NOT What I Was Expecting (10 page)

It took an hour
and a half of diligent work, but we got it all packed away.  The easy talking,
laughing, and joking between the four of us was relaxing.  I couldn’t help but
notice how easily Luke fit in with the rest of us.  Theoretically, he should
have seemed like the outsider since CeCe, Fry, and I spend so much time
together, but it wasn’t like that at all.

As we were leaving
Fry got a handshake, CeCe and I got quick hugs again, and we all got lots of
thanks from Luke.

On the drive home,
CeCe looked over at me from the driver’s seat, “He’s pretty terrific, huh? 
You’re glowing.”

“I am not,” I
protested.  “I’m sweaty.  All that hard work, you know,”

CeCe was still
eyeing me, so I conceded with a sigh, “He could melt the icicles off the North
Pole sign.”

“Oh, yeah,” CeCe
concurred.

After a fitful
night’s sleep, I woke up feeling groggy and unmotivated to get Friday started. 
I remembered Fry was opening the store this morning so that CeCe and I could
pick up supplies before going to the maternity shop.  If CeCe could handle the
shopping by herself, I could drop by and check on Luke.  I mean, someone
should, don’t you think?

Finally motivated,
I catapulted out of bed and didn’t slow down until I’d completed my shower,
teeth, face, and hair.  I decided to go with a thin hunter green skirt, tight
black sweater, and black pumps today.

I stopped in the
kitchen to pour some coffee and found CeCe looking all comfortable in her
recliner.  She had a cup of coffee in one hand, a book in the other, and Sassy
Cat in residence on her lap.

“Book Club
tonight?” I asked.

“No, I still have
a couple of days to finish this, but I’m at a good part and don’t want to put
it down.  Tonight is my reading gig at Greener Pastures,” she reminded me.

“Don’t you find it
kind of sad?” I asked.  “You know, how people send their elderly relatives to
Greener Pastures?  I know that’s where we put MeeMaw when we couldn’t take care
of her anymore, but I never liked that name.”

I was proud of
CeCe for continuing her weekly visits to read to the elderly after MeeMaw had
passed on to even
greener
pastures, but I enjoyed giving her a hard
time.

“I’m sure you are
aware that they have one of the highest ratings and best reputations of any
nursing home in this state.  So lay off their name.  The care is good.  The
name is lame.  I would hate to see that reversed,” CeCe defended with her usual
gusto.

“You’re right, of
course,” I responded, “as usual.”  I decided to lay it on thick since I was
about to ask her for a favor.  “Hey, do you mind if I stick you with doing the
supply run this morning?” I inquired, trying to sound all innocent and
nonchalant.  “I want to pick up some coffee and donuts and take them by Luke’s
to see how he’s doing.”

When CeCe lowered
her book, she was grinning.  “Sure, I could do that.  Or, you could shop, and I
could check on him?” she offered and then paused for my reaction.

I gave her nothing
but a blank stare.

CeCe raised her
book, pretended to continue reading for a moment, and then said from behind her
book, “Fine.  I’m going to be your Maid of Honor.”

I decided to let
it go, since I wanted to hit the road.  As I stashed my coffee cup and grabbed
my purse, I yelled, “Thanks, CeCe!  I owe you one.”

CHAPTER 7

When I pulled into
Luke’s driveway, the back of his dark blue SUV was standing open.  As I parked
my car in the back of the driveway and off to the side, Luke came through the
front door.  He walked toward his Kia Sportage but saw me or my car before he
got there.  He continued on to his SUV, tossed the duffel into the back as he
passed, and turned toward me while I was getting out of my car with two cups of
coffee and a bag of donuts.  He smiled, and though I wasn’t sure if he was
smiling because of me or the coffee and donuts, I chose to think it was moi. 
When he came closer, I could see the pain and fatigue in his eyes, which made
me appreciate the effort it must have taken for that smile.

“Morning, Maggie. 
You must be a mind reader, ‘cause I was just thinking about, uh, coffee,” Luke
hesitated slightly when he indicated it was the java on his mind.

