The Ladies' Room (22 page)

Billy Lee took us out Twelfth Street in Ardmore, past the
shops that held absolutely no appeal to me that day. I was a
motorcycle momma. I had all I needed in the duffel bag, and
the world was mine. I didn't need to shop for a single thing
that day.

I glanced at the Santa Fe steakhouse while we were stopped
at the red light, but once the light turned green, even food took
second place to the wind in my face and the freedom. He stopped
at McDonald's on the far side of the 1-35 overpass, removed his
helmet, and helped me do the same.

"Thought you might be ready for breakfast," he said.

I fluffed up my hair with my fingertips. "Tell me the truth,
does it look all right?"

"You always look beautiful."

"Billy Lee Tucker, we promised to be honest with each
other."

"Trudy Matthews, I am, and someday you are going to believe me."

"Someday I might listen to you, but believing you is another issue. I'm starving for good old greasy food. Let's go" I
looped my arm through his.

Instinctively, he laced his fingers in mine. We must have
looked like a real couple, walking across the lot and into the
restaurant. I liked the idea. For the most part the breakfast
crowd had cleared out, so we got our bacon, egg, and cheese
biscuits, hash browns, orange juice, coffee, and two apple pies
quickly.

"So, what do you think of the ride so far?" he asked as we
ate.

"It's freedom in a soup bowl."

"Never heard of a Harley ride put just like that"

"Let's not stop in Texas. Let's keep on going until we hit the
Pacific Ocean, then turn around and head for the Atlantic," I
teased, but if he'd agreed, I wouldn't have looked back one
time.

"Maybe someday we'll do that. But we've got a house to get
in order by Christmas. Won't have the furniture or the kitchen
done by then, but we'll get the dining and living rooms finished so you can entertain if you want."

"And who would I invite to a Christmas party?"

He looked at me strangely, and my heart seized into a knot.

"I'm not inviting you to holiday meals. You don't need an
invitation. You are welcome anytime, and you should know it."

"Like you should know you're pretty?"

"That's a different story."

"Are you being nice?" he asked.

"No, I am not," I answered.

"By then this will all be blown over, and they'll all want to
come around to see what you've done with the old, ugly house.
And you will have earned the right to gloat, Trudy."

,.Who are `they all'?"

He sipped his coffee. "Marty and Betsy and their families.
Your mother if she's having a good day. Maybe Lessie. You'll
be surprised."

I shrugged. "I would be surprised if anyone comes other
than you and me. Getting the dining room ready will be our
goal. Did you and Gert have Christmas dinner together?"

He nodded.

Sitting there dipping apple pie into the last of the coffee in
my cup, I began to look forward to the holidays. I'd bring
Momma home no matter what kind of day she was having,
and I'd definitely invite Lessie. I'd call Crystal, and if she
didn't want to spend the day with me, I'd try not to whine. I
would even be nice and call Marty and Betsy. Billy Lee and I
would make a turkey and dressing and all the trimmings.

"What are you thinking about? You look like you're somewhere far away," he said.

"I was planning our menu for Christmas. You think we
should get a turkey or a ham?"

"Gert always had turkey, the smallest one she could buy."

"Buy! You mean she didn't go out to some farm and select
a live bird?"

"Not in the past twenty years"

The giggles started.

"What's so funny?" His face was as serious as it had been
the day of Gert's funeral when we were in the sanctuary.

I finally got my laughter under control with only a slight
case of hiccups. "Gert made me feel like I wasn't a real cook
because I didn't buy a live bird and dress it for holidays. She
fussed at me every year, saying that a good wife wouldn't mess
with one of those frozen turkeys"

"You three girls never knew when she was fussing and when
she was teasing. Her sense of humor was very dry," he said.

"Then we'll get a turkey, and you can make that potato
salad you brought to the church social."

"And the pecan pies. I'm good at making them. Secret is
in-"

"Chopping the pecans very fine so they make a crusty top."
I finished the sentence for him.

"That's right. And in never substituting waffle syrup for
Karo"

I nodded slowly. "Learned that lesson the hard way too. I'm
surprised Gert let you do any cooking. In her generation, men
stayed out of the kitchen."

