Coot frowned. “It’s clear somebody admires you and wanted to give you a gift, an anonymous one. Why spoil the guy’s fun?”
She paused. He did have a point. Even the Bible talked about giving gifts in secret, lest the benefactor receive recognition and think too highly of himself. When she looked at Will to see if he would add to Coot’s advice, all she saw was a slight shrug of the shoulders. The oaf! She ought to invite herself along on his little fishing excursion just to spite him. She could wade in the river, make a racket, and scare off all the fish.
***
For a host of reasons he couldn’t sort out, the dress and its mystery sender put Will in a sour mood. He’d seen that poorly penned note and known without a doubt that it hadn’t come from any woman. Besides, it’d had a few smudge marks on it, and he’d detected the faintest odor of nicotine. That some man assumed she’d finished mourning her husband and thought she might be ready to start dating again pulled at his innards. She wasn’t ready. She’d proved that to him some weeks ago, when he’d planted that kiss on her soft lips and, in return, heard her husband’s name whispered in his ear. He was half tempted to post a sign in the window that read, “Olivia Beckman is still mourning her late husband and is not available for dating. Please cease with the anonymous gifts!”
It was plain absurd to be jealous. He didn’t have any claim on her just because he’d kissed her, which had been a dumb move on his part, anyway. She could do as she pleased, for Pete’s sake! Still, he knew that if and when she wore that dress, the question of who had sent it would nag him to no end.
At two thirty, alone in the restaurant after cleaning up from breakfast and lunch, he starting preparing for supper. When everything was ready, he headed to the back door to retrieve the tackle box and fishing pole Livvie had lent him some weeks ago. “It was Frank’s, but he would want someone to use it,” she’d said. He’d planned to invite the boys along, but Sally had taken them to her house after they’d spent the morning at the public library. Livvie usually minded them in the afternoon hours when the restaurant was closed, but today was an exception. Sally sure had developed a love for those boys, and it appeared that the feelings were mutual.
Will pushed open the screen door, then pulled the other door shut to close up the place. And that’s when he noticed a second fishing pole, propped next to his against the building. He glanced around and discovered Livvie, leaning against the tree in the alley, dressed in a low-waisted, sleeveless yellow dress that looked like it’d seen better days. On her feet were toeless shoes, and a wide-brimmed, khaki-colored hat completed the outfit. Her hair hung in a long ponytail across one shoulder. If he’d ever seen a more fetching sight, he couldn’t recall when, and his gut did a complete somersault. “Livvie!” Lord, have mercy on my thumping heart. “What are you doing out here?”
“Waiting for you.” She unhurriedly stepped away from the tree and sauntered in his direction. Her skirt flared in the warm breeze, revealing those shapely calves behind her slender shins.
“Oh?”
“You said you were going fishing, and I thought I’d join you.”
“I heard you tell Coot you don’t fish.”
“I don’t.”
He scratched his head and felt a grin tickle the corners of his mouth. “All right, then. Come on.” He picked up both fishing poles and handed one to her, then hefted the tackle box and metal pail. “Hope my worms didn’t shrivel up in this heat.”
“Worms? Don’t you use those shiny wooden lures? There are a bunch of them in that tackle box. Frank always—”
“I’m sure he did, but I prefer live bait. That’s why I went looking for night crawlers at four this morning.”
“What?”
“You heard me.” He set off at a fast pace, and she matched it, her breath coming in huffs.
“You do that often? Get up to hunt for night crawlers?”
“If I plan to fish that day, sure. You and the boys can come look with me sometime, if you like.”
“At four o’clock? No, thank you. Do we have to walk so fast?”
“Yep.”
When they reached the river, he spotted a few fishermen upstream wearing waders. Afternoon was not the best time for fishing, particularly when the water moved at a good clip, but, with a little “divine luck,” as he liked to call it, he might catch a few bluegills and maybe even a bass. He wouldn’t mind a catfish, either. Some folks weren’t wild about the flavor, but, in his opinion, fried up with the right batter, catfish made a tasty bedtime snack, even if he’d have to air out the odor from his small apartment.
