Delta Belles

by Penelope J. Stokes

  TEN

  THE PROMISE OF THE GINKGO TREE

  Senior year

  FEBRUARY 1969

  In the empty parking lot behind the maintenance building, Lacy sat in the back seat of a 1964 Chevy Corvair convertible making out with Trip Jenkins. The top was up, but a weak spot in the roof dripped rain onto her neck, and her shoulder blade pressed painfully into the edge of the seat.

  She struggled to a more comfortable position and pulled away slightly. The windows were fogging up. A raindrop slithered down her spine, causing her to shiver.

  “What’s wrong?” Trip asked. He shifted his long legs, but there wasn’t enough room, and his knees knocked hard into the back of the driver’s seat. “Ow.” He grinned and raked a hand through his already disheveled hair. “Not the best venue for getting hot and heavy, I guess.”

  “It’s all right. I have to go soon anyway.” Lacy peered at her watch. “Dinners in fifteen minutes.”

  Trip heaved himself up a little and retucked his shirt while Lacy regarded him. The ginkgo tree had taken its own sweet time, but it had finally come through. This was the love of her life, the man of her dreams. She was certain of it, even though they’d only been dating for six weeks.

  He was a senior at State, twenty-five miles due west of the W. Drop-dead gorgeous and smart to boot. A pre-law student who bore a striking resemblance to Richard Chamberlain, with his lean muscled body, ash blond hair, and boyish smile.

  And except for a fluke, a twist of fate or magic or miracle, Lacy never would have met him.

  “LACY, YOU’VE got to go,” Lauren said. “I’ve borrowed Delta’s car, but she wouldn’t let me take it unless I promised you’d come too, in case I had a little too much to drink. Steve’s expecting me. We haven’t seen each other since last year.”

  “Last year was two weeks ago,” Lacy said.

  “A technicality.” Lauren let out an exaggerated sigh. “We went out on December 18, and then he went to his parents’ for Christmas and we went home to Hillsborough and I haven’t seen him since.”

  “You talk on the phone every damn day.”

  “It’s not the same, and you know it.” Lauren hesitated. “Well, maybe you don’t know it, but—”

  Thus, with much wheedling and begging, Lauren dragged an unwilling Lacy over to State to attend a fraternity New Year’s party where she was meeting her current boyfriend, Steve Tread-well. The moment they crossed the threshold into the frat house Lauren predictably disappeared, leaving Lacy to fend for herself.

  The noise in the house was deafening. From some unseen stereo, the Beatles were belting out “Back in the USSR.” Couples were dancing, spilling beer, making out; the crowd was so dense you could barely walk across a room without getting caught up in the surge of bodies. Lacy accepted a beer in a plastic cup from a guy in a maroon football jersey and found an overstuffed armchair in a corner. For twenty minutes she sat there, watching the action and feeling desperately out of place and furious at her twin. She was just about to go track down Lauren, get Delta’s keys, and leave her sister to find her own way home when someone sidled up to her and perched on the arm of her chair.

  “Hey,” he said. “I’m Trip Jenkins, and I’d like to know how such an adorable girl can look so thoroughly miserable.” He took her hand, led her to a quiet room off the back of the frat house, and shut the door. It was a library of sorts, with books lining the walls, comfortable sofas and chairs, and gas logs burning in the fireplace.

  Trip was the perfect gentleman. For the next three hours, while his frat brothers were groping their dates in various dark alcoves of the house, the two of them talked, ate junk food, and drank about a gallon of Coke.

  Trip, amazingly enough, was not involved with anyone else, nor was he a sociopath or a mama’s boy. He had, as it turned out, been dating a girl who had graduated early and gone on to Harvard Law, but they had broken up three months before.

  “The long-distance thing was just too difficult,” he admitted. “I’ve been accepted to Ole Miss, Duke, and Emory, so whatever law school I end up at, we’d still be separated. We finally realized that it wasn’t going to work. It was a mutual decision.” He grinned sheepishly. “Besides, I’m not so sure it’s a good idea to have two lawyers in the house. Makes for a lot of arguments.”