"It took some doing and more than a couple of years to convince her."

"I'd bet it did."

"But she never let me fix the turkey. I offered to deep-fry it
or smoke it, but she wouldn't have any part of that."

"You've got that big a smoker?" I asked.

"Big enough to do two turkeys and a ham all at once," he
answered.

"Then we're having smoked turkey. But if you make the potato salad, pecan pies, and do the turkey, what's left for me
to take care of?" I asked.

"I can't make hot rolls. When I do, they're heavy enough to
be considered a concealed weapon if I put one in my pocket,"
he said.

"How about pumpkin pie?"

"Crust is always soggy."

I laughed. "Billy Lee Tucker! Are you just saying that to
make me feel important?"

"I'll make hot rolls and a pumpkin pie, and you can be the
judge. I'm being honest," he said.

"Okay, I'll believe you. Are we ready to go again?"

"You might want to visit the ladies' room before we take
off. The ride is more than an hour, and the last forty-five minutes there's only one convenience store with a bathroom"

I'd hated ladies' rooms since Gert's funeral. The scenario
from that fiasco did an instant replay any time I shut a stall
door. Any moment I expected Marty and Betsy to barrel into
the room, spouting off about Billy Lee, and I'd find out he
wasn't the person I thought, either. But nothing happened in
the McDonald's ladies' room that day.

Billy Lee was already on the cycle by the time I got outside.
He handed me the helmet, which I jerked onto my head without any help. I threw a leg over the backseat and wrapped my
arms around his waist. We stopped on the Taovayas Bridge
across the Red River separating Oklahoma and Texas. The
Red was down slightly, with sandbars on both sides of a shallow, winding river. Widespread debris gave firm testimony that
in the rainy spring it had pushed its way over the banks. Green
trees lined both sides, and on the Texas side Angus cattle and
one lonesome-looking donkey dotted the pasture.

Billy Lee propped his elbows on the edge of the concrete
bridge. "Know why there's a donkey over there?"

"Because he's cute?"

"No, donkeys protect the young calves. They can't abide
bobcats or coyotes. They'll kick and bite them until they're
dead"

"Are you pulling my leg?" I asked.

"It's the truth. I got an e-mail last week about it. If I had
cattle, I'd put a donkey in every pasture"

"Imagine that," I murmured. How could anyone think he
was an oddball?

It must have been a good day for cycle riding, because three
more cycles stopped on the bridge. The riders meandered
across the two lanes and asked Billy Lee how the roads were
on up ahead. They were on their way to Turner Falls in Davis
for the night, and then they'd return to Dallas the next day.

"Looks like there's construction on thirty-five, but you'll be
taking the back roads anyway, won't you?" he answered.

"We get all the traffic we want at home, so we stay off the
big highways," one man said. "Where y'all goin'?"

"Down to Nocona for a couple or three days. Anything going on that way?" Billy Lee asked.

"Traffic is bad. We passed two pickup trucks." The man
laughed at his own joke and slapped his wife on the back.

She laughed with him.

The men went to the other side of the bridge to see how
things looked to the east. The ladies gathered around me.

"So, y'all going to Nocona? There ain't much shopping in
that little town. Got a good western-wear store and a couple of
specialty gift stores and an antiques store, and that's about it.
But then, traveling the way we do, there ain't any extra room
to take it home, anyway. Sometimes I think this man of mine
started this way of travel just so I couldn't shop."

"But don't you love it?" I asked.

She whispered into my ear, "It's the best thing since microwave ovens. I just have to give him a hard time now and then.
I get so excited every time he plans a trip, you'd think I was a
little kid."

"I can believe it. This is my first time to ride," I whispered
back.

"That's not your husband? Y'all look like you been ridin'
together for years," she said.

"No, we're just very, very good friends."

"Then, honey, you'd better wake up and smell the bacon
frying. It's serious when a feller shares his bike with a woman"

"Really?"

"You'll have a ring on your finger by this time next year, or
I'll give you my bike," she said.

"I might come lookin' for it" I smiled.

