Last Chance Book Club(30)
Author: Hope Ramsay

“Bill, what a surprise,” Hettie said, forcing a smile to her face.

He nodded, seemingly unaware that the members of the dance committee, book club, garden club, and Ladies’ Auxiliary were watching his every move and speculating on what was going to happen next. Suddenly Hettie was ashamed of all of them. They should leave Bill alone.

He walked right up to her. “Hettie, do you have a moment?” he asked.

“Of course I do.” She took him by the arm and guided him to one of the tables set back into the trees. Bill reached out to touch Hettie’s hand once they took their seats. Warmth spread up her arm.

“I suppose you heard all about Savannah,” he said.

“I did. I’m sorry. And I’m so sorry the entire town is talking about it. Savannah should have—”

“No, it wasn’t really her fault. I should have known better than to ask her in public like that. That was foolhardy.”

“Is your heart broken?”

He straightened his shoulders, and a frown folded into his forehead. “I don’t know. I’m embarrassed.”

For some reason, this response made Hettie feel lighter. “Bill, if you were heartbroken, I think you’d know it. Maybe Savannah did you a favor.”

“A favor?”

She tightened her grip on his hand, suddenly aware of the bones beneath his skin, the warmth in his palm, the slightly rough male texture of his fingertips. “Love is supposed to knock you on your butt. If you don’t feel knocked, then it probably isn’t love.”

“Did Jimmy knock you on your butt?” His eyes were very sharp.

“No. He didn’t. I married Jimmy to please my parents.”

“Have you ever been knocked on your butt?”

She giggled. “Hearing you say the word ‘butt’ tickles me, you know.”

He smiled. It was a warm, wonderful, beautiful thing. Watching it unfold on his face was like watching a big magnolia open up its petals. “You know, Hettie, you are always making me laugh, too.”

“Thank you.”

“So, have you?” he pressed.

“Have I what?”

“Ever been knocked on your butt.”

She looked down at their conjoined hands. For an instant, she wasn’t sure where her fingers left off and his started. It was a very odd kind of feeling that made her heart bounce around in her chest.

“I fell in lust once.”

“Really?”

“I was sixteen.”

“Sixteen? I take it you weren’t listening to my predecessor on the need for abstinence.”

“I’m sorry. I was weak.”

“And he knocked you on your butt.”

“Almost. Not quite. I think I may have knocked him on his butt, though. And you know, that’s a real problem.”

“What is?”

“When someone thinks they are in love with you, but you don’t feel the same thing back.”

“I guess I get that.”

“It’s no fun, to be honest. I’m always feeling guilty about it.”

“I take it we’re talking about Dash Randall.”

She looked away, just in time to see Dash sauntering up to the bandstand to talk with Clay Rhodes.

Bill followed her gaze. “He’s a good-looking man. He’s rich. His money would solve all your problems.”

“Yeah, it would. And if I were a different woman, I might give up my principles. But I can’t. I don’t love him. I did lust after him when I was very young, but I got over that mighty quick.”

They sat there holding hands for the longest time, each of them gazing across the park to where Dash stood by the bandstand.

Finally Bill let go of a long breath. “I don’t want to be like Dash,” he said. “I don’t want to go carrying a torch for someone who doesn’t want me.”

“Good for you. Dash is stuck, and you’re already moving on.”

“But I want a wife, Hettie. To be honest, I’m kind of lonely, and I’d really like a family. And Savannah comes with one, ready-made.”

Just then Jenny Carpenter came hurrying up with a pie in her hand. “Oh, there you are, you poor thing,” she said sitting down at the third chair at the table. Bill and Hettie quickly disengaged their hands. “I baked you a pie, and I took it to the rectory, but you weren’t there. I’m glad to see you out and about.”

Bill smiled at Jenny, his blue eyes lighting up. “Pie, oh my. I definitely could drown my sorrows in pie, Jenny. Thanks.”

Hettie stifled the urge to punch Jenny’s pretty little face. Damn it all to hell. She should have had Violet make some of her cookies for him. But it was too late now.

Hettie pushed up from the table. “Well, Bill, I think your problems are just a slice away,” she said.

She started to stroll away, but he called her back. “Hettie.”

She turned. “What?”

“Would you save a dance for me?”

Savannah arrived at the street dance and scanned the crowd. Bill was at a table under the paper lanterns talking with Jenny Carpenter. The book club, minus Jenny, had staked a claim to a portion of the sidewalk not too close to the bandstand. Nita, Cathy, and Lola May had brought refreshments.

Dash was standing by the bandstand, looking… perfect.

He wore a new pair of Wranglers, a pair of old cowboy boots, a plaid shirt, and a cowboy hat. He and Clay Rhodes were the only guys in hats. But Dash was the only guy wearing cowboy boots. Once a Texan, always a Texan. She remembered giving him all kinds of grief over the battered straw cowboy hat he’d worn that first summer when he was almost thirteen and she was a bratty ten-year-old. She’d told him he looked stupid in that hat.

