The Best Week of My Life (6 page)

“I was not prancing. I was walking perfectly normal. You are exaggerating.” She pointed a finger at him.

“Looked like prancing to me with the way you were wagging your butt.”

Martha smacked him then, and Daphne’s giggles increased. Carter couldn’t help but grin.

“I think you’d better let me tell this story,” Martha said. “It was more you were strutting. If you’d puffed out your chest any further, you’d have been a rooster.”

They all laughed then and a few minutes passed.

Martha checked her watch. “Looks like time to go. Where my purse? Daphne, where’d I leave it?”

“You put it beside the bed,” Daphne said.

Martha tossed her hands up. “Oh, right. So I did. I’m going to prance right in there and get it.” This brought more laughter.

Howard stuffed his hands in his pockets and jingled his keys. “She left out the best part,” he said. He pulled a slip of paper from his pocket, unfolded and read it, then tossed it on the counter.

“What part was that, Daddy?”

Howard’s lips broke into a smile. “The part where she fell flat on her face at my feet.”

“Sh-she did?” Daphne wriggled to a sitting position.

“Yep. Kinda like you did at this boy’s. Hmm … wonder if that’s a sign of anything.”

“Stop pressuring them, Howard.” Martha reentered the room. “Just because I was a chump doesn’t mean Daphne is.”

She moved toward the door and Carter and Daphne stood to their feet.

“Daphne? She’s not the chump, dear. That’d be him. Something about a girl who can get back up from something like that which is powerfully appealing.”

***

I mashed my hand to the aquarium glass, this despite signs everywhere saying not to do so, and followed the back and forth swimming of the fish. “Do you think fish fall in love?” I asked.

This question made complete sense to me. Fish had babies so fish might fall in love. Right?

“Probably depends on the fish,” Carter replied in my ear.

“Why? Does that mean some fish don’t? But I guess you
could
be right because some fish care for their young and some just swim away.”

I turned around and found Carter staring at
me
, not the fish.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

He smiled. “Thinking about what your dad said.”

“Daddy? Which part?” Daddy had been yapping all morning. Having spent the previous day reading every brochure he could get his hands on, he’d served as our tour guide across town, something he liked to do.

“The story about him and your mom.”

I smiled. “Oh, that. I never knew about her falling. I must get it from her.”

“Something to be proud of,” he said.

“Really?”

He took my hand and pulled me away from the tank.

“I wouldn’t think tripping is a genetic behavior,” I said. “Then again, I saw this thing on twins once – where they’d grown up separate from each other and yet had the same likes and dislikes, the same strange habits.”

“He’s right though. I found it ‘appealing’,” Carter said.

My cheeks heated, and so I turned around and dragged him into the next room. A hands-on tank sat in the center, and the boisterous voices of young children echoed against the glass and metal walls. A boy, around age five, dangled his entire torso over the clear edge.

“Maybe he’ll fall in and a stingray will get him.” I said with a shiver. I had no interest in coming within ten feet of a stingray. But Carter was thinking otherwise because he tapped me forward.

“You’re going to pet one,” he said.

I dug my feet into the tile. “No, I’m not. I’ve already done that this week.”

He was stronger than me, however, and pushed me closer. “That wasn’t petting.”

“That was painful, and there’s no sand here to bury me in if I get stung.”

He pushed again. “You’re not going to get stung.”

At this point, I was at the side of the tank. Carter took hold of my hand and raised it over the side.

“Carter Pruitt, don’t do this to me,” I fumed, wriggling away.

“C’mon, Daph. They’re harmless. See?” He demonstrated by placing his own hand in the water. A stingray swam under, rubbing against his fingertips.

“But that’s you, and I’m me. And things happen to me when I try stuff.”

He made a face. “You can’t let that stop you.”

“Oh! Perfect!” My mom’s voice chirped from behind us. “You two pose right there. Howard, quick, take a picture, and Daphne, put your hand in the tank.”

“How about I …” I began, but Carter, taking hold, stuck my hand in there anyway. I cringed.

“Now, look at your father and smile,” Mom said.

I tried to paste a smile on my face, but the water swishing over my fingers and my thoughts of a stingray were giving me the jitters.

