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Date Posted: 12:55:31 01/19/06 Thu
Author: Feathers
Subject: Gaze Chapter 2


Hey, I know it's been a long time coming, but I think it's ready for "prime time". Hope you enjoy it. I've included Chapter 1, too, for the newer folks or for those who want a refresher.

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[> "Gaze" Prologue and Chapter 1 -- Feathers, 12:58:12 01/19/06 Thu [1]

"Gaze"
by Feathers
+++++

PROLOGUE...

The night air crept into her room like a gray fox, slow and cool with a hint of pine and wood smoke. She loved this time of year – the days crisp as fresh apples, and the nights perfect for snuggling. Soon the leaves would turn and the countryside would glow as if covered in live coals. But for now, it was still September – that wonderful time of expectancy and change. No longer really summer, not quite yet fall, it was an “in-between” time when one was likely to pass from one stage of life into another, possibly without even knowing it. If you thought about it, looked for it , you’d miss it. Much better to occupy oneself with other activities, and then one day look back and mark the passage with wonder and sentiment.

While each season had it’s own special mix of wonder and fury, Fall was her favorite. Even Spring, with all it’s symbolism of growth and renewal, came in second in her mind. The things she liked about Spring were the things that reminded her what she loved about fall: the warm, dry days; the cool, clear, star-filled nights; throwing open the windows after months of indoor climate control; and the subtle transition to a landscape laden with color. Then again, maybe her autumnal affinity was due to the fact that she was an October baby, and an earthy and passionate Scorpio at that.

She sat in her bed and listened to the crickets warding of the coming chill with every stroke of their tiny legs. Something was coming, she could feel it. There was a change approaching and she tingled with excitement and anticipation, trying not to wonder what it might be.

She’d had this feeling several times before - the feeling that change was imminent - but she had learned early that to hope for something specific would disappoint every time. Instead, she tried not to think about it, went about her business each day, and spent each night looking back in quiet reflection to see if she could find any clues to point toward the change. She had decided long ago that to look forward was too risky, too dangerous, and too full of unmet expectations.
++++++++++

Chapter 1 ...

It wasn't necessarily a hot day, but it felt like a thousand degrees as I walked along that country road, dusted dry as talcum powder after a rainless month, the sun at my back and miles to go. I must have looked a fright with my shirt sleeve torn, my jeans muddy and that infernal dust adhering to every inch of exposed sweaty skin. I won't even think about my hair, which had actually started out in fairly decent shape this morning. Until Bobby lost his head. Damn him. So now I was walking.

I saw the dust trail rising over the far hill before I heard the engine. A low and rumbling V8. As the vehicle crested the hill about a mile away, I saw it was a car - one I didn't recognize, and I knew everyone in these parts, and their cars. I suddenly became nervous and felt as if I had no escape, as if something I didn’t want to face was bearing down on me. I wondered if I should turn and try to run for the tree-line behind me and hide near the creek I had just waded through. Or maybe I should hop that fence to my right in unladylike fashion and run for the farmhouse, but the people there hated Bobby and so they hated me. They would not help me. I barely had time to decide before the car was very close, driving much faster than I had realized at first.

I stood frozen on the spot as the car approached, hoping and praying that it wouldn't stop but just keep going and forget about me, sweaty, dirty and tattered by the side of a long and dusty country road. No such luck. With twenty yards to go before passing me, the driver hit the brakes, sending gravel flying and more dust billowing around me. Great. Just what I needed. But as he slowed past me, I saw a flash of blue so incredible my heart skipped a beat.

I turned to look at him and he leaned out the window to look back at me. Concern and curiosity was etched on his face. He put it in reverse and backed up through the settling dust until he was right next to me.

"You okay?" he asked. His voice was soft and gentle, with a lilt that I'd never heard before. I tried to place his face, tried to sort through my mental files to see if I knew him, and something told me I should know him, but I was suddenly mesmerized by his eyes. It was the flash of blue I had seen just seconds ago. Clearer and brighter than the crystal sky above, yet kinder and gentler than the sun that caked the dust and singed my nose.

"Yeah," I said after a moment's hesitation. "Yeah, I'll be fine, thanks."

"Need a ride?" There it was again, that strange lilt that turned "ride" into "royde". Who was he?

