Kyle shook his head. “I was sure we wouldn’t continue on. All day it was as if—as if some vital part of me had been torn away.”
“Me, too,” she said softly. She laid her head back on his shoulder. “We’ve grown so close. At first, it seemed that we were moving too fast. Now, well, maybe it would be too fast with another person but not with you. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“Yes, I do,” he said, a note of wonder creeping into his tone. He kissed her on the forehead. “We need to allow ourselves to be swept away. Otherwise—” He stopped, seeming to assess her reaction. “Otherwise, we’re not fully living in the experience.” His arms tightened around her. “We had an affinity from the beginning. As soon as I met you, I already understood things about you that would take a long time to learn about someone else.”
“We can be who we really are with each other. That’s important.”
“Very. And who I am is really hungry.”
She smiled, then sat up, or tried to. Instead she fell to the floor, forced out of the narrow bed at a most inopportune time.
Kyle grabbed for her but missed, and fortunately the cot was low, only a foot or so high. She landed gently, and before she knew it, he had rolled out beside her and was kneeling before her. He took her face in his hands, kissed her with unmistakable emotion, drawing her close.
“Sweet Dixie,” he said in the most heartfelt way imaginable. “I’m crazy about you.”
She was more than crazy about him but willed herself to be patient while they grew together into what she hoped would be a new life for both of them. Hadn’t Kyle said that it was important for a couple to grow within the relationship? There was nothing she desired more, and she was determined to make that happen however she could. Kyle Sherman was a man worth waiting for.
They cooked the steaks on the outside grill and served them with a fresh green salad. It was warm enough to take their desserts outside and sit on the back steps to eat them.
“How did you know I love cherry cobbler?” Kyle said, digging into it with gusto.
“You like cherry-vanilla ice cream,” she pointed out, recalling the night when he’d made a special trip to the supermarket to buy it.
“I like cherry pie, too,” he said. “I stopped in at the Eat Right for some the other day.”
“Kathy Lou told me,” Dixie said.
“Kathy Lou,” Kyle said with a certain amount of resignation. “The Yewville town gossip.”
“She’s not any worse than anyone else.”
“I can’t do squat without someone telling you about it,” Kyle said.
Dixie smiled. “It works both ways.”
“I don’t mind. I have no intention of doing anything I can’t share with you.”
She set aside her dish of cobbler. “Have you ever made love on top of a picnic table?” she asked.
He started to laugh. “Honey, you’re going to kill me with all this good lovin’.”
“Is that a yes or a no?”
“I could be talked into it. What about all these little acorns on the tabletop I noticed this morning?”
“You get a whisk broom and I’ll bring a blanket,” she said, and she heard Kyle’s laughter following her as she headed to the linen closet.
DIXIE’S FRIEND Joyanne showed up for a brief visit toward the end of the week and stopped by the real estate office to ask Dixie if she was free for lunch. These days, Joyanne preferred to be called Joy since she’d changed her name and gone Hollywood. Joy’s new life sounded exciting, especially now that she’d signed on for the part of a pioneer schoolteacher in a new TV drama.
“We’re going to start rehearsing in a couple of weeks,” Joy said. “Once we’re in production, I won’t get a chance to visit down home for a while. You have to promise to come to California soon, Dixie. I’m going to be moving out of my apartment, and then I won’t have all that much contact with the guy upstairs. Remember, the Arnold Schwarzenegger clone? Plus, his name is slightly easier to spell than Schwarzenegger.”
“What is his name, anyway?” Dixie might as well show some interest in Joy’s new life.
“It’s Zeb Chance,” Joy said. “Plus, he’s better-looking than Arnold. At least in my opinion.”
“What kind of name is Zeb Chance?” Dixie asked, fascinated by this penchant of Hollywood types to change their names.
“A made-up one. He’s worked in a couple of movies as a stuntman, but his true passion is directing.”
“Why don’t you go out with him?”
“Not my type. Wow, your teeth look great. So does your permanent eyeliner.” Joy stared for a moment.
