It Happened One Night (8 page)

She opened the door, recognized the man holding the cake as the firefighter who'd complimented her on her tattoo and tried not to blush.

“I'm Charlie Sterling,” he said quickly. “This is my wife, Tisha.”

“Come in,” Harley said. “Sam's out back cooking hamburgers and if you all brought your swimsuits, feel free to jump in the pool.”

“Love your accent,” Tisha said, and took her cake
from Charlie's hands. “You can go outside and play, but be nice, you hear?”

“Real cute, honey,” Charlie said, and patted his wife on the rear as he headed for the kitchen and the patio beyond.

Tisha rolled her eyes and then grinned at Harley.

“He's not quite housebroke yet,” she said. “Can't take him anywhere.”

Harley laughed. It was the first time since this whole day started that she thought she might have found a friend.

“According to my mama, the best ones are always like that,” Harley said. “I've got some beans baking in the oven, so follow me.”

“Oooh, you cook, too,” Tisha drawled, then spied the other wives and had to stop for a hug and a hello. It was a couple of minutes later before she made her way into the kitchen where Harley was taking a large pan of baked beans from the oven.

“Those smell heavenly,” she said.

Harley smiled. “Grannie's recipe, but it makes so much that I never make them unless I have company.”

Tisha gazed around the kitchen, noting the changes that had taken place since Harley's arrival.

“We were all here about three years ago for a party, but that was when Sam had the pool put in. Haven't been here since, but it looks like you've fixed the place up a lot.”

“Mostly just new curtains and paint. Have to do
something while Sam's gone to occupy my time. I'm thinking about looking for a job, but haven't decided what I want to do.”

“Did you work before you and Sam got married?” Tisha asked.

“Yes, for an insurance agency. Very boring. I'm not doing that again.”

Tisha filched a handful of potato chips from a big plastic bowl and started munching as she watched Harley flit about the room. First impressions were usually her strong suit, but she couldn't quite put her finger on who Sam's wife really was. Being the nosey person that she was, she pressed on for answers to satisfy her curiosity.

“You sure pulled a good one,” Tisha said.

Harley looked up from the boiled eggs she was peeling.

“What do you mean?”

“Snagging Sam. Taking him off the marriage market, so to speak.”

“Oh, that,” Harley said, and reached for another egg. She had to get them peeled and deviled before the hamburgers were done or the cookout just wouldn't be right.

Tisha frowned. It wasn't exactly the giggle she'd expected from a newlywed.

“Don't tell me the bloom is already off the rose,” she said.

Harley paused and looked up, a slight grin on her face.

“Do you always speak in analogies?”

This time it was Tisha who'd gotten lost in the conversation.

“I don't know what you mean.”

Harley's smile widened. “Well, first you tell me I pulled a good one and now you're asking if the bloom is off the rose. Why don't you just come out and say what you mean?”

Tisha swallowed the last chip she'd been chewing and dusted off her hands.

“All righty then, since you asked, how long have you and Sam known each other? He never mentioned you until he came back from Las Vegas and then, according to Charlie, you were all he talked about. As for the bloomin' rose, you aren't as gooney-eyed as I expected a newlywed to be.”

“Oh. That,” Harley said, and began cutting the eggs in half and dumping the yolks into a bowl.

She didn't know Sam had come into the kitchen until he slid his arms around her waist and kissed the back of her neck.

“Tisha, are you grilling my ever-loving wife about our love life, because if you are, you're gonna be sorry.”

“Why?” Tisha asked.

“Because ours is so good it'll make you mad at Charlie, and don't tell me it won't. I know the man. He bunks next to me at the station, remember? Ten minutes after a meal, he's asleep.”

Tisha laughed. “You've got that right. The moon has long since set on the honey part of our life.” Then she sighed. “But I have to keep him around. Lord knows no one else would have him.”

Harley laughed, more than a little surprised at herself for being so at ease with Sam's public affections.

