Cold Tea on a Hot Day (21 page)

She was still holding Willie Lee when Parker bent to kiss her good-night.

“Parker…”

He paused and looked at her. But with Willie Lee in her arms and Aunt Vella in and out of the kitchen, there was no room for privacy. “I’m glad you stopped by tonight.”

He nodded. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Yes. Do.”

Then she was alone in the silent kitchen, Willie Lee dozing against her breasts, where not so long ago Parker’s ministrations had been working her into wild passion.

The house was quiet. Aunt Vella was not snoring. Marilee tiptoed to the door of the bedroom and looked in, wondering if she should put a mirror underneath her
aunt’s nose to make certain she was alive. She did not know which she found more disconcerting, her aunt snoring like a character in an animated cartoon, or her aunt not making any noise at all.

At that particular moment, Aunt Vella let out a ragged breath, proving she was alive. With relief, Marilee glanced at Willie Lee, who was sprawled in a perfectly relaxed manner. She smiled. She might worry a great deal about his future, but his present was quite blessed. The swelling on his lip was marginal, and he had fallen back into his secure, easygoing ways.

She then looked into her own bedroom, where the bedside table lamp glowed dimly. Corrine, with Munro lying beside her, had fallen asleep, once again with a book lying on her chest. Under Munro’s watchful eyes, Marilee removed the book and turned out the light.

“You are a good friend,” she whispered to the dog and touched his head.

Still gazing at him, she wondered where the dog had come from. She wondered at how he had come into their lives seemingly at just the right moment.

Tender mercies, her mother had once explained in a particularly uncharacteristic thoughtful moment. For an instant, warm memories of childhood fluttered over Marilee like a delicate butterfly. There had been good times, but the memories of these times seemed to have been clouded over with the hard, stormy ones. She wished she could find a better balance between the two.

Going into the kitchen, she got out the pitcher of tea—Tate’s round pitcher that she needed to return to him. There was one full glass of tea left in it; he had not
brought fresh that evening, and she wondered at this. She missed him.

No, she did not, she told herself.

Oh, she liked Tate, and that was good and natural, too. Tate was a likeable man. But she could not make more out of it than was there. There was not a “thing” between them. Parker was hers, what she needed.

Parker was what she could deal with. Tate was way beyond her capabilities.

She thought this as, carrying along her glass of tea, she went to the back door, opened it and peered in the direction of her editor’s house. It was perfectly black in that direction; the trees blocking any lights that might shine from his windows, if Tate was reading or doing some strange thing, like making another pitcher of iced tea in the careful manner he liked to take with it.

Inhaling the warm, humid air of coming summer through the screen door, she thought how summer edged upon them this time of year, one night humid as July and the next cool again. As if trying to sneak up on them, or accustom them to what was coming, one day at a time, until all their days were summer, hot and dry and so long sometimes she thought she would burn right up.

What else had her mother said?
The good news is that you can get used to anything. The bad news is that you can get used to anything.

She paused and listened for a moment, hearing the first click of an early cicada far out beneath a tree…the rustle of leaves…light rain pattering through the leaves and onto the roof. Aunt Vella had begun to snore gently, and the refrigerator purred beneath this.

Thank you, God, after all, even for the hot and dry when it comes. Thank you for my family, for my children all safe in bed. Thank you for the safety of this house. Look after my sister, Lord. And Mama…yes, and dear Mama.

The gratitude came out of nowhere, and she embraced it as the precious emotion it was. This was something she could cling to. Something that anchored her and erased, for brief moments, anyway, the anxiousness that seemed to plague her soul.

She remained there at the door, as if she could keep the gratitude by not moving. As if it had come to her on the night air.

Yet then, inevitably, came a cool, swift breeze.

With a shiver, she closed the door and carried her now empty tea glass to the kitchen sink.

Glancing in the night-black window, she saw the reflection of the telephone on the wall behind her.

She turned and went to it and dialed Parker’s number.

The answering service came on the line. The doctor was unavailable at the moment. If Marilee would give them the emergency message, the woman would relay it to the doctor. “He’ll return your call as soon as possible.”

“Oh, no, this isn’t an emergency.” Marilee looked at the clock. It was after eleven. Parker might already be asleep. “I’ll catch him tomorrow during office hours. Thank you.”

She didn’t suppose saying, “I’ll marry you,” was something she should blurt out on the telephone, not to mention waking up Parker to do it.

Toss Up the Heart, See Where it Lands

T
ate came out into air heavy as wet wool. The weatherman on the radio predicted high temperatures and possibly more storms that evening. It was enjoy the morning and get in out of the heat by afternoon. Summer was here.

Jogging down the porch steps, Tate felt a sense of power infuse him. This was an atmosphere with which he had full familiarity. By golly, Houston had mornings thicker than this on a dry summer day.

He went past the lilac bush fast enough to cause wet leaves to flutter. Bubba popped out from beneath it and jumped high. Tate sprinted over a puddle at the curb; when his Nikes hit the street, they seemed to be carrying him along all on their own.

