Lesson That Taught Love, page 8
“Hey Lucky." She reached in to give me one of those church hugs, which I suppose with appropriate since we were in a church and all, but for someone who was ballsy enough to make the first move, it was frustrating how she hadn't agreed to let me take her out yet. Sure we spent time together, but mostly it was at the diner or on occasion at her house when she needed help with something. This whole dating thing was sort of new to me, but I wanted to do things the right way and that involved actual dates. I longed for the day she'd offer me more.
"I didn't hear from you last night. Thought I'd come over and see how you were doing."
"I know I'm sorry, Kit. I didn't get in until midnight. Figured you'd be asleep already."
“Yeah well, I was, but I would've woken up for you." I said to watch that smile she wore as it spread across her face." Yeah well, I'll know for next time." She fought back another smile, her eyes widening as my mother surprised me at my side. With the chances she got out, I was expecting a few more minutes of privacy with Beck. Although, in this town, there was no such thing as privacy.
“You look more and more like your mama every time I see you. Millicent and I, we used to work down at the Town hall together. She was a good friend of mine; I sure do miss her." I, for one, had never met Rebecca's mom, nor would I ever get the chance to. I was certain I’d regret missing the opportunity to meet the person that made Beck the woman she was today especially because my mother liked her, and from experience my mama barely liked anyone.
“Hey Rebecca, you're not busy later on, are you?" My mother asked. Beck looked at me, confused by the question but curtly answered no, which was followed by my mother inviting her over for dinner. And here I thought I wasn't that obvious.
“She's got things to do. Don't put her on the spot, Mama." I said. But Beck narrowed her eyes at me, surprising me with her impulsive answer." Of course, Ms. Shepard. I'd love to join you for dinner. Saves me the trouble of slaving away on my only day off. Can I help with bringing anything?"
"Wouldn't dream of it. Just bring an empty stomach and that pretty smile of yours." Now it was me that bit back at smile thinking about Beck and I doing something beyond the two of us just talking. No, it wasn't my first choice on a proper date but getting on with my mother was just as important as any date. Beck looked behind her when one twin called her name to remind her they were leaving soon, gesturing in their direction as permission to leave the conversation.
"They're my ride so, call you later with all the details?" I nodded as she waved headed their way.
I had to make a quick stop to the grocery store to get everything prepped and prepared for the night. When my mother said join us for dinner, what she really meant was I was cooking, which I didn't object to. Nearly every night when I felt up to it, I cooked. While overseas I had friends I served with from all over.
Being around different cultures and alternate ways of preparing things was one of the few things we got to learn from one another. Cooking fell on my lap, and I don't regret learning. You get so comfortable with having a woman do everything for you, and when she leaves you, you're back to making food that takes only four minutes to heat up in the microwave. Nothing good for you should clock in at four minutes cook time. That was no way to live in my book.
In a good short hour or two, I had this kitchen smelling rich of garlic and onions, some of the few ingredients that were necessary to make the perfect Burgoo, a rich stew you couldn’t call yourself Kentuckian if you didn’t know how to make. No two people made Burgoo alike; even my mother and I had different ways of preparing. It had taken my mother a few times to get used to that I liked mine with rabbit, beef, and lamb. But now that she had tried it my way, even she had to admit that mine reigned supreme.
“Smells good in here, darling." My mother shouted loud enough to get my attention. She walked into the kitchen on her crutches and eased herself down on a chair. By now, I’d given up helping her at every moment I thought she needed it.
I've been getting on this long without you. She’d scold me. I did my best to make things easier on her when I could. If she needed my help, she’d ask for it, she assured, but I knew for a fact that wasn't true. Still, I respected her wish to be independent.
“Swear since you came back home, I must've packed on about fifteen pounds now. Don't get too fancy in the kitchen; no woman will ever want to cook for you if she sees you as her competition." She joked peeling the rind of an orange at the table before popping a wedge in her mouth.
