The hellion

CHAPTER TWELVE

The expression on his daughter's face when Tommy Lee walked into his house less than an hour later warned him trouble lay ahead.

"Where were you all night?" She stood with both hands stuffed into the tight pockets of her blue jeans, a scowl on her face.

"Oh!" He came up short, searching for a reply. "Did you wait up for me?"

"Hardly. That's what parents usually do. Georgine wanted to leave for home, and when you weren't getting up and weren't getting up she sent me in to wake you, but your bed wasn't even slept in."

Tommy Lee was saved from replying when Georgine came around the corner with her purse in her hand, her lips drawn up tight and a disapproving tilt to her chin.

"We already had breakfast and cleaned up the dishes and called town to say I'd be gettin' there late!"

"I'm sorry, Georgine. If you're ready I'll take you now."

"If I'm ready… hmph." She snorted past him on her way to the door, and Tommy Lee asked himself for the hundredth time why he put up with her insubordination. He truly disliked the woman, but now that Beth was here, he needed her more than ever.

"You wanna ride along, honey?" he invited Beth.

"No," she pouted, crossing her arms stubbornly.

"You sure? We could talk."

"I'm sure."

But he could see the hurt in her eyes. "Back in half an hour and we'll spend the day doing whatever you want to, okay, sugar?"

For a minute the stubborn expression remained on her chin, but at last she nodded.

In the car Georgine sat as if she had spine trouble, her mouth as sour-looking as if she'd just bitten into a kumquat.

"Georgine, I'm sorry I wasn't here to get you into town right away this morning."

"Ain't me you should be sayin' you're sorry to; it's your daughter. Impressionable young girl like that-what she gonna think?"

Tommy Lee imagined she'd think exactly what she was thinking, but he wasn't going to admit it to Georgine. He hadn't given a thought to Beth last night and realized too late the import of his having been out all night, especially given Beth's age. He was not accustomed to having restrictions put on his freedom, but Georgine was right. He certainly hadn't set a good example.

When he got back home he found Beth in the kitchen stirring something at the stove. Her hair fell down the center of her back in a single French braid, and even from behind he could see the first curves of maturity already beginning to sculpt her body. She had a waist now, and gently swelling hips tapering into long legs. She had fought with her mother over a boy after Nancy caught the two of them kissing, which had started the whole fiasco that finally led to Beth's running away and ending up here.

The eternal taboo on sex, he thought ruefully, going back for a moment to when he and Rachel had been the same age Beth was now. He stood for a long minute with his hands in his trouser pockets, studying her, wondering how to handle the delicate situation. He could tell from the way her head was drooped that she was upset with him and maybe a little shy about facing him.

"Still mad at me, huh?" he asked quietly.

She shrugged, but still didn't turn around.

"You don't even want to talk to me?"

Again came the sheepish shrug. He couldn't help smiling-so young, so idealistic. He moved up behind her and cupped a hand around the side of her neck.

"I'm sorry, baby. I've got no excuses."

She stared into the kettle and kept stirring. "After the show I brought the kids back here to meet you, and you weren't even home."

"I said I'm sorry. It won't happen again, and that's a promise."

"Where were you?"

This time it was his turn to withhold an answer. In spite of the fact that he'd planned to tell Beth about Rachel immediately, he was reluctant now, for fear it might cast a shadow over his daughter's impression of the woman he loved.

"You were with a woman, weren't you?"

"Beth, I'm forty-one years old."

At last she turned and lifted accusing eyes to his. "I know who it was. It was that one on the church steps, wasn't it?"

For a moment their eyes clashed; then Tommy Lee sighed and held her by both shoulders. "What makes you say that?"

"I could see how you were looking at her, Daddy. I'm not exactly a child."

"Her name is Rachel, and the first thing I want you to understand is that I love her."

"Mother always said you liked other women too much and that's why she got divorced from you."

"Beth, I'm not going to argue with you about your mother. It's pointless."

Suddenly tears brimmed on Beth's eyelids. "But I don't understand… She got mad at me when all I did was kiss a boy. But you… well, you… you stayed out all night. You mean it's not okay when you're fourteen, but it's perfectly all right when you're forty-one?"

Tommy Lee didn't know how to answer. There could be no double standard, and to claim there was would be hypocritical. He had wanted a second chance at being a father. Now here it was, and he was finding out exactly how difficult fatherhood could be.

