Page 5 of Don't Go Faking My Heart

I had both Mrs. Beaty and Lola Nina as teachers growing up—Mrs. Beaty in elementary, Lola Nina in high school. No matter what I told Ash about being more afraid of Lola Nina, truth is, both of them can put the fear in me like my dad never could, no matter how hard he tried.

"Tell it to your wild cards, Nina," Mrs. Beaty says, her fire engine red hair bouncing. Her husband shakes his head from the passenger side of their gold Oldsmobile. "Either we both got lucky or none of us did."

"Are you trying to tell me that we both cheated? I didn't cheat."

"Then maybe neither of us did. Did you think of that?"

The car behind me honks, and that emboldens a few of the other cars to honk. I know both of these women can hold their own, but even in our small town, not everyone is sweet as sugar.

So when the honking continues, I reach into the backseat for two jars and then step down from my truck and walk over to the two older women. The engine on Lola Nina's Buick revs as her air conditioning tries to combat the heat coming through the open door.

The women were going opposite directions when they stopped in the middle of the intersection, so I get in between them.

"Pardon the interruption, ladies," I say. Both sets of eyes turn sharply on me. And then soften.

"There's my favorite student," Mrs. Beaty says.

"There's my favorite student," Lola Nina says. I've never had two women fight over me, but if any two are bent on it, I'll take these two.

"What are you doing lookin' so dolled up on a Tuesday morning?" Mrs. Beaty asks. She adjusts the collar of my button down flannel shirt.

"Oh, just a meeting."

"A meeting with a young lady?" Lola Nina asks, waggling her eyebrows.

I shake my head. "It isn't what you think."

"Just what we all hope, am I right?" she says.

I chuckle. "Could y'all help me with something?" I ask. "We whipped up a new peach salsa to sell at the Farmer's Market, but I think something ain't right with it. If I give you both a jar, could you tell me what you think?"

"Of course, dear," Mrs. Beaty says. "Knowin' Nina, she'll want you to add more chilis."

"And knowing Rose, she'll want you to mash it and turn it into jelly so she doesn't have to use her fake teeth," Lola Nina says.

"Knowin' both of you," I say before they can get back to their fighting. "You'll both tell me exactly what I need to make sure these sell big."

"I'll go home right quick and try it so I can get back to you. With my real teeth," Mrs. Beaty says, holding her lips a little too open. Her teeth look real enough to me.

"I'll go home even quicker," Lola Nina says. She pats my cheek.

"Y'all are too good to me."

"No better than you deserve," Mrs. Beaty says.

I'm not so sure about that.

"And then, I swam through the other cave," Ash is saying as she crams a crêpe in her mouth, "except it was supposed to be a new cave but also looked like one I went spelunking in once in Colorado?"

"I know exactly what you mean," I say, because dreams are random like that. Also, Ash has the best dreams. And by best, I mean intensely weird and weirdly riveting.

"So I'm collecting more shells, and then randomly, you and Greg swim into the cave and we're all wearing snorkels, but you and Greg are like Oompa Loompa versions of yourselves, and you're pointing out where to find the next seashell, so I go that direction, and I finally find it. The yellow seashell."

"The yellow one," I repeat, even though she hasn't mentioned a yellow one yet. Because, again, dreams are random like that. But I can’t help but wonder if it’s also significant that I’m in a dream with her stepdad, Greg, who’s about Ash’s favorite person alive.

"Exactly. It was so important all of a sudden! So I swim back out of the cave but then I'm wearing a fancy ball gown. And then I woke up."

“I need details on this ball gown,” I say.

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