hours later, I’m drenched in sweat, flushed with the heat, aching all over, and I’ve gained a new appreciation for the hard work of farmers.
We don’t eat until late in the evening. Winona’s mother serves us a pot roast and seats Winona and me next to each other. I’m so tired that I just make polite conversation, then let Winona’s father show me to the guest bedroom at the opposite end of the hall from Winona.
I wake up in the dark, and for a moment I can’t remember where I am. Lumpy mattress, humid room, the sound of a window unit air conditioner humming and rattling in its valiant battle against the heat…
Ah, yes. Winona’s house. And I have to answer an urgent call of nature. And maybe a visit to Winona’s room afterwards. Or first. I’m not going to try strip off those sexy, funky pajamas, although God knows I’ve suffered from agonizing blue balls for weeks. I just want the chance to talk to her without her parents hovering directly over us.
I pad quietly out of the room in slippered feet, clad only in my pajamas. The hallway is pitch dark, and I carefully feel my way towards Winona’s room, patting the wall.
An explosion of light blinds me. I squint, blinking frantically, until finally my vision clears and I see Winona’s father sitting on a chair outside her bedroom. There’s a shotgun resting crosswise on his lap, and a high-intensity flashlight pointed right at my face.
“Going somewhere?” he growls, lowering the flashlight to point it at the floor by my feet.
“Bathroom!” I splutter, when I’ve regained the ability to speak. He points down the hall, away from Winona’s room.
“Bathroom’s that way.”
Winona’s door flies open, and she staggers out, blinking in the light. Pajamas, cream facemask, bunny slippers, curlers. Still the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.
“What the hell?” she screams.
“Language!” Her father glares at her, fingering the shotgun barrel. “You’re not too old for me to ground you, young lady.”
“Ground me? Are you insane?”
“No, young lady, I am not. And watch your tone with me.”
“You… You… I am twenty-five!” she shrieks.
“You’re under my roof.”
“What’s all the ruckus?” Her mother makes her way down the hallway, squinting at us.
“Mom! He threatened Blake with a shotgun! He said he’d ground me!” Winona cries, pointing an accusing finger at her dad.
“Well…he is your father. He’s the man of the house.” Her mother shrugs, then yawns and stretches. Then she smiles sleepily at Winona. “Not much I can do about it. Shall we go back to bed now?”
“That does it!” Winona stamps her foot like a toddler. She’s trying to look fierce, but the bunny slippers aren’t helping. “Blake, pack your bags! I will meet you by the front door in five minutes. And I’m calling a cab.”
Good thing, since for the first time in my adult life, I am without a cell phone.
I pull on my clothes faster than I’ve ever done in my life. Minutes later, we’re standing on the front porch, with our suitcases side by side.
Her parents stand in the living room behind us, not saying a word. Winona’s father is still holding onto the shotgun. The cab pulls up front and comes to a stop.
Winona, fuming, heads down the steps, and as I pick up our suitcases, I hear her mother say in a low, amused voice, “I told you it would work.”
“You’re right, dear.” Her father chuckles. “You’re always right.”
“Thanks for your hospitality!” I call out to them, and hurry to load our suitcases into the back seat of the cab.
“I am so sorry that my dad threatened you with a shotgun,” Winona says in dismay as we’re driving away. “I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t actually have used it. Probably.”
“That’s reassuring.”
She snuggles up against me, warm and sleepy, and all is right with the world. “Also. My bookmark.”
“What about your bookmark? Did you leave it behind? We can go back and get it.” I wince as I say that. I am ninety-nine percent sure that Winona’s dad was just posturing because he was plotting with her mom to make sure we got back together, but…crazy country dad had a shotgun.
“No, no. You helped an old lady walk across the street. That was my last bookmark requirement. Remember?”
It comes back to me in a rush. Considerate. Loves dogs. Walks old ladies across the street. Loves me no matter what I look like. I hear her voice in my head, reciting the words in her light, sweet southern voice.