by Maria Geraci
“Howdy, folks!” booms a male voice over the loudspeaker. “Welcome to Grovers Field and cow-chip bingo!”
The crowd roars in approval.
“Proceeds tonight go to benefit the All Saints Lutheran Church Day Care, so I hope y’all have been generous buying tickets!”
The crowd roars again.
Nick shakes his head and grins at me. There is an absurdity to it all that makes me grin back and a familiarity that tells me to prepare for a night of unrivaled fun.
Mama J pulls out her tickets and hands me one. “B4 is your lucky square, Emma.” Not to be outdone, Mom gives me two of her tickets. I now have three squares I’m rooting for.
We settle back in our chairs and attack the fried chicken. I know fried chicken is probably public enemy number one on the Parisian food pyramid, but I haven’t eaten since breakfast and I’m famished. Plus, I’m sure if faced with either eating a piece of fried chicken or passing out from hunger, the typical Frenchwoman would pick the fried chicken every time. Along with moderation, they are also pragmatic.
At least a good half hour goes by without any of the cows doing their “business,” but everyone is too busy having fun to notice until someone in the crowd yells, “Didn’t anyone feed those heifers?”
Everyone laughs good-naturedly but there is now a current of undisguised impatience. The band starts to play “Sweet Home Alabama,” the national anthem of small-town southern fairs, and the crowd is instantly soothed. Disaster averted.
“Wanna dance?” Nick asks.
Mom looks at me with interest and Mama J’s eyes pop. I know they are both dying to ask me what is going on with Nick Alfonso. I’m sort of dying to know myself.
We head over to the dance area. Nick is not a great dancer, so we sway more than anything else and end up laughing a lot. This is not the first time I’ve danced with Nick Alfonso. I wonder if he remembers the other time as clearly as I do. I sure hope not.
I decide to forget the past and concentrate on the here and now. The glorious smell of roasting hot dogs and sweet funnel cakes blends with the sharp tang of freshly mown grass. The music is loud, the company is excellent, and for the first time this week I feel almost happy. I haven’t thought of Ben all day (well, not hardly).
When the song is over, Nick takes me by the hand to lead me back to our spot and that’s when we run into Nick’s ex and her new husband, Shannon and Ed Norris.
Talk about awkward.
I have not seen Shannon and Ed for ages. They missed our ten-year high school reunion because they were honeymooning in Greece. Whether or not they timed it that way on purpose, I’m not sure, but it was awful considerate of them.
Shannon must be two years’ pregnant, her belly is so big. Shannon’s huge belly is an illusion, however. It only looks so big because the rest of her is so teeny tiny. At thirty-two she still has the same tight, size-two cheerleader body and tanned, toned legs she had in high school. Ed has not fared as well. His blond hair is thinning and he has the start of a slight paunch going on. Ed works for his daddy, who owns Norris Corporation, a local business that makes circuit boards. It employs about two hundred people and Ed is the plant “manager.” I’m not saying Ed doesn’t deserve the job, but I heard Mom say once that her patients who work for Norris Corporation grumble that Ed spends more time playing golf than actually managing the plant.
“Well, hey, Emma!” Shannon says, her smile overly bright. “It sure is good to see you!”
The four of us exchange strained hellos.
Shannon’s gaze zeros in on my hand, which is still clasped with Nick’s. I can practically see her brain shorting a fuse trying to figure out why Nick Alfonso is wasting his time with plain ol’ Emma Frazier. I have to confess, although I felt like a nine at the coffee shop this morning, I’m feeling very five-ish right now. Even though Shannon is fully pregnant, I probably outweigh her by a good thirty pounds.
“So are you still livin’ in Tampa?” she asks me.
“Yep. I’m just up for the weekend.”
The weirdness of it all has now reached a boiling point. Nick says we have to go and pulls me away. I can’t help but feel sorry for him. A vision of Shannon and Ed screwing while Nick is writhing in pain with his burst appendix makes me angry. I hope Shannon gets stretch marks and all of Ed’s hair falls out.