"I wouldn't want to keep you, and I'm filthy." I hesitated again. I didn't know him at all, and he wasn't from around here. Although, I reasoned wryly, Bobby was from around here and he'd done me no favors this morning.

"Are you sure? You look like you could use some help."

"I could use a shotgun, if you've got one." I didn't want a stranger's help at the moment, it was far too embarrassing after what happened with Bobby.

He laughed at my sarcasm, and it floated toward me like a song. In that instant, I was drawn to him, and for some crazy reason wondered if he could sing as beautifully as he laughed, and would it sound as wonderful as those blue eyes looked.

"C'mon, hop in," he said. "I'll take you wherever you're going."

It was then I noticed his car. It was long and low and black, old enough to be an antique, but not old enough to look like one. I could tell it was well cared for.

"I'm sure this mud and gunk would ruin your car," I hedged.

He laughed again. "She's not mine. I'm just joyriding. Let me give you a lift."

I couldn't stop looking in those calm, thoughtful, intensely blue eyes. I knew it could be dangerous to take a ride with a stranger, but after Bobby's rough-housing this morning, I was ashamed to admit that I was desperate. "Okay," I said, and began to head for the passenger door. He gave me a quick smile then leaned across the seat to unlock the other door. I watched him warily as I slowly made my way around the long hood of the car. I don’t know why I expected something else, but he was just sitting there, waiting for me to get in.

>>His pose was that of a man who was expecting something – or someone. Though he was the proverbial “stranger in the black sedan,” the piercing look in his eyes was not one of menace, but danger of another sort. As I walked along the front of the car, his eyes seemed to follow me with intent. His elbow resting on the back of the long bench seat with his forearm hanging down at a lazy angle seemed to beckon me to his side, but in no obvious way. He was too cool for that. And yet, he was holding the spot and holding his gaze directly on me. <<

I slid carefully onto the seat, kicking my boots on the running board before placing them gingerly on the floor mat.

"Really, you don't have to worry about the dirt," he said as he shifted the car into drive. "I have to clean her up before I return her in the morning anyway."

"I'm sorry to make your task more difficult."

He glanced toward me, that look of concern crossing his face again, but he didn't say anything for a long moment. Finally he asked, "Where to?"

"Just back to town, to Darryl's General Store. I can get a ride home from there."

He made a sweeping u-turn on the dusty road, kicking up more dust that wafted through the windows. He seemed totally unfazed by the dry and choking silt, and almost seemed to enjoy it as if he'd never experienced it before. Again I wondered who and what he was.

"I can take you home if you like." His offer was calm and reasonable, without a hint of suggestion or innuendo, but there was no way I could accept. Not after Bobby's antics. I didn't need to hear Randi and Loni’s tut-tutting, or Mama’s lecture. Much better to hide out at Darryl's until suppertime. Darryl was the only one who understood about me and Bobby, because he was the one that had matched me up with that hard-headed mustang in the first place.

"No," I said. "Just take me to Darryl's. It’s closer."

"Okay." He accelerated to highway speed again now that he had his mission.

Without looking at me he asked in that calm, lilting voice of his, "Who are you so angry at?"

"Bobby," I spat.

"What did he do to you? Is he the reason you're . . . in this predicament?"

"Yes. He's an ass. A total ass."

"Should I call the police? I've got a cell in my pocket."

"Ha!" I snorted. "Animal control might be more appropriate for him."

"Bobby sounds like a pretty rotten guy. You’re not married to him, are you?”

I laughed out loud and it felt really good.

“No, I’m not married to Bobby. He’s my horse. I was showing off for some skeptical friends in my ring this morning and he bolted, jumped the fence, galloped a few miles, dashed through the woods, bucked me into a bush and ran off.”

The startled expression on his face was priceless, and I laughed again. Then he started laughing, too.

“Well, then, I suppose Bobby and I have something in common.” The impish smile was irresistible.

“How so,” I asked.

“I was showing off for some nosy reporters this morning and they asked me a question I didn’t want to answer, so cussed them out, I bolted out of the hotel, and went galloping off in my friend’s car without asking.”

I laughed again. “Yep, you and Bobby are kindred spirits.”

“But did Bobby stop to pick you up when you needed a lift?”

I grinned at him, and he smiled back. It was the smile of someone who really enjoyed life and who he was. I was no longer anxious about accepting a ride from this stranger – if he could still be called a stranger.

