2 Heroes & Hooligans in Goose Pimple Junction (15 page)

“Yeah. Yeah, maybe I will call Charlotte. Doubt we’ll go to the diner. I’m not much welcome there, either. But I understand about your mama and them.”

“Well . . .” Martha Maye hemmed.

“I won’t keep y’all. I’m just out for a quick stroll. Y’all behave.” He waved and shuffled on down the sidewalk.

Johnny drove them home and insisted on going inside to check things out before he left. When he’d made sure the house was safe, he walked outside and Martha Maye followed, wondering if they were ever going to go on a real date.

As they walked to his car he said, “Um, I don’t suppose, uh, would you. . . ”

Martha Maye cocked her head and looked up into his eyes. “Would you like to have dinner with me sometime?” She didn’t realize she’d been holding her breath.

“I’d like that, Johnny,” she squeaked out. “When did you have in mind?”

Johnny let out a relieved sigh, which made her smile on the inside, knowing he’d been holding his breath, too. “I’m on duty this weekend. How about next Saturday night?” he said, putting his hat on and grinning like a fool.

“Sounds great, but …” she paused a moment, feeling embarrassed about what she was going to say. “Why don’t I meet you there? I’m not exactly a free woman yet, and I don’t want people to talk.”

“Sure. I understand.” Johnny nodded his head. He opened the car door, turned, and looked at her. “How about we meet at the restaurant in the Buttermilk Hill Inn? You know, that country inn about thirty miles out of town? Is that too far for you to go? I just thought maybe we wouldn’t run into too many people we know, is all.”

“That would be lovely. Seven o’clock?”

He got into the car. “See you then.”

He put the car in reverse and backed out of the driveway. His wide smile pleased Martha Maye. She hoped she hadn’t sounded too needy when she accepted his invitation practically before he got it out of his mouth. Then a thought struck her.

What in the world am I gonna wear?

“She is literally clueless,” Lenny said to himself. He sat in his usual surveillance spot just around the corner from his wife’s house. “But then again, maybe she doesn’t see me because she only has eyes for
Johnny
,” he said “Johnny” with a high-pitched love-struck voice and then blew a loud, wet raspberry.

His cell phone rang, and he answered it. “Yes, Big Darryl. I’m just filling the car up. I’ll be right back to the store.”

He hung up and muttered, “Don’t get your tighty-whities in a wad.” Starting the car, he continued talking to himself. “I need to get outta here anyway before that crazy witch spots me again. That woman scares me. She must be outta her ever-loving mind.” He drove slowly past Martha Maye’s house.
But I’ll be back, Martha Maye, darlin’, count on it, just as sure as God made them little green apples.

Lenny drove off toward Big Darryl D’s Car Country singing off-key, “‘Cause God didn’t make little green apples, and it don’t somethin’ in somethin’ somethin’ in the summertime.”

It’s easy to get off a bucking mule.

~Southern Proverb

L
enny cupped his hand around his mouth and called to his daughter, “You’re literally slower than molasses running uphill in January.” She stood in the field looking for the perfect pumpkin. “You don’t have to get the biggest one out here, you know.”

Martha Maye, Butterbean, and Lenny were at the Spurlock Farm U-pick pumpkin patch just outside Goose Pimple Junction. It was a perfect fall Sunday afternoon. The sun was high in the blue sky, with the temperature in the seventies. The trees were brilliant with yellow, red, and orange leaves that fluttered to the ground with a light breeze. Pumpkins dotted the field for acres. Butterbean was examining every one in the patch—and some of them twice.

“What’s wrong with the first seven you picked out? You got a whole row here that look fine to me,” Lenny grumped, pointing to the row of pumpkins lined up beside each other on a dirt path running alongside the pumpkin patch.

“Oh, now don’t get riled up over nothing. She likes to narrow it down, you know that. We go through this every year,” Martha Maye told him. “When she sees one she likes, she adds it to the lineup. Then, when she’s ready, she’ll stand back, look at them all, and make her decision.” Martha Maye broke away from Lenny and joined Butterbean in the search for the perfect pumpkin.