Luckily, it is at this moment that the crowd begins to hoot and holler, telling me that something big is about to happen and we forget all about Shannon and Ed.
Let me tell you about cow-chip bingo.
It is exactly what the name implies. Basically, you mark off a large field of grass into squares. Then you get some well-fed cows and wait until they do their business. If their business lands on a square you’ve bought, you win a prize. In this case it’s cash. Half the cash raised from selling the squares goes for prizes and the other half goes to the charity of choice. It’s a win-win situation for everyone. Cows included.
Right now one of the cows is straddling two squares, and by the way she’s acting, it’s showtime. I stand on tiptoe to see over the crowd that has now gotten on its feet. The cow patty could fall in either square B4 or B5.
This must be a diva cow because she is taking her sweet time. The impatient crowd roars louder. If this is meant to encourage her, it’s not working. Not that I blame her. If someone was yelling at me while I was trying to do my business, I think I’d be constipated.
Finally, after what seems like forever, she lets go and it lands on…B4!
I let out a whoop of joy. Nick has been solemnly quiet since the run-in with Shannon and Ed, but he now comes to life. He picks me up and twirls me around. You’d think I’d won the lottery. In reality, I’ve won ten dollars and I’m thrilled. Nick sets me on my feet, leaving me feeling a little dazed.
Now that the field has been baptized, the rest of the cows go into action. By the end of the night, Mama J has won forty dollars, Nick and I have won twenty dollars apiece, and Mom’s squares stand empty. The cows are led off the field and everyone starts to pick up after themselves. My moms say their good-byes to Nick and scurry back to the car to give us what is obviously meant to be some “privacy.”
“I had a good time tonight,” says Nick.
“Yeah, it’ll be hard to find anything as exciting as cow-chip bingo back in Tampa.”
He smiles. “You’re a funny girl.”
I’ve heard this line before. It’s the cousin to “You’re a nice girl, but…”
Only Nick doesn’t add the “but.” Instead he takes my hand again and says, “Tell your moms I’m taking you home.”
His confidence is both a turn-on and a little annoying. But I’m more turned on than annoyed, so I say okay. We get in his truck, but instead of taking me home, he drives by Otis Lake and parks in front of his house. He takes a blanket and a small cooler from the backseat and hands me a flashlight. All this is done without once asking me if I’d like to spend more time with him.
“Do you always get your way or did you just assume I wouldn’t say no?”
For a second Nick looks confused, then he shakes his head and laughs at himself. “Sorry, I thought…well, shit. Do you want me to drive you home?”
I glance out the window into his dark yard.
“I meant it earlier, when I said I had a good time. I was hoping we could talk a little more. That’s all,” he says.
Talk about cosmic weirdness. Fifteen years ago I would have given my right leg for this moment. It’s late and I probably should be getting back home, but I’ve had a good time tonight too and I don’t want it to end just yet. “Sure, Nick. I’d like that.”
He smiles and we make our way to the end of the dock. Nick places the blanket down and we sit with our legs dangling over the edge. The water is just a foot below. The coolness of it rises up to bring relief to our overheated bodies. We sip bottled water and talk, and though I’m loath to bring it up, I sort of feel like I have to.
“It must suck to have to run into Shannon an
d Ed all the time.”
Nick shrugs. “Shannon was a long time ago.”
“But you haven’t…you know—”
“Haven’t what? Moved on? Just because I haven’t remarried doesn’t mean I haven’t moved on. I’m just taking my time, is all. I’m not making the same mistake again,” he says tightly.
I wonder exactly what he means by that, but before I can ask, Nick says, “Did you get ahold of Frank Monroe?”
To tell you the truth, I haven’t thought about the Trip Monroe article all night, which is kind of significant because there’s a part of me that’s always thinking about work. “Not since the last time I checked my messages.”
“You’ll hear soon. Frank’s a good guy.”
