by Sharon Sala
Completely ignoring the fact that she hadn’t driven in over fifteen years, Rosemary considered the suggestion and finally agreed. “I suppose that you’re right, dear.”
To Amelia’s relief, she slipped into the back seat and began fussing with her clothing as if they were going for a long drive instead of three blocks down and one block over.
As they wheeled into the parking lot, the organ music swelled magnificently, spilling through the open doorway and out into the street. Effie Dettenberg was in fine form.
Effie might be the unofficial town gossip, but she was the official church organist, and she especially loved to play the old hymns like the one she was playing today. “Lily Of The Valley” was a foot-stomping, soul-rousing song from the days when church was held beneath a brush arbor and the preacher nothing more than a self-ordained, reformed rake just passing through.
Amelia struggled to help both aunts up the church steps. With a firm hand beneath each bony elbow, she guided them toward the door. Their goal was just in sight when Rosemary turned on a dime as if she were eight instead of eighty and started back down the steps.
“I forgot my Bible,” she said. “I won’t be a minute.”
“Oh Lord,” Amelia gasped, as she caught her by the arm in time to prevent a tumble. “Wait, Aunt Rosie. Let me get it.”
Wilhemina gasped and cast a wary eye around, certain that they’d been overheard and their reputation would be in shreds. “Amelia! It’s Sunday. Do not take the Lord’s name in vain.”
Amelia smiled an apology, halted her other aunt’s precarious flight, and ran face-first into an all-too-familiar wall of muscle and musk cologne. Strong hands caught her and kept her from falling as she mumbled an unintelligible thank-you while trying not to panic.
Oh no! It’s Tyler. He’s come to church!
Tyler smiled to himself as he watched matching flags of red sweep across the woman’s cheeks. The Beauchamp niece was a strange lady and that was a fact.
“Well good morning, Tyler Dean!” Rosemary cried, and slipped her hand beneath his arm. “I can’t remember when I’ve seen you to speak. How are your momma and daddy doing down in Florida? I’ve half a mind to go down there myself. Can’t stand these winters like I used to.”
Tyler’s answer was lost to her as Amelia ducked her head and flew down the steps. Heart thumping in panicked rhythm, she blindly made her way to the Chrysler to retrieve Aunt Rosie’s Bible.
Grabbing the woman who barreled into his chest had been reflex, but it was curiosity that made him turn to watch her hasty flight down the steep church steps.
Crisp, white pleats nearly hid the fact that she had exceedingly long legs. And the loose blouse absently tucked into the tiny waistband almost disguised a very voluptuous figure. He wondered why he’d never noticed that about the Beauchamp niece before.
Her ascent back up the stairs was not nearly as swift as the one going down. And it had nothing to do with the fact that she was winded. It had to do with the fact that Tyler Dean Savage stood at the top of the stairs between her aunts, watching her with those clear blue eyes, missing nothing of what she was doing.
“Ms. Beauchamp,” he said cordially, smiling to himself at the way Amelia ducked her head when she passed. He wondered why she rolled her hair into that tight wad on top of her head and then wondered why he cared.
“Mr. Savage,” Amelia answered. Luckily for her, Aunt Witty was even more anxious to get inside than she.
Wilhemina didn’t want to be seen conversing with the town rake. After all, they had their reputation to consider. She led the way into the sanctuary with the others following along behind like a flock of nervous, long-necked goslings.
Amelia slipped into the pew and breathed a quiet sigh of relief, thankful that she’d escaped detection.
But it didn’t take long to discover that Tyler Savage was taking more time than he needed to look her way. Several times during the service she caught him watching her with those sharp blue eyes. Once, she even saw his eyes widen and his nostrils flare as if something shocking just occurred to him. She held her breath, closed her eyes and prayed as she’d never prayed in her life. When she looked back up, he’d turned away, seemingly unaware of her existence.
“Thank you, Lord,” she whispered, and sank back down onto the pew when the congregation had finished the song.
“That’s nice,” Rosemary whispered, patting Amelia’s knee.