  “Well then, I’d better leave now,” Lacy said. “I’m in prelaw too.”

  He flushed a bright pink. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

  “Just kidding. I’m actually a secondary ed major. History and social science. I just started my practice teaching.” She winked at him and he grinned back.

  Lacy had dated a number of boys during her years at the W—mostly guys Lauren lined up for her, double dates, a lot of first dates that didn’t go anywhere. But always, when Lauren was around, Lacy felt like an also-ran, a second choice. When the two of them double dated, she could see her own date’s eyes drifting toward Lauren, who perpetually held the center of attention. Finally Lacy quit going out with Lauren and her boyfriends altogether, and turned her concentration to her studies.

  And now here she was, in a frat house of all places, having a wonderful conversation with a man who didn’t even know her twin sister existed.

  “Listen,” he said finally, “it’s after midnight, and I really don’t want to end this, but I have a study group early tomorrow morning.”

  “On Saturday?”

  “Yeah.” He shrugged. “Can we go out sometime—on a real date, I mean?”

  “Of course,” Lacy said immediately, then cursed herself as he looked away. Now she had done it. She had sounded too eager, and guys hated that.

  He chewed on his lower lip for a minute, then gazed directly into her eyes. “I don’t want to sound too eager or anything, but I also don’t want to play games. I like you, Lacy—a lot. I want to see you again. So just tell me and put me out of my misery, okay? How long do I need to wait before I call you?”

  “Have you got a pen?”

  “Let me look.” He dug in his pocket and came up with one.

  “Give me your hand.”

  He extended his left hand, and she wrote the dorm telephone number across his palm. “Call me before you wash this off,” she said. “If you wait more than two days, I’ll know your personal hygiene isn’t up to par, and we’ll be history before we ever get started.”

  He put an arm around her and walked her into the living room, where the party was beginning to wind down. “Do you need me to take you home?”

  “No, I came with—” She paused. “I’ve got a ride. Let’s just say good night here, all right?”

  He leaned down and kissed her—a kiss much more chaste than Lacy would have liked, but very gentle and sweet. “Tomorrow. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

  “WHERE’D YOU GO?” Trip said, running a finger lightly across the nape of her neck.

  “Oh, sorry.” Lacy smiled. “I was just thinking about the first time we met.”

  “That horrible fraternity party.” Trip grimaced. “To tell you the truth, I can’t stand living in the frat house. If it weren’t for my dad, I’d never have pledged at all.”

  “The party was pretty awful,” she agreed. “But it turned out just fine for me.”

  “For both of us.” He leaned forward. “Anything you regret about that night?”

  “Well, maybe one thing.”

  Trip’s eyebrows arched up into his hairline. “What’s that?”

  “The kiss.”

  “I shouldn’t have kissed you?”

  “No.” She chuckled. “It was the way you kissed me. So … restrained.”

  “I was trying to be considerate. We’d only just met.”

  “Yes, but I was already crazy about you. I wanted you to kiss me and never stop. I went home worried that you might not be any good at it, and kissing is very important to me.”

  He gathered her into his arms and kissed her again. Rain drummed on the cloth roof of the Corvair in time with the pounding in her veins.
r />   “I guess we’ve got that kissing thing taken care of,” he whispered.

  “I guess.”

  “So,” he said, leaning closer, “when do you think we might—” He paused. “You know.”

  Lacy’s stomach began to writhe. This wasn’t the first time he had asked. She loved him, she really did, and there was no question that she was physically attracted to him. But the idea of sex—not just petting, but going all the way—was foreign territory for her, and a little scary. What if she didn’t like it—or worse, if he didn’t like doing it with her? What if she got pregnant? What if, afterward, he didn’t want her any more?

  Overhead, a shrill whistle sounded, an eardrum-splitting noise, given that they were sitting directly under it.

  “What the hell is that?” Trip yelled over the shriek.

  “The warning whistle for dinner,” Lacy said when the racket had subsided. “Five minutes till they close the doors.” She grinned at him. “It doesn’t sound that loud from elsewhere on campus.”

