by Leslie Pike
“I knew you had it in you. Did you like that?”
What’s happening? Oh my god, I’m going to cry! Shit! There’s no crying in sex!
His eyes go wide and his lips part. “What’s this? Why the tears?”
“I’m so happy!” I cry.
Tears run from the corners of my eyes into my hairline. But I feel fingers wipe them away and lips kiss my cheeks and chin and tip of my nose.
“You’re an adorable girl.”
“I’m hardly that. I’m a mess of a woman. I don’t know why you’re so interested.”
“But are you glad I am?”
“Yes.”
My tears come to a halt. Our lips find each other and start the whole beautiful thing again.
“Does my hair look like I’ve been freshly ravaged?”
“No. It’s everything else about you that does,” he says chuckling.
“I hope you’re kidding.”
“I’m not. Where the hell did the braid go? The women will figure it out.”
Walking into the open front door of the house, we’re trying to regain our composure. Actually, it’s just me. Sawyer is perfectly calm and together. Unfortunately for me, there’s no way to avoid the obvious.
January, Charlotte and Mallory are going to spot it. I left them this afternoon with an intricate side braid. Now my hair is undone, my makeup reapplied by my own less-expert hand and the false eyelashes are history.
“Think anyone will notice?” I say.
“Think anyone won’t? I know I’m changed.”
He takes my hand in his as we walk through the crowded kitchen, through the French doors and onto the moonlit dance floor. Sawyer dances me into his embrace. Maybe no one has noticed we just got here. Classic Frank Sinatra sets the stage.
“Fly Me to the Moon” has never sounded so meaningful. The familiar scene never as beautiful. Twinkling lights dot the foliage and outline the house. There’s a golden glow cast over the dancers as they glide over the tiled patio floor under the stars.
Round tables set with white tablecloths, flickering candles and vases of pink peonies speak romance.
The Memphis air is still. Mini lights hanging vertically from the tree branches make every tree look like a Weeping Willow. The July night charms.
My cheek rests against his and I take in the scent of his aftershave. He nestles himself closer somehow, in a move that makes my heart sing. Is it possible I’ve never known real romance before? It has nothing to do with the fact we just got out of bed and everything to do with the nearness of him.
Maybe that’s just the beginning of authentic romance. It feels like this man could teach me the small print. It’s the little things that prove the concept. I never realized that truth.
Over his shoulder, I spot Charlotte and Atticus dancing. She’s watching us and when she sees I’ve spotted her she gives a little wave. Then her hand goes to a phantom braid she knows I was wearing when we parted ways this afternoon. She gives it a tug and her eyebrows knit together in a question. But I see she’s answered it already because she gets this wide smile and knowing look. I’m busted but good. Oh god. Now she’s telling Atticus who turns quickly to check it out himself. I wave away his pointing finger.
Sawyer comes to a stop, breaking my mind’s wandering. When I open my eyes, it’s Grandpa Davis who has tapped my partner on the shoulder.
“Mind if I have a dance with my favorite granddaughter? Grandma and I are about to turn in.”
“Of course not. Just don’t wear her out now. We’ve just arrived,” Sawyer kids.
I take Grandpa’s hand and rest my arm on his shoulder.
“I noticed that,” he says chuckling.
As Sawyer walks off, Grandpa gives me a kiss on the cheek.
“You look happy, little nightingale.”
The change of name surprises me.
“Nightingale? What happened to your Hummingbird?”
“It looks like she flew away. She was always busy fluttering her wings. Hardly ever landing. I think you’re more of a songbird now.”
My grandfather is one of the smartest people I know.
“There’s a chance you may be right, Grandpa.”
“It makes me happy. Sometimes in life we need to just jump in. Take the chance. Not everything has to be sorted out before hand.”
“He’s young though and hasn’t dealt with fame yet. That bothers me.”
His crystal blue eyes lock with mine.
“So what? It sounds like he’s lived well beyond his years. He’s probably older than us both in life lessons. And that’s saying a lot. I’m an old man.”
I bring him close in a hug.
“Grandpa, you’re one of the youngest spirits I’ve ever met. But do me a favor.”
“Anything for you.”
“Please say an extra prayer for me tonight. For my intentions.”
He squeezes my hand. “I will, honey. Tell you what. I’m going to say two.”
Chapter 11
Sawyer
Hope she appreciates a Texas-style date. And a slightly bumpy ride. Think I thought of everything we need. Blanket, loaded picnic basket, pillows and foam roll. Music. Whiskey and tequila, just so she has an option.
Not sure the mason jars will be a hit, but I want to be authentic. And the small bouquet of wildflowers I picked this afternoon? Looks like what a young fella would bring his best girl. It’s romantic in my book. She brings it out in me.
When we made the date, I told her I had something near to my heart to show her. Don’t think she’s expecting a truck. Ruby will win her over after she sees how much fun we can have in the tailback.
Pulling to the curb in front of her building I grab my cell.
“Are you here?” she says.
“Yeah, I’m outside. Get your pretty ass down here.”
“I’ll be there in a minute.”
