Page 31 of Anchored

Heat spreads everywhere. I wish this damn table was gone so I could climb on his lap and taste the ice cream on his tongue.

“Nice to see you, Holt. Do I get to meet your new fiancée?”

Holt lets go of me and we both turn to see a man standing next to our table. He’s got a beer belly that matches how I feel after that banana split and a stained trucker hat on his head. His smile is friendly though. Holt clears his throat and sits back, sticking his hand out. The two men shake hands.

“Bob, nice to see you. Maple, this is Bob Franklin. He owns Bluefin Bait and Tackle. Bob, this is Maple Thatcher.”

Bob shoots me a beaming smile during the introduction. We shake hands too, but when I go to pull back, he holds my hand a little longer than necessary. “It’s good to meet you, Maple. Such a pretty girl.”

Bob turns to Holt again after he releases my hand. “Happy for you, Holt. Never did like Macy for you. You two weren’t compatible. Everyone could see it.” He turns to me. “She was a looker too, but not a lover, if you know what I mean.”

“Um, thanks, Bob,” Holt answers diplomatically.

“Come by the shop this summer. I’ll get you two hooked up with some free bait.” He tips his dirty hat and off he goes.

Holt looks back at me. “Guess word about our engagement has gotten around. Lottie, I expected. She’s a gossip. But if Bob knows, it’s truly gone around the whole town.”

I grimace, feeling guilty for dragging him into the lie. “Yeah, we should probably talk about how we’re going to break up.” I used air quotes around the words.

Holt slides out of the booth and reaches back to take my hand in his. “We’ve got all summer to figure that out. Let’s go get the chili ingredients and visit Gracie.”

My sigh is a little swoony as I slide out of the booth. He’s such a good guy.

Gracie’s diary

(62 years ago)

Dear Diary,

Mama and Daddy went to a couple’s retreat with the Baptist Church this weekend. I promised them I’d be fine on my own. I’m eighteen, after all, and in just three weeks I’ll graduate high school.

Hank came over Saturday night, and I made him dinner. You should have seen it! It was like we were playing house, seeing what it’ll be like when we’re on our own and married. He ate every bite of the casserole I made. He has such a cool head, whereas I could barely eat. I was so nervous. Linda and I drove all the way to Fayetteville last week to go shopping. I bought a bra and underwear that are so hip. So scandalous. I was hoping they’d come in handy this weekend.

Hank stood up from the table and held his hand out. I took it, feeling fluttery already just from our hands touching. He took me to the couch, sitting down next to me and immediately pulling me into his arms. His big strong hand crept up my skirt right away. Like he just couldn’t keep his hands off me. But this time, he didn’t waste any time. He touched me between my legs! I must have cried out as his fingers brushed against me because he pulled away. I grabbed him by the collar and pulled him back to my lips. Gosh, he felt so good.

“Are you sure, Gracie?” he asked against my mouth, his fingers stilling.

I nodded, totally ape for this man. “Yes, please, Hank. Make me yours.”

I’m still a lady, so I won’t write out the details, but he was a gentleman, asking me if I was groovy at each step of the way. It didn’t even hurt like Linda said it might. In fact, I hope we can do it again this morning before my parents come back.

Later on, when we were lying in my bed, Hank wrapped me in his arms and played with my hair. He didn’t even look at my boobs, even though they were bare. He just looked me right in the eyes and promised to love me forever.

“I’m going to marry you, Gracie. Just as soon as we graduate.”

I couldn’t stop the smile from splitting my face. “Are you asking or telling me, Hankie?”

He dipped his head and kissed me, making me melt. “I’m telling you. You’re it for me.”

Maybe I should feel guilty for going all the way with Hank, but I don’t. I love him so much! Besides, we’ll be married in a few months!

ChapterTwelve

Holt

“Mrs. Holstedder said she doesn’t like Angela. Refuses her exercises.” Debbie flags me down as I rush down the hallway, trying to get to Gracie’s condo. Today has been crazy. Patients all have family in town visiting and they tend to slow down our appointments. I’m behind and it’s not even two o’clock yet.

I refrain from rolling my eyes. But just barely. Mrs. Holstedder is one of those handsy senior citizens I told Maple about. I transferred her to the care of my top physical therapist, Angela. She’s probably better at her job than I am since her husband is a pro athlete and has access to all the developing research on fitness. Patients should be happy to have her guiding their therapy instead of me.

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