I grabbed his arm. “Stop the car and turn around.” I didn’t mean for it to sound like a command, but it did.

“What?” His foot slammed the brake, the dust flew again, and he stared at me, incredulous. I couldn’t help noticing the muscles clenching under his jeans as he held the pedal to the floor, or in his arm where I was still grasping it.

“Why don’t you take me home after all,” I said, softening my sudden change of course and reluctantly removing my hand from his arm. I didn’t want to scare him or he might leave me on the side of the road again, and there was no way I was going to let this azure-eyed creature out of my sight until I learned more about him.

“Mama’ll have lunch ready by now,” I added. “And even rebels need to eat.”

“What about your skeptical friends?”

“Oh, they’ll be gone by now, laughing their heads off all the way. But it might distract Mama from her lecture if I show back up with a handsome stranger.”

“Sounds like a plan.” He didn’t disagree with my conclusion about his looks, and in fact his smile became sly and seductive. I felt the warmth rising in my cheeks and was thankful for the protective layer of dust.

“I’ll bet you can’t wait to get into the shower,” he commented as he returned his gaze to the road ahead. It was just a conversation starter, but it also seemed intended to let me know he was thinking about me in a way that did not include layers of Tennessee sediment, and maybe included only soap bubbles.

“Oh, yeah,” I said, trying to stay calm. “That’s the first order of business when I get back.”

“What about Bobby?”

“He’ll be back already by now, the jackass,” I griped. “Munching innocently on his hay bale and acting like nothing happened.”

He laughed again. “Sounds like you and your horse have a special bond.” His dry humor laced with that delightful accent, was perfect and reminded me of the British comedies I’d watched on PBS. I wondered what a Brit was doing running away from the press in central Tennessee.

“Bobby and I are soul-mates, actually.” I decided to match him wit for wit. “Yes, I’ve decided that we were married in a former life, but he came back as a horse with a stupid streak so I guess he messed up his Karma somehow back then.”

He laughed again. If I could keep his soul-filling laughter coming, I think I’d be in heaven forever. If that laughter ever turned into song, I might just die on the spot. Should I try to keep this “stranger in the black sedan”? Would Mama believe me if I said he’d just followed me home? Or would I try to follow him back to where he came from – wherever that was?

We rode in silence for a few miles, except for when I had to tell him where to turn. As we neared my house, I remembered my manners.

“I’m sorry, kind sir,” I intoned in my most genteel southern voice, “I’ve forgotten to introduce myself. Mama would never forgive me for not knowing your name before bringing you into her kitchen.” I gave him my full name and extended my hand, and he reached over to shake it politely.

He gave me only his first name, saying he’d rather not have too many people know about his bad behavior at the press conference that morning. “I’ll be out of your hair after lunch anyway,” he added with a shrug.

“Hmmm, I think the only think about this morning that I want out of my hair is this collection of kindling and fill dirt that I picked up on my wild ride with Bobby.”

He didn’t say anything, but there was a sly and thoughtful curl to the corner of his mouth, and a fresh sparkle in his eye. As we pulled to a stop on the gravel, I watched him casually turn off the car and climb out with a smooth and easy motion. He turned and leaned his arms on the roof of the car and smiled across at me.

“What?” I asked impatiently, wondering why he was grinning like a Cheshire cat.

“Oh, I just wanted to tell you, you look good in that dirt.”

It wasn’t the words that dropped my jaw, but the way he said it, almost sang it, with a certain rhythm that tickled the edges of my memory before crashing into my full consciousness. His grin never left as he turned to walk toward the house, then turned back to me, walking backward as he spoke.

“Are you going to introduce me to your mum, or do I have to introduce myself while you stand there catching flies?”

I couldn’t move, so he stopped and walked toward me around the front of the car and took my hand. Dirt and all, he brought my hand up to his lips and kissed the back of it like a perfect gentleman. Then he reached up with his other hand and touched his index finger to my chin to shut my gaping trap. I gulped, surprised by the warmth of his touch, the supple strength of his fingers, the soft smile that radiated from his eyes, now so close to mine.

“Um, yeah,” I managed. “Let’s go inside.”

