A Matter of Destiny (13 page)

When she saw Joe standing by the door, she was glad she'd made the extra effort to look nice. He was wearing black slacks and a light blue sweater. The outfit made his hair appear even darker. No man should look that good.

He strolled toward her and took her hand. "You're beautiful, Sharon." When she didn't answer, he added, "Ready to go?"

With great effort, she broke free from his dark gaze and glanced around. "Where are the boys?"

"They wanted to pick up a couple of their friends, so I said we'd meet them there. Caddy's on the back porch, sound asleep."

"But..." Sharon was momentarily flustered by the change in plans. She realized she still cared what people thought. Would her neighbors assume she and Joe were dating?

As if sensing her hesitation, Joe put his hand under her elbow and said, "I promise to pretend I don't know you, if it'll make you feel any better."

Her voice revealed a tremor when she laughed. "Don't be silly. Let's go."

Sharon studied his profile as they drove to the dance. It was too intimate in the small space, and Joe looked devastatingly handsome.

What a dangerous combination, and exciting, she admitted.

He didn't break the silence until they'd parked at the Community Grange Hall. He turned in the seat and said, "I don't know much about country dancing. Do you think your feet can handle mine stomping on them?"

Sharon felt the tension in her ease. "Come on, Reardon, you're in for quite an experience. And if you step on me too much, I'll simply change partners."

He quirked his brow at that, then helped her out of the car. They were among the early arrivals. Few people would even realize they'd come together. The hall wasn't decorated, and for the first time, Sharon wished that it was.

She imagined seeing it from Joe's sophisticated view. The huge potbelly stove crackled in the corner, though that was only to warm the initial chill from the building. It wouldn't be needed later when the dancing began.

Memories of dances gone by nearly overpowered her, but she pushed them back. She had to go on; she couldn't change what had happened. But it was so hard sometimes.

Myrt and Esther waved from the kitchen, so she grabbed Joe's hand and pulled him along with her, instantly aware of the warmth he exuded.

"Hi Myrt, Esther."

Myrt had pulled her salt-and-pepper hair into a bun, her stick figure in sharp contrast to Esther's ample one. Both women clucked their tongues simultaneously. "My, don't you two look purty," Esther said with an approving look.

"Thanks," Sharon replied, glancing at Joe. She felt no censure from the other women. "Myrt, I've been telling Joe about your chicken salad. Could he sneak a preview?"

"That handsome man can have anything of mine he wants," Myrt said with a chuckle, offering a plate piled high with sandwiches.

Joe reached for one and closed his eyes as he took a big bite. Sharon watched, fascinated.

"Hmmm, delicious. You weren't exaggerating, Sharon. This is great."

Myrt beamed with pleasure at his compliment. "Well, just help yourself. There's coffee and brownies besides."

Sharon discovered how hungry she was, having been too excited to eat all day. As she tasted a brownie, she spotted David and Luke come in with two other boys.

She waved, but they headed for a group of kids sitting on the benches that lined the walls. Sharon wondered if the Banners would change their minds about coming. Paula had told her she wouldn't without Ty, and he hadn't wanted to.

Soon, the local band began tuning up, and Joe whispered to Sharon, "Don't forget, you'll have to show me how."

She winked at him, and turned to watch the ritual that Punk and Percy and Elmer went through before each dance. One of them would tune his instrument, then call out to another member to do the same.

Before long, they were calling back and forth until an improvised jazz session threatened to get out of control.

By this time, their audience was itching to dance. Punk was the official caller and stepped up to the microphone, his age-worn voice boasting a nasal twang.

"Howdy-do, neighbors, it's time to dance. Grab yore gal while you've got the chance."

Sharon took Joe's arm and lead him to the center of the floor as the couples lined up facing each other.

"Swing your partner round and round; careful now and don't fall down."

It didn't take Joe long to catch on, and soon they were laughing with the rest as they promenaded up and down.

"Now take that gal for a stroll, till them blisters take their toll."

Joe raised his brows at that one and whispered to Sharon as she swung by, "By the way, does he write his own material?"

"How'd you guess?" she called before moving on to the next partner. Finally, the first square dance was over, and they collapsed on the nearest bench. Catching her breath, Sharon merely nodded when Joe asked if she'd like some punch.

Now it was the younger set's turn. Punk's group was versatile, if nothing else, and started with the current top-of-the-chart rock tune. Sharon and Joe sat that one out as they sipped the punch and watched the kids.

Joe shook his head, "Now I know I'm getting old." He gestured toward the gyrating youngsters. "It looks like their entire bodies are double-jointed."

Sharon agreed. "The last time Luke tried to teach me the latest steps, I slept with a heating pad for a week."

When the band began a slow, melancholy waltz, the teenagers groaned and headed en masse to the kitchen. "That's more like it," Joe said, reaching for her hand.

Sharon knew this was dangerous ground, but she was having so much fun. When he pulled her into his arms, she matched his steps with an easy grace.

She felt his lips touch her hair, then he pulled back and grinned down at her. "This is nice."

