Chapter Thirteen
“I want to thank you all for coming to our support group meeting tonight,” Flo said.
Marissa couldn’t be sure, but it seemed to her that Flo was directing that comment directly at her. Had she somehow guessed that Marissa had been tempted to walk into the “Cooking for One” meeting in the neighboring room instead of coming tonight?
Marissa nervously fingered her silver-and-moonstone dragonfly dangle earrings as she took a seat. There was no sign of Deb, who had promised she’d be attending tonight and who had convinced her that she should give the group another try.
“Tonight we’re going to be talking about dating after divorce,” Flo said.
Marissa gulped. Had Deb told them about their conversation? Marissa had trusted her.
“Breathe,” Deb whispered as she slipped into the chair next to her. “Don’t panic. I didn’t say a word.”
“I’m bringing this up because I got invited out on a date,” Flo said.
The other attendees all started murmuring.
Deb had filled her in regarding most of the members of the group, letting her know that the woman Marissa had labeled as someone who looked like they should be on that Real Housewives of Atlanta TV show was actually named Brenda.
“Who’s the lucky man?” Brenda asked.
“It’s Digger Diehl, the plumber,” Flo said.
“Maybe you’ll get a discount on any future repairs,” Brenda said.
“I rent an apartment,” Flo reminded her. “The landlord pays for the repairs.”
Brenda frowned in confusion. “Then why are you going out with a plumber?”
“Plumbers make good money,” Flo said.
“No one makes good money in this economy,” Brenda said.
“Wall Street brokers do.”
“Well, we don’t have any of those here in Hopeful so I’m going out with Digger. Besides, I like him.” Flo smiled at them all. “So I thought we could all share our dating experiences. How long did you wait after your divorce before you went out with someone else?”
“The instant the ink was dry on the divorce papers,” Brenda said. “I had guys lined up.”
“Let’s go around the room,” Flo suggested. “We’ll start with you, Marissa.”
“Me?” She looked around at their eager faces. “Why me?”
“Because you were seen being hand-fed by our sexy sheriff at the Rhubarb Festival the other day,” Flo said. “Are you two dating?”
“No.” She shook her head so vehemently she got a little dizzy. She was actually miffed that Connor had walked away from her yet again when she’d returned from her break to the library booth. He hadn’t said a word of greeting or farewell. He’d just taken off.
“You can tell us, you know,” Flo said. “We’re discreet. Nothing leaves this room.”
Deb came to her rescue. “I still haven’t dated anyone,” she said. “And it’s been almost two years since my divorce. I’ve done some group activities, meet-and-greet sorts of things. But not a date. I’m not ready. And I haven’t found anyone who makes me want to go out on a date.”
“You get out of practice,” another woman piped up to say. “I was married for fifteen years. I’d been off the dating market that long and my skills are rusty. Things have changed a lot.”
“Several of the local churches offer group settings like Parents without Partners meetings,” Brenda said. “I met some great guys there.”
Flo frowned. “I thought you didn’t have any kids.”
“I don’t. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to date a guy who does have kids.”
“Whatever you do, don’t let things get too serious,” another woman said. “Enjoy the rebound relationship but don’t confuse it with love. Don’t jump right from one man to another. You need some time on your own to get your head straight. That’s my advice.”
Flo nodded her agreement. “Let’s face it, ladies, we all have baggage from our failed marriages.”
“And it’s hard to put yourself out there when you still feel like a failure,” Deb said.
Surprisingly it was Brenda who said, “You need to improve your self-esteem yourself and not depend on a man to do it for you. Believe me, I’ve done that and it doesn’t work. The man leaves and your self-esteem goes out the door with him. It totally tanks.”
As others joined the discussion, Marissa realized that they all had different stories to tell about when they’d started dating again or if they even had or would in the future. There was no right or wrong answer. Which was too bad, because she’d sort of been hoping they’d provide her with a clear consensus. Instead, they left her as confused as before. But at least she wasn’t alone in her confusion. They were all in the same boat.
* * *
Marissa planned to have coffee with Deb after the meeting but Deb said she was coming down with a cold and wanted to go home. So Marissa headed to her rusty lime VW in the parking lot before she realized that she was missing one of her dragonfly earrings. She remembered nervously tugging on it several times during the meeting and prayed it had fallen off in the meeting room.
