Give Me Tonight(54)

"One handsome man, isn't he?"

"Any man looks better after bathing and putting on clean clothes."

Caroline snorted. "Oh, tell the truth, Adeline."

But Addie couldn't reply. Having sensed her amazed stare, Ben turned and looked at her, and his eyes filled with an insolent appreciation that made her pulse quicken. Then he smiled lazily and returned his atten­tion to Mr. Fanin, as if Addie held little interest for him.

She couldn't help being tense during the rest of the barbecue, half-expecting Ben's touch on her arm or his voice in her ear. Surely he'd have to come by and say hello, if only for the sake of politeness. And when he did approach her, she would set him back on his heels in no time at all. No matter how handsome he was, she'd let him see how indifferent she was to him! But as the afternoon wore on, he made no move toward her. Addie was oddly deflated at not having the chance to talk to him. His time is his own—the Lord knows I don't care how he spends it, she thought, trying to work up some healthy disdain. Let him talk to every woman there but her. She didn't care a bit.

After the crowd had eaten its fill and the food began to settle down to overfilled stomachs, the afternoon was lazy and quiet. Voices that had previously been animated became languid, chairs tipped back, eyelids half-lowered with contentment.

“Look who's coming over," Caroline said, cleaning her plate with one last bite of ham. Tw0 young women were approaching, both of them wearing In­dienne dresses made of striped cambric and cotton, the bodices cut low to reveal white muslin chemisettes underneath. The women looked vaguely familiar, but Addie had no idea what their names were. Looking down hurriedly, she lifted a hand to one of her eyes. "I can't see who it is—have something in my eye," she muttered. "Who is it?"

"It's Ruthie, and your old playmate Melissa Merri­gold," Caroline said. "Melissa's going to be Ruthie's maid of honor. Are you all right?"

"Just a twisted eyelash." Addie looked up and blinked rapidly, pretending instant relief. "There. All better. Oh, Ruthie and Melissa, how are you?"

Ruthie, a pretty black-haired girl with a long, nar­row face, gave her a many-toothed smile. "Just fine. Thought we'd come see how y' all liked dinner. "

"I had to get a better look at Adeline's dress," Me­lissa chimed in, leaning over and hugging Addie lightly, in the manner of an old friend. Melissa was tall and slender, with round blue eyes, sharp cheek­bones, and long, aristocratic hands. "It's the most darlin' thing I've ever seen!"

"Thank you," Addie said, smiling at the artless flattery. She felt obligated to return the compliment. "I like your dress too, especially those little ribbons." The chemisette and the sleeves of her dress were adorned with colored bows.

Melissa fingered one of the bits of ribbon on her left sleeve, adjusting it to a perfect angle. Just then Addie saw that her pinkie was crooked at an artificial angle, as if it had once been broken and not set properly. She stared at the long white hand, her eyes widening. In a flash, she saw two little girls tossing a ball back and forth. One of them tossed it especially high in the air . . . "Try to catch that, Missy!" The unfortunate Melissa had caught it the wrong way, and her pinkie was broken.

"Missy . . ." Addie asked in a strange voice, "does that finger ever hurt you?"

Melissa grinned at her, displaying her hand in a practiced pose. "This finger? . . . Mah one flaw. Don't tell me you were just thinkin' of that afternoon."

"Missy?" Ruth repeated, wrinkling her brow. "I've never heard you called that before."

"Adeline's the only one who's ever called me that, " Melissa replied, smiling fondly at Addie. "She has since we were little. And no, the finger never hurts at all, it's just a little crooked. You haven't mentioned it in years, Ad."

"But I was the cause of it when I threw that ball so high-"

"No, it was me. I've always been such a clumsy thing. Never have known how to catch anything 'cept men. " She looked over at Caroline, who was shifting uncomfortably in her chair. "Caro, when's the baby due? Pretty soon, huh?"

While Caroline and Missy talked, Ruth perched on the chair by Addie's and leaned over to whisper to her, "Harlan says your daddy won't let you see his brother."

"No. Tell me, how is Jeff? I haven't seen him in days. "

"He's about ready to die from loneliness," Ruth said, her eyes twinkling. "Don't know what you've done to him. That boy, he doesn't want to even look at any girl but you."

"I haven't seen him anywhere—"

"He and his friends are busy plannin' some of the stuff for later on tonight." Ruth giggled. "It bein' Harlan's last night and all, they got to liquor up and have their- fun. But Jeff's around here somewhere. And if Harlan can be believed, Jeff's goin' to try to see you right after dinner's finished."

"Thanks, Ruthie."

After that, Addie listened with only half an ear on the conversation around her, her attention absorbed by the Johnson clan, which was gathered on the other side of the crowd.

In the center of the family sat a heavyset man with huge hands and massive jowls, his eyes bright blue, his hair dark red, and his complexion ruddy. Though he had already finished dinner, a full plate reclined on his lap, from which he picked choice bits of food. He possessed a kingly air to match his considerable pro­portions. It had to be Big George. She saw some of his children gathered around him, including the soon­ to-be-wedded Harlan, but there was still no sign of Jeff.