Down Home Dixie (11 page)

It was many months before Milo admitted that his wish had been that Dixie would kiss him good-night. Well, she had, and they'd started going steady two weeks later. It had been a good decision at the time, she now realized. All through high school they'd been companions, friends, and finally, shortly before they broke up, lovers. But she'd passed on marrying Milo. And that had been the right decision, too.

“Starbright is a nice name,” she murmured, not giving anything away.

“I'm glad you like it,” Milo said, seeking something in her expression that he clearly didn't find. Dixie recognized the disappointment that shadowed his eyes ever so briefly before she turned away.

“Come on, you two,” Katie called from the kitchen. “Barbecue's on.”

Dixie gratefully returned to the kitchen, where Milo kept sending beseeching glances across the small kitchen table as they ate. Fortunately, it wasn't necessary to talk much. Joy recited interesting anecdotes about her new life, and Bubba was expansive about his impending fatherhood. Apparently no one noticed that Dixie was uncharacteristically quiet.

The truth was that her mind had wandered back to Kyle. Before she left home she'd written a note of her own, using the saltshaker to pin hers down alongside his on the kitchen table. She'd written down Bubba's address and phone number and asked Kyle to call her either at that number or on her cell when he got home. But as dinner wore on, as they cleaned up the kitchen, still no Kyle.

By the time Katie suggested that they adjourn to the living room for cake and coffee, Dixie was glancing at her watch for maybe the tenth time since they sat down to dinner. Bubba and Milo chatted about the best treatment for nematodes in soybeans, a topic of some interest in this rural area. Dixie filled Joy and Katie in on her new career and asked their opinion about accepting the cat Leland had offered. When Bubba brought out the Rummikub game, it was Joy who pleaded early exhaustion so she and Dixie could leave.

“Jet lag,” Joy said. “Flying cross-country cuts me down worse than anything.” She claimed to have done her share of traveling from coast to coast lately, seeing as her agent's main office was in New York.

When Joy made it clear that she and Dixie needed to leave, Milo said he had to get up early the next morning. They all trooped to the door and hugged Katie and Bubba, thanking them for the delicious meal.

“Wait a minute, Dixie,” Bubba said. He disappeared into the kitchen and returned with a bottle of home brew. “Might as well give the Yankee a taste of really good beer.”

Dixie tucked the bottle under her arm. “Thanks, Bubba. Kyle may call you for the recipe.”

Bubba winked. “Anytime.”

Milo gazed wistfully at Dixie for a long moment, and he kept trying to catch her eye on the way out to the street where they all were parked. Dixie pretended she didn't notice; she was uncomfortable with Milo's overt longing and wasted no time sliding into Joy's old Chevy.

“Fast enough exit?” Joy asked with a sly grin.

“What do you mean?”

“I saw how you were avoiding Milo's glances, his effort to sit next to you in the living room, all that stuff.”

“You read me right, girlfriend.”

“Let's get out of here. I'm sure you have other plans for the evening.”

Dixie smiled, though with marked restraint. “I hope so,” she said.

When Joy turned the key in the car's ignition, all they heard was a disheartening click. “Uh-oh,” Joy said. “This sounds serious.” She tried the key again and this time elicited a tired groan from the battery, which engendered an even more tired groan from Joy.

“I should have asked Daddy to charge the battery, but Mama claimed she'd started this car up only a couple of weeks ago,” Joy said. “I'm planning to sell it. I figured that I'd at least be able to use it while I'm here.”

“Maybe you should try to start it again,” Dixie suggested. The Chevy had been in great mechanical shape when Joy left for California.

“Joyanne? Dixie?” Milo had rolled down the window of his pickup. “Got a problem?”

Dixie stared steadfastly ahead as Joy got out of the car and slammed the door. “Dead battery. Can't get it going.” Crickets shrilled in the shrubbery, and somewhere a cat yowled.

“We could call Hub,” Dixie called out the window, naming the mechanic who had bought Carrie's garage. “He could be here in a few minutes.”

“No need,” Milo said. “I can drive both of you home. You're hardly out of my way.”

“Come on, Dixie,” Joy said. “We might as well. I really am too tired to deal with this right now.”

Hearing their voices, Katie and Bubba switched the porch light back on and opened the screen door.

“What's wrong?” they chorused.

“Dead battery,” Joy called back.

“I've got jumper cables in my car. Won't take me but a moment,” Bubba offered.

“I'll call you tomorrow, maybe we can do it then. Thanks anyway.” Joy grabbed her purse, and Dixie climbed out of the Chevy. She'd rather not ride home with Milo, but what choice did she have? The last thing she'd do was cause a scene over this.

Milo reached across the front seat and threw open the passenger door of his truck. “I'll drop Joyanne off first,” he said, which was logical because her parents' house was only a mile or so away.

This meant that Dixie would have to sit in the middle of the pickup's bench seat next to Milo, so she suppressed a sigh and got in. Joy climbed in after her. The whole way to Joy's parents' house, Dixie kept her eyes focused on the fuzzy black-and-white dice swinging from the rearview mirror. They made her dizzy, twirling around like that.

Joy was yawning by the time they dropped her off at the asbestos-shingled house where she'd grown up. Through the picture window, they could see her mother dipping up popcorn as she watched TV. “Thanks for the lift, Milo,” Joy said. “Dixie, I'll call you in the morning.”

As soon as Joy was out of the vehicle, Dixie slid away from Milo and toward the door. He waited until Joy went inside, then backed out of the driveway. The silence was uneasy between them, and Dixie turned her head away to gaze out the window at the fields slipping by, most of them already plowed for planting soybeans or cotton or tobacco. The moon was full and the sky full of stars, bringing to mind that silly poem again.
Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight, I wish I may, I wish I might…

Tonight she'd wish that Kyle would be at home waiting for her when she got there. No question about that.

