It Happened One Night (2 page)

But she was awake now and painfully sober. The way she saw it, her only recourse was to disappear. As quietly as she could, she dressed and packed, stuffing her clothing into her bag without snapping or zipping
a single compartment. When she moved to the dresser to retrieve her watch, her gaze fell on a Polaroid picture and the paper beneath.

Oh Lord.

It was their wedding picture—and the license. She picked up the picture, tilting it toward the light for a closer look. When she saw the expressions on their faces, she wanted to cry. They looked so happy. She focused on her own image and had a small moment of satisfaction that even though she must have been drunk out of her mind, she looked normal. Another Marcie teaching was that decent women did not make spectacles of themselves.

Harley sighed and laid the picture down, only to find another peeking out from beneath the license. She picked it up and then stifled a groan. The man standing between them couldn't possibly be the preacher, but then who else could he be? There was an altar behind them and she was holding her friend Susan's bridal bouquet. She looked closer, trying to find another reason why an Elvis reject would be in a picture with them. His black pompadour hairstyle, complete with sideburns all the way to his chin, looked slick and greasy, and the white, rhinestone-bedecked jumpsuit he was wearing was nothing like her pastor's somber black robes. She glanced down at the marriage certificate and then rolled her eyes in disbelief. She hadn't been married in her mother's Southern Baptist church
as she'd planned to all her life. She'd gone and gotten married in the Love Me Tender wedding chapel by a man who looked like Elvis.

What in hell had she been thinking?

Her shoulders slumped. Therein lay the problem. She hadn't been thinking, and obviously, neither had Sam. She glanced again toward the bed, thankful that he was still asleep, then back at the paper.

Samuel Francis Clay. His name was Samuel Francis Clay.

My mother was a huge Sinatra fan.

She shivered, suddenly remembering the sound of his voice explaining the significance of his middle name as he leaned over her shoulder to write his name.

Harley's chin quivered. My name is now Harley June Clay.

She turned again, this time staring long and hard at the man still in her bed, then slipped the wedding ring off her finger. Seconds passed as her heart grew heavy. Something inside her kept saying this would be a mistake even bigger than the marriage had been, but she could see no other way out of what they'd done. Slowly, she looked away, laid the ring on top of the dresser beside the pictures, then picked up her bag and slipped out of the room. It wasn't until later when her plane finally took off for Savannah that she let herself cry. And even then, she wasn't sure if she was crying for the mess she'd made of her life by getting married,
or the fact that she'd walked out on the best thing she'd ever done.

Savannah, Georgia—Four days later

* * *

The phone on Harley June's desk rang abruptly, breaking her train of thought.

“Turner Insurance Agency, how may I help you? Oh...hello, Mrs. Peabody. Yes, I gave Mr. Turner your message. No, I'm sorry, but he's still not back from his meeting. Yes, I will certainly tell him you have called again. No, ma'am, I am not giving you the runaround. Yes, ma'am, I know you are a busy woman. No, ma'am, it isn't polite to lie. Yes, Mrs. Peabody, I will give my mother your regards. Thank you for calling.”

“Mrs. Peabody still got her panties in a twist?”

Harley looked at one of the other insurance agents and resisted the urge to sigh.

“What do you think?”

Jennifer Brownlee laughed.

“Oh, I almost forgot. Your mother called while you were out to lunch.”

Harley rolled her eyes, wondering what her mother could possibly want now. Ever since Harley had come back from Susan's wedding in Las Vegas, her mother had been grilling her like a sergeant. First on what everything looked like and then who attended, always curling her lip just the least little bit as she asked. Even though Harley loved her mother dearly, she also knew
and accepted the fact that Marcie Lee Beaumont was a bit of a snob.

She picked up the phone and called her parents' number. Her father answered on the second ring and Harley smiled at the familiar sound.

“Hi, Daddy, it's me. Jennifer said Mama called earlier. Is she home?”

“Yes, she's in the kitchen ironing aluminum foil,” Dewey Beaumont said. “Want me to get her?”