"No, sweetheart," he admitted, "I'm not saying that. I'm saying that at forty-one a person is better equipped to handle the consequences of his actions. But your mother is wrong about one thing. There's no reason to feel guilty for kissing boys when you're fourteen years old. As a matter of fact, that's exactly how old I was when I started kissing girls, and you know who the first one was?"

She shook her head, mesmerized by the sudden turn of the conversation.

He smiled, looking down into her pretty brown eyes, the freckles on her cheeks, her generous bowed lips, which were very much like his. "It was Rachel Talmadge-that was her name then."

"You've known her that long?"

"Uh-huh. Since we were kids."

But instead of impressing Beth, the fact made her stiffen and pull away. Puzzled, Tommy Lee watched her turn toward the stove again, and the momentary rapport between them was broken.

"I made you grits and sausage while you were gone, since Georgine didn't hold breakfast for you."

He watched her get a plate and spoon grits onto it, then move to the sink to fill the kettle with water, and he was suddenly weary, wondering how to deal with her jealousy. She stabbed three sausage links and added them to the plate, switched off the burners and turned expectantly with her offering in her hands, and Tommy Lee thought, Lord, will the way ever be smooth for Rachel and me?

"You don't like talking 'bout Rachel, do you?" he asked.

Her tone was defensive as she blurted out, "I wish Mother had been your first girlfriend. Then maybe you'd still be married to her."

And after that it seemed best to drop the subject of Rachel for the time being until things smoothed over a little bit.

During the weekend Beth displayed an increasing possessiveness about her father. Though he admitted he was again being manipulated by a female smart enough to realize he felt guilty and to use that guilt to get what she wanted, he went along readily with her plan for him to take her shopping for school clothes in Muscle Shoals. The following morning when they glimpsed Rachel on the church steps, Beth commandeered Tommy Lee's arm and maneuvered him inside before he got a chance to talk to her. The remainder of that day was devoted to taking Beth's new friends waterskiing, and when the afternoon finally ended, Tommy Lee wanted nothing so badly as to see Rachel for a couple of hours, having thought of nothing but her for two solid days. But when he casually mentioned that he thought he'd drive into town to pick up some things from his office to glance through at home, Beth immediately said she'd ride along with him.

Finally, late Sunday night, Tommy Lee escaped to his room so he could call Rachel. At the sound of her hello a sharp upthrusting stab of love pressed beneath his heart and suddenly everything seemed right again.

"I've missed you," he breathed, closing his eyes, lying flat on his back across the bed.

"And I've missed you. I looked for you all day today."

"I'm sorry I couldn't make it, but it appears we have one problem I hadn't counted on."

"It's Beth, isn't it?"

He rubbed the corners of his eyes. "God, is it ever. She acts as if she doesn't want me out of her sight for a minute. She wasn't exactly happy to see me getting home in the middle of Saturday morning and wanted to know where I'd been."

"Did you tell her?"

"She guessed." He scowled at the ceiling.

"She guessed?… But how?"

"She called you `the woman on the church steps.`"

"Ahh… of course."

"Was I that obvious when I looked at you?"

Rachel's soft laugh came over the wire. "Was I?" He pictured her as she'd been Friday night, soft, pliant, smelling sweeter than anything nature had ever conjured up. He felt his body nudging toward arousal at the mental images.

"All I've thought about since walking out of your house is you. While I was chauffeuring Beth all over Muscle Shoals, and driving a speedboat full of shrieking teenagers, I wanted to be only one place."

"Where?" she murmured in a soft, seductive voice. It was not the words that mattered, rather the subtle nuances of two lovers infatuated with the mere act of listening to each other breathe.

"In your bed. In you."

Her breath again seemed to brush his ear. "Tommy Lee, I want to see you tonight. Can't you come over?"

"I'm tempted, darlin', but if I did I'd never come back home, and I promised Beth I'd be spending nights here from now on."

She sighed in disappointment, and he pictured her curling into a ball in the middle of her bed. "When will I see you again?"

"Tomorrow afternoon. I'll pick you up as soon as you close the store."

"I'll have my own car there. Meet me at the house instead."

"Do you think we can hang in there till then?"

"I don't know. We have a lot of lost time to make up for, don't we?"

His voice held a tremor as he declared, "But we will, babe, we will."

