie and walked him into the apartment.

  Yeah, Laundromat money, I thought. Famous last words about you worrying about the money.

  “You know what?” Eddie said, grinning. “I think you’re…A-okay, Jake. A little hard to…get to know, maybe…but a helluva guy! And to think…I thought you didn’t like me…”

  “Now, whatever gave you that idea?” Jake said dryly, depositing him on the living room sofa.

  Merline, sleepy-eyed and rumpled from the long night, accepted the cash Betty and I gave her, and slipped out of the apartment to go home. The black and white sunrise clock on the wall showed two-fifty a.m.

  “Guess I’d better put on some coffee for him,” said Betty, heading for the kitchen.

  “I’ll get Debby Ann.” I turned toward the hallway leading to Davy’s room. “Jake, you want to go ahead and unlock our apartment? I’ll be right there.”

  Debby was sound asleep in the upper half of Davy’s crib; Davy sprawled out at the other end. When I picked her up, the baby mewed a soft protest but didn’t wake.


  My lips quirked. You little rascal. You’ll sleep for the whole world, won’t you? For everyone except me. Sure as anything, she’d be up and squalling the minute I got into bed. Nestling her against my shoulder, I went back out to the living room. It was empty, so I figured Jake had gone on home. I’d just slip into the kitchen to say a quick goodbye to Betty before joining him.

  But Betty wasn’t alone in the kitchen. I stopped short when I saw Jake standing with her. I knew instinctively that I’d interrupted something…a fight maybe. From the look on Betty’s face, whatever had passed between them hadn’t been pretty. She was glaring at him as if he were a piece of dog shit smeared on her shoe. Jake was staring right back, but his blue eyes were gleaming, and he wore a smirk on his face. They hadn’t noticed me yet.

  “You lowdown son-of-a-bitch,” Betty said clearly. “Get the hell out of my house!”

  Jake just kept grinning.

  “What’s going on?” I said.

  They both looked at me, and an awkward silence fell. A slight flush crept up from Jake’s shirt collar, pooling onto his carved cheekbones. Betty glanced at me, and then turned her gaze back to Jake, her eyes frigid. “Do you want to tell your wife about your suggestion or shall I?”

  Jake ran his fingers through his Brill-Crèmed hair, his eyes avoiding mine. “Ah, hell. It was just a joke,” he muttered.

  “Really?” Betty said coolly. “Sounded pretty serious to me.”

  “What’s going on?” I asked again.

  Betty waited for Jake to speak, but when he didn’t, she gave him a look of disgust. “He suggested that we have a little wife-swapping party. He said he and I could get started right now over in your apartment, and once Eddie woke up, you and he could have your own little party right here.”