While Milo attempted to draw her out, Dixie replied to his remarks with as few words as possible, unerringly polite but not enthusiastic. Milo began telling her about buying acreage for his nursery business, a story which wasn't of much interest to her.

After several minutes of Milo's throwing out conversation starters, he must have grown weary of her monosyllabic replies because he lapsed into quiet long before he turned down her driveway. As they passed the sasanqua hedge, Dixie caught herself leaning forward in the seat in hopes of spotting a telltale gleam of chrome from Kyle's truck, but it wasn't parked in its usual space.

Over and above the letdown, she entertained the scary notion that Kyle might have skipped town. Gone back to Andrea. Left without telling her. But no, he'd left a note earlier. A kind of sweet note, actually, and he'd signed it
Love, K.

“Thanks for the ride, Milo,” Dixie said as she swung down out of the truck. Belatedly, as he slid out from under the steering wheel, she realized that Milo was going to walk her to the door. She almost objected before deciding that an argument would be more trouble than it was worth. Dixie's house was dark, unoccupied, and any true gentlemen would insist on seeing a woman safely inside.

She'd forgotten to leave the porch light on, and because she was still carrying the clammy bottle of beer, she fumbled with her key. Without a word, Milo took it from her and inserted it in the lock. He opened the door, and the glow of the night-light illuminated his face as she turned toward him to thank him again for the ride.

Perhaps she was sending mixed signals after all. Milo's expression was one of hopefulness, of affection.

“It was wonderful seeing you, Dixie,” he said, a hitch in his voice.

Not,
she thought as she stepped backward to minimize what she was pretty sure Milo had in mind. Too late. He firmly placed his hands on her shoulders and wasted no time in lowering his mouth to hers. She clamped her teeth shut and held her breath, leaning out of it. No matter how far backward she bent, Milo stuck like glue. Milo was still kissing her enthusiastically when bright headlights sliced across the hedge and Kyle's truck pulled into the driveway.

The beer bottle fell on the steps and broke in an explosion of foam and glass.

 

F
IFTEEN MINUTES LATER
, Dixie was repentant and regretful, not that it seemed to help.

“All I did was talk to Andrea on the phone,” Kyle said angrily. “
You
were
kissing
Milo.” It was the first time he had ever raised his voice to her, and that alone made her forget how sorry she was.

“Milo was kissing
me,
” she informed him. “For which I should have slapped him, maybe.” They had adjourned to her bedroom after Milo left, and Kyle paced to the far end of it. She pulled off her shoes, wet with beer. “Or hit him over the head with the beer bottle,” she added on second thought. She sniffed at her hands; they smelled beery, too. Beer tasted better than it smelled, that was for sure.

“Why didn't you?”

“Because you were charging up the slope to the house and I figured if there was any physical punishment to be inflicted, you'd be the one to administer it.”

“I wanted to deck him, but he got away too fast.”

“Fortunately. The police chief and Milo are second cousins.”

“Everybody's related around here,” Kyle said, sounding none too happy about it.

She said, “One of the reasons I hoped you'd come over to Bubba and Katie's tonight was that it's time for you to meet my friends.”

Kyle sighed. “I had business. Turns out the farrier in Camden is going to be out of commission for a while, and there's work for me there.” Quickly he outlined the opportunities available to him.

“Now I understand better than I did,” she allowed in a more subdued tone. “If we'd talked earlier, I never would have become so upset.”

“I couldn't reach you. Look, your friend Joy sounds like a charming person. I would have liked to spend the evening with all of you. I couldn't this time.”

At least he'd said
this time.
That implied that there'd be another one.

“What was with the beer, anyway?” he asked.

“Bubba's into brewing it these days. He sent you a bottle.” She'd hated dropping the beer on Milo's foot, but when Kyle drove up, she'd suddenly remembered how the bird flapping out of nowhere had put the kibosh on her first necking session with him and figured she needed an interrupting factor of a similar sort in order to confuse things.

“And you broke it? That's a shame.”

“Maybe you could lick the beer off my feet,” she said grimly. “That's where most of it is.”

He stared for a moment and apparently decided she was joking. “Too kinky for my present mood,” he said.

She knew things would be all right then, or at least sort of all right. She closed her eyes for a long moment, opened them. “Kyle, the whole incident is over and done with. Let's let it go.” Having had enough arguing, she went into the bathroom and started to remove her clothes.

“Of course, there is still the little matter of your kissing Milo,” Kyle pointed out from where he stood. “And him slinking away, guilty as hell.”

She turned toward him, half undressed. She ran water into the sink and tossed her reeking slacks into it. “All right. I'm denying that I returned his kiss, but suppose I did? What would it mean? Nothing major, merely good night. I wasn't about to invite him in. What would we do? Sleep together while I wait for you to show up? With your clothes in my closet and your toothbrush in the toothbrush holder?”

“The toothbrush holder has more than one slot.”

“Kyle, I'm a one-man woman. Always have been, always will be. Right now you're the man in my life. I don't want anyone else.”

This speech completed, she took her time turning on the water for the shower. He was still watching when she stepped under the spray. For a moment, she thought that he might join her, but when she emerged from the bathroom, Kyle was already under the bedcovers, his back to her.

She waited a moment for him to speak or move. He didn't, so she slid under the blankets and switched out the light.

As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she waited for Kyle to say something, anything. Surely he'd speak or, well, do something else. For instance, usually at night he reached for her and pulled her close. They'd recount the day's activities and share a laugh or two before falling asleep. Tonight was different.