LITMIR.BIZ

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ingenuity, including her defrosting skills, she put together a rather tasty meal of grilled chicken breasts along with rice topped with onion and tomatoes. She even managed to fix Katy some chocolate milk by mixing half a dozen coffee creamers with water and some chocolate syrup she’d located in the pantry.

      “Mmm,” Katy said. “This is good, Mommy.” She wiped her mouth with a paper napkin from the table dispenser. “My tummy’s full.” She rubbed her belly and yawned.

      “Tired, sweetie?”

      “Just a little. Does this place have a TV?”

      “Sorry, no. But let’s have our baths and I’ll read a story to you.”

      “Is there a bathtub?”

      “Not a regular one, but there’s a deep sink in the kitchen that’s just about your size.”

      Katy was a little wary about taking a bath in the kitchen sink, but she was a trouper and the two of them were soon giggling as Mary Beth helped her bathe and shampoo her hair. She wrapped Katy in a tablecloth from a stack of clean ones she’d located in a cupboard and nuzzled her daughter’s soft, sweet-scented neck. “All clean and smelling like honeysuckle.”

      “All clean,” Katy echoed. “Are you going to take a bath in the sink?”

      Mary Beth laughed. “I don’t think my cast and I would fit. I’ll make do with a basin bath in the Señoritas.”

      “Mommy, what’s a señorita?”

      “That’s the word written on one of the bathroom doors. It’s Spanish for young lady or for an unmarried woman.” She began brushing Katy’s fine blond hair.

      “But you’re married.”

      “Well, technically, I’m not. Daddy and I are divorced, remember?”

      “Oh, yeah. He’s in the pokey.”

      “Where did you hear that word?”

      “From Aunt Isabel. I heard you and her talking. Aunt Isabel said my daddy was a con and in the pokey.”

      Isabel was Mary Beth’s best friend in Natchez. She had offered them her garage apartment to live in and the two of them had lived there comfortably, although Mary Beth had hated imposing on her friend. “Isabel shouldn’t have said that. That was very rude.”

      “He isn’t in the pokey?”

      “Pokey is a rude word. Daddy is in a correctional institution. He’s being punished for doing a bad thing.”

      “Like when I get a time-out for spitting on Eric.”

      “Yes, except that grown-up punishment is more serious. I think it might be best if we not mention where Daddy is to anybody. Okay?”

      “Okay. What’s written on the other door?”

      “Which door?”

      “The other bathroom.”

      “Oh. That one says Señors.”

      “Is it for married ladies?”

      Mary Beth chuckled. “No. That one is for men.”

      “Then where do the married ladies go?”

      “All the ladies and girls, unmarried or not, use Señoritas. You’re a pill, know that?” She kissed Katy’s forehead, then tickled her tummy until she giggled.

      By the time Katy’s hair was dried and she was dressed in her pink-checked nightgown, Mary Beth was exhausted and her foot was aching. She would have loved to soak in a warm bubble bath, but if wishes were dollars, she’d be rich. Instead, she cleaned up as best she could in the ladies’ room and pulled on an old nightshirt.

      She spread tablecloths over the benches of the booth Katy had selected. Thankfully, she’d brought along Katy’s favorite little quilt and pillow, so her daughter was snuggled securely with Penelope in her makeshift bed. On the table she had placed a small lamp that she’d found in a back closet.

      Mary Beth shook the dust from a serape she took from the wall and rolled it into a pillow for herself. She wrapped it with a clean tablecloth and set aside a couple of the other cloths for her covers. After turning off the overhead lights, she picked up the book Katy had chosen and began to read by the glow of the table lamp.

      Her daughter was so droopy-eyed that she fell asleep before Mary Beth got to page three of the storybook. Exhausted from the trip, she thought that she would fall asleep quickly, too, and twisted and turned until she was reasonably comfortable, given that the bench was a foot shorter than she was.

      Sleep didn’t come.

      Her foot throbbed like crazy. It needed some support.

      Carefully she scooted from the booth, trying not to disturb her bedding. Naturally, the tablecloth and the serape followed her and fell on the floor. She shook them out and repositioned them.

      Using only one crutch, she limped to a chair at a nearby table and quietly dragged it toward the booth.

      It screeched.

      She froze and glanced toward Katy. Her daughter was still.

      Trying again, she wrestled the chair into position with minimal racket. Using another serape from the wall for padding, she covered the seat and climbed back into her makeshift bed. By that time, she’d broken into a clammy sweat and lay back exhausted.

      The extension made things better. Not great, but better.

      Events of the day replayed in her brain—especially her time with J.J. His masculine scent haunted her, the smell of his fresh-starched collar and the faint citrus of his shaving lotion. It stirred old memories of playing in his truck, of his warm embraces, of his kisses, of the feel of his hand on her skin. A shiver ran over her. Funny how evocative smells were, as if they were attached to memories with strong threads. There had always been a special magic between them that made her knees go weak and her brain shut down. One look from him, one simple touch, and she knew that the magic was still there.

      She thought of him over the years, wondering how his life had gone. Strange that he’d never married—not that she planned to get involved with him again. He was the type who would march in and take over, and that was the very worst kind of man for her. Magic or not, this wasn’t the time to get involved with another man. She’d be smart to avoid him. Yet his eyes…

      Stop thinking about him! She had to get some rest.

      She was tired, so tired.

      But her body buzzed like a high-wire and her brain felt as if hummingbirds were having a convention inside her head. She tried every relaxation technique she’d ever heard of. Nothing worked.

      In the middle of her second set of deep-breathing exercises, she heard it. Little scurrying noises.

      Her eyes popped wide-open. She would never get to sleep now.

      J.J. COULDN’T SLEEP. Every time he closed his eyes, he could see Mary Beth’s face. By thinking about her and not paying attention to his business, he’d damn near been run over by a semi when he was herding Cletus’s cows off the highway. Even a couple of beers at the Rusty Bucket and a little flirting with Tami who’d served them hadn’t taken the edge off his preoccupation with Mary Beth—with remembering old times.

      He turned over, punched his pillow and tried again.

      It was no use.

      Finally he gave it up, pulled on a pair of jeans and strolled out onto the second-floor balcony of his fourplex. He leaned against the railing and stared down at the full moon reflected in the swimming pool.

      The image reminded him of Mary Beth’s shimmering hair. Even after all these years, he could remember the way her hair smelled. Like honeysuckle. And he could remember the taste of her lips and the softness of her skin.

      He thought he’d gotten over her long ago. Obviously he hadn’t.

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