“I had to go to Florence to get the eyeliner done. I’m glad you like it.” Dixie took a pocket mirror out of her middle desk drawer and studied her reflection.
“Anyway, looking the way you do must attract guys in huge numbers. Maybe you don’t have a need to meet Zeb Chance. Though you did state that it’s your intention to find a suitable spouse ASAP.”
“I merely stated that I want what most of our girlfriends have by now, a husband and pictures of our kids plastered all over the refrigerator. Acquiring a man is one of my priorities like it is with everyone else. I admit it, that’s all.”
“Any new contenders?”
Dixie contemplated her manicure. “I’ve found a guy I like a lot. I hope you’ll get a chance to meet him.”
“You mean, this Kyle that everyone’s talking about? Is he husband material?”
“Maybe, and how did you hear about him? More to the point, what did you hear?”
“My mom mentioned him last week. She says the two of you are inseparable.”
“How’d she find that out?”
“At the Eat Right, I guess. Also, I ran into Priss at the airport. She said Milo told her about Kyle.”
“Milo only met Kyle once.”
Joy’s eyebrows raised at that. “How?”
Dixie explained about Milo’s dropping in. She didn’t mention her adventures with Kyle on the sewing-room floor as soon as Milo left.
Joy listened with interest. “Milo told Priss to ask you over sometime so he can see you without Kyle. I guess Kyle’s a permanent fixture by now, huh?”
“I’d like him to be,” Dixie admitted. “He’s talking about moving here from Ohio.”
Joy laughed. “You’re in the right business to facilitate that.” She waved at the home brochures stacked in the cubbyholes above Dixie’s desk.
“I’ve only shown Kyle houses I’m sure he won’t like,” Dixie said. “We went to look at another one yesterday. It had a loft reachable only from outside, and one of the two bathrooms had no toilet. I was positive he’d hate it.”
“What’s the point, exactly?”
“The longer I take to find Kyle a suitable home, the longer he’ll live in my playhouse.”
“Dixie! You’re shameless! Anyway, unless he’s a midget, that tiny little place must cramp his style. And a few other things besides.”
Dixie managed a sheepish grin. “Kyle’s not really living there anymore, Joyanne.”
“Joy,” her friend corrected automatically.
“Sorry. It’s hard to remember.”
“That’s okay, I understand. So the man has moved into your house?”
“Most of his clothes now occupy the extra closet in my bedroom. I hope you’re not shocked.”
Joy made a face at this. “After living in Hollywood, nothing shocks me anymore. I’m glad you’ve found someone, Dixie. You deserve the best.”
“Kyle is…well, he’s wonderful. A real keeper. Oh, Mayzelle’s driving up in front, so we can leave for lunch in a few minutes. I’ll tell you all about it over banana splits at the Eat Right.”
“I’ll have to order a fruit plate. My diet, remember?”
They had been eating banana splits for lunch a couple of times a month since they were thirteen, and Dixie hated to give up that tradition. Still, she understood that they’d both moved on in their lives, were learni
ng new things, becoming attached to new people.
“All right, I’ll have the fruit plate, too,” Dixie said with a sigh. “As long as you promise me you’ll come over for dinner tonight, I’ll forgive you about the banana split. I can’t wait for you to meet Kyle. He’s everything I ever hoped for in a man. Handsome, charming, smart, sexy—”
“Glad about the sexy,” Joy said, rolling her eyes.
Dixie grinned. “You’ll like Kyle, I’m sure you will.” Like a kid with a new toy, she could hardly wait to show him off. Once she’d met Kyle, let Joyanne—Joy—tell Dixie that she needed to meet this Zeb Chance. Dixie was sure he couldn’t hold a candle to Kyle.
Mayzelle bustled in, widening her eyes when she saw Joy standing there, and enfolded her in a big hug. “We’re so proud of you, Joyanne,” she said. “Imagine a Yewville native becoming a big star! Why, next time you come home, I’ll make sure we have a welcoming party. Like a parade with confetti and streamers on Palmetto Street? And you could ride on the back of the mayor’s new convertible?”