He didn’t let go of my hand as we walked toward the house, and while I was still star-struck, his touch comforted and emboldened me. Grand but discarded goals and dreams rose to the surface of my mind like savory steam rising from a freshly baked pie. As tempting as they were to consider, I dismissed them for now, deciding to just enjoy each moment as it came. Maybe later I’d dust off my old plan to move to Nashville, but for now, his blue eyes gazing at me over a plate of Mama’s chicken salad would be heaven enough.

++++


[ Edit | View ]

[> [> chicken salad -- kennedypratt, 19:44:24 01/19/06 Thu [1]

Got to get that recipe!


[ Edit | View ]

[> "Gaze" Chapter 2 -- Feathers, 12:59:44 01/19/06 Thu [1]

Gaze 2

“Mama? Mama, you here?” I called as I poked my head through the screen door into the kitchen. I kept my feet firmly planted on the porch because Mama had a thing about muddy boots in the house.

“I’m coming.” Her muffled voice came from the pantry. In a moment she was crossing the kitchen with an armload of potatoes to peel for dinner which she dumped on the drainboard on her way to the door.

“Oh, Lord, Child! Look what that horse did to you this time!” She started fussing with the broom to brush the caked mud off my boots and jeans while she broke into her regular lecture about Bobby. “I’ll never understand why you insist on keeping that wild creature around here. I really think-”

“Mama, please. We have company.”

“Oh!” she said with surprise, taking in the gentleman in rebel’s clothing who had kindly driven me home. I think that maybe she was just as astonished as I was by his striking blue eyes. Like mother like daughter, I hoped. I introduced her to our guest-with-one-name, and explained how I had offered him lunch in exchange for the ride.

“Well, please come in,” she said grandly, taking his hand and fussing over him all the way to the kitchen table where she proceeded to offer him a glass of lemonade.

“Ahem, Mama!” I was still standing on the porch in my muddy boots that had cemented themselves to my feet. I could not remove them by myself in this state. The two of them turned to me as if I’d interrupted important negotiations. “My boots?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot,” Mama said, and I could see the slight blush in her cheeks. Maybe “like mother like daughter” wasn’t such a good thing. She hustled out onto the porch to help me, and he followed her. I sat on a wooden bench by the door and soon they were each pulling one of my boots, which made unhappy sucking noises as they reluctantly let go of my feet.

“Now, take off those socks and dry your feet before you come in,” Mama ordered as she bustled back into the kitchen to wash her hands. “Then get yourself in the shower right away. Who knows what you picked up in those woods….” Her running commentary about ticks and chiggers was lost in the rush of water in the kitchen sink. I didn’t say anything because I was staring in to those blue eyes again. He lowered himself to one knee in front of me and began pulling off my sopping, muddy socks, his warm and slender fingers dancing lightly over my cold, wet feet. Then, he took the dishtowel Mama had dropped in my lap and dried my feet off with the comforting touch of a masseuse.

“Go on, now,” he said softly as he helped me up. “You don’t want to disappoint your mum.” He added a conspiratorial wink.

“I’m thirty-five, not married and living at home with my wild animal,” I said with a roll of my eyes. “I don’t think I could disappoint her any further.”

He chuckled softly. “Go on,” he nodded toward the doorway. “I’ll entertain your mum.”

“You’re braver than you look,” I commented.

“But hurry it up,” he bantered back. “I’m getting hungry.”

We shared a smile that was just a little bit more than simple humor as he held the door for me. I walked through the kitchen to the accompaniment of Mama’s continued commentary. “…And you remember when Uncle Elmo got ticks in his beard and had so many lumps that Aunt Patsy thought it was cancer. He was so addicted to that chewing tobacco, you know, but the doctor said it was just ticks and had to freeze them off and then Uncle Elmo had to keep his beard shaved for three months because of the medicine….” It was enough to make me lose my appetite, so I escaped through the hallway door and up the stairs as quickly as I could. It was enough of a struggle to think about eating with Mr. Blue Eyes under our roof.

I showered as quickly as I could, thinking all the while that being clothed only in bubbles would be a wonderful way to spend an afternoon … with him. I felt the heat rising inside me and I turned the hot water down. A simple plate of chicken salad was turning into an aphrodisiac and I hadn’t even eaten anything yet.

I dressed quickly and simply in jeans and a t-shirt, and sent my bare feet fluttering down the hardwood stairs back to the kitchen.

