Monday, July 30, 2012

Chapter 1- Tied to the Draw (South Georgia Romance)



For my brother Jess who gave me the title.  He rode bulls for a short time and they called him Cowboy Preacher.  He told me once that the cowboys put the names of the bulls in a hat and draw which ones they will ride.  Even if you don't want to ride them- you ride.  He said  that in bull riding as in life, you are Tied to the Draw.  He said there's a sermon in there somewhere but I saw a story.  This is a Romance set in modern day South Georgia.  
 
Chapter 1
Joe

Joe wasn’t your normal first year college student.  For one thing, while his contemporaries were in their late teens or early twenties, he was two years away from his thirtieth birthday.  It didn’t seem like that much of an age gap until he actually talked to a few of them, and then Joe figured that the 10 or so years that separated them might as well be measured in dog years. The young women were flakey and the young men were concerned with little more than where their next drink was coming from.   Joe had tried the whole going to college during the day and working at night thing… It didn’t work out.  He couldn’t stand to be around the kids so he dropped his day classes, went back to his old job and took two classes a week at night. 
There he was surrounded by more like minded adults.  The college called them “Non Traditional” Students; Joe called them hard working people who were just trying to get ahead in the world.  Most of them held down a job and were married or had children.  Only a few were single like Joe, and he felt a little left out, but he figured being stuck with the married crowd was sure better than being stuck at the kiddie table. 
His first semester there, on Tuesdays and Thursdays, he had a history class, which he liked immensely.  The pimple faced teenager who was keying in the classes took one look at Joe in his cowboy hat, jeans and boots and joked that of course he was taking western civ. 
“You’ll do great, you know, it’s all about cowboys and Indians.”  The kid said with a nasally laugh at his own joke because he assumed that someone who looked like Joe could not possibly be intelligent enough to understand it.
 Joe had rolled his eyes and said “I reckon so.” but had not punched him like he would have liked.  It would have only reinforced the stereotype so Joe tucked his thumbs in his pocket and looked on irritatedly as the kid finished his paperwork.
The class choice hadn’t turned out to be a bad one though.  He liked it a lot more than he thought he would.  The professor was a cranky overweight man with a walrus mustache and a slow southern drawl which made him sound a little like the Foghorn Leghorn character from Looney Tunes.  His name was Dr. O’Quinn but no one ever pronounced it like it was spelled.  Georgians would drag it out until it sounded like Oh Kwin the same way they drug out Albany to make All Beeny. 
Dr. O’Quinn had the same kind of southern accent you heard on movies- his words seemed to lean on each other and secretly Joe wanted to hear him say “Tarnation” just once, but he never did.  He had his own special twist to every topic he taught in class and his opinion was unlike any other person that Joe had ever spoken to.  Joe was pretty sure he got his cookey ideas while contemplating the bottom of a bottle of vodka.  They didn’t meet with Joe’s theology most of the time, but they did keep class interesting. Dr. O’Quinn was entitled to his opinion, wherever it came from and Joe was entitled to his. Joe didn’t advertise his religious views often, but when Dr. O’Quinn would want the right-wing-religious-fanatic opinion on whatever topic they were discussing he would pull his wire rimmed glasses down and look over the lenses at Joe and ask:  “Hey, Cowboy Preacher, tell us what you think.”
And that was his name in that class from then on.  Cowboy Preacher.  He didn’t really like it, he figured it was sort of a put down, but he lived with it because… despite all else, it seemed to suit him. 
He got out of Dr. O’Quinn’s class at 7:30 p.m. just as the sky was painting itself red and orange.  Joe loved that time of night, the college would be almost deserted except for his “non traditional” friends scattered here and there on the quad.  If O’Quinn was feeling generous he promised he’d let them go early but that wasn’t known to happen often so usually Joe ended up leaving his class and heading straight across campus to the Fine Arts building where he had an English class.  Joe had hated English since that day way back in high school when the teacher had asked his views on a poem they had just read and all he could say was that it “didn’t rhyme.” 
In Joe’s mind, poetry was supposed to rhyme.  It didn’t make sense if it didn’t. 
The teacher thought he was trying to be cute and ripped his self esteem to shreds by basically calling him an illiterate cretin and ridiculing him in front of the whole class.  That was the last time he ever answered a question in English class and he had made up his mind that if he could get away with it he’d never have to sit through another English class because it didn’t do one dern bit of good.  He was going to ride bulls for a living, for goodness sakes, what did he need to be able to diagram a sentence for?
But he had promised his momma he would go back to college and get his degree in…something… he hadn’t figured out what.  The problem was, you couldn’t even get a diploma from Clown College without having an English class under your belt so he bit the bullet and signed up.  
And he hated it… just like he knew he would. 
For two whole classes… until she walked in… and then English didn’t seem so bad anymore.  Yeah, it was still the class from heck but at least he had someone pretty to look at now…
Her name was Alexis and she was a goddess…  Well, not literally, because he was a Baptist and to say that would be blasphemous but Joe was pretty sure that she was the prettiest woman that he had ever run across in his twenty-eight years. 
