After the meal is over and the easy conversation ends, we both sit back in our chairs, relaxing. Though how she relaxes in that tight dress is something I’ll never understand. This thought leads down a trail I didn’t expect to be traveling on the first date, but it shows up nonetheless. Because I find myself fantasizing about unlacing that corset and slipping that dress down her shoulders.
“I’ve had a nice time, Amon.”
I snap back from my fantasy and gaze into those gray eyes of hers. “I’m glad. I did too. What are you up to for the rest of the day?”
“Well, it’s a McBooms afternoon so I gotta go change and head back to Disciple. What are you doing?”
She’s smiling when she asks this. So naturally, I jump to conclusions. “I’m walking you home. Then…” I pause, pretending to think because she’s blushing a little. “Then I dunno. Depends, I guess.” Maybe I’ll follow you into that cottage of yours and carefully undress you, layer by layer, until you’re naked, and then make love to you on that lovely velvet chaise. But of course, I don’t say that last part out loud. “Shall we go?”
Rosie sucks in a deep breath, like maybe she heard my thoughts, and then I get up and grab her chair so she can stand.
Then I offer her my arm and she takes it. We leave the Ordinary like that. Like we’re a thing. Which we’re not, officially. Yet. But in Bishop, especially dressed as we are, what we’re doing is certainly sending all the signals.
Outside it’s hot, but the whole downtown is lined with old sugar maples that tower above us, providing a canopy of shade, so it’s a nice walk along the brick-paved sidewalks. Downtown is not too busy with tourists today. There are a few groups of schoolkids, but mostly it’s local people just going about their day.
The gravel alley where Rosie has her little cottage is bustling with backyard activity. There are pigs running around, and roosters hollering, and groups of women chatting across clotheslines. Their husbands go to work every day and do things like horseshoeing, and butchering, and woodworking. It’s weird to see this as normal in this modern era we all live in, but it’s kinda cool too.
We stop at her cottage and I’m just about to offer my services to help her take that dress off when Rosie says, “Thank you for a very nice time today, Amon.”
Which is code for, Sorry, Amon, but I don’t put out after just one lunch date. Even if you are dressed up like an eighteenth-century gentleman.
But that’s OK. I don’t mind the chase. In fact, the chase is kinda fun. “You’re very welcome, Rosie. How about we set up another date so we can continue our courtship?”
She shakes her head, blushing. “You’re so funny.”
“Why?”
“Courtin’? This costume?”
“You don’t like it?”
“Well, of course I like it, Amon. It’s…” She looks me up and down. And for a moment I think she might change her mind and allow me to relieve her of that corset. But no luck. “Very romantic. And… well, it suits you.”
“It suits me, does it?” And I chuckle. Because Rosie Harlow doesn’t know me. She has no idea who I was before I came back to Disciple. Which only makes this whole thing better. Because I don’t wanna be that guy anymore. I’d choose this guy over that one any day. “Well, this certainly suits you as well. Maybe we were born in the wrong town, Rosie? Maybe we were meant to grow up here.”
“So you could, what, be a blacksmith?”
“And you could be… one of those wives over there. Hanging laundry and feeding chickens.”
“Chasing pigs and gossiping all day?” She laughs. “It’s not a bad life.”
“I never said it was.”
“But… nah. We were born where we were meant to. I doubt that even I could’ve talked my way into sticking around for profit share after getting pregnant in tenth grade if I was part of Bishop instead of Disciple.”
“Well, if anyone could pull that off, it would’ve been you, Rosie. Now let’s talk about that next date.”
“Well…” She pauses. “How about we don’t?”
I point to myself, a little bit stunned. “You don’t wanna go out with me again?”
“I never said that. It’s just, asking me to make plans with you is… a little forward, don’t you think?”
“Oh. Right. Fine. I guess I started it, didn’t I? We’re playing lady and gentleman of Bishop now, are we?”
Rosie shrugs. “Well, I don’t think we have to limit our courtin’ to Bishop.”
Which makes me picture myself dressed up like James Dean ravishing her in that waitress uniform. “We don’t?” And now I’m grinning wildly, my imagination goin’ crazy with possibilities. “Well, OK then. Challenge accepted.” I bow a little, then straighten up so I can grab her hand, slowly lifting it to my lips, and kiss her knuckles while staring her straight in the eyes. “I’ll see you soon, Rosie.”
She fans herself with that hand when I let it go. And her cheeks go hot and pink. “See ya around, Amon.”
(covers link to Goodreads)
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