He was still trying to get used to the fact that Livvie had decided to tag along with him. Surprisingly, she had talked a blue streak the entire way to the river. Granted, it hadn’t been a long walk, but he began to wonder if she’d chattered the entire time on purpose. If she had, and if she kept it up, he’d be hard put to catch anything, and that didn’t bode well for his hankering for some good, fried fish.
“I think the Family Feasts have been a great success so far. I saw Sandy Flood at the bank yesterday, and she told me she’d never tasted such excellent meat loaf as you made last Thursday. Oh, and when I ran into the Stingers at the market the other day, Paul said Joyce would never have to cook another Tuesday or Thursday night, as far as he was concerned. Isn’t that wonderful? The money keeps pouring in, and I’m sure we’ll exceed our budget by a fair piece this month.”
“That’s great, Livvie. Exactly what we were aiming for. Now, what you do is, take the excess and apply it to your mortgage and other outstanding loans.”
“Oh, I will, I will. At this rate, I’ll have those bills paid lightning quick.”
He moseyed over to his favorite fishing spot, where he’d managed to catch a few bluegills and some small bass on other occasions. Propping his pole against a stump, he crouched down to open the tackle box and take out the canning jar he’d filled with moist soil and several fat night crawlers.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Livvie rest her pole next to his, kick off her summer shoes, throw her hat down beside them, and wander down to the water’s edge. He had a hard time concentrating on that dumb jar of worms once she put her back to him and dipped her toes into the water, then quickly jumped back with a shriek.
“The river’s freezing! I thought it’d be warmer.” Slowly, she dipped her foot in again and proceeded to inch her way further into the water, picking up her skirt as she eased along.
Grinning, he started threading the sticky worm onto the hook at the end of the line, still distracted by the beguiling sight just a few yards away. “Watch where you step, Liv. The rocks can get pretty slippery.”
No sooner had the words left his mouth than down she went with a splat, landing on her backside.
He threw down the fishhook, leaped to his feet, and ran to her, crouching at her side and helping her to a sitting position. “You all right?” he asked, putting an arm around her shoulder for support. “Did you hurt yourself? Man, you went down hard.”
He expected her to shed a tear or wince, at least, from humiliation, if not from pain. Instead, she started to giggle, and her dimples appeared like two deep canyons. “Oh, gracious, look at me!” There she sat, sprawled in the water, her legs spread in a V and her skirt floating up around her knees, as her bare feet wiggled in the water. Her ponytail was entirely drenched and hung down her back like a long, drippy dishcloth. She continued to giggle, and the sound, which had begun as a gentle ripple, soon crescendoed into a loud, infectious wave. Soon, she was holding her stomach, as if to keep it from bursting wide open.
At first, he didn’t know what to make of her—he’d never seen her engaged in such riotous laughter—and his mouth twitched at the corners, wanting to smile. He shook his head in disbelief and couldn’t decide whether to laugh himself or settle her down. Either she’d knocked something loose in her noggin and gone a bit zany in the head, or she truly found humor in her predicament. “Are you…all right?” he asked onc
e more.
“You goof.” She pushed him smack in the center of the chest with both hands and knocked him off balance, so that he fell backward onto the riverbank. Next, she proceeded to scoop up two handfuls of water and splash his face and shirtfront.
“Hey! W-what’d you do that for?” he sputtered.
More giggles tumbled uncontrollably out of her, and he broke into a smile, which soon turned to full-out laughter. Righting himself, he leaned forward and dipped his hand into the water, giving her a dose of her own medicine as he splashed her face. She gasped, eyes and mouth as round as marbles, and then returned the act.
Soon, they were both splashing each other like a pair of giddy ducklings, until he managed to snag her by both hands and hold her firmly, despite her squirming. “Enough, you rascal,” he laughed. Cold water dripped off the tips of his nose and chin, and his soggy hair hung in front of his face, partially blocking his vision. He dared not let go of her hands to brush it away, though, lest she start up her shenanigans again.
