LaVyrle Spencer - The hellion

"Rachel, wait!"

But she was already heading for the house at a half-run.

Inside, she leaned back against the door and breathed a sigh of relief, waiting for her stomach to stop quivering. How acutely embarrassing. And, in a way, how sad. Dear friends were treasures not to be valued lightly, but how could she ever face Marshall again?

She wandered through the quiet house, pausing in the kitchen to stare out at the pool, recalling Tommy Lee sitting at the table, confessing that he'd never stopped caring, while she gave him no encouragement whatsoever. She meditated on Callie Mae's caustic assessment of the direction her life was taking. Was she really cold, merciless? She didn't want to be. She wanted warmth in her life just like any woman. But in Marshall's arms she'd felt nothing. Only with Tommy Lee did she come alive. Even when she was angry with him she felt exhilarated. And wasn't she the one who had so recently admitted to herself that what she'd wanted in her life was occasional tumult? Like being overturned in a swimming pool by a crazy fool who waded in in a dress suit? Then having him send her a blow dryer with a note implying that any woman worth her salt should fix her own hair? And why hadn't he told her the earrings were for Beth?

Rachel glanced at the phone and her heart accelerated at the very thought of hearing his voice. She recalled her father's stern order that she not see Tommy Lee again and asked herself if the reason she wanted to was simply to demonstrate her own headstrong independence. But it was something more, something deeper, a compulsion that simply could not be denied any longer.

She picked up the receiver with a trembling hand, wondering while she listened to the electronic beeps and rings if he might possibly have another woman with him, and how to open this conversation, which had her heart pounding even before it began.

He answered in an uninterested grunt, "Yeah, Gentry here."

The breath seemed to catch in her throat; then she closed her eyes and replied quietly, "Hollis here."

"Rachel?" The way he said it made her imagine him slowly rolling his back away from a chair in disbelief.

"Yes."

A long silence passed before he said again, "Rachel…?..." More softly this time, as if his world had suddenly come aright.

It took great effort to keep her voice steady. "I've received three curious gifts in the past several weeks. You wouldn't know anything about them, would you?"

"Me? Nuh-uh." But in spite of his levity there was an unmistakable quaver in his voice.

She smiled, picturing his dark teasing eyes. "None of the cards were signed."

"What kind of guy would send a card without signing it?"

She heard the snick of the lighter, then the soft rush of breath as he exhaled, and she pictured him stretching across a sofa or bed to reach for an ashtray.

"That's what I'd like to find out."

"So, what'd he send you?"

"A blow dryer, a dozen roses, and a sack of beer cans." But suddenly she dropped the game and her voice turned gentle as she held the receiver in both hands. "Thank you for the roses, Tommy Lee. They were lovely." She sensed once more how pleasantly shocked he was by her phone call and how careful he was being about what he said. She herself felt shaken as she tried to think of a proper comment regarding the beer cans, but being unsure if their cryptic message meant what she thought it did, she safely avoided the subject.

"Listen, Rachel, I acted like a damned idiot, tipping you over in the pool that way and carrying on like a Neanderthal. It'd be my own damn fault if you really meant it when you said you wanted to kill me."

"I do," she replied wistfully, suddenly feeling like crying. Then she added softly, "Sometimes."

Neither of them spoke for several electrified seconds, and she wondered again what his bedroom looked like, and if that's where he was, and if he'd been asleep when she called.

"You invited me to dinner on Friday night, but you didn't say which Friday. Am I too late to accept the invitation?"

His voice sounded forced and slightly breathless.

"Oh, Lord, do you mean it, Rachel?"

"If you still want me to come."

"Want you to come!" He laughed ruefully. "God, it's all I've thought about for weeks and weeks. This Friday?"

Something in the question sounded tentative. "Oh, are… are you busy?"

"No… no!" She relaxed her shoulders, not realizing how much she'd tightened up at the thought that he might have other plans. "And this time we will be chaperoned. That's a guarantee."

She wasn't sure whether to be disappointed or not.

"Your daughter?" she asked.

"No."

