Eating fried chicken seemed to suit Tripp better than the rest of the day’s activities. He and Jeremy had an impressive pile of bones mounting up between them. Laurel found herself marveling at how much the two of them could actually eat.
After a while, even Ashleigh forgot to be terribly disgusted by the violence done to chickens and just watched in amazement. She and Laurel were done with dinner and eyeing the trays full of homemade desserts being brought around by the ladies of the church. Jeremy was reaching for a fifth or sixth piece of chicken, and Tripp was still eating right along with him.
“Don’t you two ever get full?” Laurel finally asked. “I mean, I know that it takes quite a bit to fill Jeremy up, but you stopped growing a while back, Sheriff Jordan.”
“While we’re here and I’m out of uniform, I might even answer to ‘Jesse,”’ he told her. “It’s been such an unusual day all around, I might as well add to it.”
“It’s nice to see you doing something unusual or unexpected for a change. I don’t think he does enough of that kind of thing, do you?” she asked Ashleigh.
Ashleigh shook her head in answer to Laurel’s question. “Almost never.” She turned to her dad. “Grandma Pearl says you’re more hidebound than she is. What does that mean?”
Tripp nearly choked on his chicken. Laurel thought she was going to have to reach across the table and pound him on the back. He took a long drink of iced tea before he answered.
“It means your grandma has too much time on her hands.” He took another swig of tea. “No, honestly, Ash, it means that I’m more set in my ways than a seventy-year-old lady. And if I’m truthful about things, she’s probably right.”
“I’ll say. She was at least considering letting me ride places with people under twenty-one who had their driver’s license. And I could talk on the phone for more than twenty minutes at a time.” Ashleigh eyed Jeremy’s plate. “If you eat any more chicken, it better be a wing. I don’t want to think that two different chickens died just to feed you.”
“Hey, I’m a growing boy. Even Mom says so.” Jeremy grinned. “And I don’t care much for wings. They’re all bone or fat. I’m probably ready for pie, anyway.”
Ashleigh gaped at him. “You have room for pie? How?”
Laurel laughed. “The same way your father does. Only in his case it seems to be German chocolate cake.” She’d love to know how these trim guys did it, even as active as they were. The male metabolism must be one of God’s little miracles.
“Are you going to need a nap, and am I going to have to drive home?” she asked Tripp.
“I doubt it. I won’t nap all that long after dinner. Just a little while, under one of those trees in the back.”
Jeremy looked smug. “Yeah, well, it won’t be peaceful enough there for a nap soon. You haven’t seen the band.”
Tripp raised an eyebrow. “Band? Is this kid for real?”
“He certainly is. There’s usually a quartet or more. That covered pavilion down there becomes a dance floor, and they alternate square dances with more regular dance music. Or as regular as you can get when most of your band is an accordion, a fiddle and a big old bass taller than the guy playing it. There are usually guys on guitar and drums that play when it suits them. It varies from year to year.”
“So do you dance?”
His question surprised her. “I haven’t in quite a while. But for you, I’d make an exception.”
“Great. It’ll get me away from this chicken before I eat enough to founder.” Tripp pushed back from the table, and everybody else followed suit.
“There is no way I am going to dance to that geeky music. Can we go play more carnival games?” Jeremy asked.
“Be my guest. Keep Ashleigh with you, and give her any stuffed animals you win that are bigger than Buster. If you do that, I’ll even pay for the games.” Laurel fished around in her purse for enough money to keep him busy for an hour or more. With carnival tickets at fifty cents each, it wouldn’t take a lot of money.
The kids scooted off in the direction of the hoop shoot and the duck pond. Laurel and Tripp wandered toward the dance floor, where the band was tuning up. A man testing a fiddle stood in one corner, plucking strings and judging pitch. He’d been at every one of these picnics Laurel could remember attending, looking like one of those dolls with a dried apple for a head, a battered cowboy hat perched on top of wizened features.
“Looks like we’re just in time.” Tripp surveyed the crowd. “I’m glad this isn’t my county. I can relax a little and not wonder what happens if any of this crowd gets out of hand.”