I tell him a little more about the article I plan to write and then we end up talking about Nick’s job. He has to be at work at seven in the morning. I feel guilty for keeping him up late but he’s in no hurry to leave, and honestly, neither am I. I’ve enjoyed Nick’s attention more than I like to admit. Despite my Monday-morning bravado, last weekend totally blew my confidence. Having Nick flirt with me has helped restore some of my battered self-esteem.
We both turn to say something to each other at the same time. But instead of laughing about it, we just stare at each other for a long second, and before I know it, I’m flat on my back and Nick is kissing me.
Let me tell you this. Nick Alfonso is an excellent kisser. This is a rumor I heard all the way back in high school but I never once dreamed I’d find out firsthand. If my seventeen-year-old self could see me now, she’d think she’d died and gone to heaven.
We kiss for what seems like forever. His hand snakes inside my T-shirt to cup my breast. I know I don’t have much in that department but what I do have immediately responds. It’s been an embarrassingly long time since I’ve had sex and my poor body is starved. I can feel Nick’s erection against my thigh and I automatically rub myself against it. Nick breaks off our kiss and drops his face into the crook of my neck. He lets out a strangled moan and rolls to his side.
I’m so embarrassed, I could die. I have practically begged Nick Alfonso to take me right here on the dock in his backyard.
What must he think of me?
I sit up and straighten my T-shirt. My braid has come partially undone. I pull out the rubber band that’s holding what’s left of it in place and try to smooth my hair out while I wait for Nick to speak.
“I like you, Emma,” he says after what seems like forever.
“I think it’s pretty obvious I like you too.”
“No, I mean I really like you.” The way he says this sounds as if he’s surprised. He stands and holds his hand out to help me up.
Nick drives me to my house and walks me to the front porch, all in silence.
I’m confused. What just happened back there on the dock?
“When are you coming back to Catfish Cove?” he asks.
“I hadn’t planned to come back anytime soon,” I admit.
“In that case, can I visit you in Tampa?”
“Sure, you can visit anytime.”
Nick reaches out to playfully tug on the end of my hair. “I mean as in visit you to take you out.”
Nick Alfonso wants to drive over two hundred miles to take me out on a date? I have to admit, I thought this was just a weekend flirtation for him. Something to pass the time because there wasn’t anything better around. I’m so flustered I can’t think of what to say.
Thirty minutes ago I was ready to have sex with Nick, but that was my body talking. Now my mind is in control and my mind tells me that a relationship with Nick Alfonso could end in disaster. For starters, it was just a week ago that I was dreaming of a relationship with Ben. If Ben suddenly snapped out of his Amy trance and declared his undying love for me, what would I do?
The answer makes my heart sink.
I’m so not over Ben.
But Ben doesn’t want me. And it’s not as if Nick is asking me to marry him. He just wants to visit. Anything can happen. We could hang out for a weekend and have a good time as friends and that would be the end of it.
Or we could start to date and I could fall madly in love with him. In which case there’s every probability that Nick will break my heart for the second time in my life. No matter how confident he seems and how many years it’s been, I’m not sure he’s completely over Shannon. Plus, I highly doubt Nick sees me as potential wife material. Sure, he says he “likes” me but I’m pretty certain I’m not his long-term type, and while I’m really jumping the gun here—
“It’s just a date, Emma.” Nick leans down to kiss me. It’s slow and sweet and at the same time so hot that I forget my name, let alone anything else I’ve just hashed out in my head. Nick is right, it’s just a date. But I can’t help it. I have a tendency to overanalyze things. It’s both my greatest strength and my greatest weakness.
We make plans for next weekend and I open the front door to find my moms sitting on the living room couch waiting up for me. Walt is nestled between them, his big tail thumping happily.
“Well, well, well,” Mom says. “Break out the champagne. Looks like Emma has finally snagged herself a man.”
“I’ve always liked that boy,” says Mama J.
Walt joins in with a bark.
“Were you three spying on me?”
“It’s two o’clock in the morning, missy; we were worried sick about you. Crime in this town has gotten out of control. Just last week someone stole a shopping cart from the parking lot at the Piggly Wiggly.” Mom’s eyes are sparkling as she says this. It’s obvious both she and Mama J approve of Nick Alfonso.