She hurried back inside and raced up the stairs to the second floor. The room was empty but her earring was there. She was so relieved she almost cried. It was her all-time favorite piece of jewelry in her small collection.
She quickly put it back on, making sure the fastening was secure before heading out in the hallway.
Seeing Connor coming around the corner, she ducked into the elevator. She didn’t feel up to talking to him right now.
He stopped the closing doors with his hand. “Hold on.” He joined her in the elevator.
The doors slid shut and they were enclosed in the metal box. No problem, she told herself. It will be on the first floor in a few seconds.
“Why did you run away?” he said.
Instead of answering, she said, “What are you doing here?” She noticed he was in civilian clothes. The man was made to wear jeans and a blue chambray shirt. His eyes seemed more blue-gray than usual in the elevator’s rather dim light.
A second later, the lights went out, leaving only an emergency bulb going as the elevator abruptly stopped. Marissa grabbed onto Connor to prevent herself from falling.
“What did you do?” she demanded.
“Nothing.”
“You stopped the elevator.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Then what happened?”
“I suspect it’s a power outage,” he said.
She didn’t realize she was still hanging on to him until that moment. She really should let him go and free herself. She could stand on her own two feet. She didn’t need him—or any man—propping her up.
But damn, it felt good to have his hands resting on her waist. Her body sure wasn’t suffering from any power outage as sexual electricity surged through her.
The last time there’d been a power outage, she’d been almost naked while he kissed her. “I’m okay,” she said before he could ask.
“You feel better than just okay,” he murmured.
Maybe her wild memory of their kiss the other night had been a result of her heightened emotions due to the storm? Yes, that had to be it. And her emotions were once again heightened by the elevator stopping.
“Do you have claustrophobia?” He was so close his warm breath bounced off her mouth.
She didn’t have claustrophobia. She had the hots for him. That’s what was wrong with her.
He kissed her and she was a goner. She melted the instant his lips touched hers. He moved so she was backed up against the elevator wall, his body pressed against hers. His tongue tangled with hers and his hands slid beneath her sleeveless top. He stealthily undid her front-fastening bra, freeing her breasts to caress them with skillful care and fierce passion.
She liked it. She liked everything he was doing to her. No, not just liked. Loved. Adored. Wanted more. Much more!
Her body throbbed with pulsing need. So was his. Her thin cotton skirt did little to hide the feel of the bulge beneath of his jeans. The denim barrier was like a magnet, drawing her hand toward it. She tugged his shirt from his jeans and slid her fingers against his washboard stomach. She stood on tiptoes to better align herself to him, allowing her pelvis to rub against his.
One of his hands remained on her breast while his other lowered to cup her bottom. He inched her skirt up until his fingers were pressed against her bare thighs and her silky underwear.
She protested his other hand leaving her breast but only briefly as he used it to bend her knee and rest her leg against his, opening her to the feel of his fingers entering forbidden territory.
She threaded her fingers through his hair, guiding his mouth to her breast where he stroked her nipple with his skillful tongue. She tilted her head back as he worked his magic on her, his fingers gliding inside her body to find the enticing wet warmth of her inner passageway. His movements set her on fire inside and out.
He began with an intimate butterfly-light probing before caressing her * with his thumb while his fingers thrust her into a world of wild pleasure. The walls of her vagina clenched and vibrated with the force of her orgasm. She held on to Connor as she was consumed with surges of sexual energy that burned brightly.
He reluctantly removed his hand and his mouth from her body.
Marissa moaned her protest at his withdrawal.
“The lights are back on,” he said gruffly. “The elevator is moving.”
He smoothed her skirt back into place.
The elevator bumped to a gentle stop on the lobby level. Marissa returned to earth with the speed of a missile landing. Her body was still experiencing tiny aftershocks deep within her. She crossed her legs tightly, which only made the detonations deeper.
“Are you guys okay?” the building security guard asked as the elevator doors opened. “A building transformer blew but we finally got the backup generator going.”
Marissa frantically looked around the elevator to see if it was equipped with surveillance cameras. Thank God it was not.
She should have checked that out much earlier, before Connor got beneath her skirt, and her guard, to send her shooting off to another universe.