“Hi, Mama, I’m home,” I said cheerily while dropping a kiss on her cheek.

“That looks much better, honey.”

“Feels much better, too,” I said with a glance toward our guest. He was actually standing at the sink peeling potatoes as if he were in his own mama’s kitchen. He looked up at me through those long shaggy bangs and grinned.

“Concentrate on those potatoes, young man,” Mama chided. “I don’t want you to hurt those delicate fingers. I couldn’t afford the lawsuit!” she said and laughed out loud at her own joke.

“Yes, ma’am,” he obeyed, flashing me another grin before turning back to his task.

“Mama, don’t tell me you’re putting him to work before he’s even had a chance to eat.” I was incredulous. Mama was many things, but she was always making sure that people were well-fed.

“Of course not, child! We ate while you were upstairs. He wanted to wait for you for some reason, but once I convinced him to try my chicken salad, well let’s just say he was eating out of my hand, weren’t you, Sugar,” she finished with a wink toward MY houseguest.

“I’m sorry,” he said with all sincerity. “Your mum is a hard woman to resist.”

I couldn’t believe it. My mama was horning in on my territory. I stared at him wide-eyed until he looked up at me from his potato. He sort of smiled, but I think he could see that I wasn’t too happy to have missed eating lunch with them, so he tried to cover his tracks.

“You know, there’s really a rhythm to it,” he said holding up a nicely peeled potato. “Might even make an interesting drum line.” He made some swishing percussive sounds with his mouth that attempted to sound like the potato peeler.

I rolled my eyes. “Mama, you’re brainwashing the poor man.”

“Just have some lunch, dear,” she said, setting a sandwich and a glass of lemonade on the table for me. “You must be famished.”

I couldn’t disagree, but I was disappointed that I’d be eating alone.

“I tell you what, hon,” Mama said to the intrepid potato peeler, “why don’t I finish that up so you can keep my daughter company while she eats.”

I took a bite and glanced sideways at them as Mama whisked the peeler out of his hand and shooed him away from the sink. He wiped his hands on a towel, then turned to place both hands on the table and cocked his head sideways to look at me.

“Was that a hammock I saw in the backyard?” The invitation in his eyes was unmistakable.

I almost choked, but successfully swallowed my bite with a swig of lemonade.

“Yes, it is,” I said as calmly as possible as images of he and I in the hammock began to materialize in my mind.

He reached around and took a clean dishtowel off the shelf. Unfolding it with a flourish, he took my sandwich out of my stunned hands and wrapped it in the towel. Then he picked up my glass and started for the door.

“You are coming, aren’t you? I’ve already eaten, but… well it is good, and I could probably eat another-”

“Oh, no you don’t,” I said rising from my chair to recapture my well-deserved lunch. “That’s MY sandwich, buster!”

Laughing, he backed through the screen door and, starving as I was, I had to follow my sandwich. He headed toward the hammock hanging in the dappled shade of a huge old willow, looking back over his shoulder often to make sure I was following. I was starting to feel the soreness from my fall and it slowed me down, but it didn’t impede my desire to eat that sandwich – or be on that hammock with that guy.

It was a wide double hammock, and he made himself comfortable right in the middle, grinning and holding my lunch on his chest as if it were bait. I stood there for a minute with my hands on my hips taking in the inviting image.

“You gonna join me?” he asked.

“You’ll have to scoot over some or we’ll tip it.”

“I know. C’mon,” he said and we carefully balanced ourselves in the middle. It wasn’t until after I had taken a greedy bite of my sandwich that I realized I was snuggled up under his arm and our bodies were pressed together very comfortably. I sighed and closed my eyes. This was heaven. I didn’t care if I didn’t know this guy from Adam. Well, I knew who he was, but I didn’t really know him. I was learning, though, that he was strong and warm and smelled so good, and his eyes, smile and laugh proved that he was just as strong and warm on the inside.

We lay there in silence for a while, me munching my sandwich and him just relaxing with his eyes closed. I stole a few glances his way, studying his straight nose, soft lips, and angled jaw line covered in a short and sexy scruff of three-day whiskers. The gentle breeze lifted a section of his long bangs and it danced playfully over his forehead. He brushed it away with his free hand. His face was so calm and peaceful even though the fine lines around his eyes and across brow hinted at a lifetime of experience.