"I can't wait. Can you stay for supper tomorrow?"

No matter how much he wanted to, he answered, "I'm afraid not. Beth's got something special planned for the two of us. She's doing the cooking."

"Well, next time, then."

"Next time for sure." Tommy Lee stifled a yawn-he hadn't had much sleep all weekend. "Rachel, I'm exhausted. I've been on the water all day."

But she wasn't ready to give him up yet. "Are you in the bedroom?" she asked.

"Yes, staring at the ceiling and picturing you as you were Friday night."

"Our bedroom?" she inquired softly.

"Yes… our bedroom."

"What's it like?"

"It's carpeted in blue to match the lake. The whole west wall is glass, and it's the only room in the house with draperies-they're the color of the sand on the beach. There's a king-size bed with a spread that's striped and kind of 371 soft."

"What's it made of?"

"Made of?" He rolled his head to check it out, smiling at the questions women came up with. "Hell, I don't know. It's got stitches all over it."

"It's quilted, you mean?"

"I guess so."

"Well, if I'm going to sleep there I have to know these things. Go on. Tell me more."

As teenagers, late at night after curfew, they used to talk on the phone like this-lazy inanities, unimportant chatter meant to do nothing more than delay the inevitable goodbye. Tommy Lee smiled, assessed the room, and imagined her entering it for the first time. "Across from the foot of the bed is a fireplace smaller than the one downstairs and with an arched opening. And do you remember once years and years ago when you told me you liked rocking chairs?"

"No, did I?"

"Well, there are two of them, big fat things covered with some kind of fuzzy blue stuff, one on either side of the fireplace. There's a walk-in closet big enough to put your whole store into." She chuckled appreciatively and he went on. "And beside the closet door is a valet chair with nothing on it at all right now. Everything's neatly put away."

There wasn't even a hint of laughter as she sighed. "Oh, Tommy Lee, I love you. I can't wait to live there with you."

At her confession his heart cracked like a flag in high wind, and he experienced the renewed wonder of dreams coming true.

"Tell me again, Rachel-I still have trouble believing it."

"I love you," she whispered.

He closed his eyes, absently running his free hand over the quilted spread as if it were her skin. "I want us to get married as soon as possible."

"I do, too. Did you tell Beth we want to?"

His eyes opened to study the ceiling again, and the hand that had been stroking the spread rested with its wrist against his forehead. "No, not yet."

"So she really is upset about the other night?"

"I'm afraid so."

"I should have thought of her. How selfish of me to keep you here overnight."

"You'd have played hell trying to get me to leave-don't you know that?" She laughed, but the sound was slightly strained. He drew a deep breath and went on, "Don't worry about Beth. I'll tell her soon. Then I want the two of you to meet. Properly. Out here at the house where we're all going to make it as a family. We are, Rachel, I swear it," he pledged intensely. Then, as if sealing a vow, he added prophetically, "Tommy Lee and Rachel and Beth."

"I'll hang on to that thought," she promised. "And I'll see you tomorrow at five."

The clock seemed to crawl as the following afternoon waned. Just before closing, Rachel stepped into the washroom to check her hair, dust her cheeks with blusher, touch a wisp of scent to her throat, and apply fresh rosy gloss to her lips.

In fifteen minutes I'll be with him again.

Her heart felt borne aloft by a bevy of butterflies. Life was a constant surprise. Who ever would have said one week ago that she would be experiencing this resurgent zest that lit her eyes, put a lilt in her step, and made her press a hand to her heart, as if to hold it captive within her body? And all this at the mere thought of Tommy Lee Gentry.

It was uncanny how one could revert to self-indulgent daydreaming when smitten by love, no matter what one's age. All day long she'd been wondering what he'd be wearing, what he'd say when he first saw her, fantasizing about their first kiss, making love, and following it up with an intimate talk, snuggled close in a nest of pillows.

His Blazer was in the driveway when she pulled around the corner and depressed the activator for the automatic garage door. He got out and stood with his hands on his hips, watching her drive past him into the garage. He was dressed in tight tan jeans, white leather tennis shoes and a sporty baby-blue pullover with a V-neck. The first thing he said was "Come here." He had opened her car door and was waiting to haul her into his arms even before she captured her purse from the seat. They stood in the wedge of the open car door, her arms clinging to his neck, her breasts buried against his hard chest, kissing recklessly, murmuring in the wordless, insatiable way of lovers who'd thought this moment would never come.