“While you’re here, Sheriff, I’ve got a question about the building’s security,” the security guard said.
Marissa saw her chance and she took it, heading straight for the nearest exit, her bra still unfastened.
“Wait,” Connor called out but Marissa made a break for it, praying her demon car would start. It did, and then played “Crash and Burn” by Savage Garden.
“I know, I know,” she told the car. “I get it, okay? I’m not going to crash and burn again.”
* * *
“The fridge Nazi hits again,” Jill dramatically exclaimed as Marissa walked into the staff room for her lunch break the next day.
“What happened?”
“He or she is getting bolder. They took my salad. I think they took your lunch too.”
Marissa looked over her shoulder. Sure enough, there was no sign of her bagged lunch.
“It’s one thing to throw away leftovers or confiscate someone else’s water bottle, but this has gone too far.”
“Do you have any idea who’s doing this?” Marissa asked. She’d have to hit McDonalds on her lunch break now. Maybe she’d skip the double cheeseburger and just have several batches of fries. It was that kind of day. She hadn’t gotten much sleep last night. Instead her body remained on heightened hormone alert, wanting more of the intense pleasure Connor had given her in that elevator.
“I don’t know,” Jill said. “Some of the other staff members think it might be someone outside of the library.”
“Outside?”
“One of the kids in your teen group.”
“This area is restricted to staff members only.”
“Yes, but it’s frequently not locked.”
“The fridge Nazi was around before I started the teen group,” Marissa said.
“True. You’re right.”
Marissa hated that her teens were automatically first on the suspicion list. Their meeting tonight was scheduled to be a wrap-up of their Rhubarb Festival fund-raising event. Marissa had all the money locked in a cash box in her desk drawer. The total came to the grand amount of $140.99. It wasn’t as much as Snake had hoped for but more than Tasmyn expected.
“I think you should all come with me when I present the check to the Literacy Group. We could take a picture and put it in the library newsletter.”
“Can’t we just mail the check?” Molly asked. “I don’t like having my picture taken.”
“Me either,” Tasmyn said.
“I can Photoshop the picture and make us all look good,” Nadine said.
Tasmyn and Molly didn’t look completely convinced.
“You already have Jose’s and Red Fred’s photo for their awards at the Rhubarb Poetry Jam. Put that in the newsletter,” Snake said.
“I plan to.”
“Jose had to apologize to his grandma for taking the Lord’s name in vain,” Snake said. “She had a bad cold and couldn’t come to the festival.”
“It was her first time missing it,” Jose said.
“But she was okay about the rest of your poetry?” Snake said.
Jose sidestepped the question by saying, “She was pleased that I won first prize. No one in my family has ever won a prize at anything before.”
“Same here,” Red Fred said.
“Was your mom pleased with your award?” Marissa asked.
Red Fred shrugged. “She didn’t say.”
“You told her, didn’t you?”
He nodded. “She has a lot on her mind right now. There’s talk that they might be laying people off and she’s worried about losing her job.”
“My mom is worried about her job, too,” Molly said.
“I wish I could be like that guy who started Facebook,” Snake said. “Then all your moms could come work for me and they wouldn’t have to worry about money anymore.”
“Yeah, that would be nice,” Molly said. “I wish that could happen.”
Marissa wished she could do more to help them all. They were just kids. They shouldn’t have to worry like this. And some of them, like Tasmyn and Jose, also had to deal with moms who had drug addictions. Tasmyn was staying with an aunt who had four kids of her own while Jose, whose mom was incarcerated, was living with his grandmother.
All Marissa could do was be here for them, defend them and provide moral support and friendship. And chocolate. She passed around a bag of small chocolate Mars bars. “We need to celebrate.”
“What are we celebrating?” Jose asked.
“Our success at our first festival,” Marissa said.
“The Corn Festival is next month,” Jose said.
“We’ll make an even bigger splash there,” Marissa predicted.
* * *
Marissa met her mom and sister in Book Park across from the library after work the next day. She found her mother spread-eagled on a huge blanket on the ground. Her sister joined Marissa and exclaimed, “Oh my God, Mom’s collapsed!”
“I have not collapsed,” their mother protested.
“Did you faint? Is it your heart?” Jess knelt and bent over to put her head on their mother’s chest to listen for a heartbeat.