“Well if that's true, I'd welcome a little competition. You women have been hogging the shine for too long. It's time to show y'all what a man can do." I teased stirring the stew a few times to ensure that nothing was sticking to the bottom.
“Listen you won't ever hear me complaining. Only takes some time getting used to. Knowing that you don't need me anymore."
“C’mon Mama, I'll always need you," turning left burner off so I didn't burn the potatoes.
"Yeah, but not as much as you think I need you." She teased back." So this girl, you like her, huh?” My mother was a candid woman. Not real dainty and a bit of a foul mouth when you got it worked up. When I was younger, it was a nightmare talking to her about women. Being the town's star quarterback meant girls were always around and let's just say I put my mama through hell giving into my weaknesses. In her mind, no one was ever good enough, and unfortunately, I never had my father around long enough to teach me the right way to treat women. That welcomed a lot of slashed tires, broken windows, and the whole town thinking my mama was nuts chasing out all the woman I snuck in with an unloaded firearm.
“Caught you looking at her the whole service. She's a sweet girl, good like her mama. Best of all she hasn't been with every Tom, Dick, or Harry left in this town, and that includes you." I laughed, not because it was funny but because I deserved the jab to the gut. I turned to face her, crossing my arms in front of my chest, face in a grimace.
"If you don't mind, I'd rather you not say things like that when she gets here. Not like I need a reminder of how I was when I had no sense."
“Boy, you don't have to tell me how to act in front company. Don't forget who raised you the first twenty years of your life. I know how important this dinner is for you. You scare me sometimes because all you do is work and come home like you're afraid to be around people. You're young. You don't hang around your old friends anymore, walking around here like a shell of your old self. That worries me."
She was right. Since I got back, I didn't get caught up in too much getting together. For those of my friends that's he stayed in Wheelwright, they were all married with kids right now. Light years ahead of me had I stayed in this tiny place. Truthfully, I felt like an old shell of myself. Large crowds made me feel claustrophobic, so I felt more comfortable being home in an environment I could control. But if anything could break me out of that rut, it was a woman named Rebecca Dobson.
"You know you've never brought to girl home you didn't have to sneak out through the window. Raising a boy, I tell you. Especially a cocky little sonofabitch who knew he was handsome." She sighed, as a sly smile spread across my face.
“Mama, I could only play the cards you dealt me. Wasn't my fault most women didn't make me work for it.” Which was mostly true to this day. Even when I wasn't trying, Woman just… did things for me. It was hard to view something as valuable when things came easily to you."
“And Rebecca, Millicent’s daughter, she makes you work for it?" I nodded, trying not to sound too giddy in my response.
"She does."
“Well, then that's all a mother could ask for." I slapped my hand on the counter gazing at the clock hit six fifty-seven, well beyond the time I wanted to take out to get ready.
“Ma, I'm going to turn this down a little and go ahead and get dressed. You think you can keep an eye on things when I go pick her up?" I edged toward the door.
"I reckon I can handle watching the Burgoo and setting the table. Now you go on and get your lady friend." She shooed me away when I walked back to kiss her on the forehead.
A hot shower and a few rounds of chin-ups with the bar above my door later, I chose a quick sweep of cologne and threw on a simple black Henley, Jeans of the same color and leather lace-up combat boots. Pretty much the fanciest pieces I had in my closet, which wasn't saying much. I’d never been a stylish person, but a good thing for me was no one around here judged you on that. Women were different in that way, I think. It was a drive into the city, but they put ten times the effort with whatever they could put together.
Rebecca always looked nice. Even for a shorter girl, she had these beautiful long looking legs that had to convince she was 5’9” from far away and curves more dangerous than any mountain road. Just the thought of her body engraved in my mind, made me think things. Feel things. Made me want to act on lustful times when I woke up with the image of her dips and softness fresh in my dreams. I had to drop to the floor and fit in two sets of push-ups just to stop from thinking about it.