Laurel looked around at her fellow picnic attendees. The mean age seemed to be about sixty-five. “Like that’s going to happen.”
His expression was serious. “You can never tell. Even at a church picnic, somebody can take exception to what someone else says, or how they’re bumped into on a dance floor.”
“I guess. You’d know more about it than I would.”
The band launched into a countrified waltz and Tripp held out his hand. Laurel took it, feeling a thrill at contact with him again. He was a surprisingly smooth dancer. She hadn’t given any thought to the side of his personality that might go dancing or dining, or any of the normal things people did on dates. At least, she thought that was what they still did. It had been forever since the dating scene had been part of her life.
For a moment she had to concentrate on movement. It had been years since she’d danced, either alone or with somebody else. It hadn’t been that frequent an occurrence when Sam was alive, because he just wasn’t a dancer. He had many fine qualities to make up for it—but he’d never been much of a dancer. Tripp, on the other hand, seemed to have a natural flair for it. They fell into a natural rhythm together quickly.
Laurel knew she must have a fairly silly smile on her face. Here she was, in the arms of a handsome man in public—and enjoying every moment of it. Tripp seemed to be enjoying it, too. His usual sharp expression had softened under the brim of that fedora. He looked happy, maybe even content. Neither expression was one she was used to seeing on his face, and it gave Laurel a pang of regret.
This was a good man. He deserved more moments of happiness than life seemed to give him. She couldn’t help reaching up and brushing fingertips softly across his cheek. “I like the smile,” she told him. “It really goes with the hat.”
His brow furrowed. “Does it? I don’t remember wearing the two together for quite some time.”
“That’s a shame, because it’s a very nice hat and an even nicer smile.” Was she flirting with this man? Maybe so. It felt right.
“It’s kind of you to say that. So tell me what today is all about. I’ve never visited a cemetery on a date before. I hope it’s not a message about where this relationship is going.”
Laurel laughed softly. “Just the opposite, I think. I feel comfortable letting you in to my life some. And that means my whole life, multifaceted and odd as it seems to be. As long as I’m back in Missouri to stay for a while, I want to do the things that were a part of my life when I lived here. And that means attending church picnics—even the one at the church where Sam is buried.”
“Okay. I think I can live with that. What else is high on your list of things to do in Missouri?”
“Mostly boring stuff, like getting Jeremy registered for school and going to restaurant supply stores for things for the coffee house. You’re lucky enough to share what is probably my one leisure day this week.”
Tripp shook his head. “Lady, you’ve got some stamina. I have to keep on that kind of schedule with my job, and I can’t say I always love it. But you seem to keep up this kind of twenty-four-hour activity in life, no matter what. How do you do it?”
Laurel shrugged. The movement made her aware of his warm hand at the small of her back while he guided her around the dance floor. It felt good, as if it belonged there. But it was distracting, and she had to think about his question for a moment before answering. “I just do, I guess. It isn’t something I think about much until somebody makes me. I’ve always been pretty busy just running a house and being Jeremy’s mom.”
“Haven’t you worked outside the home?”
She shook her head. “Not for money, and not for ages. When Sam was younger and a struggling screenwriter, yes. But once he had a couple of hits, I didn’t need to. And with even one child, there’s so much stuff to do. Then, once his dad got sick, I did even more of the parenting things. And the household things, like paying the bills and keeping everything going, have always fallen to me. It was too difficult to guess when Sam was going to be home or when he’d be off on location with a movie. Prayer helps a lot. It keeps me connected to God, and the source of my energy.”
“Trust you to turn anything into a religious discussion.” Tripp sounded a little edgy but he was still smiling.
“Trust you not to see everything as a part of the whole fabric of life. Faith isn’t something you can just pick up on Sunday, or when it suits you, and then lay it down for the rest of your busy week. If you do, it makes for a much harder week.”
