Читать книгу Amber By Night - Sharon Sala - Страница 10

It hadn’t been easy to choose a dress for her date with Tyler because the salesgirl kept staring at the dresses Amelia was trying on. They were nothing like the plain shirtwaists that she usually wore, but Amber didn’t wear beige shirtwaists and that’s who Tyler had asked out on a date.

Amelia turned first one way and then the other, staring at her transformation in the full-length mirror in her room. The dress looked even better than she remembered in the store. Granted it had elbow-length sleeves, a square neckline that was only modestly revealing and a rather unremarkable length to the skirt. It did fall neatly below her knees some two or three inches.

But it was red. And it was tight. And it was nothing Amelia Beauchamp would have been caught dead wearing. However, that point was moot. She hadn’t bought it for Amelia. She’d purchased the drop-dead dress for Amber and her date with Tyler Savage.

Getting out of the house dressed like this would be tricky. It would be even more difficult catching a ride with Raelene without being seen in a fire-engine red dress, but she had a plan. Her hair and makeup could be done in the car on the way to Savannah, just as she did every night she worked. And she’d wear her all-weather coat over the dress. It wasn’t a good plan. But it was the only one she had.

The bed frame creaked in the room down the hall while a floorboard creaked in the one opposite. Amelia sighed with relief. The aunts were in their rooms and would be out for the night. There was something to be said for ritualistic routines after all.

Giving herself one last glance in the mirror, she all but wiggled with anticipation. Now all she needed was a whiff of perfume, red to match her dress, and the hope that tonight would be all that she’d dreamed.

But when Amelia slipped on her raincoat, she frowned. It didn’t conceal as much of her appearance as she’d hoped. A good three inches of tight red skirt showed beneath its hem.

Oh well, she reminded herself, if she was lucky, and she had been so far, no one would even see her. She grabbed her shoes and made for the stairs, taking them two at a time in her stocking feet. It was only after she was outside and on the porch with the front door safely locked behind her, that she slipped on the slender black sling-back heels that were a remnant from her college days.

The first star of evening was already out although it wasn’t truly dark. Night air lifted the hem of her coat, reminding her that haste would be wise. The less seen of this red dress, the better.

Effie Dettenberg stood on the back stoop of her house, peering nervously into the evening shadows. Maurice wasn’t home. It wasn’t like him to be out so late and she didn’t know what to do. If she called the police, they’d be angry, just like they were the last time she’d called. But a woman had rights. She paid her taxes. If she needed assistance, the police were the ones who should come to her rescue.

However, Tulip’s finest didn’t think much of hunting Miss Effie’s black tomcat. Especially during the spring and summer months. They’d tried the best way they knew how to delicately explain to Miss Effie that during this time of year it was a tomcat’s nature to do what he did best, and that was to tomcat. It was a known fact that every year several litters of baby kittens in Tulip persistently bore marked resemblances to the wily old tom.

Effie wandered off the porch and into her yard, her gaze fixed on the low hanging bushes surrounding her property. “Here, kitty, kitty, kitty.”

And then her voice quavered, ending on a high-pitched squeak as she looked around the corner of her house to the one across the street. Amelia Beauchamp had just slipped out of the house and was standing barefoot in plain sight of God and everybody while she slipped on her shoes. Effie’s heartbeat accelerated as Amelia’s strange behavior increased. She watched as the young woman looked nervously up one side of the street and down another before darting through the alley opposite the Beauchamp house.

Effie gasped and headed inside, her mind spinning as she ran. If she hurried, she’d just about have time to…

Unaware that she’d been discovered, Amelia hurried through the alley, anxious to get to Raelene. She didn’t know what this evening would bring, but it would beat what was between the covers of her favorite romances. This time, she was living one of her own.

And while Amelia was lost in dreams, Effie was adjusting her binoculars to her myopic vision. As she peered down the alley through the magnifying lenses, the world suddenly came into focus. She gasped, bumping her head on the window of her second story bedroom.

Amelia Beauchamp was wearing a red dress, and it was so tight the girl could hardly walk a decent stride! Effie chewed on her lower lip in frustration as the magnolia trees in the Williams backyard got in her view.

“Fudge,” she muttered, while screwing wildly on the binoculars’ adjustment, desperately trying to bring Amelia back into sight. “Oh my Lord!” Effie shrieked, and leaned so far out the window, she dropped the binoculars into the birdbath below. “Double fudge,” she said, looking down in regret as she rubbed at the sore spot on her head. “I can’t believe what I just saw. If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I wouldn’t have believed it anyway.”

