Only You (12 page)

A person in the front of the room called out, “One dollar.”

The auctioneer said, “You’re wrong on this one folks. One dollar, give me two, give me two, who’ll give me two?”

Someone near Josie raised his paddle, and the Darrell holding the box called out, “Go!”

Then the auctioneer asked for three. The box finally went for four dollars.

“Think you’re gettin’ the hang of it?”

She nodded and perched on the edge of her seat to try and see some of the contents of the next box. It had some old annuals, a school letter like you would put on a letterman jacket, a beat-up football, and some trophies. She’d missed out on high school football games partly because she’d preferred spending her Fridays at the library studying. But Cole had played football. Maybe he might like some of the things in the box.

The bidding started much the same as it had before. She waited until someone called out a bid, then when the auctioneer asked for a higher bid, she raised her paddle. Much to her amazement, no one else bid, and she got the box for two dollars. Winning the bid gave her an unexpected feeling of elation. Darrell carried the box over and set it next to Cole.

She leaned across him to peer inside. “Can I go through it now?”

“Let’s save it till later. Finish your sandwich.”

Josie shook her head and put her hoagie back in the cooler. “I’m too excited to eat.”

Charlie sitting down the row from her said, “First timers,” under his breath. Mary Lou punched him in the ribs.

“
Ow
!”

“Don’t pay him no mind, dear,” Thelma Lou said. “You just enjoy yourself.”

Josie followed Thelma Lou’s advice. She leaned over Cole, her breasts pressed against his arm, to get a better view of the box’s contents. “Please? I can’t stand it.”

He pulled her up by her shoulders, caressed a kiss across her temple and said, “Anticipation makes it much more pleasurable in the end.”

Josie grabbed a handful of his soft white shirt and wet her lips with the tip of her tongue. His gaze locked on her mouth like a starving man presented with a smorgasbord.

“Cole?”

“Keep that up, and we’ll be out of here in record time.”

She wanted to say, “Promise?” but thought that would probably be too forward. Twin desires burned inside her. A need to discover what was in the box, and a need for Cole. She swallowed hard around the knot forming in her throat. The way he watched her made her wonder if he could read her mind.

He slid an arm around her waist and hauled her close to his side.

“Was there anything you were particularly interested in buying?” she asked, tucking a stray strand of hair behind his ear.

“I thought you’d want to bid on that box of books.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Josie had to work hard to keep the disappointment out of her voice. She missed the mark. Hang the books. She just wanted to be alone with Cole.

“Thank you, God,” Cole murmured.

He pointed to the front. Larry was holding the box of books. Cole grabbed the paddle. Somewhat patiently he waited for the bidding to begin. She imagined he didn’t want to start the bidding too high. That might tip someone off that there was something valuable inside. In the end, he got the box for ten dollars. Ecstatic, Josie could have jumped up and down, but she restrained herself.

After Larry deposited the box next to the other one, Cole turned to her and said, “Let’s get out of here.”

“You leavin’ already?” Charlie asked in a loud whisper. That drew another sharp elbow to the ribs from Thelma Lou.

“
Ow
!” Charlie complained.

“Ya’ll have a nice evenin’ now, hear?” Thelma Lou smiled. Her eyes fairly twinkled.

“Goodbye,” Josie said, waving. “It was nice to meet you.”

Cole stacked the boxes one on top of the other. “Can you get the cooler?”

She nodded.

“I’ll come back for the chairs,” Cole said.

“Oh, Charlie’ll take ’em out, won’t you, hon?”

“What? Are you kiddin’?”

That earned him another shot to the ribs. The poor man was going to be black and blue.

He coughed. “I mean, happy to oblige,” Charlie said.

The three of them walked out to the truck. After they’d stored everything and thanked Charlie for his help, Cole helped Josie into the truck, and they were on their way.

“Can I look now?” She craned her neck to better see behind the seat where he’d stashed the boxes.

Cole laughed. “So impatient.”

“
Uh-huh
. Where are we going? How long will it take to get there?”

He grasped her hand. “Come here.”

