A live band, with instruments she’d never seen before, sat at the head of a small partitioned-off area, with a hard wooden floor designed for dancing. The music being played was strange and unusual, but she could see some of the regulars enjoying the funky tunes.
“Hey Zorida, show us some moves,” he said, to one of the young people dressed in ceremonial Indian attire, standing near the band.
“You know these people?” Blanche asked.
“Yeah, the owner and my dad grew up together and most of the people working here are his relatives. Zorida there, is his daughter, goes to school with me at the U. How else do you think I could afford an evening like this? I’m a student don’t you know?”
Zorida moved to the center of the dance area and began moving her hips to the sway of the music, increasing the gyrations as the beat increased. She spun and dipped, clicking small cymbals with her fingers, as she danced to the music. At the completion of the song the restaurant burst into cheers and applause.
“Come on Seymour, I’ll teach you,” Zorida said, coaxing him verbally, then actually dragging him onto the dance floor, Blanche in tow.
The musicians were easy on the beginners, providing slow enough beats that they could copy the movements, slowly they increased the tempo, making the trio move and bounce to the enjoyment of the patrons. A few small children joined them on the floor, showing off their own moves, and bringing even more adults to the stage. At the conclusion of the hypnotic number Blanche collapsed into Seymour’s arms and hugged him tightly.
“I have to tell you Seymour, I am having such a good time.”
“Good, I have one last thing I want to show you before I take you home.”
“Home? Isn’t the night still young?” she asked.
“Yes, but I promised your landlady I’d get you home at a decent hour,” he informed her.
The drive seemed to have them moving away from the city. “Where are you taking me? You’re not really a serial killer or something are you, and now you’re taking me to your private lair?” she jokingly asked, sliding close to him on the front seat, wrapping her left arm around his, as his hand rested on the floor mounted gear lever.
“Crap, you’ve found me out. That takes all the fun out of it. Wanted to surprise you when I pulled out a ball bat and knocked you senseless. Hoped I could get you tied up and in my hideaway before you woke up,” he said, in a sadistic voice.
“Okay, now you’re creeping me out a little bit, where are we really going?” she asked, her nails digging into his arm.
“Ouch, okay, okay, I’ll tell you. We’re headed to my most favorite place in Valdosta. Found it as a kid and go there when I need to think.”
They drove until the lights of the city were well behind them and a dirt road led them another couple of miles off the beaten path. The rattletrap of a pickup bumped and tossed the pair at times almost knocking their heads against the rusted roof, as the shocks gave up trying to absorb the numerous ruts.
“Not much further, just hold on,” Seymour said.
As quickly as the bumping and bouncing has started, it finally stopped, and they came to rest on a small knoll, with trees on either side of the truck. Seymour reached behind the seat and pulled out a flannel, plaid blanket, a thermos and two mugs with cartoon characters on them, the Tasmanian Devil on one and Foghorn Leghorn on the other.
He showed them to Blanche, “You can have your pick, as long as I get Foghorn.”
He opened the door for her and motioned for her to follow him up over the small rise, his hands being full of the items from the truck. As they crested the hilltop, Blanche’s eyes focused on the most awe-inspiring vision of earth and nature that she had ever seen. She stood, unable to move, taking in the scene that stretched out for miles before her.
“Was I right, or was I right?” he said, taking in the same sight and enjoying the impact it was having on his beautiful date. “This is going to sound so corny, but it’s the God’s honest truth.”
“What’s that?” she said not taking her eyes off the panorama before her.
“The first time I saw you and you were just sitting at the desk with your head down and I could see you and you hadn’t noticed me yet.”
“Yes, I remember,” she said.
“Well, seeing you that very first time made me think of this place, and I swore to myself, if there was anyway that you’d agree to go out with me, I’d bring you here first. So, here we are. The only thing more beautiful than this place right here, is you, Blanche Delaney, and I mean that,” he said, moving to throw out the blanket before he made a bigger fool of himself.
“Seymour, I'm afraid you've put me on a pedestal that I’m not going to be able to live up to, but for tonight, I think I’ll stay up there for a while longer, if that’s okay with you,” she said, kneeling down next to him and running her hand over his.
“Madam,” Seymour said, handing a mug to Blanche. He unscrewed the top of the thermos and poured each of them a cup of hot chocolate. “Hope this is still warm enough to drink.”
She took a sip, finding it almost too hot, and blew over the surface of the liquid.
“It’s fine, plenty warm,” she said, still gently blowing the chocolate and lifting it to her lips for another taste.
“Oh crap, I almost forgot the best part, just a minute,” he said, dashing back to the truck, returning with a bag of miniature marshmallows. “Can’t have hot cocoa without these.” He opened the bag and took a handful filling both of their mugs to overflowing before sitting back down next to Blanche.
“Seymour, you’ve thought of everything tonight. I’ve had such a good time, you are truly a man of mystery aren’t you?”
“I don’t know about that. I’m afraid most the time I’m kind of a bumbling idiot, but I know one thing for sure, I like being with you, and the way you make me feel when we're together,” he suggested.
“Ditto Seymour, ditto,” Blanche said, taking another sip of her hot chocolate and staring across a picturesque lake surrounded by lush forested hills and valleys. The moonlight shimmering off the gently moving water provided just enough light to the scene, to bring the entire image into perspective. Near the water's edge she could make out the black shape of an animal drinking from the stillness of the lake and the sounds of crickets surrounded them, playing nature’s own version of a restful hymn. Fireflies danced above them in the air, painting patterns in the sky.
“Blanche, try this,” he said, taking the now empty mug from her hand.
He motioned for her to lay down on the blanket, he did the same, their bodies touching shoulder to shoulder and knee to knee. The sky that stretched out before them twinkled with more than a million brilliant stars and lights. There was no need for words, both could feel what was happening, and they shared the moment in silence for a time. Seymour lifted his hands behind his head to act as a pillow, and Blanche took the cue, moving her head to rest on his muscular chest and shoulder, their backs still firmly pressed against the rigid earth.
“Can you see why I come up here to think?” he finally said.
“Sure, really clears your head and gives you some perspective. Thanks for bringing me here. This is a special place.”
“If you’d like, I’d love to show it to you in the daylight, not quite as romantic but equally as beautiful.”
“You’ve got a date, anytime.” She lifted up on her elbow, leaned down and gave him a kiss that he returned, being careful not to scare her off on their first date. “Thank you so much Seymour Wood.” She laid her head back down on his comfortable, strong shoulder, staring into the night’s sky and whispered ever so softly, just beyond Seymour’s ability to hear, “Thank you.”
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
‘Sweet Home Alabama’ vibrated the speakers and shook the decaying chassis as the driver, parked a little more than a block from the B amp;B, sang along and tapped his hands on the steering wheel to the rhythm of the rock classic. The time on his watch read 8:47, the two hours he’d spent sitting and listening to KRCK had passed