“What’s nice, Aunt Rosie?” she asked.
“You thanking the Lord and all.” The smile on Rosemary’s face disappeared as Wilhemina gave her a sharp jab in the ribs.
“Ouch,” she muttered, and glared indignantly at her sister.
“Sssh!” Wilhemina hissed.
They quickly obeyed, forgetting for the moment about savages of any nature.
But from where Tyler was sitting, he had a better than average view of the Beauchamp niece and he was puzzled about the compulsion he felt to keep looking her way. There was something familiar about…!
Sweet Lord! She reminds me of Amber!
Sweat broke out on the back of his neck as he closed his eyes and took slow calming breaths. Church was no place to think about that woman. Now he was going crazy for sure. How he could think that old-maid niece looked like his Amber was beyond him. They couldn’t be more diametrically opposed than the South had been to the North during The War.
Only once more did he glance back at the Beauchamp pew, and as he did, again had the strangest sensation of déjà vu. He shook it off, picked up the songbook, and sang along with Miss Effie’s rendition of “Near The Cross,” unaware that he was nearer to his heaven than he could have imagined.
On the other side of the church, Amelia had come face-to-face with the fact that keeping Tyler Savage in her life might be impossible.
Ever since the near disaster at church, Amelia had been in a horrible mood. The aunts were well aware of it but had no idea what had spawned her dissatisfaction. Aunt Rosie had plied her with all sorts of favorite treats and Aunt Witty had worried enough to even venture an occasional extra smile. Try as she might, it hadn’t been enough to help. Amelia had cried for two nights running. She had a headache that wouldn’t quit and knew if she didn’t get herself together and make a decision concerning her second life, she knew for a fact that she was going to lose her mind…just like she was losing Tyler.
“Are you through with the grocery list?” Amelia asked.
Wilhemina nodded as she handed her niece the list and a handful of coupons, then patted her awkwardly on the arm.
“It’s all we need, but if you see something special that you want, you may get it. Maybe some chocolate fudge ripple ice cream or some marshmallow puff cookies. You know how you used to like those cookies.”
Conscience pricked. Amelia knew the aunts sensed her distress. As the days passed, they’d become increasingly upset along with her and because of that, she felt guilty for causing them pain. With a sigh, she wrapped her aunt into a warm, enveloping hug and kissed her weathered cheek.
“Oh, Aunt Witty, I do love you,” she said. “And I’m fine. I don’t need any fudge ripple…or those marshmallow cookies. I just need a hug.”
Wilhemina returned the hug, along with a guilty look. “I know we’re not always as demonstrative as you might like, but…”
“Hush, now,” Amelia argued. “You’re just right. I don’t want you or Aunt Rosie to change a hair on your heads. You hear?”
Embarrassed at the unusual show of affection, Wilhemina mumbled. “Well then, you don’t need to rush. I won’t need the groceries before tonight’s meal.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Amelia said. “See you later.”
She left the house with a lighter heart and a determination not to brood any longer. It was obvious that her bad mood had caused her aunts undue worry. Whatever was wrong in her life was no one’s fault but her own. There was no need making everyone miserable for what she’d done.
Tyler slammed the door to his pic
kup truck and then sat with his hands on the steering wheel, staring blindly out across his fields. He hated to even think it, because it might jinx the luck, but it looked as if he was going to have a bumper crop this year. Everything was going smoothly. Even the predicted price per ton for the peanuts beneath those acres and acres of leafy green plants seemed fair.
But it was too much to hope for that his life would be running as smoothly as his farm operation. Amber filled his every waking moment, and too much of his sleeping ones. Yet try as he might, he could come to no solution that would ease his mind and her workload. And the fact that she kept her home life such a secret also weighed heavily. He trusted her. At least he sure as hell wanted to trust her. She’d sworn that she had no other man in her life. He had to believe it, and her.
“Get a grip,” he reminded himself. Checking his pocket for the list of groceries he needed to purchase, he headed for town.
