“I’m all set.” I tilt my head toward my car.
“How about a drink then?”
“I don’t drink.” It’s true, too. I gave it up, along with dancing and cavorting, as my parents called it.
I gave it all up.
This is all your fault, Naomi. God is punishing you for your behavior. Punishing us.
“Not even coffee?” he asks, not missing a beat like that’s what he intended in the first place. Actually, I drink tea, and I’d love a good cup of chamomile. “Daisy’s Nut House,” he suggests. “I could follow you.”
Daisy’s place is famous for doughnuts and a bit more, and it’s also located in the opposite direction. Sugary treats and I have a love-hate relationship. I love them—they hate me—but a sweet tooth was something I couldn’t part with no matter how hard I tried to suppress everything else, and a doughnut does sound good. I must be allowed one guilty pleasure in my life.
“I’m sure you have other plans this evening,” I note, looking him up and down in his dark clothes. He tugs at my wrist, reminding me of his hold on me, and I stumble toward him, my feet tangling. My chest collides with his, and I scoff at the awkwardness. My hand flattens against soft cotton and hard pecs to break my fall. He’s firm—very firm—and his free hand slips into the hair on the side of my head, holding my face close to his.
Will he kiss me? It’s the craziest thought I’ve ever had.
“No plans,” he says, his voice turning ashy like it did in the library the other day. His eyes capture mine and the only word I can find to respond is, “Okay.”
The loud rumble of his engine cuts off after he pulls up next to me at Daisy’s Nut House. For the millionth time, I tell myself this is the craziest thing I’ve ever done—next to thinking he’d kiss me—only I know it isn’t true. Ironically, the last crazy thing I did was also with this man.
I puzzle for a moment over the thought of being kissed. Do I want him to kiss me? Why do I want him to kiss me? I know exactly how long it’s been since I’ve been kissed, and maybe the length of time is the reason. Maybe it’s just been so darn long since it last happened. Or maybe the truth lies deeper. It’s him. It’s Nathan. Nathan Ryder. The last man I kissed, and I want a repeat.
He hops off his bike and startles me by opening my door as I struggle with my skirt. My choice in clothing is a bit unconventional, for my age, for the era, but I take comfort in it. I feel safe within it—baggy tops and fuller skirts. While I stand out, it also sets me apart from others. It keeps me separate from those who don’t understand me. If the suit makes the man, as the saying goes, then my long skirts are my armor.
To my surprise, Nathan offers me a hand to help me from my car and he doesn’t let go as we walk to the entrance. Daisy’s Nut House is owned by Daisy Payton, daughter of one of the most prominent families in the area. She’s regal like an African queen with big black eyes and bright red lips. Upon seeing us, she smiles like warm honey. The Nut House had a shoot-out this last summer, but the place is all cleaned up now. Hearing what an officer of the law did was downright frightening. It’s one reason I don’t call the sheriff’s department every time kids taunt me. Who would believe me anyway? Unfortunately, racial prejudice is still a thing and religious misperceptions run a close second. Because of my practices, some people consider me different enough not to bother to understand that my beliefs don’t harm others. Quite the opposite, actually. I’m often misjudged. Sadly, I’m used to it.
“How are you this evening, Ms. Winters?” Daisy addresses me as I step up to the counter. She was Bethany Winston’s best friend and I’ve shared many nights of giggles with both of them. My heart aches a little at the loss of those moments since Bethany’s passing.
“I’m well. How are the girls? How is Adolpho?” Daisy has two gorgeous, intelligent daughters, and a genius son who’s handsome in his own right, and they all regularly frequented the library until that one time Julianne kicked Simone out for watching porn on the computers.
“Simone’s staying busy with Roscoe Winston in D.C. Oh, to be young and in love, right? And Poe is in California, finishing up his fellowship in planetary astrophysics. That boy always did reach for the stars.”
I chuckle with her and don’t miss how she avoids information on Daniella. This summer was a trial for her oldest daughter.
After placing my order for chamomile tea, I reach into my oversized patchwork bag for my wallet.
A few tampons.
A half-eaten protein bar wrapped in a napkin.
My favorite homemade lip balm. I had wondered where that went.
A hand comes to my lower back, and I still. Nathan reaches around me before I can find my way through the bottomless mess and places a bill on the counter. Hyper-focused on his warm palm just above my backside, I hardly hear his order.
“I’ll take a coffee. Black, please.” His voice still sounds rough, and I turn to him.
“Thank you for the tea.”
“I’ll bring you your drinks. Have a seat,” Daisy interjects, giving me a knowing look, although I don’t know what she thinks she knows. Nathan winks at her and leads me to an empty booth in the corner. We pass Deputy Sheriff Jackson James and the new, replacement deputy, Wyatt Monroe. There’s a stereotype about finding law enforcement in a doughnut shop, but looking at these men, it’s evident doughnuts have no effect on their physiques.
“Good evening, Naomi,” Jackson addresses me as we pass. I tip my head and grin, not trusting my voice with Nathan’s hand still on my lower back and Jackson glaring at the connection.
I fold into the final booth and Nathan sits across from me.
“Thank you again for stepping in tonight. That wasn’t really necessary.” While I would have gone into librarian mode, effectively using my stern voice of reprimand to put those boys in their place, I am grateful for Nathan’s intercession. They weren’t exactly young school children.
“There’s no reason for Dwight’s son to be speaking to you like that. I’d like to think his daddy would be appalled by his behavior, but unfortunately, knowing his father as I do, I don’t think so. Either way, it was disrespectful and unacceptable.”
I dismiss him with a wave, lowering my eyes to the tabletop. “It happens.” It’s painful to admit the truth. People talk behind my back all the time. The ignorant. The unfamiliar. They’re uncertain what to think of me. It’s a conservative Christian community, and I’m an outlier. I’m a little embarrassed of my acceptance at being an anomaly.
Nathan’s quiet for a moment and when I finally peer up at him, he’s squinting as if he’s searching for something on my face.
“How often?”
“How often what?”
“How often does it happen?”
My head turns for the window. The night is dark. The air is crisp. ‘Tis the season.
“It’s that time of year,” I mutter. Surely, he’s heard the rumors, even if he’s been gone for eighteen years. Eighteen years. Some nights, I think I might have dreamed him up, but then painful memories return. With the recollection, I wish the night had been a dream, instead of the nightmare it turned out to be. But when I glance back at Nathan, and take in his piercing silver eyes, the curve of his lip, and the hint of a dimple, my heart skips a beat, and I curse my thoughts. Nathan might have been a foolish decision, but I don’t wish him away. Instead, I marvel at the fact I’m sitting here with him.