She was brand new on campus and in the two or so days she had been there she had made quite a stir.  Already, he had heard some conversations around the student commons from the younger bucks about the “Hot older babe” taking the night classes.  He wondered how hot and how much older, but then he had seen her in the Student Commons Area at the pool tables, surrounded by eager young men.  She was several years older than all of them but from the looks of it she could have had her pick of any of them.  She leaned over the pool table with a pool cue in her hand, her tight jeans accentuating every curve of her long legs.  Her sleeveless cotton chemise rode up slightly as she stretched out, exposing the slightest hint of a tribal design tattoo on her lower back.  A young man barely out of his teens who looked like a Ken Doll motioned at his buddy to look and the two of them exchanged lusty glances.  Joe shook his head disgustedly at their lewd expressions but had to admit they were right about her good looks. 
She was hot as fire, but Joe kept walking. Girls like that weren’t interested in guys like him.  
            So he was a little shocked when she walked into the classroom that day in the same pair of tight jeans and a white sleeveless cotton chemise concealed by a dark blazer and smiled at him as she entered the room.  Embarrassed, Joe looked down at his book quickly but ventured a stealthy glance as she chose her place.   Her heels clicked as she walked to her seat with the air of a fashion model and sat down front and center where all eyes remained locked on her.  She flicked her dark locks off her shoulder and opened her book, a look of sheer concentration on her face.  Joe wondered if she knew that everyone in that small room was staring at her, but if she did, she didn’t let on.  She pretended not to notice, or maybe she didn’t notice, perhaps she was used to people looking at her the same way Joe was used to people not looking at him.
The teacher came in and started the class.  Joe pulled his eyes away from the vision of beauty on the front row and tried to force himself to pay attention to the lecture so he tried to ignore her.  But a woman like that could not be ignored- not completely.  She seemed to demand his attention, like a flame demanded oxygen.  The other students noticed it too, the women looking enviously through their lashes and the men cast longing sideways glances at her, but never daring to stare at her outright. She was like looking straight at the sun; her beauty would blind a person if they stared too long. 
Joe sighed and wondered at what point he had turned into such a girl.  
People who are that pretty are profoundly useless.  The devil on his shoulder told him. Girls like that are after one of two things- a hard body or a bulging wallet; neither of which are in your possession, my friend, so you might as well give up on her.
       The little angel who was supposed to be on his other shoulder had gone to get a cup of coffee and left him to fend for himself, so Joe figured he was right but he could still look.  God really wouldn’t mind if he snuck a peek every now and then.  After all, what was wrong with admiring true beauty?  Even if it had no substance behind it, even if there wasn’t brain one in her pretty little head.  He could still think she was beautiful and that wouldn’t change things. 
Until she opened her mouth and Joe was horrified to learn that she was… smart!
She was actually, really, intelligent and it didn’t make sense at all!  People with brains weren’t supposed to look like that!  It wasn’t fair!  How could she be beautiful AND smart?  Joe reeled with this realization almost as if the fabric of his universe was unraveling all around him. The devil on his shoulder, knocked off balance by this startling revelation whispered a conciliatory: “Well, she probably doesn’t have any common sense!” in his ear before disappearing with a pop into a cloud of sulfur smoke. 
He spent the remainder of the class lost in a fog.  The teacher was speaking gibberish, ranting on about this poem or that.  She looked up at Joe once to call on him he supposed but the look of total bewilderment on his face intimidated her enough that  she called on the blonde to his right instead.  At last the class was over and Joe gathered his books, lost in a fog of his own vanquished preconceived notions. 
Alexis was still in the front, scribbling in a wire bound notebook. He wanted her to leave so he wouldn’t have to walk out past her so he waited to the point of embarrassment.  Everybody was already gone from the room and it ended up being only him and her and he realized that even though he had tried to avoid her, in doing so it looked as if he had purposely waited to meet her.    He walked by her gingerly, so as to not bring attention to himself, but she looked up at him as he passed her. 
Her eyes were startlingly blue, a blue like he had never seen before and they stopped him in his place. 
She is going to be your wife.  The Lord spoke to him.  Not out loud, because he was a Baptist and as a rule, the Lord never speaks to Baptists out loud;.  He reserves that for Pentecostals because He knows Baptists will just freak out. That particular night though; Lord spoke, and Joe heard Him, not audibly but in his spirit and with such certainty that Joe almost dropped his books. 
She smiled at him, her lips parting to show her perfect teeth, her blue eyes sparkling. 
Joe didn’t return her smile.  He did what any cowboy would though, when confronted with a beautiful lady.  He tipped his hat and nodded his head and somehow managed a “ma’am” as he walked past her.  
He felt perspiration beads pop out on his forehead and felt his chest tighten as she took her eyes off him.  He could breathe again as he stepped over the threshold of the classroom. 
“No way would a woman like that ever marry me!”  He told the Lord.  “Did you get a good look at her?” 
The Lord was silent, like He always was when Joe doubted him.  He crossed His arms and waited.  Joe would see. 
Because what Joe didn’t know was…secretly, she had a thing for cowboys, and when he tipped his hat she went weak in the knees.  He had her at “ma’am” and he didn’t even know it…
However, Joe lacked the faith to believe such things were possible and Alexis… well Alexis had a long way to go before she could become the wife of a Cowboy Preacher.  A long, long way and Joe would have to be patient or he would pay the price.
