The Devil Has Dimples (15 page)

I jammed my clothes into a suitcase, closed it and ran down
the back stairs.  I was running.

Running away from whatever past I might have, running away
from whatever future I might have.  I didn’t know who I was, and I honestly
didn’t care at this moment in time.  I knew deep in my heart that I was a good
person, and that’s all that counted.

Let Maudie keep her secrets.  They were hers and though they
might involve me, I didn’t care.

I swiped the tears from my eyes and tried to push the key in
the ignition, but I was too emotionally upset.  I just broke down and sobbed.

My car door opened and large hands pulled me out.  Grant
took me in his arms and I clung to him.  I could hear him speaking, but
couldn’t understand the words.  His hands held me tight.  He just stood there. 
Holding me.

I cried until I couldn’t cry anymore.  Then I sniffled.

One of Grant’s hands left my back, and in a few moments a
hankie was pressed into my hand.  After I wiped the tears away, and blew my
nose, I noticed that the hankie was pink.  He must have washed every hankie he
had.  I smiled to myself, then turned my face to see Grant.  His dark brown
eyes were solemn.  He hesitated a moment and then bent down and kissed me
gently on the lips.

I wasn’t going anywhere.

That kiss meant something.  I could feel it down to my
toes.  There was no way I was going to leave before I found out exactly what
was going on.  With me.  With him.

Especially with him.

I pushed him away, “Thanks.” I snuffled, wiping my nose
again.  I really needed to wash his pink items.

“Hank called me.  He heard what happened at the library and
saw you running past the Hole.  Naomi’s upset.  Bitsy’s missing.  Joanna got
fired from her volunteer position.”

He paused.  “You’ve really taken the town by storm.”

“I didn’t mean to.”

He pulled me back into his arms, holding me close.  “I
know.”

“So what do I do now?”

“Whatever you want.  Call it off.  Continue looking for your
father.”  He gave me a squeeze then pulled away.

“I don’t care what you do, just as long as you stay.”

Then he took me into his arms and really kissed me.

I stayed.

Thank heavens, I did.

Grant took my suitcase from my car and taking my hand pulled
me inside the building.

He put my suitcase on the floor and kissed me again.

We rushed up the stairs and he led me into my bedroom.  It
was the closest.

“You’re so beautiful.”  Grant murmured against my ear.  He
stood behind me, and I could feel tiny pinpricks of fire dot my skin.  His
tongue captured my earlobe, and I could feel the heat of his breath.  His arms
encircled me, and he pulled me even closer.  I could feel his arousal against
my nether regions and I wanted him.  Jock be damned.

Slowly, I turned in his arms and he captured my lips in
his.  A slow teasing kiss made me want to melt against him.

I did.

The smell from his after-shave caressed my senses, just as
his arms tightened around me.

I pressed my hands against his back, pushing him closer to
me.  His kiss deepened.

Oh, my.

His tongue slid into my mouth.  I attacked it.  I wanted
him.  I wanted all of him.  I wanted him
now
.

I moved my hands to the front of him, pushing his body away
just a little so I could get my fingers on the buttons of his shirt.

He never stopped kissing me.  His hand cupped the back of my
head, so we wouldn’t lose contact.  His other hand touched my breast.  My
nipple immediately puckered, wanting more, and he obliged.

His fingers nimbly undid my blouse buttons, and he opened
the material and pushed away from our kiss to view his handiwork.

He gave me a smile, and murmured.  “Beautiful.”

My breasts arched of their own accord, even without the help
of my magic bra, I wanted him to notice, and he did.

He caressed my breast and planted a slow, sucking kiss on
top of my rounded mound.  I leaned my head back and moaned.  It felt like
heaven.

He unsnapped the back of my bra, releasing me.

I hastily shook off the blouse and tore off the bra so that
he could see all of me.  He smiled again.

He captured a nipple in his mouth and began to suck as he
massaged the other breast and pulled me even closer with his free hand.

My breasts had a mind of their own.  They wanted to be held,
caressed, suckled.  They wanted it.  I wanted it.