“All right, now, young lady. Answer me honestly. Can you stand up?”
“Of course I can, silly. The only thing I hurt was my pride.”
“It doesn’t seem to be suffering all that much,” he said with a grin. “Come on, then. Up with you.” He tugged gently on her arms and brought her to her feet. She, of course, was soaked from the top of her head to her bare toes, and he tried to resist feasting his eyes on the places where her dress clung to her body. Dropping his hands to his sides, he gazed down at her face, amazed she still wore a smile.
“I haven’t laughed that hard since…since…I don’t know when!” she confessed, clutching her chest.
A chuckle rumbled out of him. “I think it’s safe to say we’d better hang up this whole fishing idea, don’t you?”
“What do you mean? I’m off to a good start, don’t you think?”
He couldn’t stop his mouth from gaping and his eyebrows from arching. “Sure, if you call falling on your fanny a good start.” He swept the wet hair out of his eyes.
“Well, you have to admit, it was funny.”
The urge to touch her wet cheek nearly overtook him. “I do. And I’m glad you gave me permission to laugh.”
“Did I do that?”
“Well, maybe not in so many words, but when you started splashing me, I figured that gave me the right. By the way, I don’t think I deserved that kind of treatment. I’m about as wet as you now.”
“You were taking the whole thing too seriously, Mr. Taylor.”
Now he did touch the tip of her damp nose. “Only because I thought you might have hurt yourself, Mrs. Beckman.”
She stood slightly uphill from him, which brought their faces dangerously close—close enough to kiss. But he didn’t dare do that. Instead, he took a small step back and glanced behind him at his fishing pole, still lying on the ground, a night crawler dangling from the hook. “Do you want to at least go back to your apartment and change out of those wet clothes?” he asked.
“Why? It’s hot today. Look over there.” She pointed upriver. “Some folks are even swimming.” Sure enough, a family of five was wading and splashing around near a sandbar. “We’ll both dry if we stay in the sun.”
He couldn’t help but give her face a thorough assessment. If there were any flaws, he couldn’t find them. Matter of fact, he couldn’t name one woman he’d met whose looks matched hers. “If you’re sure, then.”
She put her hands on her hips and straightened her posture. “I’m stubbornly certain.”
“You’re stubborn, all right.” He turned and walked back to where he’d left his fishing gear. “All right, then. Let’s start with how to bait a hook.”
“Wait. I don’t want to actually touch anything but the fishing pole.”
“How do you expect to learn the sport if you won’t bait a hook?”
“I just want to hold the pole,” she stated again, stepping up beside him. All traces of her smile had vanished.
He scratched the back of his neck. “All right, madam. I’ll bait your hook, but you have to watch me do it.”
“I might just do that.” She crouched down beside him, and her hips brushed his side.
If she only knew what she did to him!
***
The two of them had been at this fishing business for almost two hours, and they’d talked almost nonstop, covering so many topics, she’d lost track of them all. The latest subject was the Saturday night dances and how Margie would be scandalized if she found out that her little sister had gone up there. “She thinks it’s a place where sinners gather,” Livvie told Will.
“Could be that it is,” he replied. “But Jesus spent a lot of time mingling with sinners. How can we expect to reach people for Christ if we never rub shoulders with them? Wherever I go, I try to let my light shine, whether it’s up on that stage playing my harmonica or just talking to people. I guess prison life kind of taught me how to do that. Now, if you want to see a den of iniquity, visit the state pen!”
He made a good point. Maybe she’d raise it with Margie—if she ever mustered the courage.
She had laid down her pole long ago, deciding she didn’t need to fish in order to enjoy the warmth of the sun’s rays while she sat on a stump by the water’s edge. Besides, Will had caught five fish to her one, and what was the fun in that? Fishing required too much patience, something she didn’t have in large reserve.
“Have you seen that Clem character since the night he and his friends paid you a visit?” Livvie decided to ask.
Will shook his head. “Not so much as a sign of him. I’m pretty sure they all went on their way.”