I always thought Mom would want someone smarter for me. Not that Nick isn’t smart, but a small-town cop is probably not what she had in mind for my perfect mate. Maybe she’s beginning to feel the pinch of thirty-two just like I am. I know she and Mama J want grandkids. They started hinting when I turned thirty.
“You two are getting way ahead of yourselves. Nick and I are just friends.”
“Yes, I could see just how friendly you two are,” Mama J says.
“I’m going to bed,” I say, heading down the hallway to my room. “Good night!”
“Good night!” they shout back, giggling like teenage girls.
I’m too tired to wash my face or brush my teeth. I throw off my clothes, pull an oversize T-shirt over my head, and flop into bed. My last thought before I drift off to sleep is that I came home Friday night in tears and am going to bed Saturday night with a smile on my face.
It’s funny how your life can change in just one day.
chapter eight
I leave Catfish Cove early Sunday afternoon and meet up with Kimberly and Torie for sushi. I wasn’t going to say anything about Nick Alfonso, but I can’t help myself. The whole story spills out, including our high school make-out session on the dock.
Kimberly squeals and jumps out of her seat to hug me. For Kimberly, who is usually so cool about men, this is more emotion than I’ve seen from her in a long time.
Let me tell you about Kimberly Lemoyne.
She is also from Catfish Cove, only there she is known as Kimmy Petis. I’ve known her since grade school, although we never hung out together as kids because she’s three years younger than I am. She was raised by a single mom who worked for minimum wage on the assembly line at Norris Corporation. Despite her humble origins, Kimberly is smart and elegantly beautiful. If there is such a thing as an eleven, then Kimberly is one. But she’s also intensely private. Even with Torie and me. Once upon a time Kimberly was briefly married to Jake Lemoyne, whose family owns half of Florida’s west coast (or at least the half anyone cares about) and she’s determined to remarry up. Which is going to be impossible because filthy-rich handsome types like Jake Lemoyne don’t just drop out of palm trees. After her divorce, Kimberly decided to keep her married name, and I don’t blame her, because it opens up a lot of doors for her.
“Emma, Nick Alfonso is like…gorgeous,” Kimberl
y gushes. I have to remember that Kimberly was a freshman when Nick and I were seniors, so her view of Nick is based on a fourteen-year-old perspective. Not that I don’t think Nick is gorgeous too, but I’m a little surprised by her reaction.
“Calm down,” I say. “More than likely nothing will come of it.”
Torie throws down her napkin. “Why are you always so negative?”
“I’m not negative. I’m cautious. There’s a difference.”
“Well, I like this Nick already,” says Torie. “He sounds like a great guy. Much smarter than that Ben Gallagher person.”
“Speaking of that Ben Gallagher person,” I say in what I hope is an uninterested tone, “any news on him and Amy?”
Kimberly and Torie exchange a look.
“I know they had dinner plans for Friday night,” Torie says, “because she talked about it all week long ad nauseam. She has absolutely no class.”
Since Ben already told me about the dinner, this comes as no surprise. I take a bite of my California roll. Over the weekend I have concluded that the Amy-Ben thing is for the best. We have such a great dynamic going on at the office that I would hate to ruin it with a romance gone bad. Knowing that Ben is unavailable will make it easier for me to move on, which is exactly what I plan to do.
It’s Monday morning and I’m standing in the line at the Krispy Kreme debating whether or not to call Frank Monroe again. I don’t want to be a pest. It’s only been two days since I left him a message and he is on a fishing trip. Maybe he’s on one of those deep-sea excursions where they have no cell-phone access. I decide to wait another few days. If I don’t hear from him by Thursday, I’ll call again.
I pick up the donuts and drive to work. Ben is already waiting in the conference room, which is unusual. Besides Lisa, I’m always the first one here on Monday.
“Good morning!” I chirp in an upbeat voice. Partly, this is because I love Mondays, but also partly because I can’t help but overcompensate. I don’t want Ben to think that just because he dissed me for Amy, I hold a grudge against him.
