by Caryl McAdoo
Ha. She looked shocked. “I don’t drink.”
“I don’t either. I was thinking ice cream.”
“Sure, you know where the Dairy Queen is?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
For a bit she rode in silence and appreciated not having to converse. A good mark, the pastor wasn’t a flap mouth who loved the sound of his own voice. “I’ve got a question.”
He glanced over and smiled. “Sure, what’s on your mind?”
“Now, no laughing. You said prettier than advertized, I’m just wondering exactly what Auntie said.”
“Miss Iris led me to believe…” A nervous chuckled escaped. “Um, she used tomboy once, and… Then she said something along the lines of you being the best cowboy she knew, and –”
“And what?”
“Maybe she intended to undersell you. I don’t know, but suffice it to say that you’re way better looking than the picture she painted.”
She filed all that info away. Maybe another afternoon of dress-up with her father’s baby sister was in order. “What about those opportunities you mentioned that you had of getting married. Care to share?”
“Wait, isn’t it my turn now?”
“Oh, we’re taking turns, are we?”
“Sure, why not?”
“Fine, what do you want to know?”
“Ever been in love?”
“Absolutely. I’m a red-blooded girl. I’d say at least eight or ten times in middle school, twice more in high school.”
“What happened?”
“No, it’s my turn now. Back to your chances at marriage, explain.”
“The first church I served as the youth minister. Several of the older girls let it be known they would love to be a preacher’s wife. They flattered me, but it seemed the only one I would have even considered was…” He glanced at her then back to the road. “I don’t know how to put it. Star-struck, maybe? That might be a good way to describe it.”
“So you were a star?”
“Not really, just the new guy.”
“And the others?”
“The only other lady I seriously considered, proved to be standing on stony ground.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Jesus’ parable of the sower reported by Mark. The lady had claimed to be saved, but her deeds spoke louder. When the sun came out, she obviously withered because she had no roots.”
The man sure made it seem all innocent. “You know baseball?”
“Sure.”
“What base did you get to with any of those ladies?”
He laughed. “Never got out of the batter’s box.”
“How…”
“Hold on, it’s my turn, and I’m behind.”
She didn’t like this taking turns business, but fair was fair. “Fine, okay, what else do you want to know?”
“Were the two in high school retreads from middle school, and what base did any of them get to?”
She laughed. “So we’re asking two at a time?”
“Those two and three more to even us up.”
“Really? Well, one was, but he’d never be ‘right’ as you called it. Then the other guy named Burk, maybe I never really loved him. He had a plenty good heart and was handsome enough, but you could probably say I used him. He moved to Clarksville my sophomore year. Shortly thereafter, we were like the couple, and it lasted until the summer before my senior year.” She glanced at the road, nothing looked familiar. “Where are we?”
“I don’t know. I thought you were navigating.”
“What? You said you knew where the DQ was. You’re driving. Why would I be navigating? Slow down; let me get my bearings.”
He did, then rounded a curve, and a farmhouse she recognized came into view. It sat right there too close to the road where it had been for years. Bless God for porch lights.
“I do know where it is, but not how to get there from your aunt’s.”
“Turn around because you already missed it. We’ll be in Oklahoma if you keep going this way. The Red’s just ahead.”
He turned around in the first gravel drive of a large building and had his sedan going the right direction in no time, but aware of her navigation responsibilities now, she’d pay more attention.
“Where were we? Oh yeah, summer before my senior year. So he got way too serious, even started talking marriage, and that other bad boy convinced me of what I knew was true. I never wanted to marry Burk. All well enough anyway, because his family moved back to the city, and I’d never leave Red River County. We’d already broke up before they left.”
“So the bad guy wormed his way back in?”
Looking off into the pitch-black night, she pictured DeWayne, which always hurt her heart. “Only for a little while. Toward the end of our senior year, he wanted his letter jacket back. I told him, hey, I can sew. I wrongly figured he wanted to get his baseball patch on, but no… ”
“He wanted to give it to another girl?”
Why couldn’t he have just waited? But she knew the answer.
“What can I tell you? He wasn’t a Christian, wanted more than I was willing to give.” It still hurt her heart in a way, but she forced a smile. “I’d been suspecting that he was stepping out on me, but seeing as how I was the Ice Queen—his words—I didn’t press it. His latest conquest didn’t like me wearing his letter jacket, so…”
“Lot of drama?”
“Not really. I handed it over and told him never to talk to me again.”
“Good for you.”
She nodded like she agreed, but he had talked to her again, plenty of times over the years. Always the same thing. Still wondered sometimes if she could ever tame the wild man; course, he’d have to get saved first. She prayed for him most every day, for his salvation, but just never wanted to put up a fight.
“Anyway, how come you’ve been such a goody two-shoes? Every boy I ever thought I might like always seemed interested in only one thing—hitting a home run, making it all the way around the bases and slidin’ into home.”
“I got saved early, had a great house dad. Bless the Lord, he pounded hard on us to break the cycle, not repeat our parents’ sins.”
“Wise man.” She pointed to the right. “Turn up there then about a half-mile down, make a left. It’s marked.”