  He opened the door, pushed the seat forward, and moved to the front behind the wheel. “I’ll drive you up there.”

  Lacy climbed over into the front seat as well. Two minutes later she kissed him good-bye, ducked out of the car, and ran through the rain into the dining hall.

  “WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?” Lauren demanded before Lacy even had a chance to sit down. “You’re all wet.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s raining outside, isn’t it?” Lacy ran her fingers through her dripping hair, removed her raincoat, and slung it across the back of the chair.

  “So, where have you been?” Lauren repeated.

  “What Lauren means,” Delta interpreted, “is that we tried to find you and were a little worried about you.”

  Lacy began to laugh. “What Lauren means ”,’ she corrected, “is that she’s pissed off at me for not informing her of my every move. ”‘ She finished the sentence in a hiss, through gritted teeth, and shot a mocking scowl at her twin.

  “Actually, we were all wondering, when you didn’t show up for practice this afternoon,” said Rae Dawn. “We were going to work on a couple of new songs for the senior banquet, remember? Simon and Garfunkel’s ‘Sound of Silence’ and ‘Flowers Never Bend with the Rainfall.’ ”

  Lacy slapped a palm to her forehead. “Damn! I forgot. I’m sorry, I really am.” She looked around the table. “What else have I forgotten? We don’t have a gig this weekend, do we?”

  “No.” Delta shook her head. “There’s an antiwar protest at the courthouse on Saturday afternoon, and I’m going, but we’re not scheduled to sing or anything.”

  “That’s a relief,” Lacy said. “I don’t usually lose track of things like that. I guess my mind is somewhere else.”

  Lauren leaned in and gave her sister a rakish look. “Don’t think we don’t know where your mind is these days,” she said. “Button your blouse, Lace; you look like a tramp.”

  Lacy’s stomach lurched, and her fingers went instinctively to the front of her blouse. All the buttons were firmly in place.

  “Gotcha!” Lauren gloated. “Now, are you going to tell us about this secret love of yours?”

  “Details, please,” Delta added. “You’ve been keeping him under wraps for over a month. All we know about him is his name and the fact that he’s a senior at State.”

  “And handsome, ” Lauren added. “He’s in Steve’s fraternity, but even I haven’t met him yet.”

  “Well…” Lacy thought about it for a minute. She had her reasons for keeping quiet about Trip, and yet maintaining her privacy had its drawbacks. It had been hard not to tell them; she was in love, and she wanted to shout it from the roof of the administration building. She wanted them to be happy with her, to share her joy. And as much as she hated to admit it, she wanted their approval.

  “All right,” she said at last. “As you know, his name is Trip Jenkins, and—”

  “What kind of a weird name is that? Trip?” Delta asked.

  Lacy raised an eyebrow. “No stranger than Delta, I’d say. Especially when you live in Stone Mountain.” Everybody laughed. “His real name is Thomas—Thomas Edward Jenkins III. He was named after his father and grandfather, but three Toms in a family was pretty hard to negotiate. Thus, Trip.”

  “Oh, like in triple, ” Delta said.

  “Exactly. He’s a senior at State—an honor student, I might add—and he’ll be going to law school in the fall.”

  “Where’s he going?”

  Lacy shrugged. “He’s been accepted at Ole Miss, Duke, and Emory. Personally, I’m hoping for Duke.”

  “Is Duke close to home?” Rae Dawn asked. “I don’t know North Carolina geography very well.”

  “Hillsborough to Durham? It’s practically in our backyard,”

  Lauren answered. “Ten or twelve miles, maybe.” She narrowed her eyes at Lacy. “You’re thinking marriage, aren’t you?”

  Lacy felt herself flush. “Well, he hasn’t asked me yet, if that’s what you mean. But yes, I think it’s getting pretty serious.”

  Rae Dawn looked skeptical. “How long have you been dating this guy? A month?”

  “Almost two months,” Lacy said. “Well… six and a half weeks. But you know, don’t you? When it’s right, you just… know. ”‘ Rae opened her mouth to protest, but Lacy rushed on. “That doesn’t mean we’d get married right away. I could live at home for a while, try to get a teaching job while he starts law school.”