Sharon stared up at him, trying to picture Tom, but couldn't. She frowned as she tried to figure out why.

"It's okay, honey, relax."

Joe pulled her closer, and Sharon gave in to the comfort of his embrace, her guilt diminished by her need. She leaned her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes, allowing herself the joy of the moment.

Sharon thought she heard Joe murmur her name, but wasn't sure. Their languid drifting was brutally ended when someone poked her sharply on the shoulder.

"I'm cutting in, Sharon." It took a minute to clear her head and come back to earth.

Celia waited expectantly. "Come on, tear yourself away."

Sharon looked up at Joe and noted the clenching of his jaw. His arm tightened around her back at the same time, then he released her and smiled.

"Don't go too far," he murmured for her alone.

Sharon didn't even glance at Celia again, but turned toward the kitchen. She threaded through the crowd, still enveloped in a dreamlike state from being in Joe's arms.

She didn't know if it was Joe that made her feel this way, or having a man hold her again. Maybe it was because she missed Tom so much. If only she could think clearly.

She was chatting with Myrt when Joe rejoined her.

"How did you manage to escape her clutches?" Sharon teased.

"I keep a bullwhip handy for just such an occasion," he quipped.

"You two quit horsin' around and follow me," Myrt said in a loud stage whisper. She opened the back door of the hall, and they accompanied her into the night.

Joe tapped Sharon's arm and raised his shoulders as if to question Myrt's purpose. Sharon held up one finger to tell him to hold on a minute.

When they reached a beat-up green sedan, Myrt stopped and swung open the back door. "Get in," she ordered.

Joe murmured, "I don't know what this is all about, but I'm liking it more and more."

Sharon frowned at him and put her finger to her lips. "Shhh, behave."

Myrt climbed into the front, reached down and lifted a paper bag onto the seat. Joe leaned forward and watched with interest as she pulled a Tupperware container from the bag. Giving it a shake, she rummaged into the sack again and produced plastic cups, handing them around.

"What the..." Joe began.

"Don't say anything," Sharon said, "just try it. This is an old 4-H custom. All the punch with pizzazz is kept outside."

Joe nodded with approval as he sipped the contents. "My compliments to the chef," he said, lifting the cup.

"Glad you like it," Myrt replied, draining hers. "You two help yourselves. I've got to get back to the kitchen before the teenagers find out no one's minding the store."

They both chuckled as they watched her go. "Fascinating customs," Joe commented. "I didn't know all that the 4-H involved. Never again will I imagine only manure-filled stalls at the county fair."

"Just don't tell the kids," Sharon warned. "Want some more?" She felt all churned up inside being left alone with him in such a private setting.

The moon cast a soft glow over the parking lot and the old building, giving everything an unreal appearance.

"Don't mind if I do," he said, holding out his cup.

Sharon stopped breathing when her fingers brushed his. They had to get back inside. He was too masculine, too overpowering for her to resist in her present state. Even Myrt's old sedan took on the aura of a solitary wagon on a long-ago starlit plain. Sharon drank more of the strong beverage, then said, "We'd better go in."

Joe took her cup and drained the contents before putting it back into the bag. He did the same with his own, then lifted her chin.

Before she could move, he leaned down and brushed her lips softly.

It happened so fast that Sharon had no time to protest. Did she want to? She merely felt disappointed when it ended so abruptly. She swayed toward him, unbalanced as she was by his kiss.

Joe crushed her to him as a deep moan escaped his lips. For a moment, Sharon thought he'd called out a woman's name. She was startled by the overwhelming emotions that swept through her traitorous body. Her arms went around him and explored the taut muscles of his back.

Again and again he kissed her, and Sharon didn't want him to stop. His mouth pulled a response from her like nothing she'd ever known. Not even with...what was she thinking?

Confused and shaken, she drew away and searched for the door handle. Joe reached around her and lifted it easily, then put his hand on her arm.

"Sharon, don't shut me out. What are you feeling?"

His need was strong; she could hear it in his voice.

She answered truthfully. "I'm not sure." She laughed softly, on the verge of tears. "It's not the same as kissing my father."

He laughed with her. "I'm glad to hear that." He drew a finger along the line of her jaw. "It's not wrong to have those feelings, Sharon. Someday, there will be room in your heart to love again."

Lifting her gaze to his, she thought what a fine man he was. He deserved someone who could love him whole-heartedly, someone who'd hold nothing back.

"Can you understand that I feel like I'm being unfaithful?" She saw the hurt in his eyes, but he had a right to know.

He nodded, exhaling. "I guess I can."

"I'm sorry," she said simply, touching his lips for an instant. "Let's go inside."

They spent the rest of the evening learning new square dances or chatting with the neighbors. This wasn't just a dance, it was the place to learn how many acres each farmer had plowed, the going price of hay, which projects the kids were taking, and what the families were planting in their gardens this season.

When it was time to go home, Sharon searched out her boys and told them not to dawdle, but to take their friends right home.

"Does the same rule apply to you, Mom?" Luke teased.

She felt her face grow hot. "I'll probably beat you home."