Casket Case (23 page)

“Of course you’re special,” Rizzie said as she led Levi and me to a corner table. She patted my hand. People always do that when they think you’ve been hurt or insulted. Like that’s going to make you feel better.

“I heard about your accident,” Rizzie continued.

“It wasn’t an accident,” I snapped. “It was intentional. Someone stole a Tahoe and tried to run me off the road and hit me three or four times. The car exploded, but I was already in the ambulance when that happened.”

Why was I sounding so nasty? “I’m sorry,” I said. “Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to come out today. I’m still feeling out of sorts, and I’m sore.”

“Oh, no,” Rizzie protested. “I understand you don’t feel well, but I’ve cooked shrimp gumbo for you with the biggest, tastiest shrimps you’ve ever seen and tiny little fresh okra.”

Still feeling foul, I said, “You didn’t cook it for me. You didn’t know I was who Levi was bringing.”

“Maybe a beer or glass of wine will make you feel better,” Levi suggested.

“Can’t drink alcohol with my pain medicine.” I picked up my purse. “This really isn’t a good idea. Please let me take a rain check. We’ll eat here another time.” I stood. “Pardon me. I’m going to the powder room.”

Rizzie followed me. “What’s wrong with you?” she asked.

“I feel awful and I really like this guy and I’m making a fool of myself,” I said, and then tears flooded my face. I hate, absolutely hate to cry in front of anyone, even a friend like Rizzie.

“Stop that,” Rizzie said. “You’ll ruin your makeup.”

“No way,” I said. “Without remover to dissolve it, I couldn’t get this stuff off with a trowel.”

“Well, you’re going to make your eyes all red and puffy. Levi was so happy when he called and said he was bringing someone special in for an early dinner. Why are you acting this way?”

“I don’t know. I just don’t know.” I started to cry again, but Rizzie patted my face dry with a paper towel.

When we went back to the dining room, Levi looked like I’d slapped him. “If you really want to go, I’ll take you home,” he said.

“No, I’m sorry. It’s just been a rough few days. We should eat before we go. Rizzie’s a fantastic cook.”

“I know. I’ve been eating here since I moved to St. Mary.”

Rizzie brought steaming bowls of rice and gumbo to the table. She set them in front of us and said, “I’m surprised the two of you didn’t meet in here. You’re both among my best customers.”

She went back to the kitchen and returned with a basket of hot corn bread, a beer for Levi, and a Coke on ice for me.

“Enjoy!” she said and moved on to another table of customers.

“I love this food,” Levi said, spooning gumbo from his bowl.

“Have you ever eaten Rizzie’s tomato pie?”

“No, I haven’t had that.”

“Get her to make it for you. It’s delicious. Fresh tomatoes, onion, and seasonings in a pie shell. She tops it with a cheese crust that’s wonderful. Rizzie’s is a little different from other people’s tomato pie because she adds tarragon.”

By the time we’d both finished our gumbo, I felt better. Perhaps part of my irritability had been because I’d skipped breakfast and had eaten only a few cookies since yesterday.

Levi paid the bill and escorted me to the PT Cruiser. I almost said “car,” but those things just don’t look like cars to me. Once again, he held doors for me and treated me like a lady. Now, I’m as modern as most southern women, and I expect to earn the same pay as a man for the same work, and I go by Ms., not Miss or Mrs., but gee whiz, I do like for men to treat me special.

“Do you feel like driving to a movie or club in Beaufort?” Levi asked.

“Not really.” Then I thought about how I’d been behaving. There are lots of kinds of rejection, and surely I’d hurt his feelings too much already. “I’d invite you back to my place to watch television or listen to music, but I’ve got company. They’d ask you a thousand questions and want to play some loud game. Could we just ride around a little?”

Levi grinned, and those dark eyes sparkled. He’d taken off his suit jacket, and his biceps showed through the sleeves of his white shirt. He obviously worked out, but he wasn’t ropey muscle-bound.

“How about we ride to the beach and watch the ocean? That could be relaxing.”

“Sounds good,” I answered. On the ride, I remembered my younger years. When I was in college in Columbia, we used to ride up to big ole Lake Murray to “watch the submarine races.” Another euphemism—this time for grubbing or, as my brothers said, making out.
Cool down, Callie,
I thought.

Levi headed toward Hunting Island, and I expected to stop there. He didn’t turn in, though, and continued to Fripp Island.

“We can’t go here,” I said. “Fripp is private. You have to have a membership to go on the island.”

“I know.”

Levi pulled up to the gate guard and showed him a card. We drove through the beautiful entrance onto the divided road that runs from one side of the island to the other. On our left, an alligator lay on the bank of a small pond. A little farther down, two deer stood on the bicycle path. We passed large, elegant homes. At the end of the pavement, we reached the golf club and private restaurants.

Fripp Island is the home and vacation spot for people far more wealthy than my family. I’d been there before on a field trip when I was in high school, but my family and Fripp Islanders weren’t in the same social league. The houses aren’t McMansions. They’re
real
mansions. The island is home for alligators in their own pools and free-roaming deer, along with birds and other animals that are protected by the rules of the island. As a matter of fact, Fripp Island is a sanctuary—everything protected—except me.

Having chosen celibacy over sex for sport, I’d stopped my birth control over a year ago.
What’s wrong with me? Why am I thinking about this? We’re here to look at the ocean, not to seduce each other. I’ve never boinked anybody on a first date. Well, I guess this is a second date if I count the time he stood me up.

