“It’s fine, you forget I’m originally from Utah.”
“I tried my best to clean it up but there are still some seeds and small stuff I couldn’t manage to get out, but at least it shouldn’t get your clothes dirty,” he apologetically said.
“So, where we headed? This is all just a mystery to me tonight,” she excitedly inquired, enjoying the time together more than she had thought she might.
“Strange that you should use that word, ‘mystery’, thought that could be kind of the theme of this first date,” he said, looking for approval from his date.
“You’re driving. Sounds like fun.”
They drove for a few minutes down some of the streets of Valdosta that she was not familiar with. She thought she recognized a few places from her condo hunting expeditions with Bev, but by the time they pulled into the parking lot of a restaurant, she was quite lost and directionally confused.
“The Passage to India,” Seymour said, pointing to a sign over a very well lit and sparkling frontage area. “Hope you like Indian food, this is the best in town.”
“Well I don’t know if I do or not, never had it, but I’m up for the adventure. Lead the way.”
The restaurant was tastefully decorated and quite busy with every table occupied and people waiting in the entryway. Seymour approached the young lady working the small, chest high desk in the foyer, leaned over and whispered something in her ear. Blanche couldn’t make out what was said but the girl nodded, obviously understanding what he was talking about, and motioned for one of the hostesses to come to the front area.
“This is the couple that I was telling you about before we opened tonight, remember?” the young lady said to the even younger hostess. “Are we ready for them?”
“They are just finishing up with the table, so give me a minute and I’ll come and get them.”
Addressing Seymour and Blanche the girl said, “Please just stand aside for a minute and the hostess will be back and take you to your table.”
“Thanks,” Seymour said, taking Blanche by the arm and leading her out of the way of the other customers.
“What have you got up your sleeve, you sly dog?” she asked.
“Nothing, just a little dinner with my favorite boss.”
A moment later, the same young hostess returned and ushered the couple to an area toward the back of the establishment. Multi-colored veils of fabric were draped from the center of a private room, reaching to the corners, creating a tent like effect. On the floor was a knee high table with two dozen pillows of different shapes, sizes and textures scattered about on the floor, a Persian carpet underlying the comfortable setting. The atmosphere was instantly warm and inviting, soft Indian music playing in the background and a personal waiter stood at attention, with a linen napkin over his arm, and a tray holding chilled water glasses in his hand. An amazing gold centerpiece provided the only light to the room, as several candles flickered and danced, projecting shadows against the tented backdrop. The scent of curry tantalized their palates.
“What do you think?” he asked.
“I think you’re crazy,” she replied, waving her hand around and pointing at the unexpected surroundings. “How did you manage all this?”
“Let’s just say I’m not without connections,” he whispered, as if the information was top secret.
The dinner was incredible. Blanche had never enjoyed a meal or a 'first date' conversation so much in her entire life. The service from each of the staff had been top notch, taking care of their every need, almost anticipating what they wanted before they asked. The only down side to the evening, thus far, was the tightness in her waistline. The couple talked about all kinds of things, from their youth, to the things they had in common, and their jobs at the library.
“So Seymour, tell me about the suit and shoes. I get the feeling there's a story there, would you share it with me?” she said, smiling.
His demeanor suddenly became very serious and she could tell she had hit a sensitive area. “I, uh, this is something that I don’t talk about very much,” he managed to say, looking down at the candle and the incandescent light it gave off.
“I’m sorry, didn’t mean to bring up anything painful. Let’s talk about something else.”
“That’s okay, I think I’d like you to know; it’s part of who I am. You see, I guess it’s been about five years ago now, my dad got sick real fast with what we thought was a cold. Started out just like most colds with a sore throat and a bad cough, but when the cold went away he didn’t feel much better and the cough just kept getting worse and worse. My momma finally convinced him to see a doctor and by the time he got in, and they did a chest x-ray, it was too late. He had a cancer that spread through both lungs and into his throat. We only had him a short time before God took him and we were left with a farm to run on our own. Those were some tough years,” he said, looking past her and into space.
“I’m so sorry to hear that, Seymour,” she said, placing a caring hand alongside his strong jaw, her thumb lying over his dimple.
“Anyway, the suit. My mom bought this for me to attend my dad’s funeral. Only suit I’ve ever had. Can you tell I’ve grown a little bit since then? Should have had it altered but too much going on and kind of forgot about it till tonight,” he said, leaning his head a bit closer to the warmth of her touch.
“It’s fine, you look wonderful in it.”
“I know the tie looks a little wonky. My mom’s not very good at tying them and this is the best I could do after watching a video on the computer, but it’s not the same when you’re doing it yourself and lookin’ into a mirror. Wish my dad would have had time to teach me to tie one proper like.” A tear ran from his left eye, down his face, and trickled over her fingers.
She used her thumb to wipe the next tear away as it sailed down his cheek.
“Come on, let’s not think of sad things,” he said, taking her by the hand and leading her into the main portion of the restaurant.
A live band, with instruments she’d never seen before, sat at the head of a small partitioned-off area, with a hard wooden floor designed for dancing. The music being played was strange and unusual, but she could see some of the regulars enjoying the funky tunes.
