One More Knight

Especially, a hard, practical inner voice reminded her, when she still needed him. There were still some things she had to have his help in order to do.

The fogged mirror was clearing. It was her own eyes that stared back at her now, bloodshot and puffy, but determined. Oh, yes, there was still something she had to do. And she was sorry-truly sorry-but she was going to have to go on using that nice, decent man for a little while longer. There was simply no one else she could turn to.

But no more of what happened last night, she told herself firmly. That was unforgivable. I won’t let that happen again.

As if in denial, a shiver coursed through her. Her nipples pouted. Her body’s secret places throbbed and tingled, mocking her.

Jimmy Joe cradled the phone and looked over at his beloved, who was standing at the window watching traffic flow by on the Atlanta Beltway far below. He could tell just by looking at her that she was ticked off. “Well, that was Mama,” he said. “She just heard from Troy.”

“So I gathered,” said Mirabella stiffly.

He walked over to her, put his arms around her from behind and pulled her back against him. “Is all that freeway traffic makin’ you homesick for L.A.?”

“Huh? Not a chance.”

“Look,” he said in a cajoling tone, rocking her, “I know you’re disappointed with Troy for runnin’ off like he did and leavin’ the nursery job half-finished-” he paused when she snorted “-but I think maybe you’re gonna forgive him when you hear what he’s doin’ instead.”

“He told your mom he was going to Alabama.”

“Yeah, but you’re never gonna guess who he’s with in Alabama.”

She turned in his arms, scowling suspiciously. “Who?”

“Your friend Charly.”

Mirabella’s mouth dropped open. “Charly! But that’s-Charly? What’s she doing here? What’s she doing in Alabama?”

Jimmy Joe didn’t even try to stop himself from grinning; it wasn’t often he got to see his beloved dumbfounded. “Mama didn’t say. What she told me was, Troy said to tell you that your friend Charly was in Alabama, and that she was havin’ some problems over there and he was gonna stay on awhile and help her out.”

“But-but what kind of trouble? And why-?”

“And that’s all she told me,” Jimmy Joe said gently but firmly. “Marybell, honey, I’m as much in the dark as you are.”

She twisted out of his arms and sat down dazedly on the bed, “Charly…and Troy? I don’t believe it.”

Jimmy Joe was still grinning. “Sort of interestin’, though, ain’t it?”

Still confounded, Mirabella said, “Mmm…” then did a double take and flashed him one of her looks. “Oh, no-no way. That’s impossible. Out of the question. Charly and Troy? Never in a million years.”

It was her most stubborn, know-everything look. He could see she was primed for a good argument, which was fine with him. Arguing with Mirabella had a stimulating effect on him.

He went and sat down on the bed beside her and said, “Come on, now. Why not? You’ve met Troy, and from everything you’ve told me about Charly, seems to me they might just hit it off pretty good.”

“Well,” said Mirabella, thoughtfully chewing her lip, “for starters, he’s Southern.”

“Well, hell-”

She shook her head. “I’m sorry, but there’s just no way in the world Charly would ever let herself get mixed up with somebody from the South. No way.”

“I know somebody else woulda said that about six months ago,” Jimmy Joe said mildly; it wasn’t in his nature to take offense.

Which was something he knew Mirabella was still getting used to. So he wasn’t surprised that she had to look into his eyes for a long measuring moment to find the reassurance she was searching for before she went on, flushed and earnest, “No, you don’t understand. Charly hates everything about the South. She grew up in Alabama, in some little tiny town-she actually ran away from home when she was sixteen. She swears she’d sooner die than ever go back.”

“The South’s not all country roads and rednecks,” Jimmy Joe argued. “You know that Troy’s seen more of the world than most people. He knows his way around.”

Mirabella was quiet for a moment. Then she let out a breath and shook her head. “It’s not just that. I mean, I love Charly-she’s a wonderful person. She’s funny and smart and has a heart of pure mush-”

“Sounds like somebody else I know.”

She laughed softly, and for a minute or two he thought she might be ready to call it quits on this particular discussion. But there was still more she wanted to say, and after too short an interlude, she gave him a gentle push and went determinedly on, “but the point is, she does a good job of keeping that fact a secret.” She paused. “Charly… protects herself. She has fun, she dates a lot of guys, but she never lets it get too serious, you know? She never lets herself care too much. Never lets herself…”

“Love?”

“Well…yeah.” She was looking into his eyes, and Jimmy Joe could see that she was thinking about how close she’d come to being in that same condition herself, and feeling the wonder and awe of her own miracle all over again. It was something he had no trouble understanding, since it was his miracle, too.

She gave her head a shake, pulling herself away from her own scary thoughts. “What I think is, something happened to Charly when she was young, and that’s why she ran away. I think she must have gotten hurt somehow. I don’t mean just some broken love affair-I mean really hurt, you know? So badly that I don’t think she’s ever gotten over it. I think she’s just made up her mind she’s not ever going to let herself get hurt again.”

“Minds can be unmade,” Jimmy Joe reminded her, dipping his head until his lips found the sweet, fragrant softness of her neck.

“Mmm…never happen…” Her words grew slurred; she moved her head slowly back and forth. “Charly’s pretty stubborn.”

Jimmy Joe chuckled. He could feel her begin to tremble as he laid her gently back against the cushion of his arm and whispered against her lips, “Never underestimate the power of a Starr.”

“Breakfast first,” said Troy as he backed the Cherokee out of the Mourning Springs Motel parking lot. “And a gallon of coffee. Then the car.” It wasn’t the first time he’d said it; Charly had been all for going out and chasing down her rental car first thing, and it was taking some doing to dissuade her. He couldn’t blame her for wanting to get her suitcases back, but he also knew what blood sugar could do to a body when it bottomed out.

“Jeez…” She gave in with poor grace, muttering and swearing, and with conditions of her own. “All right, here’s a Burger King-we can go through the drive-through.”

“You kiddin’?” Troy glanced in the rearview mirror at Bubba, who he knew was going to be panting and drooling all down the back of the middle seat at the mere mention of Burger King. “That fast-food stuff’ll kill you, don’t you know that? Naw, what we need is some real food.”

Her snort was ripe with sarcasm. “By which, being Southern, I imagine you mean grits.”

He smiled good-naturedly but didn’t say anything for a second or two, not being exactly sure which she was feeling sarcastic about-the South, or the grits. Then, squinting into the morning sun, he said, “Okay, then, you bein” Southern-”

“Ex!”

He could have told her there was no such thing, that it was almost a scientifically proved fact that you could take the girl out of the South, but no way in hell you could ever take the South out of the girl. But the mood she was in, he thought maybe he’d best make that point some other time. So he nodded and conceded, “Ex-Southern. So what do you eat with your eggs, California? Quiche?”

“Hash browns,” she snapped, and threw him a bitter look, like a disappointed child. “Preferably those little greasy stuck-together patties they give you at fast-food places.” He laughed. She studied him for a while, then said,