Over Mayzelle’s shoulder, Joy winked and grimaced in an expression that Dixie interpreted as “Help me!”
“We’d better hurry over to the Eat Right,” Dixie said hastily, standing and shuffling her papers. “There’s never a booth available once people start showing up for lunch.”
Fluffy, bless her, chose that moment to heave herself to her feet and venture out from under Mayzelle’s desk to beg for a treat, which afforded Dixie and Joy the perfect opportunity to escape. By the time they finished their lunch, which was interrupted by what seemed to be every friend and acquaintance that Joy ever knew before she left to pursue stardom, it was agreed that Joy would bring the salad for dinner and that Dixie would provide turkey breast and everything else. Dixie called Kyle on her cell phone to alert him, leaving a message on the home answering machine that he was sure to pick up when he got back from the hardware store where he’d gone to buy a better rake.
But when she reached home, lugging in the grocery bags by herself and wondering why Kyle wasn’t there, she found a note he’d left on the kitchen table.
Dixie dear—gone for the afternoon, maybe the evening. Possibly longer. I’ll call and explain later. Love, K
Love, K? What was that supposed to mean? Maybe it was nothing more than a convenient way to close the note. Or maybe…maybe? What if he was starting to feel the same way she was feeling about him?
She tried to call Kyle on his cell phone, but he didn’t answer. That wasn’t surprising. Still, she wondered why he hadn’t previously mentioned his mysterious errand. Visions of him wrapped in Andrea’s arms assailed her, imagination providing the details. Andrea would be overflowingly voluptuous, wear long dangling earrings and stiletto heels. She’d stuff herself into sexy see-through underwear and smell of musk. Her voice would be husky and deep.
When Kyle didn’t call by the time she was supposed to put the turkey breast in the oven, Dixie contacted Joy, who was visiting at Bubba’s house.
“Kyle’s not here,” Dixie said flatly even though it pained her to do so.
“You mean, he won’t be back for dinner?” Dismay surfaced in Joy’s tone and also a degree of mystification as if she couldn’t imagine that Kyle could be absent after Dixie’s glowing report.
“Uh, not sure,” Dixie hedged, trying not to show her own disappointment. “His note wasn’t all that specific.”
“Well, at least he left a note.” Joy muffled the receiver, then returned. “Dixie, Bubba says why don’t we have dinner with Katie and him. Katie got the results of her sonogram, and their baby’s a girl. They feel like celebrating with some of Bubba’s home-brewed beer and barbecue.”
“Okay,” Dixie said with a sigh. If Kyle came back in time, he could follow later. “Can I bring something?”
“Katie says if you’ve got one of your fabulous desserts in the freezer, you might tote it along.”
“I have half a caraway-seed cake that I was going to serve Memaw if she brought her friend Dottie over to see my new house this week. Don’t worry, they’ll be just as happy with brownies.”
“Awesome! You’ll have to give me your caraway-seed cake recipe before I leave. Bubba says to get here around six-thirty. Oh, I forgot, I have to drop off Mama’s medicine at the house. How about if I stop by and bring you over here? I’m driving my Chevy, it’ll be like old times.”
“Okay, that sounds good.”
“About six-fifteen?”
“Sure. Pick me up before you drop off the medicine so I can say hey to your mother. I haven’t seen her in a couple of weeks.”
“Right, will do. See you later, Dixie.”
Slowly Dixie replaced the phone in its cradle then picked it up again to dial Kyle’s cell phone. All she got was a prerecorded message delivered by a female with a serious attitude problem. “Your call did not go through. Please try again later.” She wondered what gave phone companies the right to unloose snotty disinterested voices on perfectly innocent people.
Sighing, she went to get the cake out of the freezer. Too bad Kyle wasn’t around to eat it. He loved caraway-seed cake.
Before Joy arrived, Dixie dialed Kyle’s cell number again. This time the call went through, but it rang and rang. Whatever Kyle was doing, she hoped he was enjoying it. She wouldn’t be making another cake for a couple of weeks.
Plus, when she went to check on the new rake that Kyle had said he was going to buy, it wasn’t there. The old one was in pieces on the workbench, the tines broken off.