“I thought fresh
coffee and donuts might help jumpstart your day.  I know you have all kinds of
food that people brought, but . . . ,” I hesitated, feeling I was about to
begin rambling and hoped he would save me from myself by interrupting.

“Nah, this is
great,” my hero exclaimed.  “I could use a jumpstart today.”

It was a fairly
breezy October morning, and the golden leaves were rustling both in the trees
and on the ground.  That’s the only reason I can imagine why neither Luke nor I
heard anything until it was too late.  As I was handing Luke one of the cups of
coffee, my knees buckled, and I almost hit the ground.  It’s a minor issue,
really no big deal, but I would like to point out that this time IT WASN’T MY
FAULT!  The back of my legs had just been plowed into by a very nicely dressed
elderly woman riding side-saddle on one of those electric scooters.

“Whoa - hoa!” Luke
yelled when he caught the cup just as I let go, which saved the coffee I was
trying to hand off.  He did a momentary juggle thing, but managed to hold on
without pouring its contents all over either of us.

“Ho?  Who’s a ho? 
This little girl here?  Well if that doesn’t just take the cake.  In my day,
ho’s didn’t dress like that,” the little NASCAR scooter driver observed.  “I
guess now they’re all corporate ho’s, or something, huh?” she asked Luke.

“No, no, Ms.
Beulah.  This is Maggie.  She’s a friend who brought coffee and donuts,” Luke
said loud enough for all the neighbors to hear.  “Maggie, this is our neighbor
Ms. Beulah,” Luke explained as he introduced my attacker.

The exquisitely
dressed and coiffed Ms. Beulah looked me up and down and turned her attention
to Luke.  “Well, Pretty Boy, if you say so.  Now, I’m not judging you
understand, because when my first husband went off to fight the war 3 weeks
after we got married, I became a working girl myself.”

Neither Luke nor I
responded to that right away, which turned out to be a good thing.

“Of course, I was
working at the refinery since they were short on men,” Ms. Beulah explained, as
she dusted a leaf off of her burgundy sweater dress and adjusted her pearls. 
“But I don’t judge.  A woman’s gotta do what a woman’s gotta do.”  Once she had
her outfit and jewelry arranged nicely, she looked up at Luke, nodded toward me
and said, “Do any of those donuts in that bag she’s holding have sprinkles on
them?”

“Oh, yes, ma’am,”
I offered, anxious for the ho to redeem herself in Ms. Beulah’s eyes.  I
regretted that it hadn’t occurred to me to offer them without her asking, but
the back of my legs were still burning from her attempt to run me over.  I know
there’s probably an etiquette rule for offering sweets to the scooter driver who
nearly mowed you down like a bowling pin, but I’m afraid I’m not well versed in
that ruling.  I unrolled the top of the bag and held it out to Ms. Beulah so
she could choose a donut.

She leaned up,
looked in the bag, and said, “Pretty Boy, I didn’t bring my glasses, but that
looks like sprinkles on the one on the end there.  Does that one with the
chocolate frosting have sprinkles?”

Luke leaned over,
looked in the bag, and chuckled, “Let’s see, Ms. Beulah.  Ah, yes, the one on
the end with the chocolate frosting has sprinkles.  Would you like me to get
that one for you?”

Ms. Beulah grinned
up at Pretty Boy, I mean Luke, gave him a playful tap on his arm and explained,
“Oh heavens no, I can’t have sprinkles.  I have the diabetes.  Of course, I
don’t have it bad like my sister.  She has it bad, so she can’t have
chocolate.  I can have the donut, and I can have the chocolate frosting, but you’re
gonna have to scrape off those sprinkles, because I can’t have the sprinkles.” 
Ms. Beulah turned to me, because I guess she was feeling rude that she wasn’t
including the ho in the conversation.  “Those sprinkles are made entirely of
sugar, don’t you know.”

While Ms. Beulah
cleared that up for me, Luke silently chuckled to himself as he held the donut
and scraped off the offending sprinkles for Ms. Beulah.  Once he was finished,
he handed her the donut on a napkin he’d pulled out of the bag.

