5

 

It served Ben right for trying to be a gentleman.

But had he truly been a gentleman? An hour before the doors of the community center would be flung open to the citizenry of Antioch for the Founder’s Day dance, he had just completed installation of the final strands of white fairy lights, the setting up of coffee urns, tables, chairs. He climbed down from the ladder to survey the overall effect.

Swags of lights, twined within garlands of evergreen, were adorned by a rainbow of flowers draped from the ceiling. A saffron glow painted the massive, open space with romantic, creamy light. Why in the world would that fact leave him thinking of Hailey Beth, and how stunning she had looked, pinned into the folds of that attention-grabbing, gorgeous dress, her eyes all wide and soft, her lips framed in a pout of surprise, full and supple and such a tempting beacon…

Dry at the throat, he had been powerless to speak but for a perfunctory greeting.

A gentleman wouldn’t be to-the-bones enthralled by one woman and then…what was it Phillip had said...step lively with another. Ben had never meant to give Rochelle mixed signals, or lead her on, but no way could he be this tied into knots by feelings for a person he’d known and cared for as a friend practically since birth. Rochelle had stepped forward like a life saver. She had provided a much-needed diversion when heat climbed through his body.

Where did this tide of emotion for HB come from? Was the idea of leaving her…of leaving Antioch…wreaking this much havoc on his normally cool control and faultless perceptions?

Ben folded the stepladder and hefted it onto his shoulder, preparing to leave the hall. A frown puckered his brow. After stashing the ladder, he returned inside and gathered the rest of his supplies. He squinted against sunlight when he exited the building. A row of dusty, well-used pickup trucks lined the gravel parking lot that stretched wide across the length of the American Legion Hall. He angled toward his vehicle, still lost in thought…and tribulation. He needed to confront himself with honesty. In the contest of Hailey Beth Thomas versus Antioch, Indiana, Antioch came out on the losing end. Which is precisely why HB had his emotions in a tangle.

Humidity climbed, causing his skin to go damp. It would be one of the first hot days of the season. Heavy, earthy air carried with it the promise of long days to come. His favorite time of the year. Ben secured the remainder of his gear and climbed into the cab of his vehicle.

He knew his strengths and weaknesses. He was steadfast. Still waters ran deep, but he was always the calm in the storm. He didn’t lose control. Suddenly, though, being near Hailey Beth pulled at him, to a fierce and increasingly unavoidable degree. His uncharacteristic behavior had even garnered the attention of his brothers. If Phillip and Aaron sensed a difference in his demeanor, then his feelings were riding entirely too close to the surface.

He cranked the engine and headed for the farm, knowing one thing to be true. Change needed to happen. Confrontation. And how in the name of all that was awkward could he conduct a conversation like this with HB? A lack of word-power and overt expressiveness landed hard on the list of his personality shortcomings. Besides, she was his friend. One of the dearest people in his life. Ever.

But if he didn’t resolve this, one way or another, he’d land in a world of regret. A world patterned by a fateful, two-word question: What if?

 

~*~

 

“Well, would you get a load of Hailey Beth? Wow. She is lookin’ good.”

Ben cast a scowl at Aaron, who passed the comment then executed a slow, low, whistle. “She always looks good. Why are you so shocked by—” Ben’s gaze slid to the arrival of the Thomas family—one and all, much like the Fisher clan had entered the hall just a short time ago. There was always strength in family. Especially farm families. When his search came to rest on Hailey Beth, his world ground to a screeching halt.

She stood framed in the wide, open entryway, backlit by a sky full of stars, by the darkened silhouettes of towering trees and milky moonlight, by colorful flowers tumbling from urns and the motion of people coming and going. A sweet breeze drifted, skimmed, curved, and his senses hummed.

He couldn’t look away. He didn’t want to look away. Ever.

Her normally utilitarian ponytail had been surrendered to shortened layers that skimmed her cheeks and face, tumbling softly to a spot just below her shoulders…shoulders that led to slim, creamy arms left bare by a simply styled dress painted by flowers in delicate hues of pink, green, blue and yellow. Yep. Tip to toe, she was a feast for the eyes. He couldn’t help wondering. When had such fundamentals as vintage class and elegance been displaced by the raucous world they lived in? HB—the quintessence of being a lady—put every super model he could think of to complete shame.

