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Authors: More Than Memory

BOOK: Dorothy Garlock
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“Yes.” He said it softly and took her chin tightly in his hand. She attempted to twist away from him, but he held her firmly and kissed her gently on the mouth. She tried to close her heart against the sweetness of it and the tender look in his eyes.
“The first time I kissed you was on a cold night after the last football game of the season. We were
sitting in the pickup with a blanket over our legs because I didn’t have enough gas to keep the engine running.”
“Why are you bringing that up now?” Her heart was haunted and dark with despair. She tried to push him away.
“I don’t know. I guess you never really forget your first love.” With her head in the powerful grip of his two hands, he slowly lowered his lips to hers and kissed her with slow deliberation, his lips playing softly, coaxing.
Never had she had to fight so hard not to surrender completely, to cling to him and beg him to stay with her forever, tell him that a part of him would be with her always.
With blinding clarity the truth hit. He was amusing himself with her.
“Lute, no!” She pulled back, and he let her go. “Rhetta will be wondering what’s taking us so long.”
“Okay. I certainly wouldn’t want Rhetta to get the idea that I’m out here kissing my ex-wife. It could damage my image of most eligible bachelor.” His words were tinged with sarcasm.
“What you’re really afraid of is that Miss Home Ec will find out.” Her tone matched his.
“You’re right. I’ve got to have someone to fill in when you leave.”
She balled her fist, wishing that she had the nerve to hit him.
He reached across her and released the door. The interior light came on, and Nelda collected her shoes and purse. Without looking at him, she got out of
the car. By the time she reached the porch he was beside her, his hand on her elbow. She wanted to jerk away, but the thoughts rushed in like an ocean wave—last kiss, last touch—

 

 