I wasn't in a rush to know every little detail about her, which included the way I planned making her body feel when the opportunity presented itself. There would be plenty of time for that in the weeks up ahead. Tonight, it was all about making her part of my family. That started with the simple dinner and a blessing from the one I cared the most about.
Beck
I debated on what I should wear on a night like this. A dress might have made the wrong impression, but a jeans and T-shirt combo didn't seem to be enough. Sure it was only dinner with Kit and his mother, but around here no one introduced just anyone to meet their folks, let alone being invited by them. Ms. Shepard had always had a crazy streak as far anyone knew, but in the times I saw her, checking in on my mom at work growing up, she'd always been nice. I'd be lying if I said I didn't want her to like me. She was his nearest and closest family, and that meant a lot to small town folk like us. I only wish he could've met my mother. Officially, I mean. I know she would've liked him.
The doorbell rang forcing me to choose between a blue chiffon blouse and a dressy flannel button up top. On short notice, I went with the flannel because it went more with my boots, on top of looking less pretentious. The last thing I needed was looking like I was trying too hard. I did one last mirror check, deciding that my curls looked as good as they did from earlier but threw in some small gold earrings for a more polished look and zoomed down the stairs open the door.
"I'm sorry. I just put my clothes on. I got some stuff I have to wrap up in the kitchen, and then I'm all yours." He joined me inside and followed me in the kitchen. In there, I caught him staring at me with those warm earthy green eyes as I coated the cake I made with large sheets of aluminum foil.
"What?”
"I can't just look at you?" Kit looking sexily playful in his slim fitted layers. The black made his skin look even paler, which made his eyes and red hair more striking.
"I mean it's not like you let me kiss you. And then you go on and throw around that ‘you're all mine’. A man can’t help but study his prize until she makes that happen again.” He flirted. I approached him what the wrapped cake in my hand, using my other to take his chin in my hand to plant a light peck on his lips.
“You tend to that itchy beard you've got, and we might be able to work something out. You know I've got a sore spot for a clean-shaven man.” I joked as I patted him on the chest.
"Now c’mon, let’s not keep your mother waiting before she finds a minor reason to hate me."
We made our way out to the porch when Kit offered to take the cake in my hand and tossed me the keys to his truck." You drive stick, right?"
“Don't insult me." I huffed. If there was one thing I learned early about driving, it was that automatic transmission didn't do it for me. My uncle taught me that resourceful women drive standard. Starting a car up without the soothing feel one got when flooring that clutch was no idea of a ride for me.
“Not like I haven't driven this thing before. Is everything alright?" I asked, opening the door to the driver’s side as he climbed in the other.
“Yeah, everything's fine, I just…" he pointed toward his left ear." I hear you better on my good side. Reading lips ain't that easy when you can't look at the person talking." I strapped on my seatbelt.
“I know that has to be frustrating."
"Rebecca, it ain't never frustrating keeping my eyes on you." He grinned.
The thing I liked about Kit was that he was a total gentleman. Flattering, and always respectful. Maybe he always was since I never knew him. For all, I knew he could've always been this sweet. A nice change from city boys. I remember being away from home convinced that I needed myself a man from the city; but there was something special about these homegrown men that had me thankful I hadn't completely given up on them, despite my experiences.
Maybe Kit had another side to him, but the past few weeks I spent with him made me feel like they were still some good men out there. With him, I wanted that so bad to be true.
The car roared on when I put the keys in the ignition, and the smooth sounds of hill country blues blared loudly from the speakers.
"Boy, no wonder you're hard of hearing. You play your music so dang loud." I said as I lowered the volume period.
Kit
Gossip or small talk, that was all a southern woman like my mama ever did before dinner if we had a guest or two. Occasionally, it wasn't uncommon for my mama to invite our pastor, an old friend visiting, or Esther Darling, the woman who might as well have been my mama’s guardian angel since I'd been away.