What could have been so important that Kyle would go off before he brought the new rake home? Must have been something major.
Chapter Six
If someone ever ran a contest for the most irritating and annoying modern invention, the cell phone would win hands down. At least that’s what Kyle fumed after he tried to call Dixie for the fourth time that afternoon and got the message “Service Unavailable.”
He hadn’t expected to be on his way to Camden so late in the day, but a call from Jarvis Wilfield had speared him into action. Kyle’s main motivation for answering Wilfield’s summons was that moving to South Carolina seemed like a better idea every day, and steady work hereabouts would make such a move even more likely.
When Jarvis called, he’d been in an agitated state of mind. “Mac McGehee was rushed to the hospital this morning,” he told Kyle. “He’s had a stroke, and with the Carolina Cup coming up at the end of the month besides.” The Carolina Cup was one of two big steeplechase events of the year.
“What can I do to help?”
“Come over here and help me with Kingpin, one of our horses who is set to compete. He’s thrown a shoe.”
Kyle’d jotted down a few notes about the horse and the location of the stable. “I’ll be there as soon as I can,” he’d assured Wilfield, and now he was heading to Camden, singing along with WYEW and feeling good about his prospects.
If he’d been able to reach Dixie, perhaps she could have ridden along with him. He would have been grateful for the company. He recalled her mentioning that she had an appointment that afternoon, and there wasn’t much he could do about that. He’d taken the time to leave Dixie a hastily written note, which he now realized he should have made more explicit. Perhaps he’d be able to reach her through his cell phone as soon as he came within range of a cell tower.
Kyle slowed his speed as he drove into the Camden city limits. He felt bad about not being able to explain to Dixie, but she’d understand. By this time, they were one hundred percent a couple.
And would be for quite some time if he had his way.
WHEN DIXIE AND JOY arrived at Bubba’s house for dinner, Katie greeted them warmly at the door. She was a taffy-haired dynamo who was proud of her new belly bulge and immediately hustled Joy off to admire clothes for the coming baby. After spotting the sonogram of a fetus posted proudly on the refrigerator door, a precursor of all the snapshots and drawings to come, Dixie declined to “ooh” and “aah” over the layette f
or the time being. Despite her genuine happiness for Bubba and Katie, it rankled that she wasn’t even a wife yet, much less an expectant mother.
Bubba and Katie’s house was small and tidy, built forty years or so ago of redbrick made from native South Carolina clay. It was lovingly furnished with inviting furniture slipcovered in faded cotton prints—“shabby unchic” Katie called it. Dixie always felt comfortable there due to the couple’s matchless hospitality. However, on this visit, Bubba started teasing her big-time while the two of them were hanging out in the kitchen.
“You still keeping company with that Yankee?” Bubba asked, handing Dixie a cold beer. This was the polite Yewville way of asking if she and Kyle continued to live together.
“The Yankee’s name is Kyle,” Dixie informed him loftily. “Seems like you should remember it, since you were one of the first people I called to help him out. Not that you did,” she added pointedly.
Bubba ignored the barb. “Well, my name is Charles,” he said. “Right out of the chute everyone started calling me Bubba, and that’s how I’m known to this day.”
“It’s understandable. Bubba means ‘brother.’ You were somebody’s brother as soon as you were born, seeing as how your parents already had Fred.”
“Why didn’t they call Fred ‘Bubba’?”
“Gosh, Charles, I have no idea. What does this have to do with Kyle?”
“Your boyfriend is referred to around town as ‘the Yankee’ on account of everyone has heard about what he was wearing when you found him. The poor guy might be stuck with that nickname for the rest of his life.”
“I doubt that would bother him,” Dixie said. She took a long swig of beer and changed the subject. “Awesome beer, Bubba.”
“Milo says it’s better than he can make.”
“Oh, so you’re hanging out with Milo?”
“We’ve been friends almost as long as you and I have,” Bubba reminded her. He paused, shot her an inquisitive grin. “Why don’t the two of you get back together?”
Down Home Dixie Page 9
