Keeping Victoria's Secret (22 page)

Vandersmoot was rapping on the back door.
When she opened the door, Joe stared at her. “Vicky, you look
great. Doesn’t she look gorgeous, Jack?”

At a loss for words, Jack stood there,
bewildered. What just happened? Then Joe was there clapping him on
the shoulder.

“Hey, Jack. Happy July Fourth.” He grinned at
his friend. “You’re going into town aren’t you? Taking anyone this
year?”

Victoria smiled at him. He was still unable
to speak.

“Well I guess we’ll see you in town. Wish it
wasn’t so darned hot, but I’m sure this will be fun. Maybe it’ll
cool off some this evening. I’ve got a big blanket in the truck so
we can lie down in the dark and watch the fireworks in
comfort.”

“That sounds wonderful," said Victoria. "I
haven’t seen fireworks in years. Bye, Jack.” Vicky slipped on her
sandals and went out the door with Joe. Horrified, he watched her
short red dress hike to the top of her thighs as Joe helped her
climb into his truck. The receding sound of their voices and soft
laughter drifted away as he watched them leave.

He was left standing motionless in the quiet
kitchen, still wondering what had happened. Victoria and my friend
Joe. Together. I’m an idiot. Why did I assume that no one else
would be interested in her? She’s beautiful. More than beautiful,
in that sexy little sundress, but I let him be the one to tell her
she was gorgeous. Why am I so stupid?

His thoughts were interrupted by Romeo and
Juliet purring and sympathetically polishing his ankles. He sighed,
got a mug from the cabinet, and filled it from the half-full pot.
He sipped slowly. The coffee was stone cold and bitter.

From her vantage point behind the dune,
Gwendolyn anxiously watched Captain Jack engaged in an animated
discussion with a strange man. Who could he be? He doesn’t appear
to be a pirate; he’s not like the others. This gentleman was tall
and well dressed in a blue frock coat belted at his waist with a
broad sash. As he spoke, his wavy blond hair was whipped about by
the sea breeze. The conversation grew more spirited until the dark
eyed Captain threw back his head and laughed aloud.

Unexpectedly the stranger turned his gaze
toward her and she caught a glimpse of dancing bright blue eyes.
She shrank down. Has he seen me hiding here? Cautiously lifting her
head, she glimpsed three other men. One was a veritable giant
standing like a monolith, massive arms folded across the rippling
muscles of his chest. His head was shaved and he wore full white
canvas trousers and sea boots. Two other swarthy men flanked the
giant, standing several yards behind the blond man, all with
pistols thrust under their belts. They appeared dangerously fierce
and decidedly unfriendly.

Gwendolyn strained to hear their
conversation, but it was swept away by the winds. She grew alarmed,
as the vigorous exchange between the men escalated. Aiming a thumb
behind him at the growing throng of his pirate crew, Captain Jack
threw back his head and bared his teeth as again, he roared with
laughter. His crew milled about brandishing weapons in a show of
force.

Apparently unconcerned, the tall man nodded
and turning, gave some small signal to those behind him. At that,
to Gwendolyn’s horror, she saw a line of men rise from the tall
grass where they’d hidden. Dressed as sailors, they were more
orderly than the pirates. Spaced evenly in a long row behind him,
there were perhaps as many as thirty men and each of them held a
musket at the ready. Sideling forward they took up positions to
either side of the bald headed giant, who continued staring
impassively at the pirates.

Hidden among the sand dunes, she feared that
she was about to be caught in a crossfire between two bands of
brigands. As the armed men faced each other across the rolling
dunes beyond the beach, the tall well-dressed man broke away and
strode toward her.

He must have seen me. Where can I go to
escape? She huddled lower and looked about her franticly preparing
to bolt, but the blond man reached her side first and approached
her gently. Smiling, he inclined his head and spoke in oddly
accented English as she shrank away from him.