Effie Dettenberg was studying the labels on similar packages of cookies. One claimed to be low-fat, the other, light. In her opinion, neither company was telling the whole truth.
“In my day, we didn’t need to worry about fat and cholesterol,” she told no one in particular as she shoved both packages back on the shelf. “I’ll just go home and make a batch of homemade cookies. No need messing with all this. At least if I make them myself, I’ll know what’s in them.”
Effie was so used to telling Maurice her troubles, that she thought nothing of talking to shelves of cookies. It didn’t bother her that the cookies didn’t answer back. Maurice didn’t, either.
And then her eyes narrowed as she spied a familiar figure at the end of her aisle. If she wasn’t mistaken, she’d just seen that Amelia Beauchamp. Only this time, she wasn’t barefoot or wearing a tight red dress with her hair hanging wantonly around her face.
With a determined smirk, she skewed her shopping cart across the aisle at an angle to mark her spot. She wasn’t through shopping down this aisle, and didn’t want anyone else getting her place until she was finished with Amelia.
Amelia was studying her list, trying to decide if the cryptic message at the bottom was something Aunt Rosie had wanted her to buy, or if she was simply jotting down the note as a reminder. Aunt Rosie was big on leaving herself notes she never read.
It read, prune, not orange.
To be on the safe side, Amelia decided she’d buy some prune juice, and some orange juice.
Effie bustled down the aisle and put herself between Amelia and the jugs of juice.
“Hello, Amelia.”
Amelia muffled a sigh. “Miss Effie.”
Effie was never one to waste time on small talk. If one had believed in reincarnation, it could have been said that Effie Dettenberg had been an assassin in another life because she went straight for the jugular every time.
“Amelia, I know this is none of my business…”
Amelia rolled her eyes. What ever was?
“But I would have sworn I saw you going up the alley the other night. I feel obligated to tell you that it’s not safe for young women to be…”
All the blood in her body felt as if it had dropped to her feet. Every fear she’d been living with since she’d embarked on this deception just came to life. And of all people to have seen her.
Her voice was calm, but her heart was crashing against her chest like a wild bird trapped in a cage. “Ummm, are you sure it was me?”
Effie frowned. The twit was going to deny it. “Well, as sure as I can be, although the Williams’ magnolia trees got in the way before I could see exactly whose car you got into. I would have sworn it belonged to that Stringer woman. You know the one….”
Oh Lord, I’m dead! The Williams’ magnolia trees? If she saw me get into Raelene’s car then that means she must have been watching me with binoculars from her upstairs window!
“I can’t imagine what made you think it was me,” Amelia said shortly.
Possibly because I saw you come right out of your house, Effie thought, but didn’t say it aloud.
Amelia looked down at her list, pretending to busy herself with her shopping, then muttered. “It’s been so nice to see you, Miss Effie. But I simply must finish this shopping. Aunt Witty’s waiting.”
She darted off down another aisle, pushing her cart swiftly in front of her, leaving Effie openmouthed and glaring.
“Well!” Effie huffed. “I know when I’ve been lied to.”
She made a beeline for her cart as she mulled over the fact that Tulip’s librarian was less than honest. She grabbed the shopping basket and two packages of cookies, ignoring the labeling as well as the fact that she’d planned to bake, and headed for the checkout line. She had things to do and people to see.
Amelia made it through the checkout line without coming unglued. But she could feel Miss Effie’s gaze boring into the back of her neck as she paid for her purchases. Without looking behind her, she grabbed her sack and made a run for the door.
A vague impression of an immovable object flashed across her vision, but she was too late to react as she barrelled out of the market and straight into a man just entering.
Everything squashed between them. Her body…his chest…and the groceries she’d just purchased. And then everything started to fall, including her glasses and his cap. She grabbed at her sack, watching in dismay as her horn-rimmed glasses fell on top of the eggs. Instead of groceries, she got her finger caught in his belt buckle.
“Damn,” she mumbled, and made a dive for what was left of the sack, imagining what spilled juice would do to his boots, not to mention the skirt of her best gray dress.
