Page 21 of The Curve
“Alright. Listen, I’d like you to join me this weekend for Sunday Supper at my folk’s house. You and Mallory.”
“Really?”
“Really. I want you to meet them. Paige will be there and Brick. Everyone. We’ve got to go over the final details for the Firefly Ball. If you say yes, we’ll be going on the 27th.”
“What’s that?”
“Every year at the start of summer my parents throw an outdoor dance and firefly viewing on their property. My mother insists on saying firefly instead of lightning bug. Thinks it sounds more refined. The Firefly Ball rolls off the tongue, she says. I think you’ll like it. Wanna come with me?”
I give the idea 1.2 seconds of consideration before I answer. “Yes. Definitely. What’s the dress?”
“Whatever you like to dance in. But for the viewing we’re gonna kick off our shoes and be on top of wide couches and oversized pillows under the stars. So be comfortable.”
“That sounds like so much fun!”
“Good. It’s a date then. And I’ll pick you girls up for supper at five on Sunday, if that works for you.”
“Perfect.”
* * *
We didn’t seeeach other all week because he got released from the doctor. No more sling, and he was able to start practice. He’s got to see how strong the arm and shoulder are before he can play. It’s exhausting he says.
But he’s called every night. It’s probably wishful thinking, but I’d be surprised if he’s seeing anyone else. How could he be? We talk for hours, sometimes while he’s eating dinner or I’m in the bath. Sometimes he puts me on speaker and goes through his home exercises. There’s such an ease to our conversations and one topic flows to the next.
It’s interesting hearing about the life of a baseball player, how much it’s meant in his life, learning the lingo they use. It’s surprising how open he was about his career. How his contract expires next year, and he’s never one hundred percent sure he’ll be renewed.
Mallory has been schooling me on the sport too, and we’ve watched the games on TV so I can see who’s who. I’m trying to memorize the players in case I meet one at the Firefly Ball. She’s as excited as I am about me going, so maybe she likes the idea of Atticus and I having a few dates. Today’s another matter. I know the only reason she agreed to be around so many strangers is because Paige will be there. They spent the night at Brick’s and will be going together. Thank God.
And then there’s me. I may be thirty plus years old, but I’m nervous about meeting his family. It’s T-minus 15 minutes till he picks me up. Yesterday he gave me a kind of Cliff Notes version of the group. Let’s see…Boone’s his father, a former pro baseball player who married his high school sweetheart, Lucinda. She’s a water color artist and book lover. Then there’s Grandma Birdie the best cook in the family and Grandpa Davis the lifelong bird watcher. The only sister is Bristol, a pediatrician who works in Memphis.
Atticus said they’re all warm welcoming people and I shouldn’t worry. But it’s been so long since I’ve been around a big family. Decades really. The last time was when I used to spend the night at my best friend’s house in grammar school. I’m woefully out of practice.
Lately I’ve seen what a small world I live in, and how Mallory has been affected by residing there too. It wasn’t intentional, but it’s what unfolded as our lives led us in certain directions. Just recently I’ve come to the realization It’s important I don’t protect my daughter so thoroughly she misses the surprises of life. I want her to be able to feel good in new situations and to seek out things she hasn’t experienced. It’s hard enough to make any of it happen when she’s shy about being seen. I’ve protected my baby bird for so long maybe it’s time she learned to fly a bit. That’s why her new friend Paige is good for her. She’s the one who’s going to push Mallory forward.
Giving myself a last look in the mirror, I smooth the skirt of the new yellow and white print dress I made for the occasion. I’m happy with the way it turned out. I was going for a simple summery look with just a hint of sexy, provided by the surprise low back. The flesh-toned toned heels add to the look. One spray of Angel under each earlobe and on the pulse point of each wrist, and I’m ready. Exiting the room and walking down the hall I’m just in time to hear the doorbell.
My stomach flips.Calm down!
I take a centering breath before opening the door. There he stands, the image of man, wearing soft grey pants with a white dress shirt. Classic.
“Hi!” I say trying to sound perfectly calm, in spite of a racing pulse.
The corners of his mouth lift, as do mine.
“Afternoon, Miss Charlotte.” He tips an imaginary hat.
“How southern of you,” I say in my best accent. “Afternoon kind sir.”
“You look so lovely, I’d bet the South could rise again,” he says looking me up and down.
I press my lips together holding in my grin and motion for him to come inside with a sweep of my hand. “You flatter me sir, when it’s you who could make camellias bloom in the mud,” I volley.
He points a finger at me. “Oh, good one! The Pennsylvania girl bests the Tennessee boy.”
He leans in for a kiss. But when I mistakenly offer my cheek he pauses, lifts my chin and turns my face toward his. “No, Charlotte. Here.”
Our lips meet in a heavenly moment filled with both our hungers. Damn! I could lay him down on this rug and ride him like a stallion. Or, just look into his chocolate eyes for eternity.Jesus, Charlotte! Calm the hell down.