Maurice was forgotten as she flopped down on the side of the bed and contemplated the fact that she’d just seen Amelia Beauchamp in a tight red dress and covered suspiciously with a coat when anyone but a fool would know it wasn’t even cold. And what was worse, she’d gotten into a car with that trollop, Raelene Stringer.

The implications were many, but facts were few, and Effie Dettenberg prided herself on dealing in facts. For now, she’d remain silent about what she’d seen. After all, she’d known Amelia ever since she’d come to live with her aunts. She was a good girl and had never caused her aunts a day of worry. And, she was a wonderful librarian, always saving the best craft books for her.

Effie fluffed her hair back into place and made her way downstairs to rescue the binoculars, although she knew in her heart that they were ruined.

“But,” she reminded herself as she fished the remnants out of the concrete birdbath, “I don’t really know what that girl’s life was like before she came to live with Wilhemina and Rosemary. I heard…” she told herself, as she started back inside with the pieces tucked safely into her apron that she’d used as a basket “…she was raised all wildlike. In foreign countries, living foreign lifestyles like the heathens who resided there. Who knows what awful things were branded into her soul? Who knows?” she repeated, and slammed and locked the door—for once leaving Maurice to do his catly duty in peace and quiet.

Tyler looked in the rearview mirror again, repeatedly checking his appearance. He’d never been this nervous about a date in his life. Here he was a grown man, well into his thirties, and he was almost sick to his stomach. He grimaced and then smoothed down his hair with his hands as Raelene Stringer’s car belched to a stop behind him.

She was here! The door opened, and she emerged from the old gray Chevy like a butterfly from a cocoon. And God have mercy on his soul, but she was wearing the most form-fitting dress he’d ever seen a woman wear and not get arrested. He didn’t know whether to lock her up so that no other man would see her, or put her on the hood of his car as an ornament. Pride alternated with jealousy at an alarming rate. He redeemed his sanity in time to crawl from the driver’s seat and go to meet her.

Raelene smiled at the look on their faces. This was better than a soap opera any day. “Hey, Amber, you know what time I leave. If you want a ride home, don’t be late,” and then she disappeared into the club.

Tyler couldn’t quit staring. “You’re so beautiful.”

So are you, Amelia thought, but “thank you,” was all that she said.

He was a far cry from the work-weary, sweat-stained man she’d seen earlier in the day eating at Sherry’s Steak and Soup. His gray slacks looked soft and moved against the force of his legs as he walked toward her. His muscles bunched then released in fluid motion beneath a shirt so white it almost glowed. The strong angles of his face were framed by hair as dark as the night and as thick as the sultry air around them. Amelia had never wanted anything so badly in her life as to reach out and touch the dark tan on his forearms…to see if he was as warm and sun-browned as he looked.

Night moths fluttered madly against the pole lights scattered around the parking lot of The Old South. A soft breeze came up and pulled at the rich abundance of Amelia’s hair, lifting it back and then dropping it down onto her shoulders like a teasing lover. Crickets tuned up from the shadows, reminding all who cared to listen that their symphony was about to begin.

Tyler’s hands were shaking as he reached out and brushed a wisp of hair from the corner of her lips, jealous of its right to be where he wanted.

“Where are you taking me?” Amelia asked.

To bed! came the thought. “It’s a surprise.”

Amelia grinned. “I love surprises.”

“Then come with me, pretty lady. Your chariot awaits.”

Amelia smiled. “It looks like a pickup truck to me.”

“Looks can be deceiving,” he said, and then winked.

Her smile slipped as she quietly took her seat inside the vehicle.

Oh Tyler, you have no idea how deceiving.

Meanwhile, a voice inside Tyler’s head was asking: Now what did I say to wipe that smile off her pretty face?

But when he sat down beside her, the smile had reappeared and he shrugged off the worry. Tonight was bound to be awkward for them both. He didn’t know a thing about her except her name and where she worked. All in good time, he told himself as they pulled out of The Old South and headed into Savannah.

In a short span of time, he’d parked. When he took her by the hand and led her toward the Savannah River and the night lights of the busy clubs on the boundary of the riverwalk, she started to smile.

Threading his fingers through hers, he pointed down at the streets paved with ballast stone from old sailing ships. “Careful, it’s a rough walk.”

As long as he was holding her hand she wouldn’t have cared if the surface had been covered with burning coals. And then she happened to look up.

“Oh Tyler!”

The paddle wheeler, The Savannah River Queen, was decked out in full regalia. Lights were strung from prow to stern, beckoning the daring to come take a chance in the dark—on the river—at night.

“If you’d rather do something else…” he began, but her clutch on his arm told him no.

“I’ve never been on a riverboat!” The wonder in her voice made him smile.