Harley stifled a giggle. Her mother's penury was well-known among friends and family. Dewey Beaumont had plenty of money. The Beaumont family home and their lifestyle reflected it, and yet Marcie pinched pennies as if they were about to be evicted. The fact that she washed and ironed used aluminum foil over and over until it completely lost the ability to fold was one of her more quirky habits. It was something Harley had long ago accepted about her mother and something her father prayed had not been passed on to his only child.

“It can wait. Do you have any idea what she wanted?” Harley asked. Then she heard her daddy chuckle.

“No, but I know she made the call right after she talked to Susan's mother, Betty Jean.”

Harley's heart skipped a beat, then settled back into its normal rhythm. There was no reason to panic. Susan was long gone by the time Harley must have taken off with Sam Clay. Her fingers tightened around the receiver. If only she could remember the details of that night, she would feel a lot safer.

As her daddy droned on, talking about this and that, Harley let her thoughts drift, and as they did, they headed straight for Sam Clay. The last time she'd seen him he'd been bare naked and barely covered, lying on her motel bed like a sleeping Adonis. In weaker moments, she let herself wonder what might have happened if she'd stayed and faced the music, so to speak. But then reason always seemed to return and Harley accepted the fact that she'd done the right thing by leaving. Somewhere down the road when she could face the truth of what she'd done, she would see a lawyer about getting the marriage set aside. Surely she couldn't be held to something she didn't even remember.

Then she sighed. What she did remember was making slow, sweet love to a most magnificent man. That, she told her errant conscience, was something she
needed
to forget.

“...and so I told her it was none of her business, but you know your mother.”

Harley blinked, realizing she hadn't been  paying any attention to what her daddy had been saying.

“Hmmm...Oh...yes, I think I do,” Harley said.

Dewey hesitated. It wasn't like him to broach tender subjects that he considered “woman business” with his own daughter, but he considered her the best thing he'd ever done in his life, and didn't want to see her waste her life. She was twenty-seven years old and had yet to be engaged. In Savannah, an eligible young
lady quite often went through a couple of suitors before settling on the proper one. Harley didn't seem interested in the things that most young women her age focused on and it bothered him greatly. He wanted to  see  her  happy  and  wanted  her  children  playing around his knees before he was too old to enjoy them, so he cleared his throat and said what was on his mind.

“Harley June, did you have a good time in Las Vegas?”

Again, Harley's heart skipped a beat. Guilt settled heavy on her heart. She hated lying, but how could she tell what she'd done without making herself appear a total fool.

“Why, yes, Daddy, I had a good time. Susan and Mike made such a wonderful couple and the wedding was beautiful.”

Dewey frowned. “But what about you? Did
you
have a good time?” He chuckled. “If that had been me at your age, I would have at least hit the gaming tables—gone to a few shows—you know...lived it up a bit before I settled back into the same old routine.”

Harley thought about telling him, but how do you say,
Oh sure, Daddy, I cut loose like you wouldn't believe. I not only partied all night, I let Elvis marry me to a total stranger.
Instead, she heard herself saying...

“The wedding was marvelous. I had a very nice time dancing. I even had champagne, Daddy, okay?”

Dewey sighed. “Now, honey girl, I just worry about
you, that's all. It's a daddy's job. Don't take this wrong, but I would hate to see you wind up exactly like your mama, God bless her. I love her with all my heart, but I do not want to know that I sired a daughter who saves buttons and aluminum foil.”

Harley burst out laughing. “I know, Daddy, and I promise, I won't. I've got to get back to work now. Tell Mama I'll call her tonight, all right?”

“Yes, I will. I love you, Harley June.”

“I love you, too, Daddy.”

Harley was still smiling as she hung up the phone. She glanced across the aisle at Jennifer as she started to swivel her chair back to the computer when Jennifer's eyes suddenly widened and then she let out a fake moan.

“Oh my lord! I think I'm in love.”

“What are you talking about?” Harley asked.

Jennifer pointed.

Harley turned around.

“Oh God.”

The smile died on her face just as Sam Clay leaned across her desk and planted a kiss square in the middle of her lips, then whispered softly.