“
Fear not Mademoiselle, I am here to
assist you. I am Peter DeWitt. I come from my sugar plantation on a
nearby island. Those men you see are in my employ, and I assure you
they have no love for these outlaw pirate blaggards. That big
fellow there,” he said pointing to the man with no hair, who
remained with his arms folded, “especially loathes them. His
brother was slaughtered by pirates not one year ago. If need be, he
will fight those murdering thieves single-handedly. Now come along
with me and do not be anxious. We are endeavoring to affect the
release of all women held captive here.”

Gently he took her arm and led the trembling
girl over the sand, passing right before the pirate leader. When
the Captain saw her approaching, a look of surprise crossed his
visage, instantly supplanted by dark anger.

Locking eyes with Captain Jack, she
hesitated. Visibly shaking she could feel his cold fury. Confusion
and fear clouded her thoughts. She’d come to think of Captain Jack
as her protector and there had been that glorious hour of love
making beside the mountain pool. Hesitating she twisted to face
him. Can I trust this tall, blond stranger, with the smiling blue
eyes? Should I?

The pirate captain took a step toward her and
in a commanding voice uttered but one word, “No!” As though by
magic, a pistol appeared in the hand of the blond man and he
pointed it directly at Jack’s heart. “Yes!” he said laughing.
Turning away, he pulled her along behind him as she looked back
with imploring eyes at her captor, retreating behind the band of
armed men.

From “Caribbean Fire” by, Tori Baxter.

Satisfied with her mornings work, Vicky
leaned back in her office chair and stretched, luxuriating in the
warm sunlight that streamed in through the windows. At this point
in the process, she knew the story’s outline and rarely needed to
refer to her notes. Mentally reviewing Caribbean Fire, she began to
consider her next scene, planning her characters moves and
reactions. Today the words had flowed easily as she filled page
after page. I just love writing on days like this, when the story
practically writes itself. Maybe taking a day off to enjoy the
Fourth cleared the cobwebs from my mind.

She couldn’t help grinning at the memory of
Jack’s horrified face, watching her from the kitchen window. Joe
had politely helped her up into the passenger seat of his big Ford
pickup, but there was really no way to keep her short dress from
riding way too far up her long, bare legs as she swung herself into
the cab. While Joe walked around the truck to join her, she’d
smiled and waved to Jack. Jaw hanging, he’d actually looked
shocked.

Remembering the day’s events, an amused smile
spread over her face. She, Victoria Buonadies, had a certain power
over men. She’d always known that some women had this ability, but
assumed that she wasn’t one of them. Living her sheltered existence
for the last ten years with Nanna, the realization was coming just
a little late in life. It was nevertheless, a very satisfying
realization. Too bad yesterday evening ended in chaos.

Jack wasn’t kidding when he’d told her that
everyone turned out for the Pippen’s Grove Fourth of July
celebration. As Joe drove into town, she saw that Main Street was
closed and some of the side streets were blocked off with sawhorses
draped with red, white, and blue bunting. Crowds of people moved
through streets filled with venders offering everything from crafts
to small American flags. Paulding’s Rest and a few other businesses
were selling beer, soft drinks, and a variety of food from sidewalk
tables.

“I’ll park in the Nursery lot, if you don’t
mind a short walk. It’s close to the park where the fireworks will
be tonight,” Joe said, pulling into an empty spot.

“Don’t worry about me, I came dressed for the
weather, and I’m wearing comfortable shoes,” she said quickly.

“You look lovely,” he told her as his eyes
moved slowly over her in obvious appreciation.

Blushing, she glanced away before blurting
out, “Well let’s go then.” She struggled trying to find the door
handle in her haste to leave the cab.

Joe seemed amused by her confusion as he
leaned across to open the door for her. “I’ll come around to help
you down. Don’t worry.” he said chuckling, “I won’t bite.”

The way the man was looking at her, she
wasn’t sure about that. As Joe lifted her down to the ground, she
saw Doc and Fred waving a greeting from the crowd.

She and Joe strolled up Main Street taking in
the sights as they waited for the parade to begin. Everyone seemed
to know Joe and wanted to stop and say hello. He proudly introduced
her to all his friends. Ignoring the whispers and curious glances
thrown her way, she tried to remember all the new names and faces.
Thankfully, she knew many of them from her trips into town, her
recent church attendance and other activities.

