Page 16 of Heart of Dixie
I unfolded from the floor and brushed my hands against my jeans. “Okay, looks like we’re going to the city today.” My mind was still whirling about the shoes, but apparently, we were buying a casket.
And nobody gave a damn whether my pillows were plump, but Dixie may as well give up trying to flatten her wrinkles. It would take something like a steamroller to make that crumpled dress presentable.
“My God,I thought that salesman would never stop badgering us!” Dixie hissed through the side of her mouth as we left the showroom. “And why did he insist on showing us so many hideous choices?” She stepped through the doorway ahead of me, paused and waited for me to join her. “Whatever gave him the idea I’d want one of those ugly, cheap coffins for Cooter?”
“Maybe it was that you asked to see the plain pine boxes when we first arrived.”
She waved my comment away like a pesky fly. “Pfft!The man had no sense of humor.”
“Well, Cooter would appreciate the casket you chose.” I took her elbow as we crossed the parking lot. Her four-inch heels were rickety on the blacktop. Yesterday’s fashion disaster was gone, replaced by something sleeveless, snug, and short when she insisted on a quick stop at the lodge for a change of clothes. I insisted I wait in the truck. “How about you? Are you happy with your selection?”
Her brow furrowed, then immediately smoothed out. “Of course. What’s not to like? Rich mahogany, exquisite satin lining, bronze hardware. It’s beautiful.”
And the culmination of one of the most peculiar days of my life.
The lightthat glowed yellow on the dashboard when I fired up the truck alerted me to an immediate concern. “One stop, Dixie. Then we can head back home.”
She lifted a brow. “What’s up?”
“We need fuel.”
She simply nodded. She’d been especially quiet since her rant about the sales clerk. I pulled into a nearby gas station and hopped out and around to the passenger side to fill up.
She put on one hell of a show when she opened the door and slithered off the truck seat. Regrettably, she gave her hem a tug back into place as soon as her feet landed on the concrete. “Do you want something from inside?”
Hunger gnawed a hole through my stomach. Maybe I could talk her into dinner. Without . . . dessert. Or with. Her snug skirt hugged her ass as her long strides carried her into the attached market. Yeah, who was I kidding? Definitely with.
Once she was inside, I followed her movements through the plate glass as she collected junk food and soft drinks, all the while chatting into her cell phone. She returned as I finished gassing up. “I got a dill pickle.”
I allowed a smirk, but thought better about making a crude joke about her choice. “I thought maybe we could grab something to eat once we got back to town. Ruby has a mean chicken fried steak.”If she felt like cooking it. I held Dixie’s purchases while she shimmied back in.
She waited to respond until I climbed in the truck, fired it up. Busy merging back into traffic, it would have been easy to miss the tentative way her eyes glanced off me, not meeting my gaze. I noticed. “Sorry, but not tonight. I’m meeting Beth. I kind of blew her off yesterday, and we have a lot of catching up to do.”
I got a little apology smile before she seemed to withdraw into herself—like a frightened turtle shrinking into its protective shell. Problem was, I couldn’t tell if she was protecting herself or me. “Sure. Maybe tomorrow.” Maybe it was the plans she made with Beth, or maybe it was her recent phone conversation that brought on Dixie’s sudden reserve, but one thing was for certain—dessert was off the menu.
The rolling highway hummed beneath our tires. Dixie stared out her side window as stands of pines gave way to farmhouses, barns with empty silos, and a patchwork of ripening fields. Her snack purchase lay unopened on her lap.
“I forgot how pretty it is here.” Her voice had gone quiet so I reached across to turn down the radio, studied her slumped in the seat for a quick moment and waited for her to continue.
“I didn’t want to take care of Cooter’s funeral arrangements. I swore I’d never come back.”
She seemed defeated. I reached across the console and tucked her small hand in mine. We passed the town limits—Gus had his golf cart parked on the shoulder, paint brush in hand as he repaired the vandalized sign—and approached the edge of Kissing Creek. I slowed the truck as we entered Main Street. “But you did come back. That showed guts.”
She frowned. Whether at the sight of Gus or my words, I couldn’t tell. “It didn’t show guts. It showed stupidity.”
“Nobody can make you do something you don’t want to do.”
“That sounds like one of those speeches they give to ledge jumpers.”
I laughed. “I meantyou. I’ve never been able to getyouto do anything you didn’t want to do. It was usually the other way around.
She went quiet again, staring out the window, and I followed her gaze.Ah, fireflies.She’d always liked the fireflies. “My mama made me come.”
I laughed again. “No, she didn’t.”
She shrugged. “She suggested it strongly.”
“Didn’t mean you had to come.” I rounded the next block; the lodge was just ahead.
