Pamela Morsi (24 page)

The kissing booth was going to raise money for the Founder’s Day fireworks. But the main goal for him and Miss Gussie was to raise the green-eyed monster in Amos Dewey. Today, it was Rome’s utmost resolve to do exactly that.

“I don’t see him anywhere,” he told her as he perused the crowd of jauntily clad gentlemen and fashionable ladies with bright parasols.

Miss Gussie looked around as well.

“He must be here,” she assured him quietly. “The whole town is here. Nobody is going to miss this.”

Rome nodded. It was absolutely true. It was doubtful that anything less than the Fiftieth Anniversary Founder’s Day Fourth of July itself could garner more sense of thrilled expectation.

None of the ladies had taken up places in the booth. Even the young misses, the known participants, seemed to be waiting for some sort of announcement. Anxiously he checked the watch in his pocket several times.

With Miss Gussie at his side, he stood around talking
with friends, discussing the weather, speculating on the chance of rain. He smiled, he laughed, occasionally he squeezed Miss Gussie’s hand. She was still uneasy with him. And the waiting wasn’t making it any better.

Finally, at three minutes before two, he could wait no longer. He gave Miss Gussie a last brave smile and then got up in front of the kissing booth and held up his hands for silence.

“We are so glad that you all turned out for this fireworks fund-raising,” he said. “We want you to do a lot of kissing, spend a lot of money, and you’ll make the Founder’s Day Fourth of July more fun and spectacular than we’ve ever seen here in Cottonwood.”

There was a little spate of polite applause.

“We have a number of lovely ladies who have agreed to trade their kisses for your quarters,” he said. “So many, we even have a couple of shifts. So if at any time the lips of the lady you’re most interested in are not at your line, let me encourage you to try another set.”

That statement brought hoots of laughter.

“It is all for a good cause,” Rome reminded them. “The Founder’s Day Fourth of July fireworks will be bigger, brighter and safer because you made the estimable sacrifice of paying two bits to kiss a pair of pretty lips.”

The applause was louder now, more enthusiastic.

“Now, if the citizenesses of Cottonwood participating in the kissing booth would please take your places,” he said.

The next few moments couldn’t have been more dramatic if he and Gussie had planned and rehearsed them. The young girls, whose identities were already known, went up to the booth first. There were a couple
of moments of expectant hesitation. Then Miss Gussie walked across the empty grass with every eye upon her. There was some murmuring. It wasn’t entirely pleasant being so much the center of attention.

Fortunately, a moment later, Madge Simpson stepped out of the crowd and met up with her path. The surprise was audible. When Constance Wilhelm started moving in the same direction, the excitement heightened and the noise level surged. The mayor’s short, fat wife stepped into the cleared area, obviously intent on joining her daughter at the kissing booth.

“What the devil!” Pete Davies swore as Loralene followed the other women.

Eliza Penderghast wasn’t too spry, but she set out with enthusiasm. The look on her husband’s face was so completely dumbfounded that the crowd burst into laughter.

Reverend Holiday’s merriment, with his big bold voice, could be heard over just about anyone. And when it stopped suddenly, the silence drew attention.

“You mind your father today,” his wife was admonishing their children. “I’m going to be very busy, so you must promise to behave.”

The two oldest nodded eagerly, not completely understanding the game but knowing that it was very much fun. The youngest, five-year-old Missy, relinquished her mother’s hand reluctantly and then grabbed her father’s coattail.

The preacher was caught off guard and sputtered his dissent.

“Mrs. Holiday, I … I don’t think …”

Kate turned and gave him a raised eyebrow and a glance full of feigned reproach.

“Faith, hope and charity,” she quoted the New
Testament. “These three, but the greatest of these is charity.”

The pastor had no quick comeback. He watched his wife take her place in the kissing booth and for one of the very few times in his life, he was completely speechless.

However, no one else in the park seemed to be suffering from that problem. The noise of the crowd had grown to a crescendo that roused the whole area. The brightly decorated booth with its draped bunting and barrage of colorful signs was the focus of every man, woman and child who stood in the warmth of the early-summer afternoon.