“Daphne, you look like you’re in pain. Smile, not grimace,” my mom said.

I refastened my smile. I wasn’t feeling it.

“That’s better. Take the picture, Howard.”

My dad fiddled with the camera, mashing buttons and flipping dials, then he counted to three. “One,” he said.

In my distressed mind, he was dragging this out.

“Two.”

“Can we get this over with?” I asked.

“Patience, Daphne,” my mother said, “or you’ll mess it up.”

I couldn’t see how this could get any worse.

Three.”

And all hell broke loose. The flash went off the second a stingray brushed to my hand. I screamed like I was dying; the boy hanging over the edge fell in, his parent immediately yelling, and what sounded like one hundred kids started running to and fro in a thousand directions.

Carter clasped me to him and moved me away from the ruckus. But I was mad now. He’d made me do that, and I didn’t want to.

“See?” I said into his chest. “I told you stuff happens.”

“And I told you days ago that I’d take care of you,” he replied. He was strangely calm.

I writhed until I worked myself free and backed off. “It’s not appealing,” I said.

He was looking at me sad, and I knew I should shut up. But shutting up had never been my best thing.

“It was stupid. I’m always stupid. Dumb ‘ol Daphne. She has to fall down at the feet of the boy she’s had a crush on. She has to make it worse by dropping her things on his feet. Then she almost gets killed by a stingray.” I was pulling out all the stops now. “And gets the same boy almost arrested, and now, she’s drowned some kid in an aquarium.”

“Daph, stop,” he said, approaching.

But I reversed. “No, it isn’t true, none of this. Carter Pruitt doesn’t like me, and one day, I’m gonna do something so bad, he’ll never come near me again. And that day is the worst day of my life because I’ll cry buckets of tears and be so embarrassed. Then I’ll drop out of school and have to work fast food while you go on and marry some pretty girl and have three kids just like you. And …”

I burst into tears. I heard his sigh, long and deep, and his footsteps as he once again approached. He took hold of me and held me tight, tucking my head beneath his chin. He was so nice – solid and warm – and he smelled good. I really had no right to be there. He was so much better than me.

He didn’t speak, didn’t say a thing until I’d finished my crying, then he tilted my face upward and dried my tears with his thumbs.

“What’s it gonna take to make you believe I like you?” he said. “Because it doesn’t matter what you do now or later, what might happen or might not, I like Daphne Merrill for who she is, and I like her a lot. She makes me happy.”

I blinked up at him. Had he really just said that? But it couldn’t be true. He couldn’t like me for me. I was such a klutz.

“Daph, you want to know how I feel?”

I nodded. But I had no idea what he was going to do and so I flinched at the contact of his mouth against my cheek.

He pulled back, and I laid a hand over it.

“I’m never washing my face again … ever,” I said in a whisper.

He smiled. “You can wash it. I’ll just kiss it again.”

“You promise?”

And he held out his hand, his pinky crooked. “Pinky swear.”

CHAPTER 6

“Daphne, is something the matter with your jaw?” my mother asked.

I jerked my hand away from my face and tried to appear casual. “No.”

She poised her fork over her plate and stirred her salad around. “Then stop doing that.”

But I couldn’t get rid of the feel of Carter’s lips or the fact he’d said he’d kiss me there again. And I definitely couldn’t look at him right then because that’d probably make me cry.

My dad distracted me, however. Leaning back in his seat, his hands resting atop his belly, he kinked his neck and launched into a story. “Daphne,” he said. “I never told you about the time your mother and I went on our first vacation. Not counting our honeymoon, of course. We’d been married about two years. I had a new job at the shoe store and so hadn’t been able to get away before then.”

I knew about the shoe store. Every now and then, he’d tell things about some of the people that used to come in there and make me laugh. Dad was always good at making me laugh.

“Where’d you go?” I asked.

“Georgia. Took your mother to the mountains. She wanted to climb as high as we could, she said.”

“I never said that,” my mother interrupted. “I said, ‘Probably we’ll end up at the top, unable to get down.’”

My father grinned, letting us know he’d expected her to correct him.

“Anyhow,” he said. “Long about day two, we went for a drive, but our poor Chevy was gasping and chugging over each hill.”