“Hey Zorida, show us some moves,” he said, to one of the young people dressed in ceremonial Indian attire, standing near the band.
“You know these people?” Blanche asked.
“Yeah, the owner and my dad grew up together and most of the people working here are his relatives. Zorida there, is his daughter, goes to school with me at the U. How else do you think I could afford an evening like this? I’m a student don’t you know?”
Zorida moved to the center of the dance area and began moving her hips to the sway of the music, increasing the gyrations as the beat increased. She spun and dipped, clicking small cymbals with her fingers, as she danced to the music. At the completion of the song the restaurant burst into cheers and applause.
“Come on Seymour, I’ll teach you,” Zorida said, coaxing him verbally, then actually dragging him onto the dance floor, Blanche in tow.
The musicians were easy on the beginners, providing slow enough beats that they could copy the movements, slowly they increased the tempo, making the trio move and bounce to the enjoyment of the patrons. A few small children joined them on the floor, showing off their own moves, and bringing even more adults to the stage. At the conclusion of the hypnotic number Blanche collapsed into Seymour’s arms and hugged him tightly.
“I have to tell you Seymour, I am having such a good time.”
“Good, I have one last thing I want to show you before I take you home.”
“Home? Isn’t the night still young?” she asked.
“Yes, but I promised your landlady I’d get you home at a decent hour,” he informed her.
The drive seemed to have them moving away from the city. “Where are you taking me? You’re not really a serial killer or something are you, and now you’re ta
king me to your private lair?” she jokingly asked, sliding close to him on the front seat, wrapping her left arm around his, as his hand rested on the floor mounted gear lever.
“Crap, you’ve found me out. That takes all the fun out of it. Wanted to surprise you when I pulled out a ball bat and knocked you senseless. Hoped I could get you tied up and in my hideaway before you woke up,” he said, in a sadistic voice.
“Okay, now you’re creeping me out a little bit, where are we really going?” she asked, her nails digging into his arm.
“Ouch, okay, okay, I’ll tell you. We’re headed to my most favorite place in Valdosta. Found it as a kid and go there when I need to think.”
They drove until the lights of the city were well behind them and a dirt road led them another couple of miles off the beaten path. The rattletrap of a pickup bumped and tossed the pair at times almost knocking their heads against the rusted roof, as the shocks gave up trying to absorb the numerous ruts.
“Not much further, just hold on,” Seymour said.
As quickly as the bumping and bouncing has started, it finally stopped, and they came to rest on a small knoll, with trees on either side of the truck. Seymour reached behind the seat and pulled out a flannel, plaid blanket, a thermos and two mugs with cartoon characters on them, the Tasmanian Devil on one and Foghorn Leghorn on the other.
He showed them to Blanche, “You can have your pick, as long as I get Foghorn.”
He opened the door for her and motioned for her to follow him up over the small rise, his hands being full of the items from the truck. As they crested the hilltop, Blanche’s eyes focused on the most awe-inspiring vision of earth and nature that she had ever seen. She stood, unable to move, taking in the scene that stretched out for miles before her.
“Was I right, or was I right?” he said, taking in the same sight and enjoying the impact it was having on his beautiful date. “This is going to sound so corny, but it’s the God’s honest truth.”
“What’s that?” she said not taking her eyes off the panorama before her.
“The first time I saw you and you were just sitting at the desk with your head down and I could see you and you hadn’t noticed me yet.”
“Yes, I remember,” she said.
“Well, seeing you that very first time made me think of this place, and I swore to myself, if there was anyway that you’d agree to go out with me, I’d bring you here first. So, here we are. The only thing more beautiful than this place right here, is you, Blanche Delaney, and I mean that,” he said, moving to throw out the blanket before he made a bigger fool of himself.
“Seymour, I'm afraid you've put me on a pedestal that I’m not going to be able to live up to, but for tonight, I think I’ll stay up there for a while longer, if that’s okay with you,” she said, kneeling down next to him and running her hand over his.
“Madam,” Seymour said, handing a mug to Blanche. He unscrewed the top of the thermos and poured each of them a cup of hot chocolate. “Hope this is still warm enough to drink.”
She took a sip, finding it almost too hot, and blew over the surface of the liquid.
“It’s fine, plenty warm,” she said, still gently blowing the chocolate and lifting it to her lips for another taste.
“Oh crap, I almost forgot the best part, just a minute,” he said, dashing back to the truck, returning with a bag of miniature marshmallows. “Can’t have hot cocoa without these.” He opened the bag and took a handful filling both of their mugs to overflowing before sitting back down next to Blanche.
“Seymour, you’ve thought of everything tonight. I’ve had such a good time, you are truly a man of mystery aren’t you?”
“I don’t know about that. I’m afraid most the time I’m kind of a bumbling idiot, but I know one thing for sure, I like being with you, and the way you make me feel when we're together,” he suggested.