“That’s not how you check a pulse.” Marissa knelt on the blanket and put her fingers on her mom’s wrist. “Stop smothering her, Jess.”
“Relax, girls. I didn’t faint and my heart is just fine.”
“If you’re fine why are you lying flat on the ground?” Marissa said.
“I’m not on the ground. I’m on a blanket that’s on the ground. And I’m watching clouds.” She tugged them both down to lie beside her. “No one has time for this anymore. They’re all rushing around with headphones in their ears listening to their iPods or talking on their cell phones. No one stops to just be in the moment and enjoy the simple pleasures of watching clouds.”
Although it was a little after five, there were still several hours of daylight left and plenty of cumulous clouds to view. Marissa knew she should be worried that someone from work would see her, but somehow she couldn’t ruin the moment.
“We used to do this as kids,” Marissa said.
“You need to do it as adults, too,” her mom said. “Look at that one.” She pointed a little to her right. “See the way the sunlight is hitting it so brightly against the blue of the sky?”
“The one just below that looks like a penis,” Jess said.
“Ladies,” Connor said looking down on them. “Everything okay here?”
Marissa hadn’t seen him since he’d given her an orgasm in the elevator forty-eight hours ago. She refused to sit up and let him know how much his arrival had thrown her.
“We’re watching X-rated clouds,” Jess said.
Seeing his suspicious frown, Marissa said, “No, we’re not drunk or high. We’re just living in the moment. It’s a family thing.”
“X-rated clouds are a family thing?” he asked.
“Yes,” their mother said. “Do you have a problem with that?”
“No, no problem. Enjoy your family thing, ladies.”
As he walked away, Jess said, “He has a nice ass.”
Marissa was horrified, even if she agreed. “Shut up! He might hear you.”
“So?”
“So…” Marissa turned to her mom. “I thought you called us here to talk about Jess’s birthday party tomorrow?”
“I thought we’d start now with the cloud gazing. I think there’s going to be a great sunset in an hour or two.”
“It doesn’t get dark until at least nine o’clock,” Jess said.
“Do you have someplace else more important to be?” her mom said.
“As a matter of fact, I do,” Jess said. “It’s my birthday eve and the Roberts brothers are taking me out.”
“Which one?”
Jess smiled proudly. “All three of them.”
“What about your party tomorrow?” their mom asked.
“What about it?”
“You’re still planning on coming, right?”
“Sure. But I may have to leave early.”
“How early?”
“Eight,” Jess said.
“But we’re not even starting until seven.”
“I’m good at eating and running,” Jess said.
“Yeah, I know,” Marissa said.
“You’re just upset that I have a date and you don’t,” Jess said. “Unless you’re bringing the hunky sheriff tomorrow night?”
“I thought it was only for family,” Marissa said.
“You can bring a date if you want,” Jess told Marissa. “Right, Mom?”
“Are the Roberts brothers coming to dinner? I have to buy more food if they are. Is the sheriff a big eater?” their mom asked Marissa.
“He’s not coming,” Marissa said.
“Did you even ask him?” Jess challenged Marissa.
“No.”
“Wimp.”
“Brat.”
“Girls, please behave,” their mom said. “Look, there’s a cloud that looks like the peace sign. It’s an omen that we all should get along.”
“It looks more like a pitchfork to me,” Jess said. “Or another penis.”
“I give up,” Marissa muttered, getting to her feet. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Marissa went home and ate a bowl of ramen noodles along with a salad. She’d just finished washing up the kitchen when Connor came knocking on her door. She knew it was him because this time she checked the peephole.
“Why did your mom just call and invite me to your sister’s birthday party?” he said.
“What did you tell her?”
“That I’d get back to her.”
“What’d you say that for?”
“Because I thought I’d check with you first,” he said.
“You should have told her no.”
“Why?”
“Is this your way of paying me back for spending time with your family?” Marissa demanded. “You’re going to crash my sister’s birthday party?”
“I was invited, so I wouldn’t be crashing.”
“You shouldn’t be attending, either.”
Connor said. “You know the more you tell me not to do something, the more it makes me want to do it. I’m just saying.”
“And I’m just saying that I don’t want you there.”
“Why are you afraid of spending time with me? Is it because of what happened in the elevator?”
“Nothing happened.”