He must have sensed me looking at him because he turned his head and opened his eyes to look at me. They were full of a mixture of interesting thoughts that I wish I’d had time to examine them before they changed to that friendly and caring look again.

“Feeling better?” he almost whispered.

“Much,” I matched his soft tone.

“You look it. I was honestly worried about you when I picked you up earlier.”

As much as I wanted to toss him a snappy comeback, all I could manage was a heartfelt “thank you” as I looked away. His compassion exposed too much of my need, and I didn’t want him to see that part of me. He hugged me closer to his side and went back to his relaxing.

I was good at hiding my feelings and pain, and quickly cast about in my mind for something that fueled my defense mechanisms. I needed something that focused on him instead of me.

“Did you really cuss out those reporters this morning?”

“I did.” He didn’t look at me, but kept his eyes closed.

“Are you nuts?”

“Apparently,” he laughed softly at himself. “Please don’t tell anyone.”

I laughed. “I won’t have to, it’ll be all over the papers in the morning.”

He sighed. “Probably.”

“Unless, of course, you have a really great press rep,” I commented.

“I think I do. She covers my clumsy ass pretty well most of the time, but she might not take too kindly to what happened this morning.”

“She should offer the reporters some sort of goodie,” I continued matter-of-factly between bites, “and then invite them all back in for an exclusive when you have a big announcement to make, contingent upon them not saying anything about what happened this morning.”

He turned to look at me with a mix of surprise and curiosity. “That’s brilliant. How did you come up with that?”

Stunned that I had let a bit of myself escape, I tried to shrug it off. “I used to work in PR.” I concentrated on the last few bites of my sandwich in the hopes that he would just let it go, but he wouldn’t.

“Who did you work for and where?” was his animated response. “Why aren’t you working for them anymore? Are you still interested in doing PR?”

It was my turn to close my eyes. I tried to center myself against the wave of emotional turbulence that would well up if I answered all those questions accurately. He was obviously very interested in the answer and was waiting patiently for it.

“Let’s just say,” I said after a moment, “that I got sidetracked. In a sense, I was bucked off that particular horse and never got back on. And that’s all I’m going to say.” I didn’t want to, but I gave him a serious stare, hoping that he’d understand that I wanted him to back off the topic. His mouth became a pensive line, his eyes darkened a little, and he nodded.

“Okay,” he said using that soft voice again. “I totally understand that, but I’ll be glad to listen if you want to talk about it.”

“Do you understand?” I was suddenly angry. I had a very short temper for people who claimed they understood me. No one that I knew had been anywhere near where I’d been in the last five years. And maybe I was still a bit off kilter from getting thrown by Bobby and needing to be rescued. I appreciated the ride home, but one rescue was enough; I didn’t need him to try and save me again. Even though I knew it was wrong I lit into him anyway.

“How could you even come close to understanding me?” I sat up a bit in the hammock, threatening to tip it over, but I just couldn’t have him that close to me if I was going to take him to task. “You’ve known me for what? Less than two hours? And you act like you know everything I’ve been through. You live in a world that is so far removed from mine, there is no way you could even have an inkling of what’s going on inside me, so don’t even try!”

He gave me a long stare that started with shock and worked its way through anger and sadness and finally ended with a look of deep compassion. “Would you let me try?” he asked softly and evenly as if I hadn’t just spewed that vile mess at him. His gentle response left me deflated and embarrassed.

“I – I’m sorry,” I whispered hanging my head. “I’m really sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he said quietly stroking my arm. “I’ve been a lot of places in my life. Maybe we’ve been through some of the same neighborhoods.”

“I doubt it. Your world is so upbeat. You’re always encouraging people to enjoy life and live for the moment and appreciate what they have. How can you have a positive outlook like that if you’ve been where I’ve been?”

“How could I not? I lived to tell about it – and the chances of that were dicey at times. Besides,” he paused, seeming to want my full attention. “I don’t think you know as much about me as you think you do. You certainly don’t have to tell me anything, but if you do, I promise to keep any secrets.”

I looked at him for a moment then turned away again. No matter how trustworthy he seemed, no matter how blue his eyes or how caring his smile, I wasn’t ready to tell him that much about me. Those wounds were still tender and his prodding, though gentle, touched a raw nerve.