Tripp shook his head. The gesture made one errant curl escape his hat brim. Seeing the dark lock made Laurel want to run her finger inside the brim of that hat where it met his forehead. It made her wish the music would go on forever and that Tripp would forget their serious discussion to lean down and kiss her.
“So life would be easier if I gave it more faith, hmm?” he asked softly. “Just how do I go about doing that?”
His look was intense. Deep eyes searched her face, and Laurel had to moisten her lips with her tongue before she could answer. “For you, I have no idea. I know what it took for me, what it takes every day. I have to surrender it all to Jesus, to admit from the moment I get up to the moment I go to bed that this is His day and I’m letting him manage it. That’s hardest to do where Jeremy is concerned. I want to keep that particular part of my life to manage myself.”
“You are the parent, after all. Isn’t it giving up responsibility to think somebody else is going to be responsible for raising your child, even when that somebody else is your God?”
The music had stopped, and they were still in each other’s arms near the edge of the dance floor. Laurel hoped another slow number would start up again. Right now, she needed the time to talk to Tripp without breaking the flow. Miraculously, the band launched into another waltz, and their dance continued to flow around this intense conversation. If that in itself wasn’t proof of the power of prayer, she wasn’t sure what would be.
She felt buoyed up by that thought. “For me, at least, it’s the only thing I can do. To try and raise Jeremy by myself, without God’s guidance, would be the irresponsible thing. He’s verging on manhood, Tripp. If I haven’t taught him how to make the right decisions, and how to walk with the Lord by himself at this point, I don’t think any other parenting I try to do will be very effective.”
“You sound like my mother. She always told me she wasn’t the only one raising me, that she could only pray for me and give me back to God. I thought when I was fourteen it meant she was washing her hands of me. Only when I got older and had my own child did I even begin to comprehend what she meant.”
His mouth thinned into a narrow line. “My mom never knew I understood. She died before I could tell her that. She was gone before Rose was. Maybe that’s one of the reasons I have trouble keeping as much faith in God as you seem to have. Everybody I’ve known who had that kind of faith seems to have died too young. Maybe this stubborn streak is my insurance for staying alive.”
“Is it working? Do you really feel all that alive?” The question was blunt, but at the same time she knew it was the right thing to ask him just now.
“Not nearly as alive as I want to be,” Tripp admitted. “I spend too much time working and worrying. Don’t get me wrong, I love my job. I’ll love it again even more when your dad comes back to take over his part. But between the job and Ashleigh, I don’t get much time to be at rest.”
“To do things just like this.” The second number was ending, and this time Laurel stepped reluctantly out of his arms. It was time to end the dance.
“Exactly. Do you think you could help me learn?” It was more serious than any other question he’d asked her.
Laurel felt her heart jump in response. “I can try, Jesse. I can most certainly try.”
“Good.” He leaned down and brushed his lips against hers, softly. It was the kind of kiss that wouldn’t even embarrass their watching teenagers, if they were indeed watching. But it still thrilled Laurel down to her toes. “I think we have a lot to try together. In the meantime, I just want to hear you say that one more time.”
“What, that I can try?” She tried not to let her puzzlement show.
“No. Just my name.”
“Jesse? I’ll say it as many times as you like.” She lifted up on tiptoe and whispered near his ear. “Jesse. Jesse James Jordan. The most stubborn man I’ve ever met.”
“Too stubborn to love?” His question was quick and sincere.
Another shock of excitement rushed through her. “I doubt it. After growing up in my family, I believe a person would have to be made of stone to be too stubborn to love. Give me some more time to work on it.”
“Definitely.” He seemed oblivious to the fact that they were at a church picnic, standing near the edge of a crowded dance floor. “Take all the time you like, because I’m going to need quite a bit of it myself to get used to this situation.”
Tripp leaned toward her and kissed her. This time the kiss was soft and warm, slower than any before and incredibly sweet. And it didn’t surprise her in the least when it was broken up by a stuffed animal bopping her on the head.
“Oops. Didn’t mean to interrupt anything like that,” Ashleigh said with a giggle. “Look what Jeremy won me. I think it’s a boa constrictor. Neat, huh?”