“We almost had sex. You had an orgasm. In an elevator. I can refresh your memory, in case you forgot.” He stepped closer.
She put her hand on his chest. Big mistake. She could feel the warmth of his skin beneath his shirt. Another chambray shirt like the one he’d worn and she’d unbuttoned in the elevator.
“That’s not necessary,” she said.
“So you do remember.”
“Yes,” she said. “And it’s not going to happen again. Good night.” She firmly closed the door on him and the temptation he provided.
* * *
Marissa’s very first memory was of seeing her sister shortly after Jess was born. “You lucky girl,” her mom had been telling her for nine months. “You’re going to have a sister of your very own!”
“I don’t want a sister,” Marissa’s five-year-old self said. “I want a Barbie.”
“You can have both. If you’re a good girl.”
Marissa had been a good girl for the most part ever since then. Her sister, Jess, on the other hand, had always been hell on wheels. One of Jess’s favorite activities as a toddler had been to put her arms around an eight-year-old Marissa and say “Love you!” right before yanking hard enough on Marissa’s hair to bring tears to her eyes.
Jess was turning twenty-three today, and she still had a way of getting to Marissa with that combination of sisterly love and trouble.
It didn’t help that Jess walked in the front door with a tiara on her head. “The birthday girl has arrived!” She struck a pose that would have done Heidi Klum proud. “Is that homemade red velvet cake I smell?”
“You know it is,” Marissa said. “You made Mom make it.”
“You are such a crab.” Jess set her iPod in the speaker docking station in the living room. “I brought my own birthday playlist.”
A second later, Katy Perry’s “Firework” filled the room. “Come on.” Jess grabbed Marissa’s hand. “Dance.”
Jess kicked off her sandals and jumped around the room, tugging Marissa with her. She finally noticed that Marissa wasn’t showing an equal enthusiasm. “You call that dancing? You’re barely moving your head.”
Marissa yanked her hand away. “I don’t like dancing.”
“Everyone likes dancing.”
“I don’t.”
“Since when?”
“Since as long as I can remember,” Marissa said.
“Really?”
“Yeah, really.”
“You’d think I’d have noticed that before,” Jess said.
“You’d think.” Marissa couldn’t help the sarcasm the snuck into her voice.
“Maybe it’s just the wrong song.”
“It’s not.”
Jess ignored her and skipped ahead to the next tune, which was. Enrique Iglesias’s “I Like It.” “Is that better?” Jess asked even as she bopped around. “No? How about this one? Lady Gaga’s ‘Just Dance’ makes everyone dance.” Jess scooted around the room, tossing her hair, her hips, and lip-syncing with the song.
Marissa felt unexpected tears prickling her eyes. She wanted to dance, she really did want to join her sister. But something invisible yet incredibly powerful held her back. “I’m going to go check with Mom to see if she needs help in the kitchen,” she said before making her escape.
The tears were a little harder to hold back when Marissa saw her mom boogying to the song in the kitchen. “The birthday girl must be here, huh?” Her mom waved her offset icing spatula in the air to the beat of the music.
“This one’s for you, Mom,” Jess shouted out before playing Bon Jovi’s “It’s My Life.”
“The greatest band ever,” Marissa’s mom shouted back before punching her arms in the air and almost splattering the ceiling with cream cheese frosting.
“Give me that.” Marissa took the spatula and started licking the frosting off it. She needed a sugar rush really badly.
“Why aren’t you dancing?” her mom finally said after the song ended and Lady Gaga’s “Bad Romance” came up next.
“That’s the question, isn’t it. Why can’t I dance?”
“What do you mean?”
“Didn’t you notice that I didn’t even dance at my own wedding?” Marissa ate more frosting.
“You didn’t?”
“No, Mom. I didn’t.”
“I guess I thought it was some sort of religious thing on Brad’s part.”
“No. It had nothing to do with him.”
“Maybe you’re just shy. Oh, there’s the doorbell. Will you get that for me, please?” her mom said.
Marissa reluctantly set the now-licked-clean spatula in the dishwasher and headed to the front door, walking past her sister who was still dancing to “Bad Romance.”
As if on cue, she opened the door to find Connor standing there with a huge grin on his face. “So you’re a Lady Gaga fan, huh? Who’d have guessed it.”