The thing was Joe wasn’t the patient type.  When he got an idea in his head he went headlong after it.  The Lord liked that about him, but some things couldn’t be charged after like a raging bull.  Some things took a little finesse and patience and since Joe wouldn’t give in to that, he’d have to deal with the broken heart.  It would all work out in the end; The Lord has a way of working such things out.  He can take the pieces of our messed up lives and stitch them together in such a way as to make our once tattered souls into a masterpiece.  
However, for right now, He was just trying to get Joe to step out on that limb and talk to her.  So, he sent him on an errand which would lead him right back into her presence. 
You forgot your book.”  The Lord reminded Joe as he was about to unlock his truck. 
Frustrated, and still slightly embarrassed, he sighed.  “I’ll get it later.” Joe told Him.
“Someone else will check it out and then you’ll have to drive to the city.”  The LORD told him.  “Better go get it now.”
Joe turned.  He knew He was right so he found himself walking across campus in the dark. 
It was almost 9 o’clock and he found himself in the library searching through the shelves for a book on the War of 1812.  The genius whose job it was to put the books back in the right place was illiterate or il-numerate or both.  The History section was on the second floor all the way to the back so he guessed that by the time the library aid made it up there with her cart of books she just threw them wherever.  It made his job difficult now.  He wanted to get home, it was after nine and he couldn’t find the book he needed and he could feel his frustration building.  He wanted to curse, but he had given up cursing when he had taken up preaching so he just grumbled to himself under his breath.
Finally, he threw his hands out in exasperation and stomped around the corner to the sitting area in the center of the building. 
And there she was! Alexis!  Joe ducked back behind the bookshelf and peeked cautiously out at her.  What was she doing here he wondered?  
The Lord nudged Joe and drew his attention to the side table near the woman.  In bold gold letters that Joe could read from his hiding place behind the bookshelves the book’s spine declared WAR OF 1812.
He sighed warily.  He was trying his best to avoid her, but it seemed like at every opportunity he was running into her. 
“There’s your book.”  The Lord said.  “Go get it.” 
Joe gritted his teeth and crept up behind her. She seemed to be asleep or almost asleep.  Maybe if he was quiet enough, he could just grab his book and go.  As he stretched to reach for the book he noticed that almost as if the whole evening had been scripted and choreographed, the woman teetered and started to fall. 
Without thinking, Joe reached out for her and caught her before she slipped off the couch.  She awoke with a jolt and looked up at “her cowboy”, in one hand he held his hat, and the other gripped her shoulder firmly. 
Unbelievably, Joe found he could speak. 
“Almost fell out of your seat there.”  He said from above her.  His voice was low and soft and he had that deliciously slow South Georgia accent that had charmed her so since coming here.   She looked up at him in surprise and he chuckled nervously as he helped her to right herself again. 
She wiped her eyes with her fingers and looked around. 
“Sorry.  Didn’t sleep well last night.”    She managed.  “Thanks Cowboy.” 
Joe squirmed uncomfortably and decided to try humor.  “Well lit is boring.”  He observed looking down at the open book in her lap. 
She looked up at him blankly and he cleared his throat nervously.  “Well.  Goodnight.”  He told her as he hurried off. 
“You forgot your book.”  The Lord reminded him before he had gotten too far. 
He made a disgusted grunt as he threw his hands up and turned around and trudged back to her. 
“I forgot this…”  He snapped as he grabbed the book from beside her then he stopped, remembering his manners.   “You weren’t using it were you?” 
She shook her head.
His eyes met hers and she looked away quickly, pretending to be interested in her literature. 
“Talk to her.”  The Lord said and Joe ignored Him.   
“No!”  Joe snapped back in his mind, because to speak out loud would just make him look crazy, if he could look any more crazy than he did right now. “She thinks I’m some sort of stalker!”  He jabbed the down button on the elevator and waited for the ding.  There were only two floors to this library, why was the elevator taking so long?
He turned, and shot one last unsteady look back at the woman. 
She wiped the corner of her eyes with her fingers, and Joe wondered why she would be crying?  His soul felt burdened for her. The elevator door slid open and there was no one inside and inexplicably, unexpectedly, he stood there and let the doors close again. 
He walked back to her, drawn to her as a moth was drawn to a flame, unconcerned with who she was or what she would think of him.  He was no longer himself, he was wearing the preacher hat and he was someone else entirely. 
She covered her face with her hands and sat there silently as the librarian buzzed in over the speaker system that the library would be closing in fifteen minutes.  The papers fell from her notebook and scattered across the floor in front of her but she made no effort to pick them up.
Joe knelt in front of her, picked up the scattered papers and rustled them gently so as not to surprise her.  She looked up at him, her eyes still soft and moist. 
“You… dropped these.”  He said softly as he looked up at her.  “Ma’am, are you okay?” 
She nodded and wiped her eyes with her fingertips but didn’t say anything.
“Can I… help you in any way?”  He asked and when she didn’t speak again he bit his lip and wondered what all this was about.  
“Offer to buy her a meal.”  The Lord instructed him, and Joe wanted to scream but then he figured he might as well put both arms in that stalker shirt he was currently wearing, so he gave it a shot. 
“The Library’s closing.”  He said gruffly, his eyes falling on the section of the literature book open in her lap.  Suddenly he felt inadequate again; he wondered what he should say.  “You understand that stuff?”  He said and realized that he had made her sound stupid, and he had not meant it to sound the way it did.  