He pulled her across the bench seat until she sat close enough to touch, her leg pressed against his. It was tricky with the stick shift, but she managed. He put his arm around her, and she snuggled closer. “I’m sure this violates the state seatbelt law.”

“I can see you’re a play-it-by-the-rules kinda girl.”

“Goes with the territory. I am a librarian.”

“You don’t look like any kinda librarian I’ve ever seen. Not tonight.”

Josie smiled at the compliment. She liked that he thought she was . . . whatever he thought she was. “Are you sorry we didn’t stay?”

“Are you?” He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye.

“No, I can’t wait to go through the boxes.”

His sigh was heavy. “And here I thought we left early because you wanted to be alone with me.”

Josie snuggled even closer against his side. “Well, there is that,” she said as she pressed a kiss to his neck.

Chapter Seven

Cole turned down a gravel road at the edge of town that curved up into the tall pines. The name of it was Pine Lane, but most just called it Lovers’ Lane. He gave Josie a sideways look, wondering if she’d comment about him taking her up to the Lovers’ Clearing. She didn’t say a thing. In fact, she looked anxious. That pleased him immensely.

When they reached the clearing, he put the truck in park and killed the engine. He got out and helped Josie down, then pulled the red plaid blanket they’d used for their lunch date earlier in the week—minus the mess—from behind the seat.

“I’ll do that, you get the boxes,” Josie took the blanket from Cole, grabbed her sweater, and headed to the center of the clearing.

So much for hoping she’d want to skip the boxes and just make out. “Did anybody ever tell
you
that you got a one-track mind when it comes to books?”

“Sorry,” she said. She worked at sounding apologetic, but failed miserably.

He just chuckled. When he’d gathered the boxes, he joined her on the blanket. “Here you go. Which one do you want to go through first?”

“The books.”

“How did I know?” He set the box in front of her and said, “Go for it.”

She raised up on her knees, but instead of digging into the box, leaned across it and took his face in her hands. She kissed him, a gentle pressure against his lips that ended almost as soon as it began.

“Thank you,” she whispered. Then dove into the box.

Cole propped an arm on his bent knee. He rubbed his tingling lower lip with his thumb. He just watched her. The late afternoon sun bathed her in golden splendor. She took his breath away.

“Look! More Mark Twain.”

He leaned forward and peered into the box. “How many?”

“I don’t know. Two. No, three.”

“What else?”

“Several books of poetry, some Shakespeare. Fabulous.”

The scene rocketed him back, and he again found himself wishing she’d look at him the way she was eying those books. Just like old times.

“What about this one?” He tapped the other box that contained the old football and trophies.

She shifted her focus. “Didn’t you play football?”

He took the ball from her, tossed it into the air, then caught it. “I made the Varsity my sophomore year.”

“Did you letter?”

“Naw. I was second string.”

“Well, here. Now you have. Hey, it’s even from our old
alma mater
, Houston High.”

“No kiddin’?”

“Look at this annual.”

“How old is it?”

“Wow, it’s dated 1962.”

She flipped open the book in her hand. The binding crackled with the effort. A musty smell filled the air around them. “The owner’s name was Charlie Craig.”

“Come on.”

“See for yourself.” She handed him the annual. “Do you think you’re related?”

“Probably a cousin.” He flipped to the ads in the back and read an inscription:

“Charlie,

You’re a great guy and a pretty good football player. Have a great summer. Hope we have some classes together next year. Judy.

“Don’t you hate those things?” Josie said.

Cole just shrugged. “I think it’s kinda nice.” The truth was, he’d never had an annual. His parents hadn’t been able to afford one, and he couldn’t see spending the money he made from his paper route on anything that wasn’t necessary.

“Oh, look. An old wooden box.”

She lifted it out, pushed the cardboard box aside, and set it carefully on the blanket between them.

“Looks like a man’s jewelry box.”

She glanced up at him. A light danced in her eyes. “Really?”

“Open it up and see what’s inside.”

She tucked her hair behind her ears and carefully raised the lid to the old oak box. It was lined in worn green velvet. Several items sat in the compartments of a divided tray. “Look. Medals.”