“I love the way they warn you a country road’s coming up.”
“Yeah, it’s pretty cool, but no one who lives here knows the numbers.”
“So I’ve noticed. ‘Turn right at the old Backus place then where that big oak tree is, you know, the one got struck by lightning back in ’37.’ ” He laughed. “Anyway, I guess our substitute father had a captive audience with us boys.”
“What, you don’t know that tree?”
Asa fell silent, like him talking about his house dad maybe triggered a memory movie that was playing out in his private theater. She leaned back and took a little stroll through her own past. How many times had she agonized over giving in, keeping her man home? None of them even thought twice about having a girl on the side. And always blamed it on her.
“This my left?”
“Yes, sir.” Two more turns, and she had him at the DQ.
He ordered a soft-serve vanilla cone. Bless God, how boring could he get? Boston Cream Blizzard with pecans and extra whipped cream was her favorite treat, but she only taxed him for a small. Then like he didn’t want to answer any more questions, he didn’t ask any of his own until he had her home on her porch, all safe and sound.
He sat down in the closest rocker. “The Bible says Jacob kissed Rachel the first time he saw her, loved her from then on.”
She sat beside him. “You sure about that?”
“Yes, ma’am. What do you think? It’ll make a great story to tell our children.”
Ah, little ones. She pushed off with her toes and rocked back. “And telling them how we saved our first kiss until our wedding will make an even better one.”
THREE
&nb
sp; He’d said ‘children.’ Alrighty then, good, he wanted more than one baby. Another check in the plus column. Faith touched the top of his hand and drew little circles with her finger. “How many do you want?”
“I was thinking one little goodnight kiss, but…” He grinned.
She laughed and slapped his knee. “No, goof meister, I was asking about children. How many little blessings do you want?”
“Hey, I had like two hundred brothers, make it easy on yourself. I’d love a big family.”
She stopping tracing and went back to rocking. More than one for sure. She’d hated being an only child, but bless God, at least her mother had stopped drinking long enough to get her to term. “And what if I can’t? Or you?”
He turned sideways. “I know this great place where they have all kinds of little darlings just waiting for someone nice to come along and be their parents.” He smiled, though pain tinged his grin. “I’d certainly adopt, but home grown would be great.”
He had all the right answers, but still… She jumped to her feet. “Hey, it’s getting late and I’ve... Er… We’ve got a lot to do tomorrow.”
He stood and extended his hand, she took it, but then instead of shaking it, she only held on and peered into his eyes. What was there? Then it hit her, rejection. Bless his heart, he’d come up with a Biblical way to ask her for a kiss, and she’d turned him down.
She reached down and got his other hand and held them both out a bit and leaned in.
Ever so lightly, she brushed her lips against his, then pulled back. “Breakfast at six if you want. I’m in the barn by seven.”
He nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
“You can go home now.”
Grinning, he nodded again. “Yes, ma’am.”
She flicked her fingers at him palm down, but he didn’t move, as though frozen like a fawn caught in head lights. “Good night.”
He closed his eyes and bobbed his head.
“What are you doing?”
“Oh.” His dazed expression turned back normal then he grinned. “Sorry, I just wanted to imprint it, remember exactly how it was.”
She caught his mirth. “So how was it on a scale of one to ten.”
His lips spread wide into a goofy grin. “Best ever, but then it was my first ever.”
“No it wasn’t. Are you telling me you’ve never been kissed before?”
“Yes, ma’am, never ever.” He pulled his cell out and touched it alive. “Ten sixteen now, so we’ll call it ten fifteen.”
Bless God, when she prayed for a virgin, she didn’t know the Lord would send her a totally inexperienced man. But hey, like he said, it will make a great story if… “Go home, Asa.”
He backed down the steps. “Six sharp.”
“And wear work clothes, something you can get dirty.”
He nodded, headed to his car, then spun back. “I turn left to get back to New Hope?”
“That’s right. I mean yes, correct. Turn left. Right will take you back to Clarksville.”
“Want to pray before I leave?”
“That’d be perfect.”
He bounced back to her on the porch, grasped both her hands and bowed his head.
Only took him seven minutes to get to the modest parsonage. He opened the front door screen, and a note fluttered out. He grabbed it.
Pastor,
Please call me if you get this before nine. Momma don’t let me have calls late. I need to talk bad. If I don’t hear from you tonight, then I’ll come by after school tomorrow around four.
Lee Ann.
He made the mental note. Praise the Lord, Faith could be here with him. He never liked counseling females alone and always tried to have someone there with him, appearances of evil and all. The chairman of the deacons had given him a list of the church mothers who would be happy to team up with him, but then again, who would be better than the lady he was going to marry? Like the song said, it was in her kiss.
Oh, Lord, if I’m dreaming, don’t let me wake up.
Frost on his windshield cost him five minutes, but he still made it by ten ’til. He used his cell’s flashlight to make his way from the car to the porch. Stars still filled the sky. He didn’t know if he would ever get used to the beauty of a nighttime country sky. Walking up the steps, he breathed in the aroma of frying bacon then tapped the front door.