Her countenance changed suddenly and she looked down at him, her blue eyes seemed to stare right into his soul exposing all his insecurities.  He squirmed uncomfortably under her intense gaze.  “Sure.”  She said icily.  “It’s late.”
He nodded and felt like a bumbling fool on the floor there in front of her.  “Sorry.  You’re right.  It’s late.  It’s real late.  I just thought…”  He looked around for the book that had caused all this trouble completely forgetting his hat.  “You just seem pretty smart… I’m not good at this poetry stuff.  I’m sorry.  I’ll leave you alone now.”
He practically ran to the elevator and jabbed the button several times.
“Hey Cowboy.”  Her voice was smooth as honey.  He turned and she was behind him.  She held his hat in her thin fingers.  “You forgot this.”  She purred.  “I’m sorry, I was rude.”
“Don’t worry about it.”  He said as he took the hat.  “You’re right.  It’s late.” 
The elevator door dinged open and he stepped inside and turned to find that she had followed him. 
“You know… I could help you if you like.”  She said as if in apology.
“The library is about to close.”  He informed her, not opening himself up for a letdown.
“The Student Center stays open ‘till eleven.”  She said and looked up at him through the dark fringe of her lashes.  “Poetry is sort of my thing.”  She said with a hint of pride in her voice.  
“Offer to buy her a meal.”  The Lord said again, just in case Joe wasn’t listening the first time. 
“Well…”  He muttered and wiped his hand across his face agitatedly.  “I do need help… But at least let me at least buy your supper if I’m going to keep you.”  To his surprise she seemed to be considering it.  “They don’t have much of a selection, but their burgers are okay.”  He held out his hand for her to exit the elevator in front of him.  She blushed slightly and he wondered if she wasn’t used to being treated like a lady. 
She browsed the magazine display while she waited for him to check out his book and he carried her books as they walked together to the student center. 
She found herself a table right in the center of things.  The group of boys were gathered around the big screen TV whooping over a football game.  Joe didn’t know who was playing, nor did he care.  Another group of young men were playing pool in the corner tables.  They took notice as soon as Alexis walked through the door, pointing and talking. 
Joe looked around.  He wasn’t the Student Center type.  He didn’t like hanging out there.  It was loud and smelled like smoke, but Alexis plopped her purse down on the center table. 
“Don’t you think it’s a little loud for study?”  He asked dubiously. 
“Library’s closed remember?”  She said as she sat down and looked up at him. 
He took his seat next to her.  “Well, what will you have?”  He asked and when she started to protest he held his hand up.  “You’ll at least give me the pleasure of buying your meal if you are going to help me.” 
She nodded and figured it would beat the bowl of ramen noodles waiting for her in her apartment. 
“A cheeseburger.”  She decided.  “All the way.” 
A meateater.  Joe thought with a slight raise of his eyebrow.  My kind of lady.  “Fries?”  He asked. 
She shrugged as she considered yet another night of ramen noodles.  “Why not?”  Might as well pig out.  “And a cherry coke.” 
He gave her a curt nod and excused himself to order. 
The guy they called ‘Chadwick’ moved closer to Alexis, she saw him coming and rolled her eyes.  She wasn’t sure if Chadwick was his first name or his last name.  It was just Chadwick.  She called him “Chad” and it seemed to irritate him. 
“Hey, Hot Momma.” He called out.  “Wanna join us for a game of pool?”  He asked as he leaned over her table. 
Hot Momma.  That was what he called her. She wanted to tell him she was old enough to be his mother but she considered that was probably not true. She was a good ten years older than him and he ought to have a little respect. 
“Sorry honey, gotta study.”  She said sweetly.  “Tell your little friends to save me a game, but I’ll have to take your money some other time.” 
Chadwick’s smile faded.  “You study?”  He laughed.  “You got yourself a nerd to help you?” 
Alexis’ smile faded.  “No.  As a matter of fact, I’m helping him.”  She said coldly.  “Run along now, your little friends are waiting.” 
“Well, when you get tired of your nerd, come on over.”  He called out as he walked away. 
She gave him a deadly glance as he walked away.  Of course they wanted a rematch with her; she had won nearly a hundred dollars off the same group of men earlier in the day.   
Joe pulled a tray out and ordered their supper and moved to the drink machine where he found a cherry coke for her and a regular for himself.  He paid the tired looking cashier and apologized for being there so late. 
“Hey, people gotta eat.”  She replied nonchalantly as she handed him his change and his ticket number.  “And I gotta have a job, so… don’t worry about it.  Have a nice night, Joe.”  
Joe stepped out of the café half expecting her to be gone.  To his surprise and complete pleasure she was still there, her lit book open in front of her.
He was in such a rush to get back to her that he almost tripped and dropped their drinks. 
“Down, boy.”  The Lord told him.  “Take it easy.  Don’t scare her off on the first date.”
“This is not a date, Lord.”  He shot back.  “I’m doing what you told me.  I bought her a meal.”
“It will be a few minutes.  They have to cook it.”  He said as he sat down and realized how stupid that sounded.  Duh.  Of course they had to cook it; it wasn’t like they served everything raw.  Good going Joe.  “Here’s your drink though.” 
She moved her chair closer to him and sat uncomfortably close. “I love Dickinson.”  She said as she flipped through the pages.  “And Frost.” She placed her hands over hear heart and quoted.  “Two roads converged in a wood…”   She gave him a suspicious glance.  “You don’t know that one? What poet do you like best?” 
He shook his head, feeling dumber by the second.  “I…um… I like Dr. Seuss.”  He said to the back of his hands.  “I have a little 6 year old niece.  I read her the Cat in the Hat and Green Eggs and Ham.”  He bit his lip and looked up at her.  “It’s silly, and it rhymes.  That’s my kind of poetry.” 
To his surprise she didn’t call him a stupid redneck.  She smiled.  “That’s okay.”  She said as she motioned to the library book.  “You’re obviously the History type.”  She reassured him and he ducked his head in embarrassment. 