I held his head between my hands, reveling in the touch of
his hair, the feel of his lips, the flickering of his tongue.

It wasn’t enough.

I wanted more.

Much more.

I willed my hands to release him, and I frantically began to
undo my pants.  I had to have him.  Now.

He moved to my other breast and I thought I would die.  My
hands stilled, and I enjoyed the movement of his tongue over my nipple, my
breast.  Then he began to slowly move his tongue down my torso.  I waited in
tense anticipation.  He didn’t disappoint me.

Slowly he peeled off my pants and eased them off my body, as
his tongue dragged down lower and lower.

He touched me with his tongue and I melted.  He pushed me
back and I landed on the bed.  Gently he opened my legs and began to devour me
with his tongue.

This was heaven.

His tongue flickered back and forth, then plunged deep
within me.

I cried out from the exquisite pain, then exploded.

Again.

Then, again.

He wanted me to come, and I did, again.

“You.  Give me you.”  I pleaded.

He lifted his head and gave me a wolfish smile.

“Next time.  This time’s for you.”

Then he proceeded to drive me crazy.

I should have felt ashamed.

But all I felt was a raging fire.  I wanted him so much now
that I was wild with desire.  My skin was on alert to his touch.  Waiting for
his fingers, his tongue, him.

Waiting for him.

As I moaned again, a long deep moan this time, begging for more,
wanting more, desperate for more.

He stopped and placed his head on my stomach.

“You’re killing me, lady.”

“Come inside me.”  I pleaded.

He kissed my mound one more time, giving me quivers and
melting my body once again.

“Next time.”

“Why not now?”

“I want you to want me more than you’ve ever wanted anything
in your life.”

“That’s right now.”  I murmured.

“No.  This time is for you.  Next time is for me.”

Grant went with me to the newspaper office, since it was
Saturday, we didn’t have much time, as they closed at noon.

T-Jack grinned when he saw us walk in.  He jumped up and
rubbed his hands together.  “Hey, kiddos, I’ve been waiting for ya!”

I think I needed an aspirin.  I grinned back at him, a weak
grin.  This was going to be trying.  Grant gave my arm a little squeeze with
his hand.  Whispering in my ear, he said.  “You can do it.”

I hope so.

T-Jack walked around his desk and taking my hand and arm
guided me to one of the two folding chairs in front of his desk.

“Your story comes out in tomorrow’s paper.  You’re gonna
love it.”  T-Jack said.

I rolled my eyes.  Grant grunted.  I didn’t dare look at
him.

I took out my notebook and turned to the quote sheet tucked
inside.

“So, what you got there, girlie?”  T-Jack asked.

“Just a couple of questions.”

He wiggled his eyebrows at me.  A delightful grin on his
face, he seemed charmed by me asking questions.

“Shoot!”

I rechecked my list.  I wanted to ask the most important
question first, just in case he didn’t want to answer the later questions.

“What does ‘
Je vous aimerai pour toujours
’ mean?”

T-Jack scratched his head.  Then held out his hand for my paper.

I handed it to him and he studied it for a minute.

“Your pronunciation is horrible.”

“Thanks,” I said.

He pointed to the paper with his finger.  “This means ‘I
will love you forever.’”

He from Grant to me, then back again.  “You kids want to
tell me something?”

“No!”  We both said in unison.  I prayed that I wouldn’t
blush and give anything away.

I reached for the paper and T-Jack handed it back to me.

I checked my notebook.  “What was happening in Boggy Bayou
during the last weeks of February and early part of March in nineteen hundred
and eighty-four?”

He rolled his eyes up to the ceiling, then he jumped up and
said.  “I’ll be back.”

He trotted off toward the back of the building and
disappeared down a hallway.

“Didn’t quite sound like Arnold, ’I’ll be back’.”  Grant
said.

His irrelevant remark make me laugh.

“Want a cola?”

“Sure,” I said.  Who knew how long T-Jack would be gone?

Grant walked over to an old-fashioned chest cooler in a
corner.  Deposited some change and came back with two drinks.