“That you, Asa?”
He pushed the door open. “Yes, sir.”
“Come on in, son.”
The living room was empty. He stepped toward the kitchen.
“In here.”
Following the sound to the bedroom across from the living room, he found the old man sitting on the edge of his bed, holding a ventilator to his mouth. He held it out, blew out a bit of vapor, then nodded at him. “I’ll be done here shortly. Faith’s in the kitchen.”
“Need any help, sir?”
“No, I can still get myself dressed.” He grinned and put the plastic mask back in place, inhaling deeply, or at least probably as deep as he could.
He strolled down the hall. Like the man said, she was right there slaving over the stove. He took off his jacket, hung it over the same chair he’d sat the night before, then rolled up his sleeves, heading for the sink. He turned on the hot water and squirted a dab of dishwashing soap into his wet hand.
With an apron tied around her waist, she looked the part of a happy homemaker. He loved it. She flipped over a piece of bacon then turned toward him with an expression he couldn’t be sure of. “Bless God, where did you get those handsome boots?”
He held his near foot out. “Fort Worth Stockyards. Like ’em?”
“Sure, what’s not to like? But they’re pretty fancy. How much did they set you back? I’d guess a thousand bucks at least. You do understand you’re going to work, right? You’re liable to mess ’em up.”
The lady knew her boots. He never dreamed anyone would know how much he paid, but he had the money back then, and they fit his feet like gloves. “Awe, they only look new ’cause I don’t wear ’em much. Got ’em maybe three years ago, weren’t that much.” Close though, he thought, remembering how he’d almost gasped aloud when the girl at the register rang up nine hundred sixty-eight dollars with the tax, but he really loved the way they felt. “Didn’t have much time to go shopping for just the right ensemble, and they’re the only cowboy boots I own. Figured, why not?”
“I just hate to see you ruin such nice clothes. Those fancy jeans… Might put a hole in them before the day’s done. They’re what? Fifty dollars a pair? Wouldn’t think you’d want to work in ’em either.”
More like a hundred, but... “I’m up to a trip to Idabel after breakfast if you are. We can go shopping, and you can pick me out something rough and rugged.” He chuckled. “Doesn’t get too physical behind the pulpit.” Grabbing a hand towel draped over a hook on the side of the cabinet, he dried his hands. “At least I didn’t show up in a suit. Now how can I help?”
Faith stopped before she started in on his fancy shirt and went back to her frying pan. She’d probably said too much already, but bless God, she definitely needed to take him shopping, get him some Wranglers and a couple of Dickey shirts. Not good, him not having work clothes.
Showing up decked out like an old time country and western TV crooner put a mark in the negative column. But him rolling up his sleeves and offering to help sure earned him a real big attaboy. She pulled the last piece of bacon, extra crispy for her, dumped in a quarter cup of flour she’d already salted and peppered, then went to stirring. “You can set the table. So do you own a hat?”
He stacked three plates from the dry ones in the drainer and picked out forks, knives, and spoons from the silverware. “No, ma’am, no hats. Had a baseball cap once, but…”
She pointed at the Kenmore. “Milk please, kind sir.”
He grabbed the gallon jug and stuck it out. Her fingers brushed against his before she took it. She poured until the mixture stopped sizzling then handed it back. Again h
er fingers touched his on the return exchange. She went to stirring. He returned the milk to the fridge then stood right behind her.
She glanced at him. He stood frozen, a silly grin plastered on his drugstore, hatless, cowboy mug.
“Something wrong?”
He backed away, his face suddenly a blank. “No, nothing, I’m good, it’s…”
Bless God, had she unleashed something weird in the man? It had only been one little kiss and now an incidental touch. “Hey, preacher man, I looked up the scripture in Genesis where Jacob and Rachel first meet.”
“Found out I was right?”
“Somewhat. He kissed her that first day, but he stayed a month before it said he loved her.”
He nodded. “That’s right, but I suspected that it was love at first sight—at least on Jacob’s part.”
“Maybe, but between weak-eyed Leah and her beautiful younger sister, why wouldn’t he pick Rachel?”
“We can only guess.”
She turned the burner off then flopped a hot pad down and set the skillet on the table. “Want to tell Daddy food’s ready?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Thanks.”
Good but short grace. The man was obviously comfortable praying, a semi-plus. What preacher couldn’t? But bless God, he could eat. As though he’d never enjoyed tasting homemade, high-rise biscuits and cream gravy, he downed four, more than half what she’d fixed. Forget not baking the next day. And nevermind the scrambled eggs and bacon.
It might be a full-time job keeping up with that appetite of his. He told her how good everything was about ten times and showed her with every bite. If a way to a man’s heart was through his stomach, then she must have arrived and set up housekeeping halfway through the morning meal.
Then, as though an automatic impulse, after his last sip of after breakfast coffee, the dear man went to doing the dishes. Major, bold plus! She didn’t mind cooking. Aunt Iris taught her how, and she’d taken over the daily duty long before her mother passed. Either that or starve, and sort of thought it fun, actually. Daddy had tried to help at first, but the man had trouble boiling water and mostly only got in her way.