Down Porter he went at a pace to warm him up. No one stirring at the James house. The young UPS man did only one quickie on the porch beam and plopped to the ground.
Tate lifted a high five to him and headed on around the corner, his legs and arms and heart all picking up the pace and going with the same strong rhythm. He nodded and called “Mornin’,” as he sprinted passed the walking ladies, who were strolling this morning, one fanning herself with her hat.

On Main Street, Bonita Embree was entering her bakery. As she unlocked the door, she dropped the bag in her hand, and Betty Crocker box mixes spilled out on the sidewalk five feet in front of Tate. With the grace of a ballet dancer, Tate bent and swept up the boxes, deposited them in Bonita’s arms and proceeded on, having done it all with only a pause of three heartbeats.

“Please don’t tell,” Bonita’s voice followed after him.

“Not a word,” Tate tossed over his shoulder and kept on going in his groove.

There was Charlotte across the street, poking the flag in its holder out front of the
Voice.
He waved, but she was already going back in the door.

Then it was around the corner of the police station—was that a mocha aroma in the coffee this morning?—and onward up Church into the first rays of the sun breaking through the morning mist, jogging all the way and still not slowing down.

Good morning, Life! Good morning, Lord! I am ready for whatever comes this day. Thank you for that.

Woo-eee! See me now, Lindsey.

But Lindsey was nowhere in sight.

Tate slowed his pace. He jogged up his driveway and back down again, checked his watch and slowed down as his chest began to burn. He did leg-stretching exercises
there at the end of his driveway, keeping an eye out up the hill.

Lindsey did not appear. Of all the mornings for Lindsey to skip jogging, this had to be one of them.

Silly to be wanting to show off, anyway, Tate thought and took himself in hand, jogging on around to his back door.

Ha! Likely Lindsey could not take the thick humidity. Whereas Tate was rather pleased to see that he thrived in it.

He sure wished Lindsey had come along to see.

Through the open door of her editor’s office, Marilee saw Tate on the telephone. He was reared back in his chair, his feet up on his desk, every bit the big editor, which everyone had taken to calling him.

Intending to slip in and lay her current detention center piece on his desk and slip back out again, she moved quietly and didn’t look at him, but Tate jumped up and grabbed her arm, stretching the telephone cord, which pulled the telephone along the desk at an alarming rate.

His hand was hot and firm through her sleeve.

“Well, I look forward to meetin’ the congressman, too, Mayor,” he said into the phone. “Sure do. Seven o’clock. I’ll see you then, and we’ll talk some more. Goodbye.”

He let go of her arm and leaned over to drop the receiver into its cradle, causing his shirt to stretch tight over his firm shoulders.

Then he was facing her, his blue eyes dancing. “It’s a delight to see you, Miss Marilee.” His gaze went to her hair, in that way he had of always seeming to
observe
her.

“Hello.” She held out the papers and disk. “I brought the
disk with my detention center piece, and a printed copy, too.”

“I like your hair up like that. It gives you a very elegant neck.”

“Oh…I wear my hair up when it gets so humid.” She was smoothing at her hair before she realized it.

“Well, you are lovely as a summer day with it like that.” He slipped his rear onto the edge of his desk.

“Thank you.” She felt foolishly self-conscious. Charm was Tate’s way, like water from a faucet. “Well, that’s all I had.” She turned to leave.

“I think Lindsey must not compliment you enough.”

That stopped her in her tracks. “Why do you say that?”

“Because you were surprised at me doing it. You always seem a little surprised at my compliments.”

“Anyone would be surprised. You say things that almost no other man on earth says. And I really don’t believe that Parker complimenting me or not complimenting me is any of your business.” She was instantly ashamed at both her bold statement and tone of voice. She didn’t know what got into her.

He smiled at her, though. “The secret of life…
one
secret of life,” he corrected, “is to know when to make things my business.” Without giving her time to comment on that, he added, “You could have sent the file directly to my computer from yours,” and picked up the typed pages she had brought him.

“I wasted twenty minutes attempting to do that. Bringing it over seemed a whole lot easier.” That was where her temper had come from; dealing with the new computer was wearing on her last nerve.

“This is just fine. No problem at all.”

“Good.” She nodded at him and stepped toward the door.

“Wait a minute.” In a swift movement, he slipped off the desk, reached the door in two strides and surprised her by closing it.

He looked at her, and she looked at him. Was he going to kiss her? She stepped back before she realized, taken by a little panic.

Then, folding his arms, he said. “You are a lovely woman, Miss Marilee, and your hair like that gives you a definite exotic air.”

She could find nothing to say to that.

He smiled a smile she had come to recognize as seductive. “I would very much like you to go to dinner with me Saturday night. I’m supposed to have dinner with the mayor and his wife, a state congressman, and a few other people I’ve already forgotten. Would you accompany me, so that I can have a really good time?”

His eyes were intent upon her, blue as the summer sky, and with a hint of something that caused her to hold her breath for a fraction of a second.

Then she shook her head. “I’m sorry, I can’t. I already have dinner plans.”

“Well now…there’s always another night. How about Sunday night? What’s your preference—steak, chicken fry or Mexican?”

“No, I don’t think so.” She brushed at imaginary stray hairs and looked at the door.