“What do you really care about a nobody like me? You date movie stars.” I knew that was a rotten thing to say. It came straight from my fear and low self-esteem, and as soon as I said it I regretted it.

“I’m not with any movie stars right now, am I? Unless that’s part of your secret,” he said in a conspiratorial tone. “Maybe you used to be a famous actress, but your career hit the skids and now you’re slumming it in the middle of Nowhere, Tennessee. Maybe you made a movie the critics hated. Maybe you were the first one kicked off a bad reality show? Maybe you had a sex change and your agent couldn’t get you a job…”

“Maybe you have a wild imagination,” I said with a reluctant smile. I couldn’t resist his soft-spoken way of diffusing my negative feelings. He grinned at me and I was amazed that he hadn’t become defensive when I became angry or upset, but he had just accepted it as if he knew my anger wasn’t about himself, but about me and what I was dealing with.

How in the world had I crossed paths with someone who really knew how to be such a good friend? He spoke again before I could figure that out.

“Get back over here,” he said indicating that I should lie back down next to him on the hammock. I did as I was told, but this time I turned my body into his and his arm wrapped under my neck and over my shoulders and it felt so good.

“You don’t have to tell me anything,” he said quietly as we settled ourselves next to each other. “It doesn’t matter.”

And he was right. The past didn’t matter in that wonderful moment, as he held me in silence with the gentle breeze fluttering over us again. I felt so content that I slid my hand across his middle and tucked it behind his waist. He responded with a contented hum.

++++++

I don’t know how long we’d been sleeping, but the sound of a two-tone truck horn in the front of the house woke both of us up with a start. Our eyes flew open and the startled looks on both of our faces was an anxious flash of “where am I and who am I with?” I recovered first and started laughing at him.

“You should see your face,” I said. “Total deer in the headlights!”

“Where’s a pillow when I need it,” he said with a fake pout. “All I’ve got is this wimpy kitchen towel.”

I laughed again until I saw that he was twisting it into a rattail. “Hey now,” I warned. “I know this hammock better than you, and I’ve learned a few things from Bobby over the summer.”

He grinned and tossed the towel to the ground. “So who’s here?”

“Just Dudley. He always honks to let Mama know he’s home.”

“Dudley lives here? The guy with the store in town?”

“Yeah, Mama married him last year. He’s a great guy.” I settled back into the hammock, intent on enjoying as much of this glorious afternoon as possible.

“Shouldn’t we get up and go in the house?”

“Why? You that anxious to meet Dudley?”

“Well, no, but you made such a big deal about manners and introductions earlier…”

“Mama will shout when dinner’s ready. Besides, certain once-in-a-lifetime experiences outrank manners, especially one that’s sharing a hammock with me.” I said it matter-of-factly, trying to show that I wasn’t too star-struck by the idea, but I was in no way prepared for his response.

“Why does it have to be only once?” His blue eyes pierced mine with a delicious intensity, awakening something deep inside me that I’d ignored for far too long.

“Well, I, ah,” I stammered and gulped. “I suppose that would be up to you, then wouldn’t it?”

“No,” he whispered taking my hand and bringing it up to his lips. His eyelids closed as he kissed the back of my hand, then fluttered open again to look at me. “It would be up to you.”

My heart flipped in my chest. “What do you mean, exactly?”

“I mean that I would let you decide whether or not to accept any invitations I might extend.”

“And what kind of invitations would those be?”

“Dinners and various evenings out – or in, opportunities for travel, fancy functions with lots of photographers…things like that.”

“Can I say yes to all in advance?” Did I really just say that? Surely I was insane to accept hypothetical and as yet un-offered invitations from someone like him. Frankly, the thought of him wanting to spend more time with me was as frightening as it was exhilarating.

When he laughed I felt its warm buzz in my ears, easing my fears.

“I tell you what,” he said. “I’m meeting with my publicist on Tuesday for lunch. Why don’t you join us?”

“Your publicist?” I asked, cocking an eyebrow at him. “Is this business or pleasure? Because I’d prefer the latter.”

“Let’s just call it a place to start,” he smiled.

“Why with your publicist, though?” I asked, unsure of his intentions.