“That’s a relief. You must have done a good job convincing them of the truth.”
“I’m praying that’s the case. Don’t want to see any of their faces ever again, unless it’s a snapshot in some newspaper when they’re sentenced to prison.”
“Do you think they’re still committing crimes?”
“Oh, no doubt—small ones, most likely.”
“And they’ve never been caught?”
He shook his head and reeled in his line, then cast it in another direction. “It’s just dumb luck that they haven’t.”
“The Lord has truly changed you, hasn’t He?”
“He’s working on me, I’ll say that.” He gave her a sideways glance. “Seems to me He’s working on you, as well.”
“I think you’re right. Attending church again has helped a lot. The sermons always speak to me.”
“Funny, I thought they were meant for me.”
She smiled. “Thanks for inviting the boys and me. We needed to get back to church, and Alex and Nate really like their Sunday school teachers.”
“And Mr. Constant does a fine job of teaching the adult class, don’t you think?”
“Yes, he raises interesting questions for us to discuss,” she agreed. Even this afternoon, she’d spent time mulling over their recent study of the book of Acts, specifically, the many miracles wrought by God and the formation of the early church. “At our last class, someone raised the question of whether God still performs miracles today. I didn’t have anything to contribute to the discussion, but I’ve been thinking a lot about it.”
He took his eyes off the floating bobber several yards out and looked at her. “And what were you thinking, Livvie?”
She folded her hands in her lap. “That He’s working a miracle in me right now.”
He nodded several times and grinned. “I like that.”
They sat in silence for a few moments, until she picked up a good-sized stone and threw it in the water. As planned, it landed close to his bobber.
“Hey! Watch it, young lady,” he admonished her with a mock glare. “You’re scaring away my fish.”
She crossed her bare feet at the ankles and smoothed out her skirt, which was finally dry, albeit wrinkled. Her cheeks stung with sunburn, and she regretted not having worn her hat for most of their earlier outing. “I’ll confess,
I tagged along with you today intending to make a pest of myself. Did I do a good job?”
The sound of his laughter was warm, rich, and deep. “I’d say you more than succeeded.” When he turned and looked at her, she didn’t miss the twinkle in his eye.
Chapter Nineteen
“The Lord is merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and plenteous in mercy.”—Psalm 103:8
With the aid of his stolen binoculars, Clem had watched Will and Livvie all afternoon from behind an abandoned railroad car, and he’d quickly grown weary of their constant blather and intermittent laughter. Unfortunately, he couldn’t make out a word they said, but he sure did see their mouths going at it. That they got on so well irked him to no end. Taylor didn’t deserve the attentions of that kind of woman. She was much too refined for him. Did she even know that the stupid fool had spent ten years behind bars? Maybe Clem needed to send her another anonymous note to inform her about Taylor’s past. And another thing: Why in the world wasn’t she wearing her new dress? He’d thought she would’ve put it on the first chance she got. Instead, she wore that tattered yellow thing. Surely, she appreciated her gift. Man, what he wouldn’t have given to watch her open it!
Around four o’clock, they started to gather their belongings and make ready to leave their fishing site, from the looks of it. Clem focused the binocular lenses and watched Will fetch Livvie’s fishing pole from the ground. As he handed it off, Clem thought he detected some significance in the way he looked at her. Did Taylor honestly think he stood a chance?
Disgust curdled at the bottom of his gut. If anyone could make her truly happy, he could. He had the know-how to make a lot of money; he just needed to pull off one good heist—maybe right here in Wabash, where he had his choice of banks—and he’d be sitting pretty. He’d never robbed a bank by himself before, but he had enough confidence in his abilities to know it could be done.
He scratched the deep scab on his left cheek and thought about his loser of a wife, wondering if he oughtn’t contact her to let her know he’d send her the money for a divorce. When he’d first laid eyes on Olivia Beckman, he’d known he’d found the woman of his dreams at long last, and he couldn’t get out of his marriage to Flo fast enough.
Livvie's Song Page 21