“Delightful,” her father said to her. “What do you say we take it back to town?”
Laurel felt like Cinderella at midnight. The clock was surely chiming on her magical time with Jesse. In the car going home, he would go back to being Sheriff Jordan. The closer they got to Friedens, she knew the more they’d lose of this person in the gray fedora who had just kissed her so sweetly. It was a shame because she would miss that man. Now how did she find a way to make him show up in Tripp’s everyday life?
It had to be the hat. He hadn’t worn it in so long that the band had shrunk, cutting off circulation to his brain. What on earth had he been doing, pouring out his heart to Laurel Harrison? And in public, no less?
He’d actually been listening as she basically witnessed to him. And for a few moments there, that witness had sounded very, very good. Almost as good as she looked to him on the dance floor.
She was so different from any woman he’d ever known. Different in good ways, and in ways that gave him great pause. But undoubtedly different in so many ways from Rose, or Pearl, or his mother.
She was so vibrant and so alive. A little bit spacey and free-spirited. Too trusting for his own personal taste. And more reliant on the Lord than he could ever be. But there was such a glow of life around her that pulled him like a moth to a front porch light. It was time to pull back and not get scorched.
That was what happened to moths that flew too close, wasn’t it? They went down in flames and got swept away in the morning. Well, he had way too much to do right now to go down in flames. It was time to turn away from the glow that was Laurel, no matter how tempting she seemed.
Today had probably been a bad idea. He was too full of fried chicken, and had made an absolute fool of himself at that picnic. Now they were two-thirds of the way home, and nobody had said a word in the car for miles. The music on the radio was one of Ashleigh’s annoying stations, and she wasn’t even listening. She and Jeremy had both fallen asleep in the back seat; he could see them in the rearview mirror.
Ash had that silly stuffed snake in one arm, and she looked about ten years old with the toy clasped to her. Its ridiculous red felt tongue flipped in the breeze from the partially open back window, as if to taunt him.
Tripp went back to watching the road and silently berating himself for his foolish behavior. How could he possibly have asked Laurel if she could learn to love him? He didn’t even want anybody else to love him. That was too dangerous, too tangled for him at this point in his life.
He was thankful that Laurel hadn’t said anything on the way home, either. Maybe she was regretting today as much as he was. Maybe she really missed Sam more than she let on, and was relieved that Tripp was pulling back. She probably had enough to worry about right now, without adding relationship woes.
Tripp had never before been so glad to see the Harrison house. “Well, thanks for the picnic,” he said, trying not to sound as brusque as he felt. He didn’t even turn off the engine. “I hope you have a nice evening. Feels like it could actually rain and cool down some, doesn’t it?”
Laurel was gathering her things in the seat around her, massaging one temple with two fingers. “I think you’re right. The weather has to be what’s giving me this incredible headache.”
At least she was tactful. Tripp knew he was most likely the cause of that throbbing that made her look dazed. She was every bit as stunned by the afternoon as he was, and looking for a way out, just the way he was.
She leaned over the seat back and jostled Jeremy awake. “Come on, guy. We’re home. Let’s go find Grandpa Sam and Buster. See what inning that Cardinals game is in.”
“They aren’t even playing the Dodgers. Why bother?” Jeremy groused like a much younger kid, sliding out of the back seat. “Thanks for the ride, Sheriff Jordan.”
“Thanks for the snake, Jeremy,” Ashleigh added. “Should I name him after you?”
“No way. Anybody can see that’s a girl snake. Look at the fake eyelashes. Bye.” With that parting comment, Jeremy was out and up the walk heading for his grandfather’s front door.
“Yes, Sheriff Jordan, thank you for the ride home. I’m sure we’ll see you again soon.” Laurel sounded hurt and distant.
She followed Jeremy up the walk to the porch. Tripp watched them go into the house, and then headed for home. By now he felt even more confused than he had been on the dance floor. And he was getting a headache to match Laurel’s. It must be the hat.