  “Aren’t you getting a little ahead of yourself?” Delta asked. “It’s customary to get engaged before you get married.”

  “And to introduce your intended to your family, ” Lauren chimed in.

  “And to your friends, ” Rae Dawn added.

  “All right, already!” Lacy laughed. “I suppose you’re right. It is time you met him. And just for the record, Lauren, I’ll invite him to come to North Carolina during spring break.”

  “Great,” Lauren said. “Maybe I’ll ask Steve to come too. Now, when do we get to meet the wonder boy?”

  “How about Sunday dinner?” Lacy narrowed her eyes and looked around the table. “That way you’ll already be dressed up so I won’t have to make excuses for you.”

  They all seemed to think this was a good idea, and Lacy went back to her catalog of all Trip’s wonderful features. She was gushing, she knew, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. Once the floodgate had been lifted, everything she was holding inside rushed to get out. It was pure glory, telling them about the man she loved, having her feelings for him confirmed over and over again in her heart.

  One little tooth of nagging doubt chiseled away at her gut, but she couldn’t identify it, nor could she make it go away. One small torque of uncertainty, a nervous flutter in her stomach.

  Ridiculous. He was the right one; she was sure of it. Trip loved her, and she loved him. They were perfect for each other. And nothing—nothing —could ever change that.

  ELEVEN

  THE GREEN-EYED MONSTER

  After dinner Lacy had run off through the pouring rain to meet with her student teacher group in the library, and for once Lauren was glad to have the room to herself Delta was crunching a deadline on one of Dr. Bowen’s innumerable lit papers, and Rae Dawn, as usual, was practicing in the music building. A couple of girls from the other end of the floor had invited her to come down to their room and study with them, but Lauren had made an excuse about a project due the next morning.

  There was no project. Lauren and her fellow elementary ed students were scheduled to be at the local kindergarten tomorrow, and she didn’t exactly have to prepare to do ABCs and teeth-brushing. She simply did not want to be with people tonight. She spread a towel across the top of the door—the W s dorm symbol for “Do Not Disturb”—and shut herself in.

  Normally Lauren would do almost anything to avoid being alone. From the cradle she had been with Lace, with her family with dozens of other friends. Since puberty she had been surrounded by boys who clamored for her at
tention. Always there had been laughter and joking and endless activity, a manic white noise that kept her from having to think too much.

  But tonight she needed to think. Needed to figure out the source of this burning in her gut, this heavy weight that lay over her like a shroud.

  Lauren had little experience with self-examination, and she hardly knew where to start. She knew only that the feeling had begun over dinner, as her twin sister had talked—finally—about Trip Jenkins, about the newfound wonder of their love.

  The cynic in her was tempted to blow off her sisters joy as so much naïveté. Lacy had always been an innocent. She had never been in an intimate relationship, didn’t have a clue what love was about. Lauren could have told her a thing or two about men, about how they used that four-letter word to lure a girl on until they succeeded in coercing her into acting on the three-letter word that consumed their every waking moment.

  Not that Lauren didn’t like sex. She had lost her virginity on prom night her senior year in high school, with a bony basketball star named Phil Putnam. He had been an inefficient, groping, selfish lover—most high school boys were, she supposed—and she clearly recalled the sensation of revulsion and disbelief when she caught her first glimpse of his penis. The experience had been… well, not exactly electrifying. But once that ship had sailed, there was no turning back.

  After Phil, Lauren had known a succession of boys, even a few who might be counted as men—not hundreds, of course, but several. Enough to realize that for the male of the species, sex was the end goal of all things romantic.

  The pattern rarely varied: a few walks in the park, a few dinners, a few movies, all of which inevitably led to a dark car in some isolated make-out spot, where kissing and petting led to panting arousal and eventually to an uncomfortable, half-clothed coupling in a back seat littered with hamburger wrappers and beer cans. And afterward, when the dinners and movies and long walks had vanished into the mist, the guy became either possessive or indifferent, leaving nothing but the sex as common ground between them.