“Oh, how
delightful,” Ms. Beulah practically sang as she admired her donut.  “You know,
Barney was so proud of Pretty Boy here,” she smiled and said to me.  “Barney
said he didn’t understand why a young man would just drop everything to hang
around with an old coot like him, but that’s what Pretty Boy did.  Of course,
Barney called him by his name, but I can never remember his name, so Barney
said that’s okay, just call him whatever you want.”  Ms. Beulah turned her
adoring eyes toward Luke, gave him a big smile, and said, “I told Barney, I’ll
just have to call him Pretty Boy, because he’s just so darn good looking. 
Don’t you know, I thought for sure Barney would be jealous, but he told me he
looked just like Pretty Boy when he was younger,” Ms. Beulah shook her head and
laughed.  “I sure am gonna miss Barney.”

Ms. Beulah pulled
a tissue out of her pocket and began to dab at her eyes, but it was clear the
tears were about to exceed the tissue’s absorbency capacity.  Luke and I looked
at each other at the same instant, and I think the silent request to ‘do
something’ was coming from both of us simultaneously.

“Ah, Ms. Beulah,”
Luke began carefully, which gave me the impression he was stalling while he
came up with an idea.  “I don’t think Uncle Barney ever told Maggie about the
time you had to call 911 for him.  Why don’t you tell her that story, because
it’s a classic.”

“Oh, dear!  You
never heard the 911 story?” Ms. Beulah asked wiping her eyes and shoving her
tissue back in her pocket, “It’s a doozy.  You see, Barney came to my house for
coffee and my famous buttermilk drop cookies every Thursday.  About a year ago,
I was busy with my sewing and didn’t realize the time, so I had the machine
going 90 to nothin’ when Barney rang the doorbell.  Well, of course I didn’t
hear him with my bobbin flying the way it was.  He thought I must have had
something come up to take me away from home at our regular coffee time, so he
just left.  Wouldn’t you know, I finally took a breather, looked at the time,
and realized I’d missed our coffee time?  I decided to hop on my scooter and
high tail it over to Barney’s to tell him come on over.  So that’s what I did. 
I hopped on my scooter, went out through my garage, and turned the wrong way. 
So of course, I throw it into reverse, back up at my usual speed, and just
about get bucked off my scooter.  All of a sudden I hear, ‘MAN DOWN!  MAN
DOWN!’  I turn around and see what nearly bucked me off my scooter was when I
ran over Barney.  He had me so flustered, I called 911, and all I could tell
them was ‘MAN DOWN!  MAN DOWN!’  Turned out he was coming back, because he got
worried that maybe I was hurt, so he wanted to see if he needed to call 911. 
That Barney sure could make me laugh.”

Luke and Ms.
Beulah were both laughing when she finished her story, and I admit I was
smiling, but I felt I had to ask, “Was Barney hurt?”

“Oh, no, he wasn’t
hurt,” Ms. Beulah assured me.  “He had a tiny little fracture in his foot and a
little bitty hairline fracture in his leg, but he wasn’t hurt.  Ah, that
Barney.  We always did have fun when we got together.”

I looked at Luke
for a clarification, and he said, “Uncle Barney sent me a letter about his
incredibly kind friends and neighbors who were taking such good care of him
while he was recuperating from his horrible ordeal with a biker gang that tried
to kill him.  That’s why I came to visit for a couple of weeks last year to see
how he was doing.  I discovered Ms. Beulah here was the leader and only member
of the scooter gang that was after him, so he told me to go back to my life and
not worry about him.”

“Don’t be fooled,
Missy,” Ms. Beulah informed me with her finger pointed in my face for emphasis.
 “Pretty Boy here is not someone to be trifled with.  Just because he’s good
looking doesn’t mean there’s nothing going on upstairs.  You get my meaning?”

“Uh, yes ma’am,” I
assured her, even though I had no idea if she meant to snatch him up because
he’s a good one, or leave him alone because I’m a ho.  Truth is, I didn’t think
I’d look very attractive sprawled out on the ground with scooter tracks on me,
as I yelled, WOMAN DOWN, WOMAN DOWN!  That’s why there’s not much she could say
that I wouldn’t agree to at the moment.

