“He’s long gone. And I love flowers, thank you.” Lovey stepped aside so that Royal could cross the threshold.
This really felt like a date. Royal rubbed her hands against her trouser-clad thighs. Were her palms actually sweating? Pull it together! She realized Lovey was watching her and so she smiled.
“Come in the kitchen. Dinner is just about ready and I’ll put these in some water.” Royal followed her. She couldn’t help noticing Lovey’s hips as she walked. The summer weight cotton dress was tailored perfectly to hang low at her waist to highlight her slender, girlish curves. Lovey was so pretty it took Royal’s breath away.
Lovey looked over her shoulder at Royal as she trimmed the flowers and put them in a tall glass vase. The look she gave Royal hit her full in the chest. She nervously cleared her throat for fear that Lovey was at that instant reading her thoughts, all of which had moved ahead to what she hoped would be happening much later in the evening.
“What are you thinking?” Lovey asked. Having finished with the flowers, she set them at the end of the kitchen table.
“Nothing and everything.”
“You really are a poet, aren’t you?” Lovey motioned toward a place setting already on the table. “Why don’t you sit down and relax?”
“I’ll sit down, but I’m not sure I can relax. Am I the only one who’s nervous? Why am I so nervous?” She asked the question aloud, but directed it more to herself.
“I’m not sure, but I’m a little nervous myself. I’m glad I’m not the only one.” Lovey poured iced tea for both of them and set a glass in front of Royal. “Why don’t we just sit and talk until it passes?”
“Okay.” Royal let out a sigh and leaned back in her chair. “Can I help with anything?”
Lovey looked up and checked the kitchen clock. “No, everything is ready, I think. I made baked chicken with potatoes and carrots. Nothing fancy. I hope that’s okay.”
“Anything will be great.” Royal’s stomach was so full of butterflies she expected not to be able to eat much anyway.
Lovey busied herself serving the food. She leaned over Royal’s shoulder, balancing one hand there as she settled the plate in front of her. She kissed Royal lightly on the cheek before taking her own seat. She watched with pleasure as Royal took a few bites of the dinner she’d prepared and smiled in her direction.
Not for the first time, Lovey was struck by how truly classically handsome Royal was. Not quite feminine, not quite masculine, but rather androgynously good-looking. She sensed she was making Royal a little self-conscious by studying her so intently. Averting her eyes with great effort, she tasted a few forkfuls of her supper.
“Ever since I saw the bullet hole in your car I’ve been wanting to ask more about what you do.” Lovey took another bite, chewing slowly, watching Royal’s face again.
“What do you want to know?”
“I guess I want to know why you do it? Why deliver moonshine at such risk?”
“Well, it’s not the risk I’m after. Oh, well, maybe a little risk is invigorating if I were to be truthful. But what it really is for me is the driving. I love to drive fast.”
“You could drive fast without the moonshine.”
“I suppose you’re right, but I wouldn’t get paid to do it.”
“So it’s the driving and the money then?”
Royal seemed to be considering the question. “Yes. If I could figure out another way to get paid for driving I’d surely consider it.”
“Do you ever drink the stuff you deliver?”
“No, I really prefer whiskey.”
“I guess I don’t know the difference.” Lovey realized her Southern Baptist upbringing had her at a disadvantage when it came to spirits of the liquid denomination.
“Whiskey is aged in oak. Some folks say moonshine is whiskey without the wood. Moonshine is young and raw.”
The low tenor in Royal’s voice as she described the difference gave Lovey’s stomach a twist. Young and raw, indeed.
“What were we sipping the other night at your place?” asked Lovey.
“That was whiskey.”
“Oh. I rather liked the way the warmth of it spread down my throat.”
Lovey realized as they talked that she couldn’t entirely relax in her father’s house. It was as if he’d left his ghostly presence to actively disapprove of her behavior. As if the walls themselves would not keep her secrets. She wanted to leave and go to Royal’s place as soon as possible.
They finished the food and Lovey refilled their tea. The evening sun was low, so the room had taken on a warm afternoon glow as the sky reddened near the horizon.
“Oh, I almost forgot. I have something for you.” Lovey stood and left the room, her short heels clicking against the hardwood floor as she walked the distance to her bedroom and back. She handed a small brown package to Royal.
“For me?” Royal looked at her with a questioning expression.
“I asked my father to pick it up at the bookstore in Gainesville.”
“Your father picked up a gift for me?” Royal’s voice rose with surprise.
“Well, he thought it was for me. But all along it was for you. Open it.”
Royal turned the small slender package over in her hand before she tore at the brown paper and string to find what was inside. A book. A poetry book. The title on the cover read Bright Ambush by Audrey Wurdemann. She looked up at Lovey. “You bought me poetry.” Royal opened to the first poem and read one line aloud.
“The author was the first woman to win the Pulitzer for Poetry. And she was only twenty-four years old.”
“The same age as me.” Royal was taken aback by such a thoughtful gift. She leaned over and pulled Lovey into a kiss. “Thank you. I love it.”
“I hope you enjoy it once you’ve read it and that it brings you inspiration.”
“Bright Ambush. Great title.”
Lovey started clearing plates while Royal thumbed through the thin volume of poetry. “Should we go soon?”
“Yes. Absolutely.” Royal didn’t want