In the distance they could hear the band
warming up. Excited young children were herded along the streets by
attentive parents keeping them from straying into the path of the
oncoming parade. Firecrackers popped from behind buildings, as
others started their own small celebrations.

At the parade's head The Pippen’s Grove High
School Marching Band was now playing a recognizable tune as they
came on steadily. Little children waved small American flags, or
their half-consumed pink cotton candy clouds perched on paper
cones. Cheers rose from the crowd as the marching band wearing red
and black uniforms came into sight, their shiny brass instruments
flashing in the sunlight. As they came closer the tempo of the
cheering increased.

When the band neared the spot where she and
Joe stood, the thirty or so band members halted, and began marching
in place. The director spun in an about-face to his students, baton
flailing the air. The thrilling notes of the Stars And Stripes
Forever, filled their ears, then two piccolo players stepped
forward and tweeted away as though their lives depended on it. The
band director spun on the ball of one foot, drumsticks descended
onto drumheads, as the rest of the group joined in and they were
off again marching in perfect unison as they continued up the
street. The crowd erupted with a renewed burst of cheering and flag
waving. They were very good. A patriotic flutter stirred her and
she realized that she was cheering along with everyone else. Joe
was yelling his enthusiasm as he slipped his arm into hers, drawing
her close.

Something brushed her side and she turned to
see Jack, staring glumly at her. He wasn’t smiling. She barely
heard his words over the cacophony of cheers, music, and tramping
feet.

“Enjoying yourself?” was what she thought he
said.

She nodded and smiled, but before she could
answer, felt a hand on her shoulder and turning, saw Joe’s sister
Diane and her friend Carol. They both worked at the Vandersmoot
Nursery and she’d become friendly with them over the last month as
she’d begun to restore the flower gardens. Carol had helped her the
first day Jack had taken her to the nursery, when she was new to
Pippen’s Grove.

“The high school band’s pretty sharp, don’t
you think?” yelled Diane as she leaned in, her head between them,
one hand over each of their shoulders. Diane kept talking about the
band, and how she’d once played the flute in their ranks.

The bright dash of red and black band
uniforms and sparkling brass was followed by the local Boy Scouts
marching proudly in uniform following their color guard carrying
the American flag. They were followed by the Girl Scout troops.
Rows of young girls in green skirts, white blouses with merit badge
sashes draped from their shoulders marched in step. Cub Scouts and
Brownies followed.

The next participant in the parade drew
laughter as well as more cheering. Waving a tri-corn hat at the
crowd, John Van Wart came trotting into view. Riding an enormous
white horse, he was costumed in colonial garb, complete with long
coat, knee britches and buckled shoes. Pausing for effect, he
pulled on his reins, brought the horse up to rear and paw the air
with its hooves. Waving at the crowd, a grinning Van Wart yelled,
“The British are coming, the British are coming!” and then trotted
on after the scouts.

Following this present day Paul Revere, the
volunteer fire department and rescue squad vehicles came slowly
rolling along in line. There were several floats representing local
organizations such as the rotary club passing in quick succession.
Bringing up the rear, a group of Pippen’s Grove veterans marched
proudly, the oldest obviously able to claim service in World War
II.

At the tail end of the parade, four horses
drew the Civil War era cannon that decorated the town square in
front of the municipal building, beside the Veterans memorial.
Hooves and iron-rimmed wheels clattered on the pavement as
spectators finally became subdued, watching reverently.

The crowds of people on Main Street began to
break apart, chatting and laughing, moving towards the food and
drink in the side streets.

She noticed that Joe was still holding her
arm close to his side. She turned to Jack who was about to say
something, but he didn’t get a chance. Carol was at his side,
tugging at his arm.

“Jack; buy me a beer, please! It’s so hot,
I’m dying of thirst.” She grabbed his hand and began to lead him
away. “Come on. I can’t believe how they all manage to march and
play instruments in this heat.”

Vicky smiled at Jack as he was led helplessly
off by the other girl. His eyes implored her, as he looked back
over his shoulder. As Carol tugged, he tripped over his own foot
and stumbled. Laughing, she thought he resembled a lamb being led
away to slaughter.