The young women took their places first, and lines began to form almost immediately. Especially so in front of Betty Ditham. The queue of eager, pimply-faced youths might have daunted less determined girls. But Betty was extremely self-possessed and -assured, easily eliciting deference and good manners from the young gentlemen. The other blushing unmarrieds emulated her example and quickly appeared equally in control of their string of admirers.

The first shift of wives consisted of Constance Wilhelm, the mayor’s wife and Loralene Davies. All three appeared exuberant and excited about the opportunity to participate. The reactions of their respective spouses varied.

Perry Wilhelm took it with great good grace. He walked up to stand in front of his wife and she gave him a very cheeky grin.

“Pay your two bits, mister,” she challenged. “Or get out of the way.”

His threatening look was completely feigned as he drew a quarter out of his pocket and laid it upon the narrow counter in front of her.

She smiled at him with undisguised wifely approval.

“I hope I’m going to get my money’s worth,” he said, leaning toward her.

Rome grinned as he turned his attention away. He suspected it might be the wisest quarter Perry ever spent, but he wasn’t about to watch.

The mayor seemed almost completely befuddled, not quite comprehending the meaning of the event.

“You are going to kiss other men, Birdie?” he asked his wife in a whisper that sounded genuinely distressed.

“No, Georgie,” she answered, consoling. “You just have to donate your money and I’ll kiss you.”

“Oh. Oh!” A giant grin swept his face. “What a splendid joke on us! Rome Akers, you take the cake,” he called out. “You simply take the cake.”

Not everyone, however, accepted being the butt of the jest with such amiability.

“I’ll be danged if I’m going to pay for something that’s mine by right of religion and law.” Pete Davies declared adamantly to his wife.

Loralene didn’t even appear insulted.

“You just haven’t got two bits in your pocket,” she said. “Now, would you step aside for the paying customers?”

There wasn’t a soul in line behind Pete, so Rome quickly stepped into the breach, pulling a quarter out of his trousers and secretly hoping he wouldn’t be obliged to use it.

Pete turned around and saw him and his eyes narrowed.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked. Rome smiled. “I’m standing in line to buy a kiss,” he answered, showing his quarter.

“I don’t think this was much of a dang good surprise,” he complained. “I’ve got half a mind to knock your teeth out”

Rome smiled again. “You might have to stand in line for that too,” he said. “Maybe we could set up another booth for the husbands to punch me. Of course, if you’re going to have to spend your money anyway, I’d think you’d prefer smooching to slugging.”

“Humph!” Pete was disapproving but defeated. Loudly he slammed his coin upon the narrow counter and reached for his wife. Loralene was stiff and reluctant. Pete was belligerent and demanding. When their mouths met, like magic they both softened toward each other; the air around them sizzled.

Rome’s eyes widened. If he’d ever wondered how those two had managed to acquire five children, it was no longer a mystery.

He glanced over at Miss Gussie. She was watching him. He was glad that she was on the second shift. By then everyone would know the drill and the first shock of surprise would be gone. He wanted to stir up a lot of gossip, not to mention the ire of Amos Dewey.

He glanced around, looking for the man, but didn’t see him. Everyone in town was there. Dewey was undoubtedly as well. And he would pop up out of the woodwork as soon as Rome started buying rights to Miss Gussie. The man had better have a pocketful of money if he tended to outbid Rome.

But, of course, Amos would get to kiss her, and propose to her, and marry her. That was the plan. Rome felt the tug of something very unwelcome. He pushed the unexpected resistance away. Everything was going according to plan. Rome would be instrumental in making Miss Gussie’s most romantic dream come true. In a pique of jealousy, Dewey would realize that
he couldn’t live without her. And the fellow would, after three years of hesitation, finally come forward and claim her as his true love.

Rome wouldn’t watch while Amos kissed her. And he wouldn’t be there when the proposal was offered. Or when she joyously, tearfully accepted. He’d make it a point to miss the wedding. Somehow the sight of them living happily ever after was not that appealing.