“Yes ma’am.”  He said but he stopped cold at the icy look on her face. 
“Don’t call me ma’am.”  She said forcefully.  “That’s for old women and teachers.” 
Joe squirmed uncomfortably.  “I’m sorry- Miss.  It’s just we ain’t been properly introduced…” 
Properly introduced?  What was up with this guy? She looked at him as if she were sizing him up.  She couldn’t figure out if he was for real or not.  She had heard that chivalry was dead.  She was sure there weren’t any guys like this one left. Where had he come from?  A time warp? He was nice looking, polite…Why hadn’t he been snapped up already?
Perhaps he had.
She glanced down at his left hand.  No ring.  Didn’t mean he could have taken it off before he came though. 
“You married?”  She asked suspiciously.  Things that seemed to be too good to be true usually were.
His eyes widened.  “I beg your pardon?”  He choked then looked around like she was crazy. 
“Not steppin’ out on your old lady are you?” She asked as she crossed her arms over her chest. 
He almost fell out of his seat.  “No ma’am!”  He snapped and waved his hands.  “No!”
“Okay, okay, Cowboy.”  She tried to calm him.  “Calm down.  Just asking is all.” If he was acting then he was really good.  She could read people usually but this guy was… odd. 
“Divorced.”  She said as if she had him all figured out and when he shook his head she tried again.
“Girlfriend?”  She asked just to be sure. 
He shook his head.
“Boyfriend?”  She raised her eyebrows.  She figured she’d cover all the bases while she was at it.   
He stood up at that one.  “Look lady.”  He said abruptly.  “I think maybe I need to go…”  He said and took a step back from her.  “I don’t know what you’re gettin’ at but I didn’t mean to give you the wrong idea… I’ll figure this stuff out on my own…”  He stammered and she laughed and pulled on his arm. 
“Sorry, Cowboy.”  She said.  “Sit back down.  I was just checking.  A girl can’t be too careful you know.”  She purred. 
He bit his lip and considered it. 
“Come on.”  She said.  “I’m sorry. It’s just… How old are you?” 
“Twenty-eight.”  He said, slightly embarrassed. 
She raised her eyebrows.  “Twenty eight and not taken yet?” She asked.  “Don’t that beat all…you’re too good to be true.” 
Joe looked around.  Was she talking to him or was there someone else?
She stood and leaned close to him.  “Good looking.  Polite.”  She moved closer to him.  “Single and a cowboy to boot.  There must be something wrong with you.”
He grinned and his eyes darted to and fro.  “Okay…”  His face brightened. He was thinking that he had been caught up in an episode of the twilight zone, but he had it figured out.  “Who put you up to this?”  He asked her.  “Those pups at the pool table?  They think I won’t kick their tails?”  His smile faded.  “Cause I will if I have to.”
It was her turn to be surprised.  “Who?  Chadwick and his buddies from Preschool?”  She looked over her shoulder in disgust.  “Not on your life.” 
“They’ve been watching us like hawks.”  He said. 
“Of course they are.  I get that everywhere I go, Cowboy.”  Her countenance changed to something sinister.  “Let me give you a hint… men like that…”  Her eyes narrowed, and he glimpsed hatred inside.  “I hate them!  They run after me like I’m a dog in heat.  What makes them think I’d even give them the time of day?” 
She pulled Joe back down to his seat and moved close enough for him to feel the warmness of her breath as she spoke to him. 
“They’re still watching us.”  He wasn’t sure if that was a question or a statement.  It sounded like a statement.
Joe managed a quick look around. “Yeah.”  He replied uneasily. 
“What do you say we give them something to talk about?”  She asked as she slunk closer, her face only inches from his. 
Almost as if on cue, the cook yelled out his ticket number.  “Ticket number 2884!” 
Joe almost fell out of his seat.  “That’s our order.”  He said quickly and stood.  “I’ll be right back.”
She smiled seductively.  “Well I’ll go wash up then.  Be right back, Cowboy.”  She whispered as she walked around him, trailing her index finger over his chest and then tweaking his nose with one bright red fingernail.  
On his way to the cook’s window he had a brief conversation with the Lord about this woman strutting across the student center. 
“She’s crazy, Lord.”  He told him as if the Lord didn’t already know. “She’s pretty but she’s nuts.” 
“You just wait.”  The Lord promised, but Joe wondered if that was a good thing or not.
Reluctantly, he returned to his seat carrying a tray consisting of two cheeseburgers and two orders of fries to find Ken doll heading in his direction.
“Cowboy.”  The young man said.  “How’d you hook up with her?” 
Joe shrugged.  “Heck if I know.”  He commented as he walked to his seat, but then the Lord said something and he turned.  “I was nice to her.”  He finished. 
Ken made a slightly disgusted face as if to say that he had never before considered being nice to a pretty woman. 
“Keep one hand on your wallet.”  He said as he turned and Joe had no idea what that meant.  “Tell her we want a rematch when she’s done studying.”  He barked as he left. 
Joe shrugged.  “Sure.” He said as he walked past him. 
Alexis returned as he put the tray on the table and Joe excused himself to wash up as well. 
When he returned he found that she had arranged the burgers and was waiting for him to start her meal.  Quietly he bowed his head before he reached for his food and she looked at him quizzically. 
“You pray too?”  She said in disbelief. “Where’d you come from?  Walton’s Mountain?”
“No Ma-“  He caught himself before he said “Ma’am” and finished “Miss?”
“Alexis.”  She finished for him.  “Alexis Smith.  Just Alexis.  Not ma’am or Miss.” 
“Alexis.”  He said finally.  “And I’m Joe.  Joe Wheeler.” He felt slightly embarrassed by the name.  “No relation to the famous Joe Wheeler.”  He had always wondered if his parents had a wicked sense of humor or no knowledge of Civil War history. 
She looked up at him, her dark eyebrow rose, which told him that she had no idea who the famous Joe Wheeler was.  If she didn’t know she didn’t ask.  
“Joe Wheeler.”  She repeated and smiled.  “Let’s study!”  She said as she flipped the literature book open. 