And so, he stared. And so, he longed. And so, his soul swelled in the throes of an emotion that wasn’t quite pride, wasn’t quite primitive, but was most definitely built on protection, and possession.

Hmm—maybe that kind of reaction was a bit primitive…

Phillip whacked Ben on the back, jarring him unpleasantly from a delicious view. “Ah…bro? You might want to blink.”

Ben shot his sib an intense glare. Fat lot of good that did him. Phillip and Aaron just sidled off toward the beverage table, snickering merrily.

It was far past time to grab a cold soda and do some mixing and mingling. The self-assigned bout with socialization didn’t help much, though. HB crowded him now, a beautiful invader never far from his sight.

 

~*~

 

Hailey Beth and her family occupied one side of a long cafeteria-style table. The Fisher family occupied the other. Life, she figured, was a strange thing to decipher. Her family, the merchants of Antioch, positioned straight across from the Fisher family, one of the town’s longest-standing, most influential farm families. A tenuous line of friendship had always existed between the two clans. Growing up, Hailey Beth had heard tales of Jonathan Fisher and her father, Byron, having struggles with issues of friendship versus business. Crop harvests affected her family’s store and its offerings, and Hailey Beth’s dad acted as a local broker, negotiating prices for crop distribution throughout Indiana. Those same crop harvests provided food and shelter and a livelihood to the Fishers and others.

The salt of the earth often did battle against issues of sustainability via revenue and profit. At times, those battles turned intense.

“I’m so glad gatherings like this still draw a big crowd.” Hailey Beth’s mom, Corinne, shared the comment with her seatmate, Anna Fisher. The two of them surveyed the room with satisfied expressions.

“I agree. Know what else? The older I get, the more sentimental I become.” Anna dug into her slice of blueberry pie topped by a rounded scoop of vanilla ice cream. She sighed with pleasure. “Juanita Norem makes the best blueberry pies. Seriously, I could never compete with this.”

Corinne nodded, following suit with a crème drizzled bite of her own. “Perhaps, but then again, who’d want to?”

“Amen. The first pickings of the season and they’re outstanding.”

Like playful school girls, the women clanked their plastic forks together. Sharing a wink, they polished off the treat.

Jonathan Fisher sipped from a freshly cracked bottle of water then tucked an arm around the shoulders of his wife. “Why so sentimental?” Unlike everyone else at their table, he had foresworn dessert in deference to a health regimen that had turned an episode of near heart failure into a new lease on life. He nibbled from a serving of fruit and cheeses that rested before him on a paper plate.

Anna rested against him, and sighed. “Times like this, I get to thinking about how fast time goes by. How nice it is that some things remain constant. Wasn’t it just yesterday that we were in our twenties, with the world and our whole lives just waiting?” Anna inched closer to her spouse, love in her gaze.

Laughter rounded the table before Hailey Beth’s dad chimed in. “Feels that way sometimes, doesn’t it? Now, it’s our kids who are paving the way to marriages and mission work, and taking the helm of family businesses. New lives. New challenges. Circle of life, I suppose.”

Hailey Beth leaned on her elbows, looking around. These were familiar faces, one and all. Beautiful, country-fresh décor warmed her, soothed her anxieties and welcomed her soul. Sure, the fixings were simple—wildflowers tucked into dime-store vases, dollar store twinkle lights strung above by the hand of Ben Fisher.

Rochelle Simmons worked her way through the crowd, renewing acquaintances and at no loss for friends and welcoming attention.

But Ben paid her no particular attention.

Hailey Beth couldn’t help it—on instinct she had tracked his interaction with the sweet and lovely urbanite. He had been kind and gracious to Rochelle, but opted to stick close to his family. And hers. He stayed close to Hailey Beth, and that caused her heart to fill, and then promptly overflow.