“Three reasons. One, she’ll buy. Two, it’s the only thing on my calendar that I can remember off the top of my head, and three,” he paused, seeming to weigh his words before speaking. “Because she told me just the other day that her firm was looking for good PR people. Why don’t you meet her and see what you think.”

“Well, I don’t know, I…” I looked away, sensing his plan to match me up with another job, and feeling quite disappointed. I appreciated it, but I just didn’t think I was ready to take that step yet.

He pulled my chin back around so I was looking at him again, and his eyes held that strong, calm compassion that drew me in every time.

“Okay, I lied, there’s another reason,” he said with all seriousness. “I really want to see you again. Soon.”

I was torn. He was sincere about seeing me again and I felt the warmth of his attraction wash over me. Yet, I was still unsure if the ulterior motive was to help his publicist fill an employment gap. I scolded myself for being so cynical, and that I should be excited for an opportunity to restart my career. He must have seen the conflict in my eyes as I argued with myself in the silence that hung between his offer and my acceptance of it.

“It’s just lunch,” he soothed. “One step at a time. What have you got to lose?” It was as if he knew exactly what I needed to hear.

“No pressure?”

“No pressure.”

“Okay,” I smiled at him. “When and where?”

He gave me the name of the restaurant in Nashville, and then consulted the datebook in his cell phone for the time. The mental note I made of the particulars of our date would be indelibly etched on my mind. It felt good to have a date, even if it was just a lunch meeting. It felt good to look forward to something special. I hadn’t done that in a long time. I smiled at him and the corner of his mouth lifted in an impish curl.

“I’m glad you’re coming,” he said.

“I’m so glad you asked.” I felt my own mouth start to curl upward and then I felt him lean closer, aiming his lips toward mine, his breath brushing across my face. I felt the fire flare up in the depths of my psyche, lacing it’s tendrils around every nerve ending in my body.

“JENNA? JENNAAA!”

“Oh, shhhhhugar,” I half-cursed under my breath as Mama’s voice broke the spell.

“DINNERTIME!”

“I’m sorry,” I said, the frustration and disappointment weighing down my words.

“Shhh…” he breathed and pulled my chin toward him with his finger. His kiss began where the “shh” ended and my insides liquefied at the touch of his lips. It wasn’t a long kiss, but in its context, it was the most perfect kiss I’d ever experienced. If he disappeared into thin air right then, I would have been completely satisfied.

“Let’s not keep your mum waiting,” he whispered.

“Right,” I mumbled, the spell broken again, but the aura of it lingered within every cell of my body. We extricated ourselves from the hammock, and headed back to the house. His arm around my shoulders was the only thing that was keeping me from floating away on the lambent warmth of his presence.


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[> [> Sweet -- Chesneygirl73, 16:18:04 01/19/06 Thu [1]

very nice!


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[> [> AWESOME AWESOM AWESOM!!!!!!!!!!!!! -- Rodeo, 16:27:25 01/19/06 Thu [1]


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[> [> [> Heavy sigh... -- 1birdinflight, 17:48:53 01/19/06 Thu [1]

I've got to get a hammock...LOL! Really nice imagery, feathers. I could soooo see Keith and this girl lounging on a hammock, swaying slightly in the breeze...I could see the girl eating her sandwich and I could see here eyes moving as she spoke to him, getting wider, then smaller and back again... And Keith, well, he was just effortlessly looking as fine as hell! Really nice, feathers, and worth the wait..


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[> [> [> [> Thanks, and.... -- Feathers, 19:31:09 01/19/06 Thu [1]

I just want y'all to know that I had written this section LONG before I had read any other hammock stories - even the one Keith told to Playgirl! LOL (I can't find it right now, but he told them a story about being in a hammock with a girl while a thunderstorm came up and they didn't get up and run inside.)

Maybe I'll get a hammock too - one of these days when the kids are old enough not to ruin it! LOL


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[> [> Christmas List for 2006 - HAMMOCK -- Texas_Cheryl, 20:06:44 01/19/06 Thu [1]


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[> This is beautiful!! -- Aussie Chick, 22:38:23 01/19/06 Thu [1]

Wow!! I think this is the best one I've read so far! (and they've only just kissed) Love your descriptions of Keith I just pictured the whole story so vividly in my head. I can even tell you the colour of the hammock and of course what keith was wearing. Girls, I think we have a rival for sweetness in our midst!


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