Love Starts with Elle(11)

“Just new a coloring book and crayons.”

“Can you keep Rio for me tonight?”

“Where are you going?” Elle shuffled through a pile of linens she’d pulled from the hall closet. She’d pack her new towels and washcloths, left the rest for the renter.

“Out.” Julianne shoved off the couch and headed for the kitchen.

“We just ate at McDonald’s. Got any fruit in here?”

“To relieve your fast-food guilt?” Elle heard the fridge open, followed by the hiss of a Coke can.

“Naturally.”

Rio ran to the living room with her new coloring book and a box of crayons.

“Color on the coffee table, Rio.” Watching her made Elle’s heart ache. In a few weeks, these impromptu visits would cease.

Julianne came in from the kitchen with a Diet Coke and a bowl of grapes. “Eat these, Rio, please.” She set the bowl on the table next to the coloring book, then plopped onto the leather couch just inside the shade. “So, can she stay?”

Elle leaned over the back of the couch propped on her elbows. “If you tell me where you’re going.”

“I told you. Out.”

“With whom? And to where?”

“Really, Elle, you ask too many questions.” Julianne popped a grape into her mouth. “Rio, good job on the picture. I love a solid purple cat.”

“Seems I remember someone asking me a lot of questions the other day,” Elle said. “Rio, remember to color between the lines like I showed you.”

“Maybe she doesn’t want to color between the lines.” Julianne tossed a grape at her sister.

“Maybe if she learned to color between the lines first, then she’d be an expert at coloring outside the lines.” Elle arched her brow at her sister and tossed the grape back.

“I’m not telling you where I’m going. It’s my business.”

“Let’s see, wasn’t it you prying into my life just a few days ago? Now I can’t ask where you’re going if I keep your daughter overnight?” If Jules really needed an overnight sitter, she’d have no choice but to go to Mama or one of their other sisters. And if she hated Elle asking questions . . . ?

“I have a date.” Julianne seemed to think these four words sufficed as an answer.

“An overnight date?” Elle suspended “date” for emphasis.

“No, but we’re going to Charleston for a play. I’ll be home late. Besides, I have to pick you up at the crack-o-seven anyway. It just seemed easier.”

“Who is he?”

“A man.”

“Do we know him?” Elle motioned toward Rio with her eyes. “You can’t go around with just anyone.”

“If you don’t want to watch her, just say so.” Julianne fired off the couch for the kitchen. “Finish up, Rio, we’ve got to get going.”

Elle caved. “Jules, I’ll watch her, but what’s the harm in knowing where you’re going to be and with whom? Do I know this date?”

Julianne picked up her handbag from the coffee table. It rattled with keys and who knew what else. “Call my cell if you need me.” She stooped to kiss Rio. “Be good for Auntie Elle.”

Elle followed her out to the front porch. “Do not be late to pick me up for the airport.”

Julianne stopped at the bottom step. “You don’t have to marry him, Elle.”

“Stop hinting, Jules. What are you trying to say? You don’t like him, do you?”

“Yes, I like him. A lot. I don’t like him taking you away, and I’m sure you don’t either.”

Elle shook her head, turning for the house. “Good night, Jules. See you at seven, and don’t be late.”





FOUR





DALLAS


Thunderstorms rolled over the plains and delayed Elle’s fight to Dallas by three hours. When the wheels finally barked against the tarmac, she exhaled tension and subtly stretched the knots from her shoulders and legs.

The only thing that made this horrid day and dreadful flight worthwhile was the anticipation of seeing Jeremiah at the end of the Jetway. She’d covered all of her apprehension and worry with daydreams of the week.

House hunting, kissing, planning their future, kissing, meeting her new church family, kissing, watching old movies and eating pizza, kissing . . .

Given the all-clear by the flight attendant to use electronic devices, Elle fished her cell phone from her bag and dialed Jeremiah. As it rang, she gazed out the plane’s rain-splattered window. She couldn’t see much of Dallas from the airport’s gate, but just beyond the gray horizon a patch of blue was breaking through.

Jeremiah’s voicemail popped on. “You’ve reached Jeremiah Franklin, I’m unavailable at this time . . .”

Elle listened, rising from her seat, hunched forward under the overhead bin, waiting for the passengers in the forward rows to deplane.

“Hey, babe, it’s me. I’m here. Finally. I cannot wait to see you. This trip has been an ordeal.” She smiled “thanks” to the man who reached in the overhead and tugged down her bag. “Starting with Julianne being late to pick me up. Then some kid spilled chocolate milk down my back in Atlanta . . . You know what? I’m sorry, this can wait. See you in a few minutes.”