"You won't have to. I'll park it in your front yard. Where do
you live?" she asked.

"Broadway Street, Tishomingo, Oklahoma."

"I know that town. Love the ride up through the country to
get there"

"I'll be looking for that bike."

"You won't never see it, honey," one of the other women said.
"She's that good"

"I really am. Trust me" She nodded toward Billy Lee and
the others.

We mounted up and rode off, all three of the other couples
waving at us. Those motorcycle folk were a friendly lot, and the
mommas riding on the backs weren't a bit skinnier than me. If I
had their names and addresses, I'd definitely send them an invitation to our Christmas dinner.

After we crossed the bridge, we came to a T in the road. A
bullet-pocked sign said if we turned right, we'd travel twentyone miles to Nocona. Billy Lee turned that way, and the ride
took us through gently rolling hills. At times I could see the
river over to the right, but most of the time the view was of
Angus cows, oil wells, and those big round bales of hay. We
came up to another T in the road, and the signs pointed to
the right to Spanish Fort and to the left for Nocona. I figured we
couldn't be far from the motel at that point and wondered what
on earth Billy Lee had planned, since Nocona didn't have much
shopping. I was expecting to drive right into a small town somewhat like Jefferson, but he took a gravel road to the left and
slowed down considerably. Ten minutes later he pulled into the
driveway of a log cabin set on the edge of a big lake.

He got off the cycle, removed his helmet, and held out a
hand to help me.

"We're here? Look at those ducks! And that boat," I said
breathlessly. The view was spectacular: water, sky, and grass
all in Crayola colors. "Who lives here?"

"I do. It's my place, Trudy. We've worked so hard these past
several weeks, and we had such a good time in Jefferson together, I thought maybe you'd like a few days of rest, and
maybe we could do some fishing."

"This is almost as wonderful as the surprise in Jefferson.
Can Igo fishing with you?"

"Of course." He grinned.

"And whose boat is that? Can we rent it and putt around the
lake in it? Do you really own this place? Let's go inside and
take a look at it. You amaze me, Billy Lee. You've got more
sides than a diamond ring."

"And you've got more questions than a two-year-old."

"You love it. You know you do," I teased.

"Okay, I admit it. I do love it when you are all happy and
ask a million questions. The place really is mine. I bought it
ten years ago. Got to coming down here to Nocona on my bike
because the scenery is nice and the traffic is light. One morning I was reading a newspaper, saw a picture of this cabin, and
called the Realtor. The boat is mine too. And, yes, you can go
fishing with me, and, yes, we can take it around the lake after
supper tonight"

I clapped my hands. "Would you look at that water? It looks
like a sheet of glass, it's so still. Can we come here often? What
does it look like in the winter? Do you have a fireplace in there?
I think I see a chimney."

Without answering any questions, he opened the back door.
The kitchen, living room, and dining room all ran together
to form a combination great room with natural log walls. A
big soft burgundy leather sofa took up the west wall, a galley
kitchen the east one, with a table for two shoved up against a
glass wall broken only by sliding-glass doors that led out onto
a deck overlooking the lake. I was already planning to sit in
one of those Adirondack chairs out there to watch the sunrise.
Plush rugs were scattered haphazardly on oak hardwood
floors, with the biggest one in front of the fireplace.

No wonder Billy Lee had fallen in love with the cabin. It
was a perfect hideaway.

"Bedroom is in here. It's small, but it's got its own bathroom," he said.

I stopped at the door and looked inside. A patchwork quilt
covered the queen-size bed, and another neatly folded quilt was
stretched across the foot of the mattress. A rocking chair placed
under the window to catch the setting sun had green corduroy
cushions tied on the back and seat. A small chest of drawers
held a lamp and scented candle. The bathroom offered a shower
above a tub and a vanity with a mirror.

Guilt washed over me. "Billy Lee, you take this room, and
I'll sleep on the sofa. I could even sleep on the deck in one of
those oversized chairs."

He shook his head. "No, you will not. No arguing. I'll win,
and I'm not just being nice, either. We've got time to take the
boat out and do some fishing. Might catch supper."