His tongue was hot and insistent as it roved the contours of her mouth, and hers brought an answering urgency as it tasted and tantalized. His hands spread wide, covering her back with demanding caresses before dropping low to ride her hips, then the curve of her buttocks as their bodies pressed together in anticipation, then swayed from side to side in an age-old message of accord.

Their heads slanted, changing directions as their mouths remained locked, open and impatient. His hand cupped her breast and hers found his naked back, slipping beneath the ribbed waistband of his sweater onto the warm flesh. His thumb rubbed her nipple and she shivered and thrust her tongue more forcefully into his mouth. She ran her hands over the back pockets of his jeans, drawing him as close as possible, holding him as he'd held her a moment ago.

When at last the initial rush of possessiveness had been accommodated, they drew apart, found each other's eyes, then clung again, rapturously.

"My God, did you ever think it could be this way again?" he asked breathlessly.

"Never! I've felt like a teenager all day!"

Again he backed away to look into her radiant eyes. "You, too?"

She smiled and nodded a little sheepishly. Then they were laughing and holding hands as he impatiently hauled her after him toward the back door. He flung it wide and tugged her inside behind him, both of them giddy, giggly, and slightly flushed… and came up short at the sight of Callie Mae, spreading chocolate frosting on a pan of brownies.

The older woman swung around, her eyes flew wide, and she gave a chortle of amusement. "Well, I declare, if it ain't that nasty li'l Tommy Lee Gentry, used to come snitchin' my cookies just before suppertime."

Tommy Lee and Rachel gaped at the maid, then at each other, then burst out laughing again before Tommy Lee lunged across the room to give the woman a bone-crushing hug. "Callie Mae, you crusty old despot-damn, it's good to see you!"

She backed off to adore him with glistening eyes while his hands pressed her thick waist.

"Lord, Lord, but ain't you a sight for these tired old eyes-you and Miss Rachel, come a-laughin' in the way you used to." A tear plumped on her eyelid as she hugged him again, and Rachel looked on with glowing eyes. Suddenly Callie Mae pulled back and her heavy pink lips took on a scolding pout. "Been wonderin' when the two o' you would come to your senses."

Tommy Lee cocked one eyebrow and suppressed a grin. "Oh, you have, have you?"

She turned back to her brownies, giving an indignant sniff, while Tommy Lee's and Rachel's eyes met and shared an instant of powerful nostalgia. Memories tumbled back, of another time, another kitchen, two sun-drenched children scampering in to the gruff but loving maid who, like them, never questioned their rightful place together. Washed now in Callie Mae's benediction-the first, after facing so much opposition-they felt hopeful and ebullient. It was like stepping into a scene in which the action had been frozen twenty-four years ago and had been waiting all that time for them to walk on stage and bring about a happy conclusion.

Tommy Lee looped an arm around Callie Mae's shoulders and turned his attention toward the counter. "What're you cookin' up there, darlin'?"

"Why, just one o' your favorites. My prize-winnin' chocolate brownies with plenty of pecans, just how you like 'em."

"Whoo-ee!" He licked his lips. "Them's mighty hard to resist." Tommy Lee pointedly checked his watch, then let a grin crawl up one corner of his mouth. "And besides, it's a whole hour before supper." He snatched the spatula from Callie Mae's fingers and dug a bar from the corner of the pan, lifting it to lick an icicle of fresh frosting that oozed over the edge.

Callie Mae laughed, gave him a playful swat, and nodded in Rachel's direction. "You wanna do something, you git her to eat brownies. She's the one needs 'em!"

Tommy Lee turned around, smiling.

Rachel chuckled and said to him, "See what I've been putting up with all these years?"

"Mmm… Callie Mae is kind of mouthy, all right. She might not work out after all."

"She might not. On the other hand, I am rather used to her outspokenness. And you'll have to admit, she is a pretty decent cook."

Tommy Lee swallowed his mouthful of brownie and shrugged indifferently. "Yeah, these are all right, I guess."

"All right?" Callie Mae exploded, swinging around with her hands on her hips.

Tommy Lee took another nonchalant bite, grinned at Rachel, and asked teasingly, "Think we should tell her?" He wandered over and held the brownie to her lips.