One end of Fripp Island is bordered by large rock formations, while on the other end, the beaches are wide and sandy. Levi drove to an elegant house straight out of
Southern Living.
He parked in the driveway facing the ocean. “Would you like to sit here in the car or go around to the back of the house and sit on the deck?” he asked.

“Outside sounds nice, but will we be trespassing?” I answered his question with one of my own.

“We won’t be trespassing.”

“Do you know the folks who own this place?”

“My dad owned it, so now it’s mine. This is where I’m living since I came down from Charleston.”

“Then let’s sit on the patio.”

We sat on deck chairs. Levi’s home was oceanfront but built far enough back that even at high tide, there was a lot of landscaped yard before the sand began. I watched the waves lap against the manicured lawn between the house and the ocean. Sea oats and other coastal plants accented the walk down to the beach.

Though the sun didn’t set over the ocean, we enjoyed that lovely effect of dusk descending over the sand and water. Soon stars danced out into the night sky. Levi went inside and came out with glasses of sweetened tea with sprigs of fresh mint.

We sipped our drinks and talked about the things most people do on first dates. He said he’d never been married and had no children. I told him I’d been married and divorced one time, but I didn’t go into any details about Donnie.

“This is a first for me,” he said. “I’ve never dated a teacher.”

I almost replied that I’d never dated a delivery boy, but this house indicated that Levi might actually be working there to learn about the business. I confess I’d really figured that was just a line to excuse having a low-paying job when he was obviously in his mid thirties.

The thought even crossed my mind that instead of owning this property and living here, perhaps he was a hired house-sitter. When the mosquitoes started biting, he invited me inside.

The house was big, modern, and exquisitely furnished. I’d always considered beach houses informal, but this place had both a formal living room and dining room that could be seen through the door of the room we entered. Those areas had massive furniture made of deep polished wood and brocade upholstery.

We stood in what I would call a den. Three huge leather couches created a conversation area facing a gigantic fire-place. I wondered how often a fire had been lit there. It’s pretty warm around here most of the year. Behind the couches had been designated a recreational area, with pool table, foosball, brass and glass octagonal table with several decks of cards on it, and a bookcase filled with boxed games. I wondered where the GameCube was.

I sat on a couch and looked around. Quite a comfy setup. Levi picked up a remote control and the wall beside the fire-place disappeared, revealing a gigantic plasma-screen television.

“Do you like this show?” he asked and sat beside me. Close, but not touching.

“Yes,” I said and sipped my tea while Monk neurotically solved the mystery.

When the program ended, Levi pressed a few more buttons, and soft, shimmery colors played across the screen like those old lava lamps my brothers used to have. Soft jazz filled the room. Levi moved closer and I knew he was going to kiss me.

No doubt about the chemistry between us. His kiss was tender but it shot flames. He took his time—sweet and gentle—and the longer his kisses lasted, the more sense Jane’s advice to live for the moment made.

Levi leaned back and pulled me over onto him.

My mind remained focused on his kisses. And his hands. He’d been stroking my behind. Problem was I couldn’t feel it. He stopped kissing and moved his mouth and tongue to my neck and throat. He nibbled my ears. I loved every minute of it. Then I realized that he was touching my breast. Not really. He was cuddling my inflated bra. I couldn’t feel a thing.

I’d thought the heat of the moment and gentleness of his touch were keeping his hands from hurting my bruises, but no. The padded and inflated garments beneath my dress were protecting me from feeling pain. Would it hurt to be touched when my clothing came off?

If I took my clothes off—or let him remove them—Levi would know that the body he saw when he looked at me in my black dress wasn’t mine. My chest was, in reality, as flat as a pancake, and my bottom was even flatter.

I gently put my hands over his and removed them from my bosom. I sat up straight and adjusted my dress. Levi had gotten a glance at a lot of leg. At least my legs are my own and not padded or inflated.

“Not yet,” I said.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I wasn’t even thinking. Let me look in the bedroom. Surely, there’s something in there.”

“No, that’s not what I mean. You’re right. The chemistry’s great, but I’m not ready.” How many men had I told that to in the past year or so? I’d been determined to be in a real relationship, possibly even married again, before allowing such closeness.

Now I wanted to forget all my lofty ideals. I really wanted the comfort of this man’s arms. The pleasure of his touch. I wanted all that, but I couldn’t let myself.

I could be self-righteous and say I came to my senses, but that wasn’t it at all. I simply couldn’t bear to think of seeing the look on Levi’s face when I took off my clothes. It would be a whole lot worse than that song about the man marrying the woman who took out her glass eye and her false teeth, then pulled off her wig when she went to bed on the first night of their honeymoon.

Levi did the gentlemanly thing. He got us each another glass of tea and found a good movie on TV. He sat close with his arm around me but didn’t touch any personal spaces again. He took me home before it got too late, kissed me gently at the door, and told me he’d call me at work the next day.

Standing for a moment in the open door, I watched Levi walk back to his car and drive away. I really liked that man, and
not
because he was from a wealthy family. In fact, that could be an obstacle. Opposites attract, but our attraction had nothing to do with our social standings, and I’d already been in a relationship with a guy from a higher socioeconomic standing than mine. Donnie’s family had money, but that had actually almost prejudiced me
against
the so-called upper classes.

Frank’s Jeep hadn’t been there when Levi pulled up. I wondered if he’d gone to pick up a pizza or something, and if so, was Jane with him or waiting for me inside?

“Jane,” I called as I turned around and stepped into the apartment. Good grief! The place was a shambles. Couch cushions lay on the floor beside overturned end tables. The splintered glass top of the coffee table reminded me of the family car’s windshield.