5. Knox #2
“This is the best thing I’ve ever eaten,” Jack said, helping himself to more ribs.
“Careful, baby, you’ve got to fit into your suit at the end of the month,” Ivy said, teasing.
“I maybe should have gotten a size bigger,” Jack said. “They know how to feed us here.”
“And these drinks are delicious,” Madeleine said, eyes sparkling. “They don’t even taste like alcohol. I’m having the most wonderful time.”
“Easy on the drinks, kid,” Rhett said. “They’re ball busters.”
For whatever reason, that made Madeleine giggle. It was the cutest giggle I’d ever heard in my life.
Ivy told us the story of the cabin while we ate. It had been built as part of the original homestead, which was the first thing anybody ever built on this land, back in 1880. It had sat empty and falling down for most of a century until the wedding planner, Sammie, got the idea to bring it back.
“The oldest brother, Atticus, wrote the check, bless him,” Ivy said. “He’s the high tech brother married to that famous actress. What’s her name?”
“Annie Armstrong,” Blake said. “She’s very good.”
“Think of it,” Beck said dreamily. “How long this house has been here. How many fires must have been lit in that hearth, and here we are doing the same thing.”
“It does have a certain vibe to it,” Blake said.
“Don’t say you sense a ghost,” Holly said. “I’m afraid of ghosts.”
“Not ghosts, exactly,” Ivy said. “But a presence of something. Maybe just whispers left by all the souls who have been in this room before us.”
“I feel a song coming out of this trip from one of you,” Madeleine said, finishing her drink. A server immediately refilled it. “Or maybe a few.”
“I’ve been writing a little since we got here,” Ivy said. “It’s so quiet I can hear the music playing inside my head.”
“Same for me,” Jack said, as they stared into each other’s eyes.
“Good lord, you two are disgusting,” Rhett said, but I could tell he didn’t really mean it. If anything, he sounded a little jealous.
After supper was over, they pushed the tables back so we could dance. Music was turned up, filling the room with “Boot Scootin’ Boogie.”
Jack pulled Ivy out into the cleared space and spun her around the floor.
June made Gus get up, even though he grumbled a bit.
Everyone else joined them except Madeleine and me.
When I looked over at her, she was staring at me with soft eyes.
Dang, she was pretty in this light, with her cheeks all pink and her mouth relaxed into a lazy looking smile.
What would that mouth feel like to kiss?
“Wanna dance with me, Knox Hartley?” Madeleine asked.
“If you insist,” I said.
“I’m a little tipsy, so sorry if I step on your feet.”
Was that a Southern accent I heard in her voice? There was a softness on the vowels she didn't have normally. Dance had an extra half-beat in it.
It was Southern. But not Alabama like mine or Ivy's smooth Tennessee.
It sat further west than that—flatter in some places, more sing-song in others, thing turning toward thang, the way people talked in the hill-and-river country a couple states over from where I grew up.
I'd have bet money she'd trained it out on purpose, sanded it down to that flat newscaster voice that was always perfect.
But three cocktails seemed to have loosened whatever screws normally held her together.
This version of Madeleine Price talked like she came from someplace with a screen door and a gravel road.
Like me.
She took hold of both my hands and led me out to the dance floor. I wasn’t much of a dancer, truth told, but I spun her around best I could, rewarded when she laughed with her head tilted toward the ceiling.
Emmylou’s version of “Save the Last Dance for Me” came on next and Madeleine looked at me with a slight challenge in her eyes, almost daring me to ask her.
Fine. I mean, who was I to embarrass her by leaving her alone on a dance floor meant for couples?
“May I have this dance?” I asked, bowing my head.
“I’d like that.”
I took one of her hands, then placed my empty one at the small of her back. Hers came to rest just over my heart. We swayed gently to Emmylou’s poignant tone.
“You’re a good dancer,” she murmured into my collar. “You’re good at everything. It’s annoying.”