C
hapter
T
wenty-three
R
HETTA THREW OPEN THE DOOR
.
“Well, you two. I was about to call out the emergency squad. I thought you’d slid into a ditch somewhere.”
“It was nothing as exciting as that.” Nelda forced a lightness into her voice. She glanced at Lute. He was handsome standing there, his dark suit dramatically setting off his blond hair.
“Come have a drink. Gary was late as usual. Give me your coat. Better yet, you take it, Lute. Oh, dear, isn’t it awful to have to wear snow boots with a dress-up dress?” Rhetta’s eyes ping-ponged continuously between Nelda and Lute. “Emerald green is a wonderful color on you. Don’t you think so, Lute?”
“Great,” Lute said softly.
Nelda rushed into speech. “If we’re going to be here a while, I’ll take off my boots.”
“Leave them on. Gary’s getting dressed, and if he knows that we’re having a drink he’ll hurry.” Rhetta seemed nervous.
“Hurry,” Lute scoffed. “Gary doesn’t know the meaning of the word.”
“Fix something for yourself and Nelda, Lute, and I’ll dash upstairs and make sure Gary doesn’t put his pants on backward. I’ll be surprised if he even finds them, even though I’ve laid them out on the bed for him. We’ve been married eighteen years, and that man hasn’t found the dirty clothes hamper yet.”
Nelda tried to shake off the suspicion that had begun to grow on her little by little. Rhetta was contriving to throw her and Lute together. She was leaving them alone, and there had been a vivid sparkle in her eyes, as though she were feeling triumphant.
The intense silence that followed Rhetta’s departure seemed to press in on her. Her face felt stiff, her body devoid of the strength necessary to turn and face Lute, so she pretended to study a landscape hanging on the wall over the couch.
“What will you have? Gary keeps a well-stocked liquor cabinet.” Lute’s voice floated across the room, and she turned to look at his back.
“Nothing, thank you.”
“You drank the night you were here with Smithfield,” he reminded her sharply.
“I wasn’t here with Norris. I met him here.” She looked at the amount of whiskey he’d poured into a glass and closed her eyes in misery. When she opened them, he had started across the room toward her.
“You look as though you could use a drink. Are you sure you’re well?” He had added soda to the whiskey.
“Thanks a lot. Every woman loves to hear that
she looks like death warmed over when she’s dressed for a party.” She held the drink, knowing she couldn’t possibly get a swallow down her throat, and if she did, she would throw it up.
“Fishing for a compliment? You know you’re a beautiful woman. You don’t need to be told.”
“I’m beginning to wish that I’d stayed home with a good book.”
“Don’t worry. The party will liven you up. You just might be the prettiest girl there.”
“Here we are!” Rhetta announced. “Isn’t he gorgeous?”
“Yes, gorgeous,” Lute said dryly.
Rhetta beamed at Gary, who on cue tucked his thumbs into the lapels of his jacket and pivoted like a model.
“He looks like a gigolo. Maybe you should go to the city, Gary, and get a job as a male escort for a rich old lady.”
“Jealous, m’lad? That’s what’s wrong with you. You’re jealous of my good looks and my charm, but I forgive you. Let’s be off.” He grabbed Rhetta and whirled her around and sang terribly off key. “I’m goin’ to rock around the clock tonight with my beautiful wife.”
“It’s a darn good thing you’re a vet and not trying to make a living as a singer,” Lute remarked.
Nelda felt a stab of envy, and before she could stop them her eyes flew to Lute. She could hear some strange sounds from the past . . . a band at a prom and Lute saying over the music,
If anyone asks you to dance, I’ll punch him in the nose
.
How had their love slipped away? Could she have held it if she had come back sooner or had it died the moment she had allowed her father take her from him?
By the time they reached the Surf Ballroom, it was crowded with dancers, all eager to see Buddy Holly and the Crickets. The evening was a total disaster as far as Nelda was concerned. Her strained nerves were near the breaking point by the time they reached the booth Gary had reserved for them.
Buddy Holly, a tall thin kid with black-rimmed glasses was belting out his latest hit tune “Peggy Sue.”
It was mostly a young crowd in saddle shoes and full skirts. They were performing all sorts of gymnastic movements to the beat of the music.
Nelda looked around, recognized a few people she had met through her work at the library, smiled her greetings, and clutched her small purse as if it were a talisman. Rhetta beckoned, and the two of them went to the ladies’ room.
“You’re nervous about being here with Lute,” Rhetta said as if reading her thoughts.
“Well, yes, I am,” Nelda said unsteadily. “I wish you hadn’t sent him for me. I’m sure he had a date and didn’t want to be bothered.”
“He didn’t have a date. He was coming with Gary and me. I don’t think he’s seeing anyone right now.”
“I’ll be leaving soon, and I don’t want any entanglements. Miss Home Ec is welcome to him.”
Nelda added a touch of lipstick with a calmness she didn’t feel.
Rhetta looked at her steadily. Nelda knew she was observing her quivering lower lip, the eyes that looked away, the hands that shook when she returned the lipstick to her purse.
“I don’t believe that for a minute. But never mind. Let’s get back to our men.”
Lute was talking to a group of men near the front of the dance floor. Nelda and Rhetta slipped past and edged their way back to the booth. Nelda was chilled with nerves and wished fervently that the evening were already over.
Gary, singing “Chantilly Lace” along with the Big Bopper, stood and held out his hand to his wife. He pulled Rhetta out onto the dance floor.
Nelda watched Gary and Rhetta dance and realized that they were quite good. It must be wonderful to be able to let yourself go like that and enjoy the music.
A sudden fear almost bowled her over.
I’ve got to get out of here
, Nelda thought frantically.
What if I have to dance with Lute? He’ll know I’m pregnant! My waist is thicker, my breasts fuller. He’ll notice. I know he will. I didn’t think there would be the remote possibility we’d be in the same party. I thought he’d be off somewhere with Meredith
.
As if on cue, he was beside her holding out his hand. “Nelda.”
She froze, her heart turning to ice. She didn’t need to see his face to know he was looking down at her. The sound of the music, the revelry in the
background all receded to a distant murmur in her ears. There was only the tall form beside her, the blond head bending to hers.
“Nelda, dance with me.”
Before she could protest, he had pulled her to her feet. Her hand went to his shoulder, his to her waist. He would have pulled her closer, but she stiffened her arm to hold him away. The band was playing “16 Candles.” As far as Nelda was concerned they could have been playing “Stars and Stripes Forever.” The roaring in her ears prevented her from hearing anything except Lute’s voice.
“Nelda?” he breathed. His fingers held hers tightly. He was looking down at her with naked hunger on his face. She met his eyes briefly, then looked away. “Can’t you look at me?”
She turned her head, but out of the corner of her eye she saw that his eyes, intensely serious, were riveted on her.
“The last time we danced together was at the high-school prom. The school gym was decorated with crepe-paper streamers that fell onto the floor and got tangled around our legs.” His voice was hoarse.
“I remember.”
“
When Arlen Martin tried to cut in and dance with you, I threatened to strangle him with some of the streamers. You were so pretty that night,” he said, then added in a strained voice, “You’re pretty tonight, too.” When he attempted to pull her close to him, she stiffened her arm again and he didn’t persist.
“Thank you. Do . . . you come here to the Surf
often?” She was so breathless she could hardly speak, but felt she had to say something.
“Only on special occasions . . . like this. Do you remember what happened that night?”
“Bobby Jenkins got sick and threw up on Kathy Jacobs’s dress.”
He chuckled. “I remember that, but I remember something else, too.” He bent his head toward hers. “That night after the prom we promised to love each other forever. Nelda, Nelda . . . what happened to that young love?”
The pain in her heart weakened her knees, but the courage she needed to reply lightly came from somewhere deep within her.
“It was puppy love, Lute. A lot of high-school kids mistake it for the real thing.” She was even able to laugh a little.
They swayed to the music. Lute guided her into several turns. Into Nelda’s clouded mind came the realization that she had to get out of here . . . away from him. His hand at her waist could move around and force her closer to him, where he would be sure to feel the baby that nestled inside her.
“I’ve got to sit down,” she blurted. “I don’t feel well.”
Lute stopped immediately and with his arm around her, he led her to the booth.
“I thought something was wrong with you.” Lute slid into the booth opposite her, his knees bumping hers. “You’re sick! What’s the matter? Do you have a temperature?” The concern in his voice brought a
painful ache to her chest, and she had to force back tears.
“I may have a little fever, but I’ll be all right.”
“Do you want to go home?”
“No. I’m all right.” Her voice stuck in her throat, and she dared not look at him. She kept her face averted. She couldn’t let him take her home and run the risk of giving in to the temptation and letting him spend the night. That would be disastrous!
Oh, Lord . . . he can be so persuasive.
“Do you want me to get you some aspirin?”

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