It Happened One Night (9 page)

“Oh, I think maybe I did,” Dewey muttered. “And when you're finished speaking with Sam, come into the library. You and I are going to have a talk.”

“Dewey, I will not be ordered about in my own—”

“Sam's waiting,” Dewey said, “but I won't be so patient.”

He strode off toward the library without waiting to see Marcie's reaction.

Marcie, on the other hand, was so stunned by Dewey's unusual behavior that she found herself hurrying to the phone.

“Hello? Sam? Is something wrong with Harley June?”

“Yes, ma'am, there is, actually.”

Marcie gasped. “I knew it. I just knew it. There she is so far away from all who love her and—”

“Marcie... Ma'am...pardon me for being so blunt, but I need you to shut up now.”

Marcie gasped. “You can't talk to—”

“Yes, ma'am, I can. I can when it comes to protecting my wife.”

“Protecting? What on—”

“You made her cry.”

Four little words. But they had the effect of a bucket of cold water on Marcie's bruised senses.

“I don't know what you mean,” she said, and knew he could tell she was lying.

“Yes, ma'am, I think you do. I don't know what you said to your daughter, but I would suggest you not say it again. Harley is a wonderful woman and a damn good wife, so it stands to reason that she is a good daughter, as well. Therefore, I cannot understand why a mother would purposefully say hurtful things to someone they're supposed to love. Can you?”

Marcie  started  to  tear.  She  cried  real  pretty  and
knew it. But as the first tears started to fall, she realized that they weren't going to do her any good. No one was there to see them.

“I didn't mean for—”

“But that's just it,” Sam said. “I think you did. And I'm telling you right now to stop it. Harley is your daughter, not the means to your social calendar. If our getting married has cheated you out of some big social event that you've always dreamed of, then I suggest you invite all your friends to an absentee reception, play that video we sent you last week as part of the night's entertainment, eat, drink and be merry on our behalf and let them see that your daughter is still in one piece and relatively happy. At least she was until you called. Do I make myself clear?”

Marcie was unswervingly single-minded, but part of her upbringing had been to acknowledge a true “head of the house” and from the tone in her new son-in-law's voice, she had far overstepped her bounds.

“Yes, dear, you do. Please accept my apologies and then put Harley on the phone. I'll tell her the same.”

“No, ma'am. I don't think so, at least not today. Harley's heard the sweet sound of her mother's voice just once too often today. You call next week when we're all in a better frame of mind, okay?”

Marcie sniffed appropriately and then delicately blew her nose, wanting Sam to know that she was crying.

“Yes, I will do that. You tell Harley I'm sorry, though. Will you do that for me?”

Marcie rolled her eyes as she hung up the phone. That hadn't gone well at all. And then she remembered Dewey was in the library waiting and stuffed the handkerchief back in her pocket. Something told her that the more tears on her cheeks, the better off she would be when she faced him.

Sam's anger was still simmering as he hung up the phone. He turned around and saw Harley standing in the door. Unable to read the expression on her face, he caught himself holding his breath. Would she be mad at him for talking to her mother that way, or would it be okay?

“June Bug, I—”

“Sam.”

“What?”

“You are forever my hero.”

Tension slid out of him all at once.

“You aren't mad at me?”

“Hardly.”

Then she crossed the room, wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him soundly.

Sam's body responded with instant need.

“Yes,” Harley said.

Sam lifted his head and grinned.

“I didn't say anything...yet.”

Harley's eyelids lowered as she leaned against the hard ridge behind his zipper.

“Oh, yes, you did.” She swayed her hips slowly from side to side, knowing how quickly they could give each other pleasure.

Sam groaned. “Damn...Harley...let me get us to the bed.”

“Too far,” Harley whispered, and slid her hand between their bodies.

Seconds later, they were tearing off their clothes and sliding to the floor.