Tyler saw her coming, but identification was unnecessary. Of the utmost importance was moving aside. The woman seemed bent on self-inflicted suicide at his expense and he had no intention of being the brick wall that did her in.
“Look out,” he cried, and grabbed for the automatic door that was in the act of closing, anxious that she not step backward and get caught.
His hand caught in her hair as she reached for the sack sliding down his knees. The more he tried to get her loose, the more entangled he became. Before he knew it, she’d grabbed the sack and his legs at the bend of his knees. Disgusted and more than a little embarrassed, he looked down and then forgot what he’d been about to say.
Her hair! It was magnificent…and so familiar. Sunlight caught in the long, rich cascade of chestnut curls falling about her shoulders. He took a deep breath and started to kneel, intent on digging his fingers into the warm, brown heat when she looked up.
He froze in his tracks. Those eyes! He’d seen the same bewitching shade of blue-green before. One night on a riverboat…and in his dreams…and at The Old South. Only a woman named Amber had been wearing them.
Amelia came to her senses enough to look up and then panicked. Oh my God! Tyler!
Horrified, she ducked her head and began fumbling wildly through the groceries for her glasses. When she found them, she slid them up her nose in a fit of panic. With shaking hands, she grabbed at the hair falling loose around her face and wound it up into a knot without saying a word. An inarticulate thanks was all she could manage as he retrieved her hairpins from the ground and silently handed them to her.
While Tyler watched openmouthed, Amelia began stuffing the unbroken contents of what was left of her groceries back into the sack.
She all but ran to her car. When the engine started, she peeled out of the store parking lot in a cloud of blue smoke. As she wheeled down the street, it crossed her mind that she’d possibly underestimated the Chrysler. She hadn’t known there was any “peeling” left in the old crate. All she could think about was getting away from Tyler and getting home to her aunts, and safety.
Tyler stared, dumbfounded by the Beauchamp niece and her actions. Blood rushed to his head and then down to his feet. He didn’t know whether to sit down or run after her. He watched Effie Dettenberg come bustling out of the grocery store and then give him a wide berth as she headed down the street.
“I’d tell myself I’m dreaming,” he muttered, “but Miss Effie’s never been in my dreams. Only a woman called Amber.”
As he said her name aloud, he turned and stared again at the receding taillights of an old blue Chrysler, then shoved his hands into his pockets and made a small U-turn on his boot heels before he looked down the street again. A tiny smile appeared, lighting the blue of his eyes into a transparent burst of joy. It spread down across his face and sat on his lips as if it belonged.
“Well I’ll be damned to hell and back. I think I just found you, sweetheart. I don’t know what you’re playing at, but I do believe the game is over.”
He couldn’t imagine what that minx of a woman was up to, but intrigued didn’t begin to describe what he was feeling. A grin slipped right past his shock, and moments later, he began to laugh. If he wasn’t crazy, and there was some talk of it because he did stay out in the sun too long, he’d gone and fallen in love with that old-maid niece of the Beauchamp sisters. Only the woman he’d fallen in love with was no staid, stuffy librarian. She was all fire and laughter, and sweet as sin.
Miss Effie was halfway down the block when Tyler started to laugh, but she heard it as surely as if the devilish man himself was right behind her. Her stride lengthened and her pace increased as she turned the corner, heading for home.
“What’s this world coming to?” she muttered. “A woman’s not safe anymore. Don’t know who to trust. No sireee. You can’t trust a soul these days.”
When she turned the last corner toward home, she saw Maurice sitting at the edge of a thicket and licking his whiskers. She swooped him off of his feet and then gasped.
“Mouse breath! Maurice, you animal! You know what those creatures do to your indigestion.”
With a groan of dismay, she clutched him fast between the sack of groceries and her flabby chest, scolding him as she went. This time, poor Maurice didn’t have anyone to run interference for him. He caught hell for his indiscretions, a librarian’s lie and a wild man’s reputation.
