Chapter 7

Posted: August 03, 2008 - 05:48:44 pm

Margie and Tommy walked into the Grimes’ house at three-thirty Saturday afternoon. Margie said hello to everyone and goodbye to Tommy, then dashed back to her car. She was in a hurry so she could get back to San Antonio early enough to get some sleep before her Sunday tour of duty at the hospital. She also hustled away so she would not show how much she was going to miss Tommy. She had, however, let Tommy know that fact on the ride from the Frickes’.

“I’m going to miss you like crazy, Tommy. Even though I know I’ll see you again in less than a week, I hate to have to go.”

Tommy nodded his understanding and agreement.

“I will be so happy when you are living here and I can see you all the time,” he replied.

Rex came bounding into the front hall when he heard Tommy’s voice. Rex was wagging his tail so hard his whole body quivered. Tommy dropped to one knee and gave his dog a few pats and scratched behind his ears.

“Miss me boy?” Tommy asked.

Rex yipped in reply and fell on to his back at Tommy’s feet to have his belly rubbed. Bucky laughed at Tommy’s question to the dog.

“All he did was lay around moping while you were gone, Tommy, except he’d go to the front door and wait for you in the afternoon. Next time you go somewhere, you have to take him with you.”

Tommy nodded his agreement to Bucky’s suggestion.

“Good idea, Bucky.”

As soon as Margie drove away, Regina, Bucky and Betty Lou dragged Tommy into the parlor, so he could tell them all about his trip. Rex lay down in the doorway, so Tommy couldn’t escape. The Grimes family members were as happy to see him as Margie had been sad to leave him. Tommy told them all about the tests he took and the results of the medical review board. He kept to himself the private times he spent with Margie. One of the lessons that both Rita and Margie stressed, was the need to keep his love life to himself.

Tommy had Bucky’s watch in his pocket from when he took out the other guys’ gifts, so he handed it to him. Bucky thought the watch was the coolest, and put it on straight away. While Betty Lou was helping Bucky with the watch’s clasp, Tommy turned to Regina.

“I have something for you too, Regina, but it’s packed away in my suitcase. I’ll give it to you later. Okay?”

That was fine with Regina, so Tommy excused himself to go unpack. He had been in his basement room for about five minutes, when Betty Lou came down and joined him. She walked over to the bed until she was standing right next to him.

“I’ll take your dirty clothes now, because I already have part of a load of Bucky’s...” she was saying, when Tommy turned and silenced her with a kiss.

Betty Lou let out a squeak of surprise then suddenly threw her arms around his neck and kissed him back. Tommy finally broke the kiss and pulled his head back so he could see her face. She reluctantly eased her grip around his neck so he could do so.

“I missed you a lot Betty Lou,” Tommy said.

Betty Lou looked into his clear hazel eyes and saw nothing but openness and sincerity. She gulped and nodded her head a couple of times. She didn’t dare tell him how she felt right then, so she kept her voice light and cheerful.

“I missed you too, Tommy. I don’t like it when part of my family is away from me.”

Tommy smiled in absolute delight when she said family in reference to him. He spun around and reached into his suitcase.

“I have something for you, but you have to sit down on the bed,” he said over his shoulder.

Betty Lou hesitated for a second, weighing the properness of being on his bed. In the end she shrugged and gracefully folded herself down on the thick tick mattress. Tommy snatched something out of his bag and dropped to his knees in front of her. Betty Lou gasped as he gently took her ankle and put her foot on his thigh. Betty Lou was wearing one of her standard three-quarter length dresses, the hem hitting her at mid-calf, so she wasn’t revealing much leg, even when sitting. However, it had been years since a man had touched her leg, and never had one touched it with quite the reverence Tommy showed. Leaving her foot on his thigh, Tommy snapped open the black velvet box and extracted the finely wrought gold filigree chain.

“It’s a bracelet for your ankle,” he said, holding it up so it sparkled in the light. “And see, it has your name carved on it.”

Betty Lou took the proffered bracelet and sure enough, the small gold plate was inscribed ‘Betty Lou’. Tommy then made a production of showing her the other side with its ‘Love Tommy’ inscription. Betty held the bracelet loosely in her hand and regarded him seriously. She thought the bracelet was gorgeous, but felt the gift was a little too personal.

“It’s beautiful, Tommy, but an intimate gift like this should go to some one you have romantic feelings for,” she said cautiously.

Tommy broke into a smile and plucked the chain from her hand.

“Exactly,” he said as he fastened it around her slender ankle.

Tommy enjoyed attending church on Sunday mornings. He had even enjoyed them before he joined the choir. Tommy did not agree with all the precepts of the church, but he strongly believed in the tenet that doing good was its own reward. Consequently, every Sunday he resolved anew to be the best person he could possibly be. It was easy for Tommy to do that, because he didn’t have many of the life experiences that made most people jaded by the time they were adults. Tommy saw every person he met as a potential friend and a good person. It was surprising how often his treating it as a foregone conclusion actually made it happen, just like that. Tommy’s enthusiasm, sincerity and basic goodness brought out the best in most everyone he met.

