Passing through Perfect (Wyattsville #3)(7)
“We can meet down by the movie,” she said. “Six o’clock.”
By then Benjamin was in love with Delia and would have agreed to meet her on the moon if that was what she wanted. The promise of seeing her again was enough; he’d asked for nothing more.
On the drive home he told his daddy, “I’m in love.”
“Well, I’ll be.” Otis grinned. “You fooled me good. I could’ve swore you didn’t care a fig for Lucille.”
“Not Lucille,” Benjamin said. “Delia.”
“Delia who?”
Benjamin laughed. “Darned if I know. I got so twisted into knots I done forgot to ask her last name.”
“Where’s she from?”
“I didn’t ask that neither.”
Otis chuckled. “Love’s more ’n climbing into bed together. Love don’t come ’til folks get to liking each other. All you got now is an itch needing to be scratched.”
Benjamin knew better, but he also knew when his daddy got a thought in his mind there wasn’t any way of arguing it out. Otis hadn’t seen the warmth in Delia’s eyes; he hadn’t heard the ripple of her laugh. Benjamin had. The sweetness of that sound still echoed in his ears, and when he remembered her eyes he could see they were flecked with gold like his mama’s.
As they drove the rest of the way in silence, Benjamin thought back on Lila’s laughter and when he finally caught hold of a memory and brought it to mind, it had the same lighthearted sound as Delia’s laugh.
On Tuesday evening Benjamin was parked in front of the movie theater by five-thirty. He climbed out of the car and stood directly in front of the ticket booth, looking up and down both sides of the street. The minutes ticked by slowly as he waited, and he came to realize how foolish he’d been in not learning Delia’s last name. If there was some unforeseen circumstance—a sprained ankle, a flat tire, or an unexpected delay of any sort—it could prevent her from coming and they’d lose track of one another. If that happened he might never find her again. The thought of such a thing sent a shiver of dread down his spine, and he vowed that before the night was over he’d know everything there was to know about her.
By six-ten Benjamin was pacing nervously back and forth in front of the theater. Twice he walked to the end of the street and peered around the corner, but there was no sign of Delia. When she finally came scurrying down Center Street at six-twenty-five, a rivulet of perspiration was rolling down his back.
“I’m sorry to be so late,” she said. “Daddy was in one of his preaching moods and supper ran long.”
“I was worried,” Benjamin said, trying not to show how truly frantic he’d been. “What with not knowing where you live or how to find you.”
“Why, I live right here in Twin Pines,” she said with a laugh. “My daddy’s the pastor at New Unity Church, so I’m easy enough to find.”
On Saturday night they’d talked about seeing The Lost Weekend but the movie was now of little interest, so they passed it by and went for a ride in Benjamin’s shined-up car. There had been little conversation in the noisy ballroom, but once they were alone together Delia bubbled over with things to say. Benjamin listened eagerly and could taste the sweetness of her as surely as he could taste the sweetness in a stalk of sugar cane. When she brought her hand across to touch his arm, he wished the night would never end. Perhaps it was the sound of her laughter, perhaps the warmth that came from her eyes; he couldn’t explain the reason, but when her hand touched him he could feel her pulse pounding in his heart.
“You remind me of my mama,” he said.
“Your mama?” Delia laughed like it was the funniest thing she’d ever heard. “What kind of sweet talk is that, telling a girl she reminds you of your mama?”
Benjamin glanced across with a shy grin. “I’m meaning it in a nice way. My mama was the prettiest woman I’d ever laid eyes on…until now.”
“Go on,” Delia said with a giggle. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”
“No,” Benjamin answered, his voice serious as the day was long. “I ain’t never said it to nobody before.”
The funny thing was he meant it. Delia had the kind of warmth he remembered from his boyhood days. Although he had known her for just a few short hours he could already picture her standing in the kitchen, stirring a pot of soup or pouring coffee into his blue mug. It wasn’t just the warmth of her eyes or the fact that she had a mouth curled into the most kissable smile he’d ever seen. It was because when he looked at Delia he could see the future.
They drove to the edge of town then stopped at a roadside stand, bought two bottles of icy cold cola, and sat in the grass talking. The sky grew dark and filled with stars, but it was the warmth of Delia’s eyes that lit a fire in Benjamin’s heart.
She was in the middle of telling about how they’d moved from Ohio because her Daddy took on the job of shepherding the flock at New Unity Church when Benjamin blurted out, “I’ve done decided you’re the girl I’m gonna marry!”
Delia laughed. “Marry? A wife ain’t like an apple you pick off a tree. A fella’s got to court a girl and make her start liking him. Then maybe he can ask if she’s willing to marry.”