She took a nibble, grinned, and returned conspiratorially, "I don't know. What do you think? Should we?"

"Tell me what?" Callie Mae insisted.

Rachel took a bigger bite of brownie and the frosting fell in a string down her lip. She reached up to swipe at it, but Tommy Lee waylaid her hand, then held the wrist while leaning forward to lick the frosting off. Without removing his eyes from Rachel's, he smiled and answered Callie Mae, "Might be a new job opening up for you."

"A new…?..." But Callie Mae's lips fell open and her eyes sparkled with speculation as she watched Tommy Lee lean down and place a lingering kiss on Rachel's uplifted mouth, the brownie all but forgotten in his fingertips.

He lifted his head lazily, and still gazing into Rachel's eyes, added, "Out at my place."

Callie Mae's beaming eyes rested on the two she'd loved for so long, as Rachel rose up to brush Tommy Lee's lips once more, then added dreamily, "Working for both of us."

Callie Mae rolled her eyes heavenward, threw her hands wide, and exclaimed, "Lord o' mercy… at last!" She watched them kiss again, and when they drew apart, they seemed to have forgotten anyone else in the room. "Hmph!" Callie Mae snorted. "I can see there ain't no need for me to hang around here no longer. Act like I don't count for nothin'…" She grumbled on in mock reprimand while whipping off her apron. "Person ain't never done teachin' children their manners… fine thing, bein' ignored." She threw open a pantry door, hung up the apron with a flourish, and swept up her purse. She was still muttering as the door slammed behind her.

At the sound, the pair in the kitchen seemed to come awake. They glanced at the door, then at each other, and laughed while Rachel flung her arms about Tommy Lee's neck.

"Everyone will know now," she said.

"Do you care?" he asked against her hair.

"No. All I care about is you… us. I missed you so much."

"I missed you, too… every minute."

Their mouths met again eagerly as he reached out blindly to set the brownie on the counter. His fingers were coated with chocolate, and when he lifted his heads to impatiently lick off a thumb she captured the hand and carried it from his pursed lips to her own, meticulously laving each finger, slipping it into her mouth with sensual slowness, aroused by the salt-sweet taste of him, by the heavy, hooded look that overtook his eyes as he watched. When the fingers were clean she ran her tongue down the palm of his hand and bit its heel, while his relaxed fingertips rested on her closed eyes. She kissed his wrist, the metal band of his watch warm beneath her lips, then moved beyond it to the soft warm skin of his inner elbow.

Suddenly he pulled her head to his chest, groaning softly, and beneath her ear she heard his pounding heart as his fingers plowed through her hair to contour her skull and cradle her head possessively.

She felt an outpouring of love, far too powerful to be voiced. And as she raised her eyes to his, she saw it returned a thousandfold. They stood close, caught in the shaft of late-afternoon sun melting through the window. It glinted off the golden rim of his glasses, scintillated from her open lips, gilded the gray above his ears. Had they loved this fully at sixteen? Perhaps it had seemed so then. But in this moment as they stood bound together by feelings so profound as to be voiceless, their lorn love of long ago seemed paltry by comparison.

She reached both hands up to slip off his glasses and set them beside the brownie on the counter. His hands clasped her jaws as his mouth descended-open, hungry, purposeful. Her answering lunge and lift were all he needed before his fingers trembled over buttons, hooks, and zippers, and they knew again the swift swelling of sexual appetite, appeasing it with little thought of time or place. In moments they stood among scattered articles of clothing, pressing their naked bodies together, exulting. He lifted her to his waist and her legs twined about his hips, the vacant core of her femininity seeking only one restitution: to be filled by him. The contact was sleek, immediate, and restorative as their bodies reunited and their arms clenched possessively.

He perched her on the edge of the counter, and the sun burned warm on her shoulders as his lean hands parenthesized her hips. Dark eyes captured and held hers. Lips parted. Breath mingled. The movement began.

And in moments Rachel and Tommy Lee shared that glorious outpouring of body and soul found only by the very lucky-by those who bring unquestioning love to the act. When their matched cries echoed through the kitchen, she held his head to her breast and sighed in repletion.

His shoulders were damp-she brushed the sheen from them.

His heartbeat was uneven-she pressed a palm to it.

His eyelids were closed-she kissed them.

And in the end he stayed for a late, late supper.