“What  are  you  making  now?”  he  asked,  as  he watched Harley mashing a bowl full of boiled egg yolks.

“Deviled eggs,” she said. “Do you like them?”

There was a glitter in his eyes as he whispered against her ear.

“June Bug, I like everything you do.”

Tisha grinned. “Obviously, you don't know all of his likes and dislikes yet, but that will come.”

Sam bit the edge of Harley's ear, well aware that she was struggling not to go limp in his arms.

“Shoot, Tisha. We don't know fudge about each other yet, but we're learning, aren't we, honey?”

Harley blushed, but she was one to give back as good as she got.

“Oh yes, and it helps that I'm such a quick study.”

This time it was Sam who was caught by surprise. His  eyes  widened  suddenly  and  then  he  burst  into laughter.

“And a damned good dancer, too,” he said.

Tisha's interest piqued again.

“You were a dancer? I thought you said you worked in an insurance agency.”

Harley glared at Sam. “I'm not a dancer and I do...rather, I did, work in an insurance agency.”

Tisha leaned across the counter, her eyes alight with interest.

“So, exactly how long did you two know each other before Sam popped the question?”

Harley knew from the look on Sam's face that he was going to tell the story and while it was inevitable that they would eventually find out, she would have preferred they got to know her better first. However, never one to let a man tell something that she knew she could tell better, she blurted out the truth.

“Beats me,” she said. “I was drunk at the time.”

The expression on Sam's face was priceless, and then he started to grin.

“Let's see,” Sam added. “If I remember right, it was about two hours after I pulled you off the poker table where you were dancing and right before you went swimming in the nude in the waterfall at the Mirage.”

Harley's face fell. “I didn't.”

“Well...actually, you did,” Sam said. “But I hauled you out before the cops got there and hid you in the bushes. In fact, that's where I proposed.”

Tisha whooped with laughter, which promptly brought the other wives into the kitchen.

“What's going on?” they chimed, but Harley was too horrified by what Sam was telling her to care.

“I was naked in the bushes?” Harley mumbled.

“No, I had your panties and your bra back on by then.”

She looked down at the egg yolks and groaned, unaware of the rapt attention of their audience.

“I can never go back to Las Vegas again,” she said.

Sam gave her a quick hug. “Naw, it'll be all right. I can assure you that the few people who saw you in the water weren't looking at your face.”

“Why didn't you tell me?” she moaned.

He shrugged. “The subject never came up.” Then he dug his finger into the egg yolks and took a quick taste. “I think this needs some salt.”

“Don't put your fingers in the food,” she muttered, almost as an afterthought, and reached for the saltshaker. “Was that before or after I got the tattoo?”

“You have a tattoo?” Tisha squealed. “Where? Can we see? I've always wanted a tattoo but you can't get them done in Oklahoma. Charlie keeps telling me that he'll take me across the border into Dallas, but he hasn't done it yet. What does it look like, Harley?”

Harley looked up, all too suddenly aware that she and Sam had captured quite an audience.

“You must think I'm awful,” she said, and bit her lower lip to keep from crying.

“Oh no,” Sam said. “You're not awful, darlin'.
You're the best...I mean, the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“Well, whoop-de-doo,” Tisha said, and then came around the island where Harley was working and gave her a quick hug. “Honey, the only thing on my mind right now is how to get through the rest of this day with good manners, because right now I'm so jealous of you I can't stand myself.”

“Yeah, me, too,” another woman said, and several more chimed in.

“Jealous? I made a complete fool of myself.”

Tisha winked at Sam and then blew him a kiss. “Yeah, but look what you wound up with.”

When Harley realized the women weren't going to turn her into some kind of pariah, she started to relax.

Tisha sidled up close to Sam and tickled him under the chin.

“Sam, honey, did you get a tattoo, too?”

A dark flush suddenly appeared on his cheeks as he swatted at her hand.

“You're a menace to society,” he muttered. “And I gotta go flip the burgers. We'll eat in five, Junie. Will you be ready?”