Harley had a brief moment of lucidity as Sam rolled her on her back and she looked up at the light fixture in the hall. There was a long thin strand of spiderweb dangling from the ceiling. She tried to make a mental note to clean it later, and then felt Sam's tongue dipping into her belly button and lost her train of thought. All she remembered was that she'd been right all along. It
was
too far to the bed.

* * *

Harley was stretched out on a chaise lounge by the pool, watching a pair of robins in the shade tree overhead, barely aware of the condensation from the ice-cold lemonade in her glass running between her fingers. Tiny bits of sunlight filtered through the canopy of leaves forming her shade, glittering like tiny diamonds against the green. She adjusted her sunglasses on her nose and then sighed.

Today was September 1st. Labor Day weekend. Three months ago today she'd come to in that Las Vegas motel and found herself married. Who could
have known how much difference the ensuing ninety-two days would have made in her life?

Sam would be home tonight and then would be off for four days. She could hardly wait. There was so much she had to tell him. She closed her eyes, picturing his face—the way his eyes crinkled up at the corners when he smiled, the way his muscles bunched and rippled as he walked, the way his mouth felt on her lips when he was kissing her good-night.

She shuddered on a sigh. Yes. She had fallen in love. Head over proverbial heels in love. And it was about time. After all, a woman should be in love with the man who was going to be the father of her child.

A faint breeze shuffled the hair against her forehead and she stifled a soft moan. It reminded her of Sam's breath on her face as they made love.

Goodness. Making love. If she'd had half a brain, she should have known that chemistry like that had to come from something other than lust. They'd been made for each other. Sam had seen it from the start. It had just taken her longer to get past the shock of what she'd done to see the man with whom she'd done it.

Now, they were going to have a baby.

Sam's family would be happy for them and her parents would be beyond excited. After the dressing-down Sam had given her mother a month ago, things had been absolutely perfect. Marcie and Dewey called regularly once a week but always had positive things
to talk about. Without knowing the details, Harley could tell that the level of power within her childhood home had shifted, but she didn't care how it had happened. All she knew was that her parents seemed happier.

Of course some things would never change. Marcie still saved aluminum foil and took home packets of salt and pepper from fast-food restaurants, insisting that Dewey use them on his morning breakfast while saving the salt and pepper in her fine crystal shakers for company.

As she lay in the lounge chair contemplating the impending changes in her body and her life, she heard the faint but unmistakable sound of sirens in the distance. Her stomach clenched and she sat up with a jerk.

Fire sirens.

She'd long since learned to distinguish them from police or ambulance. And while she knew this was a part of Sam's life that he truly loved, it took everything she had not to show how much she feared his chosen work.

“Hello, dear. Having yourself a nice morning, I see?”

Harley turned and tossed her sunglasses aside. Edna Matthews was waving at her over the backyard fence.

“I rang your doorbell. When you didn't answer, I thought you might be out here,” Edna said. “I hope
you don't mind the intrusion, but I brought you that recipe you've been wanting.”

Thankful for a reason to think of something besides fires, Harley hurried to the backyard gate to let Edna in.

“You know we never mind a visit from you,” Harley said, and held up her half-empty glass. “Would you like to join me in some lemonade?”

“Thank you, dear, but not this time. My sister is on her way over to pick me up. We're going to the mall. There's a giant Labor Day sidewalk sale. Want to come?”

Harley thought of all the crowds and the heat and quickly declined.

“No, but thanks anyway. Maybe another time.”

“Can't say as I blame you. It'll be a mad crush, that's for sure, but I've always been a sucker for sales. Anyway, here's the recipe. It's quite easy, although you don't need to worry about details like that. You're such a marvelous little cook.”

Harley grinned as she took the recipe. “Only one of the useful things my mother taught me. It's right up there with knowing how to pick ripe watermelons and keep the curl in my hair on rainy days.”

It wasn't the first time Edna had heard Harley speak of her mother and her unique requirements for being a proper Southern lady. She chuckled.

“I can't wait to meet your mother. She sounds like quite a girl.”