They spent over an hour there talking about their English class.  It started out being about poetry, and she did read him a few lines from a poem they were studying and tried to explain them.  She talked about ‘juxtaposition and imagery and iambic pentameter” and other stuff he didn’t know anything about and finally he told her he’d just take her word for her explanations.  She laughed and then their conversation turned to other things.  Before he knew it, the student center was closing. 
“It’s nigh eleven!”  He said as he crumpled his napkin in the paper plate.  “I’m sorry I kept you so late.  Will you allow me to walk you to your car?” 
She looked around at the nearly deserted student center.  “Um…”  She said as if she were looking for someone.  “I walk.” 
Joe didn’t like the idea of letting her walk home at eleven at night.  “How far?” 
“Those apartments just on the other side of campus.”  She said. 
He made a face.  Those apartments were dangerous for a single lady.  “Oh. Well… would you like me to drive you?”
She bit her lip and looked around as if she were unsure about being alone with him and there was an awkward silence. 
“Oh, I’m sorry.”  He stammered.  “You don’t know me at all; I didn’t mean that to sound so forward.  It’s just that it’s almost eleven…” 
Ken doll had returned with his friends.  They stood near the doors with their arms crossed and suddenly her mind was made up. 
“Yes! Please!  Drive me!”  She said hastily and before he could reply she was dragging him by the arm in the opposite direction.  “Let’s go.”   She said as she pulled him. 
“Hey!”  Someone yelled from behind them.  Ken doll and his buddies were walking in their direction. 
“Oh, yeah, they want a rematch.”  He said innocently.  “Where are we going?” 
She pushed him through the double doors into the quad. She was at a full sprint toward the Education building and Joe did the best he could to keep up. He wondered first of all, why they were running in the dark and secondly how she could do it in high heels.
“Of course they do.”  She said over her shoulder as she rushed ahead of him. “I hustled them for almost a hundred dollars today. They want their money back.” 
Joe’s eyes rolled around in his head as he remembered her playing pool with them earlier. 
“You?”  His voice dropped to a whisper as he chased her, the sound of male voices emerging from the student center.  “You did what?”  He asked. 
“Problem is…”  She pulled Joe behind her as ducked between the student services building and the Education building and flattened herself against the wall.    She laid her index finger over her lips as the sound of footsteps rushed past them on the sidewalk.  “I’m broke.”
“But you said you got a hundred dollars off them!”  He said in surprise and she made a motion with her hand to tell him to keep his voice down. 
“This Literature book was ninety five!”  She shot back in defense.  “And… I bought a notebook so I got about fifty cents left to my name, and I need that!  If they want that back, they’ll have to play me for it.  Some other time.”  She crept along the building and motioned for him to follow. 
He groaned.  This had to be a dream. Chasing a crazy woman through the shrubbery seemed more of like something he would see in a sitcom than would happen in his life.
“You act as if you’ve done this before.” He commented as he picked his way through the assortment of ornamental plants and shrubbery by the side of the building. 
She laughed.  “Once or twice Cowboy.  You know what they say: this ain’t my first rodeo.”  
“No.  I reckon not.” 
She peered cautiously between the two buildings and then motioned for him to follow her.   Joe found himself surprised and somewhat relieved that they were in the parking lot! He pointed to one of the last remaining vehicles in the darkness.    “That’s my truck.”  He panted as they rushed across the parking lot. 
Joe unlocked the door and opened it for her.  “Get inside.”  He said warily.  “I’ll take you home.”
He slid into the seat beside her and put the keys into the ignition.  This had certainly been an eventful night.  Thankfully it only took a few minutes to get her to her apartment. 
“It’s the one on the end.  At the bottom.”  She said and pointed and he followed the direction of her index finger. 
“I’ll wait until you’re inside.”  He told her as she gathered her books. 
She looked up at him with a lifted eyebrow.  “Wanna come inside?”  She asked. 
His first reaction was to ask her what for?  It was eleven o’clock at night but the look on her face told him what was on her mind.  She had no idea who she was dealing with.  Joe wondered how many other guys would have taken her up on her offer though.
“No thank you.  It’s pretty late and I have work in the morning.”    He said carefully so as to not hurt her feelings. 
She smiled.  “Of course not. You’re a gentleman aren’t you?”  She put her hands on the seat between them, leaned toward him and looked out the windshield.  “Full moon.”  She said.  “That’s not it then.”
He swallowed hard and found it difficult to talk to her with her being that close to him.
“I keep wondering what it is about you…”  She said playfully.  “There must be something wrong with you or you’d be taken by now… I thought maybe you turned into a werewolf on the full moon or something.”  She looked up at the moon. “But you look the same, so that’s not it. What’s a good looking, single, polite, cowboy doing all by his lonesome?”  Her dark brow lifted as she thought about it.  “You seem perfect but there must be something wrong with you.” 
“Yeah.  Something bad wrong with me.”  He commented stiffly.  He could tell her now and he’d never see hide nor hair from her again. 
“Are… you a vampire?”  She asked and he laughed. 
“Worse.”  He warned but he did not tell her. 
She sighed dreamily.  “Man of mystery.”  She said as she leaned closer and kissed him on the cheek.  “Thanks, Cowboy.  I’ll see you around.”  She said as she slid across the seat and was out the door before he could get it open. 

