bench beside her. “Damn it, Gabby, don’t…”
She’d felt his strong arm curl around her shoulders, the unexpectedness of the gesture temporarily interrupting the flow of her tears. Other than the times when she cut his hair or he helped her with chores around the farm, they didn’t touch.
Through the shadows in the gazebo, she’d looked at him, her heart breaking, lips wobbling.
“What can I do?” he’d whispered.
A tsunami of hurt and frustration and regret and need had tossed her heart around like a piece of driftwood. Wetly, she’d blinked then pleaded with no forethought whatsoever, “Kiss me…”
“Stop kicking the table.” Lesley shoved an elbow into Gabby’s ribs.
“Sorry.” Heat flooding her cheeks, Gabby looked down at the notes she was supposed to be taking. Some secrets were too big to tell even your very best friend.
It took another half hour for the meeting to wrap up and then Gabby grabbed Lesley’s arm, hustling her to the diner, where they grabbed their favorite booth in the back and gave their order to Opal, who was hard of hearing and generally handed her ticket book to regular customers so they could write their own orders. She soon returned with a pot of decaf, a slab of marionberry pie and two forks.
“Oh, Mama, that’s good,” Lesley purred in appreciation.
Gabby picked up her fork. “You haven’t even tasted it yet.”
“I’m not talking about the pie, innocent child.” Lesley nodded pointedly toward the counter, where a lone man sat, his large hands cupped around a mug of coffee.
Gabby squinted. “Isn’t that the new pastor at Honeyford Presbyterian?”
“Yessiree. Pastor Keith. Single Pastor Keith.”
“Keith doesn’t sound like a pastor’s name,” Gabby commented, apropos of nothing, but grateful to have a moment before she launched into her own topic. Stabbing a few marionberries and a piece of crust, she moaned at the deliciousness.
“He doesn’t look like a pastor, either,” Lesley mused. “He looks like he should be on a TV show called Sex In The Small Town. Or Desperate Worshippers.” She waggled her brows.
Gabby put a hand over her mouth to trap the berries that nearly spilled out. “You’re ogling a man of the cloth? I’m telling Eric.”
“I’m not ogling him for me, you ninny.” Lifting her fork, she jabbed the tines at Gabby.
Gabby leaned forward, whispering fiercely. “You think I should date the minister of Honeyford Pres? Are you kidding? I grew up in that church. If we ever got serious, I’d picture half the choir in our bedroom, singing ‘Amazing Grace.’”
“Or ‘Glory Hallelujah.’”
“Lesley!” Gabby shook her head at her irreverent sister-in-law.
“He’s not a priest, Gabs. He can have sex. And FYI, so can you.” Abandoning the fork, she snatched a few tiny containers of creamer and laced her coffee, eyeing Gabby with barely concealed impatience. “So what about it?”
“No! I told you—”
Lesley waved a hand. “Forget the gorgeous man of God.” She took a fortifying sip of decaf. “I mean sex. What’s your excuse for not having any?”
Gabby squirmed, ironically feeling as if her best friend had caught her in the act, not out of it. “How do you know I’m not having any?”
Lesley slapped the table as if she’d heard a good joke. “Please.”
Gabby’s glance skittered away, a mouse hoping the cat one foot away might not notice her.
“I love you, Gabs,” Lesley said, sighing. “You know I’d never say anything to hurt you, but we’ve reached critical mass. I didn’t say anything while there was still a chance that Dean might…”
“I know, I know.” Plopping her elbows on the table, Gabby covered her eyes with her hands then peeked around to make sure no one they knew was nearby, but Les would not have spoken if there had been. Gabby knew her sister-in-law truly did have her best interests at heart. “If it comforts you any, I’ve been thinking the same thing. I’m in a rut I have to get out of. And I am. I have a plan. But first, I need to tell you something. I need to tell someone…”
Save for a brief hiatus when the waitress came by to refill their coffee cups, Gabby did not stop talking until she’d filled Lesley in on That Night with Cal. Lesley’s eyes grew wider and wider, until she practically shouted, “You and Caleb?! And you never told me? I’m going to go home and write in my journal that we are nothing like Oprah and Gayle after all. But first—” She climbed so far over the table, her bosom was nearly in the pie. “How was it?”
Picking up Lesley’s discarded creamer containers and stacking them, Gabby shrugged. “It was…you know…I don’t know.”
“You don’t know? What, it was too long ago? You can’t remember?”
She remembered. Sex with Cal had been desperate, frantic…
Out of control—that’s what it had been. What she had been that night. The experience stood, in fact, as the one out-of-control moment in Gabby’s highly controlled life. And her body had reveled in it, sweeping her mind right along with it.
At first, anyway.
Being a virgin at the time, she’d felt pain that had eventually allowed reality to intrude into the moment of madness, and once that happened…She shuddered. Regret and embarrassment had snuffed out lust. For her, at least. And, really, such a wild, out-of-control feeling—not her at all.
To Lesley, she responded, “I was young. And it was my first time, so…you know.”
“Oh.” Lesley nodded. “Right. Not great, then. My first time with Eric left a lot to be desired, too. But we tried again the next day, and that—”
“Too much info, too much info!” Gabby covered her ears, unwilling to hear details about her eldest brother’s love life.
“All right. Tell me what happened afterward for you two.”
“Nothing happened. He was going away to college.”
“Which left two months between the Fourth of July and September. So…?”
“So nothing. He dropped by the next day to check on me…” Reluctant to relive the details of that torturously awkward encounter, Gabby shook her head. “It was only a one-night thing.”
Lesley made a face. “Teenage boys and sex. Gotcha.”
Gabby shrugged noncommittally.
“Well, what do you want to do about it now?” Lesley questioned, finally digging into the pie that was unlikely to do any damage at all to her willowy, five-foot-nine-inch dancer’s body. “You say he’s back in town. I wonder how long he’s staying. Maybe you two could have a