Cole examined them. “They’re for track.”

“The two of you had more than a name in common. You were both good athletes. Can’t say much for his taste in cufflinks.”

She held up a pair with black and white cows on a green enamel background. “Whoa. Must have gotten those in 4-H.”

“Or Future Dairymen of America.”

They both laughed. She lifted the tray and looked underneath. “Oh, Cole . . .” she breathed.

“What is it?”

She held up a tarnished chain with a medallion hanging from it. “It’s a senior key.”

He swallowed hard.

She delved back inside. “And a class ring.” She lifted it out and turned it so she could look at the inside of the ring. “I just realized something.”

“What?”

“His initials were C.C.”

“So?”

“The same as yours. Hold out your hand.”

“Why?”

She grabbed his right hand and before he figured out her intent, she’d slipped it onto his finger. “It fits!”

Cole looked down at the gold ring. Its red stone twinkled back at him. A knot formed somewhere in the region of his gut.

“What’s wrong?” She squeezed his hand until he looked at her. “Cole?”

“It’s nothing.”

She laced her fingers with his. “Tell me.”

He lifted one shoulder, then admitted, “It’s stupid.”

“Come on. You told me I could tell you anything. Now, it’s your turn.”

“It just brings back old memories. Some, not so good.”

“Memories of your dad’s illness?”

“Yeah. That and . . . other things.” Memories of a young girl he’d wanted to get to know, but who’d always been out of his reach.

“You missed out on high school.” She paused, then added, “You were pretty popular. Good at sports, too. You may have gotten an athletic scholarship if . . .”

“If Dad hadn’t got sick?”

Josie nodded.

Cole hadn’t thought about that time in his life for years. He didn’t particularly want to rehash it now, but she wouldn’t let it go.

“Did he ever get any better?”

“He recovered, but the doctor said he’d never be able to do hard labor again.”

“How is he now?”

“He died a couple of years back.”

Josie squeezed his hand again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. He was a good man, Cole.”

“Thanks.”

“What about your mom. How is she?”

He nodded. “Doin’ great. She moved to Maryville a few years back to live with her sister. I’m gone so much of the time, I guess she got lonely. Aunt Shirley has a condo in one of those retirement communities.”

He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth.

“So you’re all alone out on your farm now?”

“Yep.”

She quieted for a moment, and he figured she was about to ask him why he would say he was gone most of the time. But instead, she asked, “What would you have done?”

“What do you mean?”

“If you hadn’t had to quit school, what would you have done? What were your goals? What did you dream of becoming?”

Her question hit a little close to home. He didn’t want to get into any of this right now. It was too soon.

“I don’t know. Doesn’t really matter. A body can’t go back and change things, and there’s no use wonderin’ what might have been.”

“But it doesn’t have to be about what might have been. Tonight, it could be about dreaming a little.” She looked up at him, a starry look shining in her pretty eyes. “Don’t you ever dream, Cole?”

Seemed he’d been dreaming about her most of his life. He wondered what she’d say if he told her that.

“What’s that grin about?” she asked.

“Memories. They weren’t all bad.”

“Tell me,” she encouraged softly.

“Well, you know, I was only sixteen when dad . . . when he had his first heart attack. I was just finishing my sophomore year. I didn’t have any big plans for the future. My goals were more immediate.”

“Like what?”

“I was looking forward to you moving up to the high school in the fall.”

“You were?”

He nodded slowly, watching for her reaction.

“Why?”

“I planned on asking you to the homecoming dance, and the junior-senior prom.”

“Me?” she asked. The word came out as a high-pitched squeak. “Why?”

He hadn’t expected that question. “You don’t believe me?”

“I’m wondering what kind of an impression a sixth grader with no social skills could make on an eighth grader.”

He brushed the backs of his fingers against her cheeks. “Even then, there was just something about you. Something special and intriguing.”

She shook her head. “There was no intrigue. I didn’t have friends because I didn’t fit in.”

“There was that, too. You always seemed lonely to me.”

Her laugh sounded false and nervous. “It may have seemed that way when we were in middle school, but after you moved up to the high school—”