Butterbean eventually had fifteen pumpkins lined up, and she picked the biggest, fattest, heaviest one of them all. Lenny picked it up, and they rode the hay wagon back from the fields, paid for Butterbean’s twenty-two-pound choice, and Martha Maye’s sixteen-pounder, and took them to the car. Then they headed to the petting zoo. Lenny exhibited more patience with his daughter there, going from pen to pen, talking to and petting the animals with her. He made up little stories to tell her as they visited the pigs, goats, and rabbits, and Martha Maye could see Butterbean was having fun. She wished she could say the same for herself. She couldn’t get Johnny out of her mind, and she couldn’t help but notice that even though Lenny was being sweet with Butterbean, he was checking out every woman in the vicinity.

“Can we go up to the restaurant and eat fried chicken, Daddy?”

“I reckon so.” Lenny reached for his daughter’s hand.

“And mashed taters with gravy and hot rolls?”

“You know it.” He held his daughter’s hand and put his arm around Martha Maye. They walked past the lake, squinting from the sunlight reflecting off the surface of the water.
What a perfect day
, Martha Maye thought.
Or would be if
. . . she sighed out loud. She wished she could keep her mind off Johnny.

It was dark when Lenny pulled into the driveway. The three of them were drained after an afternoon and evening at the pumpkin farm.

Martha Maye kissed the top of her daughter’s head. “Butterbean, it’s a school night. Go in and get ready for bed, while your daddy and I unload the car.”

“Okay, Mama.”

After Lenny and Martha Maye unloaded pumpkins, gourds, and apples, she stood outside, propped her hands at the back of her waist, and lifted her nose into the air, breathing in the woodburning scents from someone’s fireplace.

Lenny turned to her. “We had a nice day, Marty. It was nice being a family again.” He walked up and wrapped his arms around her. She let him, until she felt his hands going south, then she pulled away.

“I’d better go see about Butterbean.”

Lenny followed her inside.

“Baby, you’re killing me. Why you always pull away like that? It’s been too long. Come on, baby,” Lenny pleaded, trying to pull her to him again, but she broke free.

“Lenny, it’s been a nice day. Don’t spoil it. I’m going to kiss Butterbean goodnight.” He followed her upstairs and into Butterbean’s room. Their daughter’s face was shiny clean, her long brown hair brushed smooth, her pink nightgown the pinkest of pink.

“Is Daddy spending the night?” she asked, bouncing on her knees on the bed.

“No, honey. Daddy’s going back to his hotel.”

“I could spend the night,” Lenny piped up. Martha Maye glared at him.

“Can he, Mama? Can he?”

“Not tonight,” Martha Maye said firmly.

“Then can he read to me before he goes?”

“I suppose.” She kissed her daughter goodnight and added, “Just a quick one.”

Martha Maye went downstairs and out to the backyard for some air. She picked a handful of flowers from the waning garden, then took them inside. As she filled a vase with water at the kitchen sink, Lenny came up from behind and wrapped his arms around her. She jumped, splashing water over the countertop. “Lenny!”

“Ah, c’mon, darlin’, let me get to know the new you.” He propped his hands on either side of her on the counter, pinning her in. Pressing up against her, he attempted to kiss her neck as she squirmed.

“Getting that child to bed was literally like trying to nail Jell-O to a tree, but Carrie finally fell asleep. Now it’s me and you time.”

“It’s you and me,” Martha Maye snapped, trying to get out of his grasp, but he held her in place. “And no thank you.”

“Okay, Miss Schoolteacher. Let’s
you and me
go upstairs. I’ve literally been undressing you in my mind all day, sugar. Now let me do it for real.” He had her pinned so tight she could hardly move.

“Yeah, me and every other woman you saw.” She dropped her head and tried to duck underneath his arm. He wrapped both of his arms around her waist, keeping her from moving.

Hands grasping the edge of the sink, and in a deadly calm voice, Martha Maye said, “Lenny. Let. Me. Go.”

“Aw, you don’t mean that, precious. C’mon. Show Lenny some lovin’.” He moved a hand down a little until it reached the hem of her shirt. She felt his hand on her bare stomach. As it began to travel upward and his other arm held her still, she tried again to squirm free.

“Lenny, I’m not kidding. Let me go, dabnamit.”

“Not until you let me go, if you know what I mean,” he said into her ear, his hand exploring under her shirt, his groin mashing into her backside.

She stomped on his foot, and he yelped but tightened his arm around her. With his other hand, he grabbed a handful of her hair, pulling her head back so he had a firmer hold on her. It hurt like fire to move even a fraction of an inch.

“Stop playing hard to get, baby,” he said with his lips against her ear. “You know you want me.” Keeping a firm grip on the handful of hair, he steered her around to face the kitchen doorway. And then he froze.