She usually bought her groceries, or pay her bills whenever she needed someone to go to the post office and mail it. She wasn't the most pleasant table company but was a good friend to my mama if there ever was any.
So imagine my delight to someone I could tolerate at the table. Even as I dressed three plates for dinner, I was nervous at what might happen or what might come up with Beck at the table. Ever since that kiss, I've been wondering what that meant for us.
I laid down each decorated plate hosting a side of Kentucky burgoo served over mashed potatoes and green beans. It was plenty filling with its combination of meats, its thick stew base, and a medley of vegetables, but I put what was leftover in a casserole dish at the center of the table. You know? Just in case anyone wanted seconds.
We said a short grace, before picking up our forks and spoons to start dinner. “The food’s good Ms. Shepard. You must be a splendid cook."
My mama laughed, and despite wanting to myself, I held it in for as long as my mama talked. “I wish I could take credit for tonight, but I digress. This ain't nothing but Kit’s handiwork." I admit, before joining the Army, I was illiterate in the kitchen. I’d always thought a good meal was best left in a woman's hands. But that wasn't so helpful if you didn't have one.
The Army made me more independent, which was a good thing. Looking at my mama now, expecting her to dote on me and cook—especially in her condition, would've been cruel. Without trying to overreach my boundaries, I learned that I like cooking for myself. I liked not needing or depending on someone for something I could do myself. Not that I wouldn't want someone who took pride in their work on the stove, but now that I could too, I didn't see why it needed the fall on just one person.
Plus, the best thing about it was surprising people. Beck didn't have a good poker face at all. It was probably killing her to know she’d just paid my cooking a compliment, and she was right for feeling that way. As far as I was concerned, she would probably never hear the end of it.
“How you liking those string beans?" I asked, wearing a proud smile on my face, to find her staring at me with a dry blank expression.
“One or two of them were dry, but overall good job." She faked a smile, cutting them in pieces on her plate to finish them.
“Didn't stop you from finishing them," I teased, as the flat of her shoe connected to my shin underneath the table. She shot me another blank expression from earlier, only this time it was met with a cocked eyebrow. It was probably about time I shut my mouth.
“I just had to tell you, Rebecca, I love what you do to your hair," Mama said, gesturing to her hair in comparison. “I just like how free and wild-like it is. Like the disco singer Diana Ross? Don't she remind you of Diana Ross, Kit?"
I hate to admit that even though my mama meant well, even I was a little uncomfortable with the comparison. I mean, they were both pretty, but with darker skin and dominant features, Beck looked nothing like Diana Ross. Even her hair didn’t.
I took my head into my hands, rubbing my face, thinking it might rub the embarrassment away with it. I mouthed “sorry" from across the table, before scratching the back of my head, not knowing where to start with my reply.
“Mama, she don't look nothing like Diana Ross. You can't just say someone looks like a person because they got curly hair or because they're both Black. That's like me saying you're a dead ringer for Ava Gardner."
By now, if Beck hadn't been uncomfortable, she definitely was now. She wore it all over her body language and face like she couldn't wait for us to stop talking about it.
“Well, I always loved Diana Ross, especially when all she did was sing. She was so glamorous and talented, better than any artist in her time. I didn't say they were twins; I just said you reminded me of her. And not just because of her hair. She ended up marrying a white man, and with us having dinner and whatnot, seems like the start of something like that—”
I cringed at the words, trying my best to move the conversation along to something else. Beck didn't seem to mind, and mama seemed ready to discuss something else anyway. “Anyway, I'm sorry Rebecca." But she tapped the back of Beck’s hand. I’d make my apology in private when I had the chance, but I hoped hers was enough for now.
I was so glad my mama could start a conversation off of nothing, as a subject change was greatly needed. “So Rebecca, what do you outside of work?"
Beck coughed out a laugh. “More work."