“Ditto Seymour, ditto,” Blanche said, taking another sip of her hot chocolate and staring across a picturesque lake surrounded by lush forested hills and valleys. The moonlight shimmering off the gently moving water provided just enough light to the scene, to bring the entire image into perspective. Near the water's edge she could make out the black shape of an animal drinking from the stillness of the lake and the sounds of crickets surrounded them, playing nature’s own version of a restful hymn. Fireflies danced above them in the air, painting patterns in the sky.
“Blanche, try this,” he said, taking the now empty mug from her hand.
He motioned for her to lay down on the blanket, he did the same, their bodies touching shoulder to shoulder and knee to knee. The sky that stretched out before them twinkled with more than a million brilliant stars and lights. There was no need for words, both could feel what was happening, and they shared the moment in silence for a time. Seymour lifted his hands behind his head to act as a pillow, and Blanche took the cue, moving her head to rest on his muscular chest and shoulder, their backs still firmly pressed against the rigid earth.
“Can you see why I come up here to think?” he finally said.
“Sure, really clears your head and gives you some perspective. Thanks for bringing me here. This is a special place.”
“If you’d like, I’d love to show it to you in the daylight, not quite as romantic but equally as beautiful.”
“You’ve got a date, anytime.” She lifted up on her elbow, leaned down and gave him a kiss that he returned, being careful not to scare her off on their first date. “Thank you so much Seymour Wood.” She laid her head back down on his comfortable, strong shoulder, staring into the night’s sky and whispered ever so softly, just beyond Seymour’s ability to hear, “Thank you.”
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
‘Sweet Home Alabama’ vibrated the speakers and shook the decaying chassis as the driver, parked a little more than a block from the B&B, sang along and tapped his hands on the steering wheel to the rhythm of the rock classic. The time on his watch read 8:47, the two hours he’d spent sitting and listening to KRCK had passed much slower than he would have liked. Earlier in the morning he had watched the dog walkers stroll along the sidewalks, stopping occasionally to clean up after their animals, depositing the disgusting little bags in the nearby receptacle. He could not understand why city people wanted dogs, they were meant to be outside, running free, and the owners were certainly not supposed to pick up their dog’s shit with their hands. Sickened him, even though he had grown up with cats, dogs and even a gator that lived in their bathtub, until it was too big, and had to be released back into the river.
Felix had phoned him late the night before, congratulating him on a job well done. It appeared they -- whoever ‘they’ were -- appreciated the extra effort and risks he had taken and wanted him to lay low for a few days. He was happy to take them up on the offer; having his hinny hanging in the wind was not his idea of a good time. The last outing had taken ten years off his life and most likely Rascal’s as well. The night before, troubled him greatly; first a colored and now this, Blanche taking up with a schoolboy. Lester had followed the couple to the restaurant but grew weary of waiting for them and had finally gone home, seething with anger. As with Virginia May, he could not fully identify the focus of his rage. Blanche would soon enough recognize the important role he would play in her life, but he would need to deal with these distracters first.
Since the Mr. Muscle competition a scenario had been forming in Lester’s mind, and an evolution was taking place, massaging and forming the plan into something that would take care of both of these hounds hot on Blanche’s scent. It would take timing, skill and cunning. Over the coming week he would devote as much time as it took to learn their routines, and act when the stars aligned, and his plot could be set into motion. He was starting with Blanche, the work schedule was easy, she worked five days a week including a couple of nights. He’d enjoyed the time watching her from the shadows and his disguised ventures into her domain. Today was his first chance to observe her 'day off' behaviors, and he cam
e well prepared, binoculars, camera with high-powered telephoto lens, and the stolen .38 caliber pistol tucked into the front of his pants.
* * *
Blanche deliberately avoided breakfast, knowing that Felix, aka ‘Clueless Wonder’, would be there trying to put the moves on her, and she just couldn’t imagine putting up with his crap after the lovely evening she’d spent with Seymour. The couple had stayed out much later than he had originally planned but still managed to get her in the door before Caroline called the police. When she’d gotten home there was a message on her phone from Holly wondering how her date with ‘Woody’ had gone. She returned the call knowing the two-hour time differential would still have Holly awake playing games on the computer or watching a movie with her family. The educated guess was correct, they were watching, The Town That Dreaded Sundown, a true story of a killer that stalked a small town’s youth, killing as he went and was never caught. The librarian’s closest friend did love her horror movies. Blanche relished the chance to talk about her date. She’d had a wonderful time but didn’t realize how meaningful it was until she heard herself reliving it again with her dear friend.
Blanche slept peacefully, her mind void of conflict and worry. In the morning she laid in bed lazily, remembering the strength in Seymour’s shoulder and chest as she’d used him as a pillow, and the softness of his lips when they shared their first soulful kiss. He wanted to see her again tonight, forcing Blanche to explain the previous promise made to Jasper, but he was so very understanding, something she’d not seen before in the opposite sex. After the good nights sleep and taking it easy until 9:00 a.m. she decided a run would do her good, get her body in sync with her psyche. She donned a tight fitting sports bra, lycra shorts and running shoes, pulled her hair back into a ponytail and bounced down the stairs. In the entryway of the older home she stretched, twisting and lengthening her muscles before she ventured out. Mrs. Muir was reading in the parlor and could see her young friend getting ready to run.
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