She disconnects and I take a look at my teeth in the rearview mirror. I’m kinda excited for her to see the truck. Crazy. It feels like I’m about to introduce a family member. If I had one. I arrange the passenger side seatbelt, so she doesn’t give herself a colonoscopy getting in.
Here she comes. Grabbing my Stetson, I get out to greet her properly. The glass double doors swing open and she gets the first look at my prized possession. I get a gander at the cutoff jean shorts and red soft-looking top. She looks as delicious as I know she is.
Her hands and shoulders rise in the air and a crooked smile lifts the corners other mouth.
“What’s this?”
“Meet Ruby. She’s a nineteen fifty-nine Chevy 3100. I had it shipped from Fort Worth.”
“Nice to meet you, Ruby. She’s a pretty girl.”
Not sure why that makes me so happy, but it does. I lift my hat to my head and set it just right. Taking Bristol in my arms, I plant a good one on her. It’s met with equal enthusiasm. That’s my girl.
She slowly looks me up and down, hat to boots, in a take-no-prisoners assessment.
“Like the look. Very Texas cowboy of you.”
“Yes, ma’am, we aim to please.”
“Now tell me about your Ruby.”
“Get in. I’ll give you the lowdown.”
I open her door and wait till she’s comfortably inside before rounding the truck and sliding in the driver’s seat.
“So, like I said she’s a Chevy,” I say starting the ignition. “When I was still a boy our neighbor had one just like this, only blue. It looked like luxury to me because my fosters had an old tired car.”
“How long have you had her?”
“Six years. For the first four I didn’t do much to make her mine. Didn’t have the money. But after signing with the farm league I started restoring and improving what I didn’t like.”
“Like what?”
“We’ve got air and a great sound system for starters. I’ll never sell her, so I made the changes I wanted.”
“Where are you taking me?”
“It’s a surpr
ise. Pretty sure you’re going to like it though.”
“Oh!” she says digging through her purse. “I brought you a present.”
“That’s mighty nice of you. What is it?”
She pulls out a narrow square box and holds it up for me to see.
“What’s this? A DNA testing kit?” I say surprised.
“All you have to do is spit in the little bottle enclosed and mail it back to them. All kinds of people are using it to find their family members. Maybe your sister has registered. It’s worth a shot.”
Her eyes. They’re full of hope. I can’t help but have a sliver of it myself. Even though it’s a long shot.
“Thank you. Yeah. Can’t hurt to try.”
I turn the volume up on the Luke Combs ballad and she slides closer. Wrapping an arm around her shoulders just feels right. Her head resting against me seals the deal.
“You’re beautiful crazy to me,” I say quoting the song.
The sun isn’t far from setting as we drive toward Shelby Farms. I did my homework in finding an open field, a proper stargazing site. Access to telescopes was the bonus. Once again I have a Swift to thank. This time it was Charlotte and Mallory who suggested I check it out. Atticus had taken a group of Mallory’s friends there for her birthday.
As we take the turnoff, Bristol solves the mystery. “Are we going to Shelby Farms?”
“Yep. Have you been? And if it was with another man don’t tell me about it.”
She giggles. “No. This will be a first. But I’m intrigued. Do they have evening tours?”
I turn into the entry and head for the check-in gate.
“No, darlin’. It’s the stars we’ll be looking at. We’re going to open the tailgate and have a party.”
A sly smile stretches across her beautiful face. “A party?”
“For two. Hope you like picnics under the stars.”
Her pleased expression is my answer. Everything is contained behind the soulful eyes. I drive up to the gate and roll down my window to speak to the attendant.
“Evening. Sawyer Tom and Bristol Swift. We have reservations.”
The young guy looks over his paperwork and finds our names.
“You’ve reserved a telescope. Want me to put it in your flatbed? There’ll be a docent in the field to provide guidance.”
“Yes to the telescope, no to the tour. Not needed. And, we have the entire site, right? I reserved all the spaces in that area.”
“Yes, sir. You’ll be alone. Sure you don’t want help with the telescope?”
This kid is green. Hell no I don’t want any other person there. “No. No help. I’m familiar with telescopes. How long do we have?”
“Eleven. The park closes at eleven thirty. If you haven’t returned the telescope by then, a docent will come find you.”
“We’ll be back.”
Thinking of another person invading our slice of heaven ruins the picture.
“Here’s directions to the field and my cell number in case you get lost. But the connection can be spotty.”
“Thanks. We’ll be fine.”
I roll up the window as the guy loads the flatbed. When I turn to Bristol she’s smiling.
“You happy?”
Her expression is like a young girl who just got asked to dance.
“Very. This is my first picnic under the stars.”
I kiss her hand. Her soft palm, the delicate fingers. “Let’s find our spot.”
The road winding through the trees is a great introduction to the site. Trees line the edges and reach back as deep as you can see. The fading light of day makes a beautiful picture. The shadow of trees, the last of filtered rays touching the ground. It’s romantic.
“This is so gorgeous,” Bristol says.
“It is,” I say handing her the directions. “Tell me where to turn. Think it’s pretty close.”
She gives it a read. “We’re on this road for a mile. Then turn left on Sunset Road.”