“I suppose this is because you have a standing date with Lindsey.”

“I am dating Parker at this time, yes.” Which he well knew. She moved a half step toward the door, indicating that she wanted to go.

Her editor, however, leaned his shoulder against the door, fully blocking her in with him.

“Just what is goin’ on with you and Lindsey? I have it from him that you two are engaged, and I have it from you that you two are going together and considering being engaged. Which is it? Engaged or not engaged?”

“Parker’s and my relationship is not any of your concern.” She felt trapped.

“I have the concern of being attracted to you.”

She gazed at her boss, and he gazed at her. A certain glint came into his eyes.

“You’ve known Lindsey for many years, I take it, both of you livin’ here in this small town. Since Lindsey is the one who told me you two were engaged, and you are the one who has said you’re goin’ together and considering engagement, I’m assuming you aren’t wild about acceptin’ the man’s proposal. It seems to me that your behavior could be considered a little on the rude side. Just how long do you intend to keep the poor man in suspense?”

“It seems to me that your training as a journalist has caused you to do a lot of supposin’ into private lives that are none of your business.” She reached out and took hold of the door handle.

His jaw tight now, he moved aside. She jerked the door open and left.

When she was halfway to her desk, where she had left the children with coloring pens, a loud banging came
from behind her in Tate’s office. She, Charlotte and June, who was nearby at the copy machine, turned. Nothing could be seen through the partially opened door.

Charlotte immediately marched herself into his office and seconds later returned and said, particularly to Marilee, “He kicked his trash can across the room.”

She had provoked him, she knew it very well, but was too wrought up to feel remorse. He pricked her in the wrong places. She hoped she did not get fired.

The only car in the lot of the Lindsey Veterinary Clinic was a blue Honda that belonged to Deedee, the receptionist. It had white silhouettes of different breeds of dogs stuck all over its rear window.

Marilee pulled to a stop beside the Honda. Munro needing shots gave her the perfect excuse to stop by. Parker had mentioned the shots from the very first day and had kept forgetting to give them to the dog.

Why would she need an excuse to stop by?

Whipping down the visor, she checked her face in the mirror to make certain she didn’t have mascara smudges.
Come to supper tonight, Parker.
No, that wouldn’t do. She needed to speak to him alone, which meant going out.

Her lipstick had faded, but she would not freshen it and appear so obviously after a man with Corrine looking at her. Good heavens, what was happening to her? She flipped the visor back up and grabbed her purse.

Let’s go out to supper, Parker.
She didn’t think she should be the one to ask. She had asked him last night if he still wanted to get married. It was his turn to speak of the matter. He had said he would call her, but he hadn’t.
Although he might have called that morning, after they had left the house.

I’m sorry about the interruption last night.
The rain wasn’t her fault, though. Her son busting his mouth open and needing her attention had not been her fault, either. Why in the world did she feel so at fault?

She realized then that Corrine was out and walking to the clinic door, while Willie Lee remained sitting in the back seat. She opened his door.

“Why aren’t you and Munro getting out?”

“Mun-ro doesn’t want to go in there.” His blue eyes blinked behind his thick glasses.

“Oh. Well, he has to, sugar. He needs to get vaccinated so he won’t get sick. Parker will give him a shot, so that Munro won’t get rabies. He could get rabies from a skunk that might bite him.” She gazed at both her son and the dog, who sat with his chin as if permanently stuck to Willie Lee’s thigh. “Besides that, honey, you and Corrine both have flea bites from Munro sleeping with you. We need to get something to help Munro with fleas…so he can continue to sleep with you,” she added in a deliberate and measured tone.

She waited, gazing at him.

Willie Lee gave a big sigh and inched out of the seat. “Come on, Mun-ro.”

Marilee followed her son and the dog to the building.
I am ready to talk about this thing, Parker. Are you?
She was ready to get this thing settled between them.
I’ll marry you, Parker.

She took hold of the glass door and they all entered; Corrine in the lead, Willie Lee trudging inside, and Munro slinking with his tail dragging.

Marilee, stepping into the waiting room that smelled of disinfectant, didn’t think right this minute, in front of the children, was the place to have any sort of marriage discussion. But if she didn’t, maybe neither one of them would have time to get together to get it said. Maybe she should just say it, and they could work out the details later.

“Doc’s not in,” Deedee told them immediately.

“Oh.” She had not given this possibility a thought.

Deedee popped chewing gum. “He’s out on a couple of calls.” She stood and looked over the counter at Munro, who had lain down, his paws on the floor, trying his best to sink out of sight. “I can page him if this is an emergency.”

“No…it’s not an emergency. We were just going to get Munro his shots.”

“I don’t give shots, but I can sell them to you, and you can do it to your own. Lots of people do.”

Marilee looked down at Munro, whose eyes popped wide and stared at her.

My thoughts exactly.
“I think I’d better wait for Parker.”

Munro got to his feet, ready to go.

Aunt Vella was asleep and snoring in the big wingback chair. Willie Lee went straight to the chair, leaned on the arm and watched her with fascination.

“Willie Lee, come away from there. Don’t wake Aunt Vella.”