Boy, things had changed.

Speaking of twelve-year-olds, Todd had found a few friends who had made him their champion for taking out Corey Simms, who apparently was a notorious bully.

Todd seemed to be having a lot of fun, despite his slightly swollen eye. In fact, that black eye was almost like a badge of courage. She watched him laughing with the other kids. He’d grown some. His shirt and jeans looked too short in the arms and legs. They seemed baggy around his middle.

“Hey, Savannah,” Rocky called, “you’ve got to taste Cathy’s banana bread. It’s to die for.”

Savannah squared her shoulders and headed toward the book club members. She unfolded her lawn chair as it occurred to her that Todd wasn’t the only one with new friends. She had reconnected with Rocky and made some new friends, too.

Somehow, in a very short period of time, she’d come to feel as if she belonged here. It was an amazing feeling, given the ugly fight she’d had with Mom earlier in the day. For the first time in her memory, Savannah actually felt sorry for her mother.

Someone passed her a paper plate with a slice of banana bread and a cup filled with sweet tea.

“Where’s your husband?” Savannah asked Rocky.

“Oh, he’s over yonder somewhere, talking to Stone. When they start playing waltzes he’ll come over here and bow stiffly and ask for a dance. We can all pretend that we’re at the Netherfield ball.”

Molly snorted a laugh. “Hey, Savannah, if this were the Netherfield ball and you were Eliza Bennet, you’d have to dance with Bill Ellis first.”

A chorus of laughter followed. Savannah looked down at her plate as it occurred to her that, if anyone had played out a scene from Pride and Prejudice, it had been her—when she’d told the minister where to take his proposal and shove it.

She looked up. Everyone in the book club was grinning at her. Savannah felt her lips tugging upward. “Well,” she said, “he’s a little bit like Mr. Collins. He quotes Bible verses incessantly.”

Everyone started giggling except Hettie, who never giggled, ever.

Savannah looked up at the star-spangled sky. “I know that my aunt may have encouraged everyone to think about me and Bill in the same sentence, but maybe everyone needs to think again. Maybe my aunt is like Mrs. Bennet.”

“Exactly the point I made earlier, before you got here,” Molly said. “I mean, look at him. He’s over there with Jenny sucking up pie. He doesn’t look very heartbroken.”

“Kind of makes him even more like Mr. Collins, if you ask me,” Cathy said. “I mean, after Lizzy told Mr. Collins where he could go, didn’t he just up and marry Charlotte? And I’ll bet Jenny is a better cook than Charlotte Lucas ever was.”

“And besides,” Molly said, “didn’t Miriam say that Bill needed someone who was good with numbers? Well, there you go, Jenny is a math teacher. It’s just like last year at the barbecue dance. Everyone thought Rocky and Dash were the perfect fit.”

Savannah turned toward Rocky. “You and Dash? Really?”

Rocky shrugged. “He’s all right when you get him on the dance floor. And underneath that cool, calm, cowboy exterior beats a real living heart. He’s got several soft spots.”

Rocky paused for a long moment. “Hey, wait,” she said. “We’ve got it all wrong. If this were the Netherfield ball, you’d have to dance with your cousin first.” She laughed even harder. “That will be the day—to see you and Dash Randall dancing together.”

Savannah’s chest tightened. She wanted to dance with Dash. Earlier today he’d as much as suggested that she should dance every dance with him tonight.

But she refused to fall for Cousin Dash. That would mess up everything. Especially since Dash seemed to be so good for Todd, and Savannah was so very bad at relationships.

And just then Dash came striding across the lawn like Mr. Darcy, only with cowboy boots. He didn’t look at all like Colin Firth. He had much shorter hair and no sideburns, thank goodness. No, he looked more like, well, no one in particular except his own gorgeously handsome self.

“Princess, get your butt out of that chair and dance with me.” He delivered this line in a most Darcy-like snarl. As if he were asking against his own better judgment.

A definite tingle arose in Savannah’s core, and her heart started to pound. The chill bumps climbing up her arms reminded her of just how dangerous it was to dance with a man she found attractive.

“Oh, go on,” Rocky said. “Lizzy didn’t enjoy her dance but she endured.”

Dash blinked at Rocky. “What are you talking about?”

“Never mind,” Savannah said, getting out of her chair. She shouldn’t dance with him, but she was going to, and she had a feeling she would enjoy this dance a whole lot. “Let’s go.”

She took two steps and realized that the dancers were doing a country line dance that she didn’t know.

“Uh, what is that dance, the Achy Breaky?”

“No, honey, it’s the Boot Scoot Boogie, but have no fear, the next one is a waltz.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because he requested one.” Dash jerked his head in the direction of Lord Woolham, who managed a much better impression of Mr. Darcy as he strolled up and asked his wife to dance.

Dash snagged Savannah by the hand and pulled her out toward the street. She was overwhelmed by the heat of his touch, the rough texture of his skin, the bath-soap smell of him, and the fact that practically everyone at the dance was watching them.