Little Town, Great Big Life. Curtiss Matlock Ann

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СКАЧАТЬ I first need to know the hours and what you are payin’.” Politely but firmly said.

      “Of course you do,” replied Belinda instantly. She’d always liked Corrine, and the girl’s statement just increased her opinion, which was that the girl was highly intelligent and a go-getter.

      On the spot, Belinda quoted a salary twenty-five cents an hour more than she had planned to offer.

      The headlights of Lyle’s patrol car pulled in the drive right at 8:55 p.m.

      When on night duty, Lyle liked to take a break around nine and come home for a snack, either a health drink or for a more intimate snack of a different sort. Any of his nightly stopping in, however, had to come before Belinda settled herself in her beautiful bed, with her reading, everything from the Bible and Bible commentary to the Wall Street Journal and the day’s financial reports printed from the computer to the biography of some highly successful person, either current or from history. Sometimes Belinda had all of that in the bed with her. One thing was certain—she disliked, for any reason, to be disturbed from what she called her nightly reading, meditating and consciousness raising.

      She would tell him, “Sugar, you have your health routines, and I have mine.”

      Lyle’s consisted of lean meats, vegetables and fruits, special protein drinks, lifting weights and running.

      Clearly one focused on the mind and one on the body. Belinda thought them a perfect pair.

      Already showered and wearing her favorite Delta Burke rose-print satin gown, Belinda met Lyle in the kitchen, anxious to tell him the good news about Corrine. She had just gotten started when she found herself scooped up into his arms and carried so quickly into the bedroom that her head spun.

      “You haven’t started readin’ yet, have you?” he asked.

      “No, sugar,” Belinda said, just as he entered the bedroom, where the bedside lamps and candles were lit but the books were still stacked on the night chest.

      In inspiring movie-scene fashion, Lyle smiled a delighted, sensuous, promising smile and laid her as carefully as a fine jewel upon the bed.

      Belinda found herself once more grateful and amazed by the gift she had been given in her man. Truly, as the scriptures said, a woman was made for a man, a fact Lyle proceeded to prove.

      Twenty minutes later, Lyle, his shirt still off, made a protein drink in the blender on the kitchen counter. Belinda, all soothed and happy, gazed at his broad, muscular back while she enjoyed a cheese Danish and remembered to tell him about the good fortune of hiring Corrine Pendley.

      “She’s goin’ to work each afternoon after school, and close the store twice a week.” She licked her fingers happily. “Now all I need to do is find someone to open the store a couple times a week and work mornings. At least three days. That will sure take a load off.”

      “Honey, I’ll be glad to help,” said Lyle, glancing over his shoulder. “I really liked openin’ the other mornin’. I did.”

      Belinda, who thought, Ohmyheaven, said, “Sweetie, you have a job. You do not need to stretch yourself by workin’ in the drugstore. You are the head sheriff’s deputy. That is demanding enough.”

      “When I’m on nights, I’m never tired when I come home, anyway. I have to unwind, and I just sit around for a couple of hours watchin’ TV. I’d just as soon open the store for you. When I go on days, I can still open, and I can close, since the store’s open later.” As he spoke, he got out his carry mug and poured his drink into it, snapping on the lid.

      “I appreciate the offer, sugar—” she sidled up to him, rubbing her hands over his back “—but we can surely get by the two months until Mama comes home. And you are a sheriff’s deputy, and that’s important. You know you don’t work firm hours, either. What if you’re caught up arrestin’ somebody right when the store needs to open or close? You can’t just tell them to wait.”

      “I can cuff ’em to a pole and come on to the drugstore,” he said.

      Belinda tried to judge the seriousness of this statement. He looked serious. She replied, “Well, maybe you could do that, but we are not goin’ to jeopardize what we just enjoyed—I’m not lettin’ you waste energy on a second job workin’ in the drugstore.” She smiled seductively.

      He looked away as he put on his shirt.

      Belinda started clearing the counter, remembering the previous morning, after Lyle had opened the store and worked the soda fountain counter with Arlo for an hour. She had come in to find coffee and latte splashes and spills all over, the barbecue pot set on high, a half-eaten banana set aside, and could not walk across the floor without sticking to it. The receipts did not add up to what was in the cash drawer. Lyle never could count change, and he had simply piled a lot of money to the side of the cash register.

      “You just think I can’t do anything,” Lyle said.

      “What?” She looked over to see him near the door, hat in hand. “I do not think that.”

      “Yes, you do. You don’t let me do anything for you.”

      “I do so. Who does the mowin’ around here? And…the grilling. And keepin’ me safe.” There, that last one was important.

      “I mean that you don’t let me do anything for you, Belinda. You could hire a guy to do everything I do for you.”

      “I am hirin’ people to work in the store.”

      “It’s not the same. You just don’t let me help you in a special way. And you and that store have your own marriage.”

      He actually pointed with his hat, then plopped it on his head and left.

      She hurried to the door and called after his shadowy figure, “Well, who was it just in the bedroom with me, then?”

      He did not reply.

      She stood there and watched his patrol car leave, wondering what had just happened. It was not like Lyle at all to have a complaint or cross word. She had never seen him so perturbed.

      Belinda carried her purse into the master bathroom and plopped it on the long counter.

      Pausing, she turned back to lock the door, just in case. Then she dug down into the bottom of her purse and pulled out a new pregnancy-test kit—another $6.99 one. She hiked up her thigh-high gown, positioned herself over the toilet and took careful aim at the test strip. It might have been easier for a smaller-breasted woman. And, darn it, she should have drunk a whole glass of water with the sweet roll.

      Brrrnnnggg!

      The telephone on the wall right beside her ear rang. The test strip slipped out of her fingers.

      It could not be. She could not have done it again!

      The phone rang again.

      She gazed at the test strip floating in the water.

      The phone rang yet again. She snatched up the receiver.

      “Hell-o!”

      “Belinda? СКАЧАТЬ