He glanced over at Miss Gussie once more. Their eyes met. Hers were bright, shining, full of warmth and intelligence and humor. Unbidden, the memory of the kiss they’d shared the day before filled his thoughts. He let his eyes linger upon her lips. The bottom one trembled. If he got only this one chance to touch her and taste her, should he not have his fill? To remove this ill-timed and unreciprocated desire for her from his system, should he not have just this one day to
be
the man he had pretended for her?

The afternoon sun was slanting low through the slits of the paper-covered windows of the barbershop as Pansy Richardson, clad only in her black silk stockings and shoes, lay in the arms of Amos Dewey. They spoke little. Words seemed the most uneasy communication between them. They kissed and caressed until they were drunk with desire. Pansy didn’t quite understand her need to touch him, to move him. Her intention had certainly been to seduce him. She was determined to see the barber estranged from Gussie Mudd forever, leaving the way open for Rome to pursue the woman. That had been the extent of her motive. Or at least she thought it had been. Somehow, once in his arms, she was no longer sure what it was that she wanted from Amos Dewey.

He raised his head and looked at her. Inexplicably she felt safe and certain and somehow so very right in his embrace.

He shook his head disbelievingly and tried to disengage her from him, but she wouldn’t let go. She held him fast. He wasn’t sure if it was for his sake or for her own.

“I … I don’t know what to say,” he managed to mutter. “I never, never intended this. I never intended to touch you. I would never … I would never try to touch you.”

“I seduced you, Amos,” she told him quietly. “You have no cause to reproach yourself.”

“No cause?” he asked. “First I throw all my moral superiority to the wind by engaging in unsanctified sex with a woman I hardly know. I lose control like a green schoolboy and then I burst into tears.” He took a long, deep breath. “I don’t know what your life has been like, ma’am, but I believe this counts as one of the most humiliating experiences of mine.”

Pansy laughed out loud. Somehow he didn’t sound humiliated, regretful or even slightly displeased. He was looking at her, his dark eyes bright and handsome, naked without his spectacles.

“I see,” he said, his tone feigning affront. “My humiliation can only be topped by your ridicule.”

“I have no reason to ridicule,” Pansy assured him, tenderly caressing his neck and chest. “The … ah … shall we say … precipitant cannon shot is not all that surprising,” she said. “It has been over three years since you’ve been with a woman.”

“Closer to five,” he admitted. “My Bess was ill for a long time.”

She nodded and then laid her cheek against his shoulder. She undid the buttons on his shirtfront and
allowed her hand to burrow inside, caressing his skin and thick mat of dark hair that grew there.

“Perhaps now,” she said, “since it has only been a few moments since your most recent encounter, you can show me how clever and considerate you know how to be.”

He took up her challenge with a long, lingering kiss, followed by a teasing exploration of her bosom. There was no hurried passion in his touch now. It was as if, for both of them, time would go on forever and these moments would simply extend out into eternity. There was no ceremony or solemnity between them. They laughed and joked as they took turns sucking each other’s nipples and searching out the secrets of the flesh beneath their clothes.

He took down her hair, exclaiming with wonder at the beauty of it. She took off his rumpled white shirt and marveled over the strength of his rangy muscles and the powerful width of his shoulders.

Like mischievous children, they toyed with the mechanisms of the hydraulic chair. At times the results were laughable. At other times they became breathless.

Slowly, leisurely, languidly, they made love through the long length of the summer afternoon. And it was love, truly love. Touching the heart and loins with equal intensity.

As the climax neared he pressed her beneath him, powerfully claiming her with each sensual stroke. Pansy felt the tension rising in her. Her vision blurred and yet focused intently upon him, upon the man above her, upon the man she loved.

With a cry of ecstatic fulfillment she called out his name. A moment later, he was screaming her own. It was perfect. Absolute. Beyond any emotion she had ever felt. And it was elation.

Pansy waited for tears that never came. They did not plague her. She was home at last, the past buried with the love and respect that it had always deserved. But the future was now before her like a bright beacon of hope and promise.

She gazed into his eyes. There was joy there as well. Joy and contentment Amos Dewey had found his way home as well and she was so very, very glad to be there.

Pansy snuggled in his arms. Silently she offered a prayer of thanks. For so long she had been angry. For so long she had not understood. She still could not fathom the reasons, but her heart was in the present once more and that was a gift.