“Junie, darlin', I'm not God, I'm Sam. How can you keep forgetting when it's tattooed on your butt?”

Harley  June  jumped  to  her  feet,  poised  to  bolt. Reading her body language, Sam put himself between her and the door.

“What are you doing here?” Harley asked.

“I came to take you home,” Sam said, and then lifted her jacket from the back of her chair. “Where's your purse?”

She began to sputter. “I can't go yet. I'm at work. Besides, you have no business—”

“You are my wife, therefore you are my business,” he said calmly, then looked beneath her desk, spied a handbag and picked it up.

But he hadn't counted on the stir his words would cause. Before Harley could argue, the other two insurance agents, their secretaries and the mail clerk all had to have their say. Shouts of surprise were followed by cries of congratulations. Sam suddenly felt like a bug under glass, but he held his ground. He hadn't had two solid hours of consecutive sleep since he woke up in Las Vegas to find Harley gone. Added to that, his stomach had been in knots ever since he'd found her ring on their picture. He knew what they'd done had been crazy and impulsive, and there had been a brief moment when he'd picked up that ring and thought about following her lead—of going home and never looking back. But that notion had lasted all of a minute until he looked at the bed. Remembering the magic they made together when they made love was all the impetus he'd needed. He'd taken the next flight home to Oklahoma City, worked his shift until he'd had his next four-day hiatus, then had taken a plane straight to Savannah.

And the moment he'd walked into the insurance office
and seen her sitting behind that desk and laughing into the phone, he knew he'd done the right thing. All he had to do was convince Harley.

Jennifer was the first to reach Harley's side. She winked at Sam and then hugged Harley.

“Harley June! I can't believe you didn't tell us you were married. When did this happen? Aren't you going to introduce us to your new husband?”

Harley's mouth was moving, but nothing was coming out. Sam figured if anyone was talking, it would have to be him.

“We got married four...almost five days ago,” Sam said. “In Las Vegas.”

Unknowingly, he flashed Jennifer a smile that made her wish she was fifteen years younger and single.

“And my name is Sam Clay,” he added, extending his hand.

Jennifer giggled. “Pleased to meet you, Sam Clay. I'm Jennifer.”

Before anyone could answer, Waymon Turner, of Turner Insurance, came in the door.

“What's going on here?” he said.

Harley groaned. The boss was back, and it looked like they were having a party.

“Uh... Mr. Turner, Mrs. Peabody has called four times for you. She's very upset and—”

Sam held out his hand. “Mr. Turner, I'm Sam Clay. Pleased to meet you. I know this is a big imposition, but Junie is turning in her resignation.”

“Who's Junie?” he asked, then eyed Sam closely. “Am I supposed to know you, son?”

Harley rolled her eyes and elbowed Sam. “I told you no one calls me that.” Then she tried to smile, knowing that her explanation was only going to make everything worse, but it had to be said.

“He's talking about me, Mr. Turner, and uh...Sam is my...well, when I was in Las Vegas we...you see I—”

“I'm her husband,” Sam said. “I came to take Junie home.”

Now Waymon Turner was thoroughly confused. He eyed Harley June, trying to gauge the mood of the moment by the expression on her face and saw nothing but panic and confusion. He knew just how she felt.

“I didn't know you were married, Harley June. When did this event take place?” he asked.

“Almost five days ago at four-fifteen in the morning at the Love Me Tender chapel in Las Vegas, Nevada,” Sam said.

Jennifer squealed. For a woman her age, it was hard to pull off, but somehow she made it work.

“Oh my Gawd! How romantic! I can't wait to tell Johnson.”

Harley groaned.

Sam smiled. “Hold out your arms, darlin',” Sam said, and held out the jacket that he'd taken from the back of her chair. He slipped it on her while she was trying to argue.

“Here's your purse, too.”

Harley snatched it to her chest like a shield.

“You can't just—”

“Here you go,” he said, slipping the long strap over her shoulder and then taking her by the elbow and guiding her to the door. “Everyone, it's been nice meeting you,” he said. “If you're ever in Oklahoma City, give us a call.”