"But that was Beth with you at church, wasn't it?"

"Yes, things went sour between her and her mother, so she's living with me now."

Rachel's heart felt a surge of joy for him, but he went on quickly, "We'll talk more about it when I see you. Now, about Friday night..."

"But if it's not Beth who'll be chaperoning us, who is it?"

He chuckled and replied indignantly, "A dragon named Georgine. I hired her to keep house for me. But I've been tempted at least three times a day to tell her to ride her broom back to where she came from."

"You hired a housekeeper?" Rachel's mouth fell open in surprise.

"That's right. Isn't that what you told me to do? One who could cook me low-calorie meals?"

"But I…" She felt chagrined at having been so outspoken, then having her criticism acted upon so spontaneously. "Tommy Lee, I'm sorry too, for the things I said to you that day in the pool. I called you some terrible names and..."

"But you were right!" he interrupted. "There've been a lot of changes around here. You'll be surprised when you see them. And Georgine will be cooking for us Friday night."

She thought about his trimmer profile when she'd seen him at church, and about the message in the beer cans, and felt her heart lift with hope.

"What time shall I come out?"

"Rachel, I…" She heard him pull in a deep breath and sensed a boyish hesitation that seemed totally out of character for a man with a reputation like his. "Listen, I'd like to pick you up at your house, all proper this time." He chuckled nervously, then added, "I promise I won't dunk you or manhandle you or do anything that's not thoroughly polite. I'd be there at six-thirty."

She remembered the other time she'd opened the door to find him on her step, and what a shock it had been. What a thrilling shock. But to get dressed and wait for him as she had years ago… Rachel closed her eyes for a second and felt a thrill of girlish anticipation at the thought.

"All right. Six-thirty."

"Six-thirty," he repeated.

Then a full ten seconds passed while neither of them said anything more.

Finally Rachel put in a wistful "Well…"

He cleared his throat and repeated in a more businesslike voice, "Six-thirty."

She laughed nervously and reiterated for the fourth time, "Six-thirty. Well, good-bye, then."

"Bye, Rachel."

When Rachel hung up the phone her face lit with an ear-to-ear smile; then she clasped her hands on top of her head and spun in a circle.

When Tommy Lee hung up the phone he sat on the edge of the bed with his elbows on his shaky knees, covering his face with both hands. He sat for a long time with his pulse racing, listening to his breath beat against his palms. My God, she said yes! Incredible! She really said yes! Then Tommy Lee frowned at the floor.

No kissing, no touching, no cussing, Gentry, you hear? Show her you can be the gentleman she deserves.

He fell back, arms thrown wide, eyes closed, imagining. After ten minutes of pure bliss, he leapt to the floor and did thirty push-ups in record time-and all with a smile on his face.

It was a golden August evening with scarcely a wisp of breeze stirring. The week seemed to have crawled by with slothlike slowness while Rachel agonized over what to wear, what to say, how to act. Just like that first date with Tommy Lee after he'd kissed her in the break of the boxwoods years ago.

It was strange to feel girlish at her age when she thought she'd given up giddiness years ago. But she actually had butterflies in her stomach, doubts about whether the gold earrings might have been better than the silver, and misgivings about the dress she'd chosen.

But it was too late to change now. The white Cadillac was already pulling up beneath the magnolia, and she drew back from the window, feeling pulses beating through her body in the places they had no business beating, as she watched Tommy Lee slowly get out of the car, then pause to look up at the house a moment before finally slamming the door. He buttoned his suit jacket, glanced down at his stomach, then unbuttoned the jacket and slipped a hand down his carefully knotted tie like a schoolboy at his first recital.

Rachel touched her lips, smiling. Why, he's as nervous as I am! Her smile grew wider. Imagine that, the Hellion of Franklin County getting all unstrung over walking to a woman's door!

She watched him come up the walk, assessing his new honed profile, and the hand dropped from her lips to her skittering heart. The bell rang. Her eyes closed for a moment while she savored the wild anticipation. Then she smoothed her skirt unnecessarily and moved to open the door.