The place where her lips had touched his cheek burned like it had been touched with a hot coal and Joe sat stunned in the driver’s seat as he watched her unlock her apartment door. His eyes were drawn to the curve of her legs as she stood illuminated in the light from his headlights. 
“That’s enough now.” His conscience scolded him and he pulled his gaze away.  “Sorry Lord.”  He said as she opened her door and waved at him.  The light inside the apartment flicked on and a dark silhouette appeared in the window.  Alexis waved and he put the truck into reverse.
Joe felt a little funny leaving the girl there by herself.  The apartments there just off campus were not the best place for a girl living by herself, but it could be that Alexis was tougher than he imagined.

In November- Chapter 1 (For Dawn)

For Dawn.  It's been since 1999 that I wrote the first paragraph of this.  Hopefully it will be done this century. 




 

In November Ch 0101

 

We gathered in the kitchen after the supper dishes had been cleared away. The kitchen was warm and still smelled of the meal and it reminded me of so many times in the past when we had gathered there to talk. It made my heart ache to think of all the times we had all been there, times I had taken for granted. But this time was different, we were here together, all of us, who knew if we would ever get this chance again.
We poured cups of coffee and ate slices of the apple pie I had baked for dessert and told stories. Before long, Charlie had brought out the picture box and we mused over the people we knew. Stephen told us that he was going to write a novel with all the funny stories we had told that night. He joked about wishing he had his notebook so he could write all the things we said. He didn’t have to, he wrote everything down anyway. I had already found notebook after notebook filled with his thoughts and odd scraps of information he was saving for that novel. He wanted to be a writer and I was convinced from what I had read that he would be a good one.
Stephen turned over a photograph of Charlie and his hound Bob and we laughed when he held it out to us. “Maybe I’ll write dog stories.” He said. “Lord knows we have enough dog stories to fill up a book. I’ll start with the story of Old Bob and how he was struck by lightning.”

I blushed and felt a pang of remorse. “No, no one will want to read about that!” I said too quickly and my words gave me away. The children laughed.


“Momma, you don’t still feel bad about that do you?” Sara asked over her coffee cup and I had to admit that I still did. It had been years ago and Old Bob was spending his golden years on our front porch, but I still felt a little bad about the lightning.


“Well he got better!” My husband prompted, trying to console me. But Charlie stuck out his lip and pouted. “He weren’t no good for nothing from then on though!” Old Bob might have forgiven me, but Charlie had not.


Stephen laughed and tussled his younger brother’s sandy hair. “Aw, maybe I’ll write a story about Ol’ Charlie here.” He said proudly and the boy’s eyes sparkled. “I’ll write about all the trouble you get yourself into.”

“Maybe you’ll write a war story!” Charlie said excitedly and the table grew quiet. He opened his mouth to elaborate but his father silenced him with a severe look. He was still too young to understand what this war was all about.


Stephen flipped through the photographs.


“Maybe.” He said quietly. No one else said anything. Probably, we were all thinking the same thing, but none of us wanted to admit we were thinking it. Stephen would be leaving tomorrow for basic training and soon he would be…we hated to think of it. I fought the fear that threatened to choke me if I allowed myself to think about my son leaving us.


I looked up at Alexander, my dear husband who had been in the first war, the one that was supposed to be the war to end all wars but who would tomorrow be sending his flesh to fight in another. I wondered how he could bear it, knowing what he knew, but he kept all his fears inside. I was acutely aware of his tenseness and his strained expression, but he fought to contain his true feelings.


Stephen paused on a photograph and his eyes narrowed. “There is one story. It would make a great novel.”


I fought tears and looked up from my coffee and tried to act interested.


Charlie was immediately intrigued; he sat up in his chair and leaned toward his older brother. “Is it a war story?” He asked.


Stephen nodded. “A war story, a love story…” He passed the photograph to his sister and a troubled look flickered in her dark eyes before she passed it back to him.


Stephen continued. “It’s a story of sacrifice and heroism and redemption. The great Southern novel!” He smiled broadly at Charlie who was enraptured by the idea already.


“Well, why don’t you write it then?” He demanded.


“Because it ain’t my story to tell.” Stephen said quietly and pushed the photograph across the table to me. “It’s Momma’s story and she is the only one that can tell it.”


I looked down at the photograph on the table and a ghost looked back at me. I looked into my face at seventeen years old and my eyes were drawn into the dark eyes of my first husband, the love of my life. My breath seemed to be caught in my throat and my heart seemed to stop beating. I tried to take the photograph in my hands but it fell from my fingers. Tears welled in my eyes and I covered my mouth with my hand.


“Oh,” I managed “I didn’t know that was in there.” I thought I had taken all the pictures of him and hidden them away. How had I missed this one? It had been more than twenty years since I lost him, and I had almost forgotten what his face looked like.


“What is it Momma?” Charlie asked, but I couldn’t reply.


Alex took the photograph and held it for the boy to see. “This is your momma’s first husband. I took this picture a long time ago. Stephen was just a baby, and Sara hadn’t even been born yet.”


“What happened to him?” He asked as he studied the picture, his forehead wrinkling.
“He died.” Alex said gingerly. “He wasn’t as old as Stephen is now.”
“Did he die in the war?”


