Passing through Perfect (Wyattsville #3)(6)

“Already? Seems it ain’t been that long.”

“More’n four years,” Otis answered.

They stood and talked for a while, mostly about crops, weather, and Denny’s daughter, Lucille.

“High time she got married,” he said. After that he went into the specifics of what a wonderful wife Lucille would make.

“She can whip up cornbread like you ain’t never tasted. Ben ought to grab her up ’fore somebody else does,” he said.

Otis laughed. “Benjamin’s too busy to be thinking of women. Only thing on his mind is farming and making money.”

“That ain’t good.” Denny shook his head ruefully. “Men got natural instincts, and when they ain’t got a woman…” He left the rest of that thought unsaid.

A picture of Lila came to mind, and Otis remembered how it was. When she was alive there were hot biscuits and savory stews. On days when the weight of work bent his back, she’d rub his shoulders and ease the pain. And in the dark of night when they were side by side in the bed, she’d press her body close to his and it brought a feeling of completeness. Were it not for Lila, he wouldn’t have Benjamin; were it not for Benjamin, Otis would surely have one foot in the grave.

“It’s the God’s honest truth,” he said, sighing. “A man ought to have a woman.”

Denny’s eyes lit up. “Maybe if Ben was to meet up with Lucille…”

Otis laughed. “Benjamin ain’t one to have me meddling in his business.”

“I ain’t saying we got to meddle, but they got a festival at Brotherhood Hall this Saturday, and if you was to bring Ben and I was to bring Lucille…”

Otis nodded. “Saturday, huh?”





That very evening Otis told his son they’d been working way too hard and needed to do a bit of socializing.

“Now we got everything in the ground, there ain’t nothing to do but wait for it to grow,” he said.

Although Benjamin had planned to spend Saturday replacing a worn belt on the tractor, he agreed to go to the festival.

“I’m thinking you ought to wear your uniform,” Otis said. He claimed it was a prideful thing he wanted to show his friends, but the truth was he had Lucille in mind.





The Brotherhood Hall was a wooden building smack in the center of town; across the street was a dirt lot for parking. By the time Benjamin and Otis arrived, the music and laughter could be heard for ten blocks in any direction. When they walked through the door Denny was waiting. He grabbed hold of Lucille’s hand and pulled her closer.

“Ben,” he said, “you met my daughter, Lucille?”

“Afraid not. Pleased,” he said and gave a nod.

Lucille was plain as oatmeal and shy as a scared turtle. She gave him one quick glance, then ducked back into her shell.

With the music from the jukebox loud and bouncing off of the walls, there wasn’t much room for talking.

“Ask Lucille to dance,” Otis prodded.

Benjamin did.

As they stepped onto the floor, the Les Brown record ended and the music went from Sentimental Journey to Be-Baba-Leba. Poor Lucille looked like she was on the verge of fainting.

“I can’t jitterbug,” she whispered in Benjamin’s ear.

“I ain’t none too crazy about it myself,” he answered. “We’ll get us some lemonade and wait for something else.”

As they walked off the floor Benjamin got his first glimpse of Delia. She was wearing a red dress, tight around her waist with a skirt that flew up to the middle of her thigh as she jumped around. It was a quick flash of smile with lips scarlet as a ripe cherry, but already Benjamin knew he wanted more.

He guided Lucille over to the refreshment table and ordered two lemonades. As they stood there sipping their drinks he scanned the dance floor in search of the red dress, but by then she was gone.

In time Be-Baba-Leba gave way to a soft tempo foxtrot, and they returned to the dance floor. Halfway through the dance Benjamin looked over Lucille’s shoulder and saw those red lips smiling; not just smiling but smiling at him. In what was less than a heartbeat, she was gone again.

“There I’ve said it again,” Vaughn Monroe crooned from the jukebox, but Benjamin heard nothing. He stumbled through the remainder of the song, then returned Lucille to her father’s side.

“Thank you for the dance, Miss Lucille,” he said politely; then off he went in search of the red lips.





Delia stood in the far back and saw Benjamin crossing the floor. When he drew closer she said, “Hi, soldier,” and gave a smile.

Benjamin was comfortable talking to most anybody, but when he tried to answer Delia, his tongue got tied in knots. “I ain’t exactly…I used to…but…I ain’t…”

Delia laughed. “Is this your way of not asking me to dance?”

“No, ma’am,” Benjamin stuttered.

“Ma’am?” Delia smiled. “You talking to me or my mama?”

“Why, you, of course…”

“Well, then, call me Delia,” she said. “Ma’am sounds like my mama.”

As if it were something predestined from the first tick of time, Delia slipped into Benjamin’s arms and they moved onto the dance floor. They danced every dance, and before the evening was over she’d agreed to see him again on Tuesday evening.