“Aren't I always?” Harley said sweetly, reached for the mayonnaise and mustard to finish the filling for her eggs, plopped in a couple of spoonfuls and then blasted him with a smile.

Sam exited the house to the sound of women's laughter. He was all the way out to the grill before he
realized he'd forgotten what he'd gone in the house for.

“Did you find the ketchup?” Charlie yelled.

“It's on the way,” Sam said.

Even though it was a lie, it was better than admitting that he'd gotten caught in a trap of his own teasing.

S
omething began to change between Sam and Harley after the barbecue. For Harley, it had been her baptism of fire and one that she'd survived quite nicely. When she realized that Sam's friends and co-workers had not judged her harshly for the manner in which they met and married, she quit judging herself. She began to see Sam, not as a mistake, but as her friend and husband. On the days when he was home, there were times when she forgot that she hadn't known him all her life. Occasionally, she was reminded of the strangeness of her situation, but even then was leaning toward the theory that marrying Sam was the best mistake she'd ever made. He was a tender lover and a fair and just husband. But it was the day she broke down
in tears after a phone call from her mother that she learned Sam also considered himself her guardian angel.

She was in the bathroom washing her face and blowing her nose when Sam found her.

“Junie! What's wrong, honey? Are you sick?”

Harley took one look at the sympathy on his face and burst into tears all over again.

“No,” she sobbed, burying her nose against his chest as he took her in his arms.

When Harley cried, Sam got physically sick. It was a phenomenon he had yet to get used to. His stomach was churning as she wrapped her arms around his waist.

“Then talk to me, darlin'. Why are you crying?”

“Mama,” Harley mumbled.

Sam frowned. “You're missing your mama?”

Harley shook her head and pulled back.

“No! Nothing like that,” she said. “She called and—”

Her chin quivered again and she shook her head, unable to finish. But Sam saw enough to read between the lines.

“Your mother made you cry?”

Harley sighed and then nodded.

“What the hell did she say?”

Harley shrugged. “That I've embarrassed her forever...that her reputation is ruined.”

“Bull.”

Harley's tears ceased. In all the time she'd known Sam Clay, she'd never heard him curse. And when he handed her a washcloth and told her to wash her face, she was so stunned by the anger in his voice that she did as she'd been told. While she was washing her face, Sam stalked out of the bathroom and headed toward the living room.

His hands were shaking in anger as he dug through the desk drawer for the number to Dewey Beaumont's home. He found it and dialed, punching in the numbers with short, angry jerks, unaware that Harley had followed him into the room. Two rings later, Harley's father answered the phone.

“Hello, Dewey, this is Sam. Is Marcie there?”

The delight in Dewey's voice was obvious.

“Sam! Great to hear from you, son. How are things in Oklahoma?”

“They're fine, thank you. At least they were until a short while ago when your wife called and made your daughter cry.”

There was a brief moment of silence and then Sam heard Dewey curse beneath his breath.

“I'd like to speak with Marcie if she's home,” Sam said.

“She'll be right here,” Dewey said. “And for what it's worth, when you get through with her, I'll be batting cleanup, if you know what I mean.”

“Thank you, sir. I would appreciate it.”

“You tell Harley that her daddy loves her and is proud of her, too, you hear?”

“Yes, sir. Now may I please speak to Marcie?”

“Hang on.”

There was a brief moment of silence, after which Sam heard a series of short steps, then an absolute bellow as Dewey shouted out Marcie's name. If he hadn't been so angry, he would have grinned, imagining the look of shock on Marcie's face from being shouted at by her husband.

Back in Savannah, Marcie Lee was so stunned by her husband's behavior that she came running out of the library, convinced that a calamity was about to occur.

“What on earth!” she gasped, as Dewey took her by the arm.

“Sam is on the phone,” Dewey said. “He wants to talk to you.”

Marcie's mouth pursed in abject disapproval at the tension in her husband's fingers.

“You're hurting my arm,” she said primly. “And you didn't have to shout. It's so uncouth.”