“That she is,” Harley said. “Have fun with your sister and remember to use sunblock. It's very hot outside today.”

“Already applied it,” Edna said, patting the lines and wrinkles in her pudgy face. “Well, I'm off. Take care, dear. I'll talk to you later.”

Harley was still smiling as she entered the house. She laid the recipe card on the cabinet and put her sweating lemonade glass in the sink. Surprised that it was almost noon, she set out a bowl of tuna salad that she'd made the day before and decided to have a sandwich. While she was eating, she began mentally planning the meal she would make for tonight. It had to be special. All of Sam's favorites. He would know when he saw what she fixed that something was up, but she wasn't going to tell him until after they'd eaten. She knew exactly what she was going to say and the way she would say it. I love you, Sam Clay, more than I ever believed it possible to love, and we are going to have a baby. And the moment she thought it, something skittered through her mind that took the smile off her face and sent shivers up her spine.

Harley jumped up from the table and spun around as if someone had just tapped her on the shoulder, but there was no one there. Hugging herself against the sudden dread in her heart, she strode to the patio door. The serenity of their backyard was still in place. The clear, crystal blue water in the pool sparkled brightly in the noonday heat. The pair of robins that had been
in the shade tree earlier were now hopping about on the lawn and there were a pair of butterflies in the flower bed having a meal of their own. Nothing had changed, but Harley knew something was wrong.

And then her gaze slid up beyond the treetops where a large black column of smoke was quickly spreading against the sky. Her heart skipped a beat. Something very large was on fire. Remembering the sirens that she'd heard earlier, she clutched her hands against the middle of her stomach and closed her eyes in prayer. Seconds later, the phone rang. She dashed to answer.

“Hello.”

“Harley, it's me, Tisha. Turn on your TV.”

“Why?”

“Just do it.”

“What channel?” Harley asked.

“Any local channel. It doesn't matter. They're all there.”

Harley ran for the living room, carrying the phone as she went. Seconds later she had the remote in hand. The picture came on just as she sat down. The image was a mesmerizing hell. Flames as tall as a three-story building were eating through the roof of a massive, single-story structure. Firefighters were silhouetted between the camera and the fire while long columns of water crisscrossed in the air in a dubious effort to put out the flames.

“Oh my God,” Harley whispered. “Is it Red company?” referring to the crew on which Sam worked.

“They're there, but so are a bunch of others,” Tisha said. “It's a four-alarm, honey, but try not to worry too much. The guys have been together for years without coming to any harm. I know this is your first big one, so I thought I'd better call you and tell you not to panic, okay?”

Suddenly Harley's hands were shaking too hard to hold the phone to her ear.

“I don't feel so good,” Harley said. “I can't talk anymore.”

She disconnected before Tisha could say anything more and then sat in front of the television without moving, glued to the unfolding drama of the fire. That it had occurred at a very large supermarket during business hours had also complicated the firemen's ability to proceed in an orderly fashion. Because of the holiday weekend, a large number of people had to be evacuated from the building, and the parking lot had been packed with an unusual number of vehicles. Everyone had been shopping for Labor Day celebrations. It couldn't have happened at a worse time.

Harley watched, wanting to cry and knowing it would solve nothing. She kept telling herself this was part of Sam's life. It was something she had to get used to. Finally, after more than an hour, programming resumed with only the occasional bulletin updating the viewing area on the disaster. She told herself that the lack of coverage had to mean that everything was going okay, but there was that knot in the pit of her
stomach that had nothing to do with fear. It was a helpless knowing that someone she loved was in danger.

* * *

The parking lot was a mess. Police had cordoned off the area directly around the building to give emergency vehicles easier access, but the people who'd been in the store were still stuck at the perimeter of the area, unable to get to their vehicles and leave while others were being treated for smoke inhalation and hysteria. The temperature of the day was in the high nineties. Coupled with the intense heat from the fire, many firefighters were being treated for heat exhaustion, as well.