Page 19 of Whispered Southern Secrets

“It’s worse than that.” Deep breathes.

The bell above the door rings. Mimi and Pepaw both study me for a moment. “We’ll come straight back to this,” Mimi finally says.

“He didn’t try anything, did he?” Pepaw whispers.

“No! Nothing like that. If anything it’s what I tried.”

Mimi takes her three fingers together and makes a cross while mumbling, “I was afraid of that.”

By the time we finish with the customers, I’m not feeling as inclined to unload my secret. I’d love to get their advice, but honestly, maybe it’s best to take this one to my grave. It’s best I try to put a little distance between J.D. and me, again. Until the rumors calm down. Olivia’s wedding is coming up and I don’t want to be a distraction from her big day.

Chapter Nine

John David

The wedding ceremony for Olivia and Landon goes smoothly, and it’s an honor to be part of it. I was only partly distracted by how stunning Honey was as a bridesmaid. We’ve finished taking photos and now everyone is leaving for the reception.

“Do you need a ride?” I ask Honey.

“Actually I do. My grandparents went ahead to the venue.”

I lead Honey to my truck and then open the door for her. A small, skeptical grin plays on her lips as she climbs into my truck. “I can’t even imagine the small-town gossip this is going to stir.”

I’d rather not think about that. I don’t like being the subject of gossip. Before becoming a representative of the church, so to speak, I didn’t mind it. Now that I’m wanting to help people and make a difference, I’d prefer to be viewed with some respect.

When I climb into the driver’s side, I prop my left arm on the windowsill and lean toward the door. My truck suddenly feels small. Even though we’re not touching, I can feel her warmth. Her sweet floral scent drifts to my side of the truck. It’s calming. It feels right. Natural.

We pull up to the venue and I walk around to help her step out of the truck. Placing my hand on the small of her back, I gently guide her toward the entrance of the reception. My eyes catch on Honey’s grandparents. They’re watching us with bemused interest. Honey quickly removes herself from my touch once we fully enter the room full of people. She tells me “Thank You,” before leaving my side. My throat tightens as I watch her walk away. I want to call out to her, but I let her go. Excitement fills the room. People are lifting their glasses and making their own toasts at their tables. I find my seat and make polite conversation with those surrounding me. The whole time, my eyes keep following Honey.

As the night progresses, swaying and laughing bodies begin to fill the dance floor. Millard is twirling Honey around in circles. Her laughter is so bright when he dips her. When the song ends Millard holds his side but his smile nearly splits his face. Honey doesn’t hurry away, but watches him hobble to the table where Minnie is clapping for them. I want to join her on the dance floor.

I try to search for reasons for me not to dance with Honey. What harm could there possibly be? Other than my complete and total desire for her. Desire isn’t bad. I have a desire to be a good person. I desire some of that wedding cake. Desiring a person could also lead to love. Love is one of God’s greatest gift.1 Corinthians 13:13 So now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; but the greatest of these is love.

I have faith and hope. What if I have those things in a partner? What if… I am missing the greatest of three? I have God’s love, love with my family and church, but I’m not in love. I could be. She’s right there.

I’m going for it. Standing from the table, I slowly make my way to the dance floor. Her golden brown eyes widen as she takes in my face. I wonder how much she can read on my face.That I want to start with a slow dance and then hopefully I can spin her into having a relationship with me.

“May I have this dance?” I hold my hands out to her, silently praying—beggingthat she accepts.

There’s a glimmer in her eyes that gives me hope. But she hesitates. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

Without overthinking it, I take her hands in mine. She releases a slight little gasp. Her eyes move all the way down to my shoes and back up to meet mine, but she doesn’t pull back. Does she like me touching her? Holding her hands firmly in mine? The selfish part of me almost feels guilty for holding her the way I’ve been wanting to all afternoon. I slide my left hand from hers at her side to her hip and keep the other one firmly locked in mine. Warmth ripples through me. Maybe it is the warmth from her body. Her touch. Her scent.

“There is the risk of me not wanting to let you go, again.”

“Then don’t.”

I angle my hand and lean closer to whisper. “Don’t dance. Or don’t let go?”

“Don’t let go.”

It’s been years since I’ve held her in my arms, but I’m still familiar with her body. I remind myself I’m going to take things slow this time. Her fingers flex against me.

“We’re not doing anything wrong by sharing a dance, darlin’.”

“I feel like everyone is watching us.”

“Just look at me the whole time. Let them all fade away.”

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