“I’m not. Trust me.”
She pulled back just far enough to look up at me, and her eyes were bright, unfocused, and warm. “Can I tell you something?”
“You can tell me anything.”
“I can? I thought you hated me.”
“Strong word, hate,” I said, tightening my hold on her, inching her closer to me.
She felt good in my arms. Not some dainty thing either, but a woman with obvious physical strength.
I’d heard her mention Pilates once or twice.
She and Ivy went to the same studio. Apparently, it was quite effective in making a woman almost too hot to touch.
Almost. Because I was touching her now, and it felt like that moment when I knew I’d nailed a verse in a song just right. “And not what I feel about you.”
“Oh, that’s too bad,” she murmured against my chest.
“Why’s that?”
“Because hate means there’s passion. Indifference is much worse.”
“I’m not indifferent to you either.” I breathed in the sweet scent of her hair.
“That’s nice. I’m not indifferent to you, so that’s a great coincidence. Isn’t this the best song?”
“Yes ma’am, it sure is.”
“My little sister loves this one. She would make me play it for her and then dance around the house with her invisible boyfriend. His name was Dumbo. I don’t know why.”
“Big ears?”
She giggled. “I don’t know since I never saw him. Did I say he was invisible? He was.”
God, she was cute drunk.
“I think I had too many of those … what are they called?” Madeleine asked.
“I don’t know, but they were strong.”
“You drink IPAs.” She nestled closer into my chest. “Much wiser choice.”
“I suppose so.”
“I don’t drink usually. But I feel so good. Everything looks like it’s coated in icing.”
“Icing?”
“Yeah, tonight, everything’s sweeter,” Madeleine said.
Including you, I thought.
We headed back to the ranch under a sky thick with stars. Madeleine was tucked under the blanket against my side, warm and heavy. Across from me, Luci and Grant were also snuggled close.
“The sky’s ridiculously beautiful out here,” Luci said.
“Yeah, sure is,” Grant said. He wasn’t looking at the sky, but rather at Luci.
Madeleine abruptly sat up. “We should sing ‘Jingle Bells.’”
Before anyone could argue, she started singing.
Off key. No sense of rhythm. But with such obvious joy the rest of us joined in.
We were the first sleigh in the procession and soon the other two sleighs were also robustly singing at the top of their lungs.
When that was finished, everyone was quiet until Ivy’s crystalline voice rose in the cold air, singing “O Holy Night.” No one joined her.
For one thing, no one could sing like Ivy James.
For another, it was way too hard a song to sing.
“She’s an angel,” Madeleine said as she snuggled closer to me, her apparent singing career over now.
“She is,” Luci said softly. “My brother’s marrying a singing angel.”
“Don’t all angels sing?” Grant asked, humor in his voice.
“Do they?” Luci asked.
“I’ve never heard of one drumming,” Grant said.
Her face half buried under the blanket and her cheek now on my shoulder, Madeleine laughed. “A drumming angel. That should be a thing.”
Ivy’s voice held the last note of the song and then it was quiet, other than the sounds of the horses’ hooves in the snow and the bells around their necks.
We were at the ranch entrance by then, heading toward the hitching post not far from cabin four.
When the sleigh stopped, we all stayed for just a second more.
Grant got out first, offering his hand to Luci. They called goodnight and then headed toward their cabins. I hopped out and held out my hand to Madeleine. “You ready to call it a night?”
“Do we have to? It’s so warm here.”
“Let’s get you inside. It’ll be warm in your cabin too.”
She took my hand and I helped her down. Once she reached the ground, she swayed slightly. “Ground’s kind of crooked here. They should fix that. Not safe.”
“Ground’s fine. I think you might need a big glass of water.”
The others were scattering to their cabins, calling goodnights, and nobody was paying us much attention.
She reached for me. “Cowboy, I think I need your help finding my cabin.”
I tucked her arm into the crook of mine. “Slow and steady wins the race. I got you.”