“I’ll say this
just one more time,” Ms. Beulah informed Luke, as she crooked her finger and
beckoned him closer.  Whatever she whispered in Luke’s ear made him smile and
nod.  She waved at us, pointed her little scooter of death toward her driveway,
and headed home, as she drove with one hand and munched on her
donut-sans-sprinkles with the other.

I knew it was none
of my business.  I knew it was likely nothing to do with me, since not
everything is about me, you know.  I knew I had no right or reason to ask.

“What did she
say?” I had to ask.  If Luke was really as perfect as Ms. Beulah and CeCe said
he was, I think he would have offered the info without making me ask.  Now
that’s
chivalry.

“Um, it wasn’t
anything, really,” he lied.

“Yeah, that’s a
pretty big smile on your face, but it’s because of nothing really?” I mocked.

“No, no, no,
wait,” Luke tried to backpedal faster.  “I’m not smiling because of what she
said.  It has more to do with – uh,” Luke paused and gave his head a quick
shake.

I hoped that shake
would help him find some clever words, ‘cause he seemed unable to locate any at
the moment.

“I mean, yeah, I’m
smiling because what she said was — wait, what was the question?” he asked in
an obvious attempt to stall for time.

Nope.  Clever
words apparently still M.I.A.  Before I got the chance to remind him, he must
have decided his avoidance made the truth look worse than it actually was.

He did the little
head shake again before he said, “Oh yeah.  What she said,” he paused either to
add to the suspense or because he was enjoying himself, as he took a sip of his
coffee.  “She just reminded me again that she has a granddaughter who isn’t
married.  She wanted to point out that even though her granddaughter isn’t our
age, she also isn’t a ho, so I should keep that in mind.”

Okay, now I was
getting a little tired of being referred to as a ho.  I felt we’d run that joke
into the ground, and she had driven her scooter over it several times.  To make
matters worse Luke was still chuckling.

I let out a big sigh
and asked, “Does she really think that about me?”

“Of course not!”
Luke stopped chuckling and looked for a second like he felt bad for me. 
“Maggie, she’s a joker.  That’s why she and Uncle Barney got along so well,
because he would never let go of a joke either.  To regular people, that was
funny only the first couple of times, and that’s not what I was laughing
about.”  Luke paused, suddenly very interested in choosing a donut.  I got the
impression he didn’t want to say anything more about Ms. Beulah’s whispered
information.

“Look, it’s really
fine.  You don’t have to tell me what else she said if you don’t want to,” I
generously offered, letting him off the hook.

“She didn’t tell
me anything else,” Luke the liar said.

“Uh huh,” I agreed
to let him get away with it.

“Look, if you must
know,” he cracked, “Ms. Beulah tried to sweeten the deal by telling me what her
granddaughter does for a living, and I found that kind of funny.  Truth is I
really don’t want to tell you what she does, because you’ll tell Fry.  Just
because I think it’s kind of funny doesn’t mean I want to be reminded of it
every time I see you guys.”

“Let me guess. 
She’s an exotic dancer?” I asked.

“NO!” Luke hooted.

“Topless
waitress?” I guessed.

“NO!  And let me
clear up something here,” Luke laughed.  “First, get your mind out of the
gutter.  Second, when Ms. Beulah said she wasn’t our age, it’s because her
granddaughter is more mature than we are — not less.  Her granddaughter is 48
years old!”

“Oh, okay, then I
can see I might have been in the wrong ballpark,” I admitted, “but you didn’t
give me any hints.  I was trying to think of something that would be
embarrassing, or why wouldn’t you just man up and tell me?”

“All right, all right
– I don’t think I can take any more of your awful guesswork anyway.  Her
granddaughter is a psychic in New Orleans, and even though she can’t pick the
winning lottery numbers, Ms. Beulah wanted me to know she has had some success
with picking winners when betting on football teams.  There.  Are you happy
now?”

“Oh yeah, I’m
extremely happy now,” I said biting my lip to hold it down to a smile and keep
the laugh inside.

“So you won’t tell
Fry, will you?” Luke asked still grinning at me.

“Sorry, but I’m
definitely going to tell Fry.  And CeCe, but that’s all,” I acknowledged
truthfully.  “But look, I really didn’t mean to hold you up this long.”