“No, he didn’t go to the war.” A look of disappointment crossed the boy’s face but Alex continued. “He wasn’t old enough to enlist, but he helped a lot of people. Stephen is right, he was a real hero.”


I wiped my eyes and fought to keep my composure. Tomorrow, after he left, I would fall apart, I would cry until there were no tears left, but not now.


I looked up at him and tried to smile. Stephen’s eyes held mine and would not let me go.


“It’s your story Momma.” He said again. “But it’s mine and hers as well.” He motioned to his sister. “When I come back, I want to read it.”


My throat was tight and achy from the unshed tears and I nodded. When I at last could manage my words, I told him I would. It was a lie, to make him feel better. I had no intention of telling all the things I had so carefully packed away in my heart.


We continued with our stories until at last, Alex mentioned that it was time to go to bed. I didn’t want to go, the sooner we went to bed meant the sooner morning would come and my boy would leave us. Reluctantly, we parted for our bedrooms but I doubted any of us would get any sleep.


I took the photograph back to my bedroom and opened my trunk, intent on burying it inside. Alex stopped me as I lifted the lid.


“Nicole, put it on the mantle where it belongs.”


I shook my head. I couldn’t. Not tonight. It hurt too much.


Alex looked in the trunk. “You’ve taken everything of his and you’ve hidden them away.” He said gently and put his hands on my shoulders. “Look around this house. There’s not one single photograph of him. It’s almost like you’re trying to erase him.”
I fought tears. That wasn’t true; I just couldn’t bear to think about it now. There was this war, it brought back so many memories, and soon our Stephen would be leaving us to be a soldier. Sara had met a handsome young man and would soon be getting married.


I was losing my children.


“Nicole, it’s been over twenty years and you’re still grieving, it’s not normal.” He said in exasperation and he pushed me away from the trunk and dug through its contents despite my cries for him to stop.


I knew what he was looking for. It was at the bottom, I had put it there purposely.


“Please don’t!” I begged. “Don’t make me-“


He pulled out the journal and held it as if it were made of gold. “He wanted you to write in it. That’s why he bought it for you!” I couldn’t write in it. It was the last gift he had given me, besides Sara. Alex held it out to me, open to the first page. I recognized Bryan’s handwriting and my eyes filled with tears again.


“Write it, like he asked.” He told me.


“I can’t.” I replied. “It would bring back too many memories.” I told him but he persisted and it angered me. “Don’t you think that these things are better left alone Alex?” I snarled. “Do you want the children to know what happened? Do you really?”


Alexander looked shamefaced and his shoulders slumped. “No. I don’t want them to know what I did.” I felt a smug satisfaction in his confession. “But they have to know what he did Nicole. He’s their father.”


“You’re their father! The only father they’ve ever known!” I protested.


“Exactly.” He whispered. “That’s exactly why you must tell them.”


I felt as though my heart would fall to my toes. I swallowed hard and looked up at my husband.


“Please.” He whispered. “I loved him too.”

I nodded. I loved him… I still loved him. I don’t know if I ever stopped loving him.

Dear Stephen,
Reluctantly, I take a pen in hand to write for you. It is very hard for me to do, but it is such a little thing, and I promised you that I would do it. I will try my best to tell the story, to write what I felt back then, but as you know, I do not have the gift of words as you do. I must tell you that there are things that I must explain during the course of this story, and even though I am telling it as I experienced it, I find it necessary to tell of things that happened while I was not present. I learned of these events later in my life, but they are things that you must know. I feel sure that you could write this better than I ever could, and perhaps when you return home, you will find yourself choosing to write his story, for it is your story too

My husband overheard me one night, telling our child a fanciful story as I sat in the ancient rocking chair that had been used for generations to rock away bad dreams. It was not a story that my mother had told me or even a story I had heard as a child. It was merely something that I dreamed up to chase away the monsters and soothe our baby's fears. I did not know that my husband was listening and just as the handsome prince and beautiful princess were to embark on happily ever after, I saw him standing in the doorway smiling. I was embarrassed, to say the least, his listening in on my fairy tale was somewhat akin to someone hearing you sing while you are bathing. He kissed my forehead, took the child from my arms and placed him in the crib without saying anything about it.

Several days later he presented me with two leather bound books. I opened them eagerly but found that they only contained blank pages. I looked up at him in surprise.
"They're for you." He sat down beside me and placed the first in my hands.


 "To write those little stories that you tell junior. So that one day when we're both gone, our grandchildren can read them." His eyes sparkled as he looked me and I blushed with pride.

He placed the second book in my hands. "This, " he said slowly "is for your thoughts." There was seriousness in his eyes that I seldom saw and I knew that this was important to him in some way.


" There are things…" he said carefully " I know… that you can't tell even me, the memories are too painful. You need to get them from inside you. Write everything… about your past, about his father, and about us. Tell the truth, Nicole, because the truth heals. Don't make what happened any better or any worse. Tell about how much we love each other, and him. One day Stephen will want to know. You can't propose to keep it from him forever, he will one day find out."


"Will you read it?" I asked uncertainly.


"Only if you ask me to." He said as he slipped his arm around me. I knew that he was telling the truth, that he would not read it if I asked him not to, not even if I left it lying open on his side of the bed. I could trust him completely. That was one of the many reasons that I loved him.


I opened it. Inside he had written my name and the date.


Sarah Nicole Bradshaw, February 11, 1918.



In November he died and he took part of my heart with him. I have never written in this journal until tonight.