Page 49 of The Wedding Gift
The congregation sang two songs, and since there was only one hymnbook available, Becca had to share with Dalton. Their fingertips touched, and the contact sentunholy pictures flashing through her mind of him in tangled sheets. She checked out the window on the south side to be sure there were no black clouds shooting lightning streaks toward the church.
The preacher took his place, adjusted the microphone, and said, “It’s been laid upon my heart to preach from Corinthians about love.”
Sweet Jesus!Becca rolled her eyes toward the ceiling.
Greta elbowed her in the ribs and whispered, “Pay attention and stop checkin’ to see if there’s cobwebs on the ceiling fan.”
Somewhere between the parts about love being kind and not seeking its own way, Becca’s eyes got heavy. She leaned on what she thought was the arm of the pew and planned to rest her eyes for a minute, but a movement startled her. Several folks around her chuckled, and for a split second she wondered if she had, indeed, snored. She jerked her arm away to find that she had really propped it on Dalton’s shoulder. Then she felt a weight in her lap and looked down to find Tuff had stretched his wiry body out across both Dalton’s and her laps. The dog had slipped into the church through the open doors and made himself comfortable.
“I guess we have a four-legged visitor.” The preacher laughed with the rest of the congregation. “I suppose if Godknows the very hairs on our head and when every sparrow drops, then He surely won’t mind if Dalton’s dog attends the rest of the service—as long as he doesn’t snore.”
A few more chuckles echoed through the building. Becca was wide awake by then with a dog’s head planted in her lap. Tuff’s big brown eyes were looking right at her face, and damned if it didn’t look like he was smiling.
Dalton was always welcome to Sunday dinner at his grandpa’s place in Fruitland. Nana Wilson usually fried up a mean batch of chicken after church, and her biscuits were the best in the whole world. He had a standing invitation, and if he wasn’t there by noon, Nana put a plate back for him. Very seldom did he miss at least running by to say hello to them on Sunday. He figured they would understand his absence if it had to do with him going to church and dinner with a woman, but he still planned to give them a quick call on his way to Greta’s place. They’d be elated, since they had gone past throwing out hints and were making serious comments about how it was time for him to hang up his wild ways and settle down. They wanted to see a few great-grandchildren before the end of their time, and since Dalton was their only grandchild, that responsibility fell on him.
The preacher finally asked Eli White to deliver the benediction. Mr. Eli stood to his feet, bowed his head, and began to thank God for everything from the good watermelon crop that was coming in to the ladies who cleaned the church. He spoke slowly in a monotone, and if it hadn’t been for Dalton’s growling stomach, he might have really snored by the time Eli finally said, “Amen.”
“Thank God that’s over,” Greta muttered as she stood to her feet. “Another minute on this hard pew and my hips and knees would have rebelled.”
“I’d carry you out to the car if that happened.” Dalton grinned.
Tuff must have realized the service was over, because he jumped down and meandered down the center aisle toward the door.
“Poor thing must’ve been worn out,” Greta said. “It’s four miles out to the ranch, and that’s a long way for him to walk just to get to church. He’s a good dog to feel his need to be here.”
Dalton didn’t tell them that Tuff had hitched a ride in the back of his truck like he did every Sunday morning. Lots of times, he just curled up and took an hour-long nap, or else ran around the town, checking out the female mutts and hiking his leg on every bush he could find.
“His fur is kind of soft. I figured it would feel like steel wool,” Becca admitted as she got to her feet. “You’re not going to make him walk all the way back to the ranch, are you?”
“Naw,” Dalton drawled. “I’ll park under that big old pecan tree in Miss Greta’s yard, and he can sleep in the truck bed. I thought you hated him.”
“I don’t hate Tuff,” Becca protested. “I just don’t want any of his hair to get loose and taint my wine.”
Greta hung back and talked to her friends. Dalton ushered Becca outside with a hand on the small of her back. She could feel the burn all the way through her body, and her palms were sweaty when it was her turn to shake with the preacher.
“I’m glad to see y’all sitting together this mornin’,” the preacher said and then dropped her hand. “And Tuff was such a good boy. You can tell him he’s welcome at services anytime. I shook hands with him a few minutes ago, and I believe he’s headed out to your truck.”
“I’ll tell him.” Dalton stuck out his hand next. “Good sermon this morning.”
“It’s that time of year when young folks are planning summer weddings, so they need to think about what it truly means to be in love.” The preacher winked.
“Yes, sir.” Dalton nodded. “See you next week.”
“Did you really listen to the sermon?” Becca asked. “Or were you just saying something nice?”
“It was all about what it’s like to fall in love, right?” Dalton stopped beside her car and opened the door for her.
“So, Dalton Wilson, how many times have you been in love?” She slid behind the wheel.
“I might have to take my boots off to count that far,” he answered.
“I mean in real love, not lust,” she said.
“Well, in that case…” He closed his eyes as if trying to count. “That would be one time.” No way was he admitting that the time was right now. The woman was Becca, and it had been love at first sight. “How about you? Give me a number.”
“Lust a few times. Love, never. I was too busy concentrating on getting a music contract to let a man into my heart and life,” she said.
“You going back to that anytime soon?” he asked.