After church that Sunday, Rita and Betty Lou were out front yakking about Thanksgiving, the holiday being only four days away. Rita had recruited Betty Lou and her other friends to help with the big turkey dinner that VFW Post 9802 held every year. The dinner was open to anyone who wanted to come, from skid row bums to county commissioners. Both women stopped talking when a long, white 1969 Cadillac Eldorado convertible drew up in front of the church.

The stunningly beautiful black haired woman driving the big Caddy scanned the throng milling around the front of the church. She seemed to find who she was looking for, because she pointed at someone out of Betty Lou and Rita’s sight, and gestured for them to come to her car. Betty Lou gasped and Rita’s jaw dropped to the ground when Tommy came strolling over, pointing at himself. The woman nodded and said something. Tommy gave a serious nod of his own and climbed into the car. Before Rita or Betty Lou could react, the big Caddy smoothly pulled away from the curb and rocketed down the street.

Harold Fricke was just as thunderstruck as the rest of the congregation, as he watched his boy jump in the car and take off with the notorious and mysterious Conchita Delgado. Harold spun away from the man with whom he had been discussing Thanksgiving, and hustled over to his wife. He skidded to a stop in front of her and held up his hand before she could go off on him.

“Easy, Rita Maude, I didn’t have anything to do with this. As far as I know, this is the first time those two have ever laid eyes on each other, so don’t jump to conclusions.”

Rita smiled at her husband and lovingly laid her hand on his cheek.

“I know that, Silly Man, and I know nothing is going to happen between them today, because our Tommy is not wired that way,” Rita said serenely.

Harold just gawked as Betty-Lou nodded her agreement. What the hell?

Harold Fricke was partially correct, in that Tommy did not know who or what Conchita Delgado was. Conchita, however, knew a lot about Tommy, because of what she had overheard Becky Dierdorf, a waitress at the Bluebonnet Diner, was telling one of the other women who worked there. One of her ranch hands had also told her about the strange new man who worked at the feed store and sang like George Jones in the church choir. Out of idle curiosity, Conchita had driven by the First Baptist Church of Brantley, on her way home from Mass, just to get a look at the supposedly unique young man. Everything else that happened after that was a result of her over-the-top personality, flair for the dramatic and supercharged libido.

Conchita took one look at Tommy, slammed on her brakes and gestured him over. Tommy sauntered up to her car, doffed his hat and politely asked what she needed. Conchita had heard enough about Tommy to know that blurting out she wanted to jump his bones was out, so she concocted a story on the spot.

“I was wondering if you could help me, dear boy. See, I need some help with my pussy cat, she ran up a tree and I can’t get her off...” Conchita said straight faced.

Clueless, Tommy took her at her word. He liked helping people and he loved animals, so he agreed and hopped into her car.

Conchita Delgado was the name she’d used in the twenty or so, low budget ‘B’ movies she’d scream her way through. Her real name was Florence Pataki Baumgartner. During her acting career, Conchita had the bountiful bodice of her dress ripped open by vampires, mummies, werewolves, little green men, and three different Frankenstein monsters, all at the direction of her husband, producer and director, the cult legend Beau Baumgartner. Baumgartner had made a tidy living filming tight close-ups of Conchita’s considerable creamy cleavage.

When Beau had died (ironically, from the bite of a supposedly nonpoisonous snake on the set of her last movie, the aptly titled, ‘It Slithered up My Leg’), Conchita had sought her healing at their Texas ranch. She was no longer in the movies, but she was still the tragic ingénue, and McCulloch County Texas was now her stage.

One of the most persistent rumors about Conchita was that she was extremely over sexed. That was the reason Harold had mentioned her name to Rita as a possible teacher for Tommy. Everyone, it seemed, knew a guy who had a friend that Conchita seduced. The scenario was always her walking into a bar, picking out some lucky cowboy, and taking him to her ranch. The legend further had it that some three or more days later, the cowboy was found wandering down the road in some sort of daze, a goofy smile plastered on his face.

She had an exotically beautiful face, but the really amazing thing about Conchita was her body. It was as taut, trim and gravity-defying as it had been when Beau ‘discovered’ her, fifteen years ago. Back then, he was a thirty-five year old B movie mogul in the making. She was a wild fifteen-year-old hormonal time bomb. Beau was looking for a new star for his thrillers, and Florence Pataki was looking for a way out of Arkansas. It was a match made in heaven?

Conchita and Tommy made small talk as she motored them towards her ranch. Conchita kept an eye on the young man as they rode along, and was flabbergasted that he studiously ignored looking at her legs or her barely covered, button straining bosom. Instead, he looked at her face, something even Father McManus couldn’t pull off that day during Holy Communion. What’s more, Tommy listened to her as if her opinions mattered to him. He did not assume she was some dumb broad with nothing to offer but a great set of tits. For the first time since she was ten years old, Conchita was off balance in the presence of a man.

At least Conchita had a cat, so her story did not seem entirely fabricated. The cat in question had really belonged to her husband, and she’d inherited it with the rest of his estate. The cat was an ancient big black Persian named El Diablo, and he had hated Conchita from the day they were introduced. The cat reacted so badly towards her, that Beau had used the beast in a couple of movies to snarl and hiss anytime Conchita walked into a room. There wasn’t an animal trainer in Hollywood who could get a cat to display one tenth El Diablo’s animosity toward Conchita.

Conchita smiled at Tommy when they saw the cat sunning himself on the porch.