She was blessed, and she knew it. As years passed, she became keenly aware of hometown beauty, the importance of sharing timeless traditions. Calm, beautiful simplicity could speak volumes in this world when tidewaters turned and times changed. Just like that, in rode melancholy. Ben’s days as a constant in her life were short numbered.

“Remember the barn dances we used to have?” Jonathan leaned forward against the table, smile wide while Byron chuckled and nodded. “Dance space was broomed free of debris, tables and chairs were set up on beds of fresh-pitched hay so folks could sit and visit. We haven’t had one of those in a long, long time. We should put one together this autumn. After the harvest. A celebration of the season. Like the old days.”

“Those weren’t the old days, that was just yesterday.” Anna shared a commiserating glance with the table at large, and then nudged her husband in the arm. “And since when have you been a fan of dancing?”

An instant of dead silence fell between the two couples.

The unexpected interruption drew Hailey Beth fully into the conversation. She took note of the intent, yet unreadable look exchanged by Jonathan Fisher and her father.

Following an elongated pause, Dad cleared his throat and smiled. His focus homed in on Jonathan alone. “I believe you became a fan of barn dances on October thirteenth…exactly thirty-five years ago.”

Jonathan acknowledged that comment with a nod, along with a smile of affection…and respect.

There was something in this exchange that piqued Hailey Beth’s heart and curiosity.

“I do believe you’ve nailed it right down to the date, Byron.” Jonathan’s response returned the atmosphere to normalcy, but Anna’s glance moved slowly, and again with a meaning Hailey Beth couldn’t quite discern, between Byron and Jonathan.

 

~*~

 

Hailey Beth was about to lose her ever-loving mind.

Ben possessed all kinds of sexy, alpha mannerisms, rich with subtlety, potent to distraction, yet nearly invisible in the ways they could reach into her psyche and deliver a sensual tweak. Like right now. He sat next to her, and all he did was touch her. His arms were folded and he leaned forward slightly, engaged in the conversation.

But a pair of long, tan fingertips rested lightly against her forearm, brushing back and forth in a feathery touch of skin to skin. There was nothing overt in the caress; an outsider might miss it altogether. For Hailey Beth, the gesture proved infinitely seductive, and left her acutely aware of him.

Meanwhile, he chatted on, looking elsewhere, thoroughly a part of the conversation at hand.

“And then…do you remember the time Mom was raking leaves into the fire pit that Pop had built, and the hem of her apron caught fire? She tore that thing off so fast!”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Benjamin—hush your mouth!” Anna condemned, but laughed harder than anyone else.

“Uh-oh.” Phillip lifted his hands in surrender. “Benjamin. Next thing you know, it’ll be Benjamin Alexander. Bro, you’re in it deep.”

Ben hooted, and shrugged off the threat. “As I recall, Phillip, you were running through the field, screaming and crying, instead of lending aid to our mother.”

That piece of comedy was met with a mild spell of brotherly trash talk.

The evocative caress continued; Hailey Beth tingled, ached.

The table space formerly shared by the two families became fluid as people came and went, as greetings and updates were shared. Their present assemblage reminisced and laughed, enjoying everything that was best about living in small-town Indiana—connectedness, history, tradition.

Ben moved away—just far enough away to lift a plastic tumbler filled with lemonade and down a swig. Just far enough away to break their connection. A sense of loss, of need, promptly followed. Soon enough, though, the connection returned, and his arm rested alongside hers on the table top. He brushed his fingertips against her arm once more, an arm that now danced with a spray of goose flesh. That’s when she realized.

His actions were deliberate. Innocent, yes, but deeply and utterly intentional.

Time passed swiftly as she absorbed the undercurrents of the evening and continued to ponder the surprising circuit of electricity that had rippled through the earlier exchange between Ben’s parents and her own. What was up with that whole vignette?

“Hey, HB? Feel like a walk?”

Hailey Beth surrendered introspection to find Ben looking at her, waiting, and watching. Closely. With an intensity that beckoned her far from the boundaries of a simple, long-adhered to friendship. She wanted to act on the prompt of her heart, reveal herself to him, before he was gone, and all chances were lost.

“That’d be nice. Sure.”

But could she—should she—take that large a gamble?