I gazed around the office.  It was a mess.  Just like
Maudie’s, and which I still needed to go through.  I wonder if she had any old
newspapers at the store.  Now that was a thought.  I didn’t see them when
Margie and I were redecorating, but that didn’t mean much.  They could be in
the kitchen area.  Or in the office from hell.

We heard a commotion from the hallway and eventually T-Jack
came into view.

He was pushing a cart, a rickety cart, with a huge newspaper
binder stacked on top.

He stopped the cart at a nearby table, and motioned for us
to come over, which we did.  “This is what you’re looking for.”  The phone rang
then and he went to answer it.

I ran my fingertips over the top of the first binder. 
January - June 1984 was embossed in gold lettering on the cover.

Grant picked it up and moved it to the table.  He gently
opened the cover and there were the old newspapers.  It seemed strange to look
and read articles of interest before I was born.  Probably before I was even
conceived.

We read over each page.

The new water tower was being built on the south edge of
town.  The sheriff was arrested and locked up in his own jail for selling
copper wire that was confiscated from a robbery.  That story made headlines. 
The local society news indicated that Mrs. Edward Buford and Mrs. Roger Claudel
motored to Baton Rouge.  That was funny, “motored,” an archaic term if I ever
heard one.

We read about deaths, marriages, who obtained marriage
licenses, who was being sued, and who announced to run for a vacated political
office.  All the town business was discussed on those dusty yellowing pages.

T-Jack was busy on the phone and wandered over now and then,
but Grant and I were on our own.

The last newspaper in February had a banner headline done in
red.

“FIRE”

Apparently, the water pressure was down due to the change
over from one water tower to another, and a simple household fire managed to
burn down three houses.  Mrs. Roberta Guillot was severely burned and taken to
the local hospital for treatment.  “Bobbie” as she was known to her friends
died a few hours later.

“Bobbie,” I said.

I had heard that name before.

“Who’s Bobbie?”  I asked Grant.

“Got me.  But I’ve heard the name before.”

We both looked for T-Jack, but he was still busy on the
phone.

I grabbed Grant’s arm.

“Bobbie was one of the girls in the six-pack picture.”

“The one who died,” he said.

“In a fire,” I said.

“Maudie’s two sets of stairs, a friend of hers died in a
fire.  It must be the same person,” he said.

We turned back to the paper to see if we could gleam any
information from the pages, but there were no further details listed.

Then we turned to the next week’s paper.

The cover story was still the fire.  My finger raced down
the page as I was caught up in the details of the long ago event.  Apparently
the fire caught her unaware of the danger, her husband was able to rescue her,
but she had burns over fifty percent of her body.  She was a few months
pregnant and died a few hours later.

How sad.  I felt for Maudie and her friend.  What a tragic
loss.

When I turned the page I heard Grant sudden intake of
breath.

He reached over and put his index finger on a picture of a
woman standing next to a man, holding his hat in his hand.

“That’s Maudie.”

Sure enough, there was her name.  She was standing next to
her friend’s husband at the funeral.  They both looked so sad.

“What does it mean?”  I asked.

“I don’t know.”

I ran my finger down the rest of the news, gossip,
announcements, etc., through the rest of the pages of March, but we couldn’t
find anything more that related to Maudie.

T-Jack was still on the phone.

I studied the picture of my mother.  She was sad in the
picture, but she was lovely. I couldn’t see any resemblance, but it didn’t
matter.  This was my mother.  I wondered if she was pregnant with me, if she
was, it was too early for her to know.  I gave out a deep sigh.  There was so
much I would never know.

Grant closed the binder and placed it back on the cart.  We
sat down on the folding chairs and waited.

Whoever T-Jack was talking to on the phone must have been
long-winded as all we could hear was an occasional, “Uh-huh.”

I was lulled into a semiconscious state, wondering if the
fire had anything to do with me, and if so, what?

We heard T-Jack slam down the phone, then he yelled.  “I
gotta go.  See you kids later.”  And he left.

Grant and I just sat there.  Stunned.

“I wonder what that was about.”  Grant said.

“Did you ever pick up on who he was talking to?”

“No.  But I’ve never heard him listen quite so long without
talking either.”