“Keep an eye out.”
We almost pass it as it appears around the next curve.
“Here! Here!” she says pointing to the sign.
“This says there’s a signpost for Field Three. Is that the one you reserved?”
I see it ahead. “Yeah. There it is.”
The gravel under the tires reminds me of Texas. But nothing else does. This is unique in every other way. She makes it that way.
Slowly, I drive Ruby onto the field. A wide dirt path leads in so you don’t put tires to grass before you need to.
“This is spectacular,” Bristol says surveying the open land. “We have this whole space for us alone?”
“Just us. I’m going to turn in here. Think we can park on top of that rise.”
Ahead an incline lifts gently from the rolling grasses and open spaces of the field. It looks fairly flat and definitely wide enough for Ruby to rest atop.
“Up there. That’s just right.”
I turn the wheels and climb the gradual grade. It gives us a wider view. I put her in Park and shut off the engine.
“Come on,” I say opening the door. “Let’s set up.”
Once out, I come around the back and open the tailgate. Bristol looks over the side.
“Whatcha got in there, cowboy?”
The telescope is lifted out and set in front of the open tailgate. That way we can sit on the gate and gaze at the constellations.
“Everything we need to make it a memorable night.”
She rests her forearms on the side of the bed.
“I’m thinking you’re all I need to make tonight memorable.”
I climb into the bed and grab the foam roll.
“I’ve been waiting all my life to sit under the stars with you and I didn’t even know it,” I say.
I unroll the pad with a whip of my hands and lie it smooth, giving her a wink, just to put an exclamation on it. She rests her head on crossed arms and looks up at me.
“How come you’re so cute?” she says.
“I’m glad you think so,” I say grabbing the big soft blanket.
A little chuckle escapes her lips.
“Everybody thinks so. Since you sent me flowers, my office staff has been obsessing.”
“What? You’re exaggerating.” I laugh it off and smooth the blanket over the foam.
“No I’m not. You’re the screensaver on my nurses’ computer.”
“Come up here.”
I walk to the edge of the tailgate and offer my hands. She feels like a feather as she plants a foot and I lift her up. Without letting go, I take her in an embrace.
“This is where we kiss,” I order.
There’s no resistance or hesitation. Her body arches and her lips touch mine. Images of Bristol naked flood my mind. Not certain if those cutoffs will stay on much longer. As we part, a large butterfly flits around our heads and lands on her.
“Don’t move,” I say. “It’s on your right shoulder. Wow, beautiful.”
She remains perfectly still but whispers a request. “Can you take a picture?”
I carefully lift my cell from my pocket and tap the camera icon. Slowly, so I don’t spook the butterfly, I raise my hand and aim. The orange and black wings flutter.
Click.
And it’s gone, off to find another perfect flower to rest upon. He’s going to have trouble finding one as beautiful.
“That was incredible. Let me see,” she says coming to my side.
I bring the picture up and it’s a beauty. Oh and yeah, there’s also a butterfly.
“Let’s get set up.”
“What can I do?”
“There’s pillows in the duffel and a few bottles of liquor. You can pour us a drink while I get to the rest of this. I’m going to have the scotch. There’s ice in the cooler.”
She gets to her job while I set up the chairs and place the new pillows next to each other on the blanket. I pull the vase and flowers from the tote. Pouring a little water from the Arrowhead bottle to keep t
hem alive, the vase is set in the corner of the flatbed. Right next to where her head will lay.
“Flowers? You thought to bring flowers?”
“For my girl.”
“I’m your girl?” She says it shyly.
“Yep. I’m staking a claim.”
Her only response is a smile contained by lips pressed tight. That’s good enough for me.
“Oh, the mason jars are in the tote. I’ll get ‘em. Take a seat.”
The sun is low now and the sky’s changing color, blue to a deep purple with streaks of orange. I grab the mason jars and she pours our drinks.
“I’d like to make the toast,” she says raising her drink.
I take my seat and our free hands find each other and entwine.
“Here’s to whatever brought you into my life. Fate or happenstance, it feels so right.”
“It’s not chance. That I know.”
We take a sip, but our eyes don’t look away. An overwhelming sense of destiny washes over me.
“I look at you and see my babies,” I say out of nowhere.
Her reaction makes me doubt. The gentle shake of her head, her downcast eyes.
“Did I go too far?”
I put down the mason jar. Mine and then hers. Fuck. A tear courses over her cheek and down her face. I reach up and wipe it away.
“Talk to me, Bristol.”
Lifting her head, our eyes lock. She takes a few moments to compose herself, then squeezes my hand.
“I can’t have children. For me it’s physically impossible.”
The way she speaks, the tone, makes it sound as if she feels a sort of shame. I lift her chin and come close to her face.
“Alright. That’s something we can deal with. You know that.”
“But I’ll never be able to carry your child or give you a biological child. My eggs aren’t viable. And it sounds like you want to be a father.”
“I do. It’s something I’ve always known. But it’s not important to me how that happens. You’re a doctor. You know all the options. Remember Bristol, I was a child without a real family. It would be an honor to be a father to someone who is in the same situation.”