“I told you to have it tuned, but you ignored me.”

“I didn’t think it needed tu
ning. But I can admit my faults when I have one, and I was wrong.”

My mother beamed.

“I was definitely wrong because the car gave up somewhere between Blairsville and Helen. Now, that’s a long winding road in the middle of nowhere – mountain on one side, cliff on the other – and she was wearing these heels.”

“I loved those shoes.”

“Not for long you didn’t.”

My mom scowled. “No. Not after walking uphill for five miles.”

“Five miles?” I asked.

“Five miles,” my dad repeated. “We were saved by a fellow in a truck. Truck was older than our car and held together by string and wire, I do believe. He also had a nasty habit of spitting his snuff out the window.”

My mom shuddered. “Don’t remind me. So awful. Carter, do not ever put that stuff in your mouth. You hear me?”

Carter nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

“So did you get back?” I asked.

“Yes and no,” my dad replied. “The next day we did. That night we were forced to sleep at an inn in some little town until we could hunt up someone to go get our car. Cost me a fortune.”

“Cost you the price of two meals, is what it cost.”

“That’d be the next two meals when we ate only cereal. Not too romantic.”

My mom patted her hair. “Oh, I don’t know, Howard, any meal is romantic if you’re with the right person. Unless it’s something you really don’t want to eat.”

“Carter doesn’t like watermelon either,” I said. I thought to include him in the conversation. He was being kinda quiet.

“You don’t?” my mom asked.

“No, ma’am. It tastes funny.”

“That’s what Daphne always says, but I think it’s perfectly delicious. Howard’s not too fond, but he will eat it if I force him.”

My dad then focused his gaze on Carter. “Son,” he said. “Never let a woman force you to eat what you don’t want to.”

My mom smacked him again. “Stop it. What kind of advice is that anyway? If you’re going to give the boy advice, give him advice he can use. That advice is like force feeding a fish, slimy and pointless.”

I could feel Carter trying not to laugh beside me.

“Now, real advice would be to act chivalrous.”

“Chivalrous? What is that?” my dad asked.

“You know,” Mom returned. “Courtesy, generosity, valor, justice.” She laid a hand over her heart as she recited them. “Howard is very chivalrous, always has been. That night, after we walked so far, had to ride with the old man, and then sleep in a strange bed, he massaged my feet and afterward, walked all the way to the corner store to buy me a soda.”

“That’s when you knew you loved me.”

My mom puckered her lips. “I knew I loved you before we got married, silly. You know when?”

I could see Dad was clueless. He generally was where Mom was concerned. But no way he was admitting that. “Remind me,” he said.

“Why it was after I got up from the sand. There I was covered in it, looking like a fool, but you simply said, ‘If I’d been walking in that direction, I would have fallen first.” She sighed. “I felt better after that. You didn’t care what a discombobulated person I was.”

“You’re perfect,” he crowed, and leaning forward, he kissed her cheek.

She smiled and patted it. “There now. I feel young again.” She lowered her hand and then reached for her purse. “I know what let’s do. Let’s go to the Circle. We haven’t been in so long; it’ll be fun.”

My dad nodded, and we stood to our feet. Carter whispered in my ear. “What’s the Circle?”

I smiled and nodded, then hung back as my parents moved toward the register, meal ticket in hand.

“It’s a ritzy shopping center,” I said, checking to be sure I was out of hearing of my folks.

“But you said your mom hates shopping.”

“She does, but she likes this place because everything’s so expensive, my dad won’t buy anything.”

Carter grinned.

***

The cars parked at the Circle were as expensive as the contents of the stores – Mazeratis, Jaguars. We even saw a Rolls Royce. So our little banged-up SUV stood out like a sore thumb, as did the sight of the four of us traipsing along the sidewalk.

Not that there weren’t other tourists there, because there were, but they, like us, looked in the store windows wide-eyed, pockets turned out. One hundred dollars for a pair of blue jeans. One thousand for a watch.

“You’d have to insure yourself just to leave home,” I said.

Even the ice cream store cost more than we’d spend.

“Solid gold sugar, that is.” Mama waved her hand wide.