“I guess we can go and get the books tomorrow.”
“Let’s wait to see if I’m pregnant first.” I heard the words coming out of my mouth, but they seemed so surreal. Everything seemed surreal. I pressed my hand to my forehead and closed my eyes.
“What’s wrong?” Zane rushed towards me with concern in his voice. “Are you okay?”
I opened my eyes and saw him staring at me with worry. I smiled at him shyly, not sure how to feel about him being so protective. On the one hand, it made me feel like he really cared, but then it also made me feel like he thought I was weak. And I never wanted to be that weak girl. Not again. I’d matured past that.
“Do you need to go lie down?” He reached over to pick me up, and I pushed him away.
“No, I want to go and eat. Preferably pancakes.”
“Pancakes on a picnic?” Zane gave me his special ‘I like you, but you’re kind of kooky’ look, and I had a vision of him at the diner a few months ago, sitting at his special booth, waiting for his date to decide between a garden salad and a veggie burger. I had stood there waiting patiently, trying not to tap my foot and sigh, and he had given me a special look while his date had taken her sweet time thinking about what to order. I can still remember the special feeling that had caressed me and I laughed now as I had then: uncontrollably and hysterically. I was laughing so hard that I had to bend over to catch my breath. “You okay, Lucky?”
“Yes,” I gasped. “Just don’t make that look again.” I hiccupped and Zane wiggled his eyebrows at me. “Or do that,” I glared at him and he contorted his face.
“Would you rather me look like a scary monster?”
“You’re still a handsome scary monster.”
“She thinks I’m handsome, she thinks I’m handsome.” He jumped up and ran around the garden, pumping his fist in the air, and I laughed again. This time I was able to control it and I watched him running around like a man with no worries or concerns. For that brief moment, everything was all right and was going to be fine. There was nothing that was weighing our minds down.
“Zane, are you done yet? I’m hungry.” I jumped up and looked at the flowers still in my hand. “And what flowers are these? I love them.”
He walked over to me, still smiling, and looked down at the stems in my hand. He picked up the flower with the huge white petals and a green center and smiled. “This is my favorite; it’s a Pom Daisy.”
“A Pom Daisy? Like a pom-pom?” I questioned, secretly happy that his favorite flower was my favorite of all the flowers in his garden as well.
“Well, you can’t do a cheer with it, but yes,” he laughed.
“I bet you dated all the cheerleaders in high school, didn’t you?” A flash of jealousy hit me as I asked the question and I surveyed his face intently. I wanted to ask him what sort of girls he usually dated, but I knew that would be opening Pandora’s Box and I didn’t really want to go there.
“Not all.” He stared back at me. “Just some.”
“Oh, sounds like me, I only dated some of the football players,” I retorted instinctively. I groaned inside at my words. How immature was I?
“I’m sure they all wanted to date you,” he said lightly, his eyes piercing into mine. “Now, this flower here,” he continued and picked up another flower from my hand. “This flower is an Amaryllis. It’s a native plant of South America. Do you see how the petals are red on the outside and white on the inside? Well, I always call these petals blood-soaked.”
“Blood-soaked?” My voice rose. “Well, that’s morbid.”
“I know.” He grinned and handed the two flowers back to me. “I wish I had some roses to give you, then I could recite Shakespeare or make up my own ditty: Lucky, let me count the ways that …”
“You want to eat me,” I interrupted laughing.
“Well, among other things.”
“Zane!” I grabbed his hand and pulled him inside with me. “Let’s go out. And no more sexual innuendos for the rest of the day.”
“That I can’t promise.”
***
I licked the last drops of syrup from the corners of my mouth and grinned at Zane. “I can’t believe I’ve never noticed the way you eat before.” I watched as he put his cutlery down on the plate. “You’re so prim and proper, Miss Emily would be so proud.”
“Who’s Miss Emily?” He looked at me in confusion.
“The etiquette queen, duh.”
“Oh you mean Emily Post?”
“Yes!”
“I’ve never heard her called Miss Emily before. It must be a southern thing.”
“I’m not southern,” I growled.
“You’re from the South.”
“I’m from Florida.”
“Florida’s in the south.” He grinned. “Or do you need a geography lesson?”
“I know it’s in the south, but it’s not the South like South Carolina and Arkansas. Now they are the South.”
“What about Alabama and Mississippi?”
“Well, they are as well.” I rolled my eyes at him as if to say, duh.
“So all the states in the south are the South aside from Florida?”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“So are you telling me I’m not dating a Southern Belle?”
“I’m telling you that if you’re looking for Scarlett O’Hara, you’re dating the wrong girl.”
“Did your grandparents live on a plantation? Did they have slaves? Did your mother have a mammy?” Zane cocked his head at me and I reached over and slapped his hand.
“You’re an idiot, you know that?”
“Tell me, Lucky, what do you think of the Civil War? Do you wish the South had won?”
“Zane Beaumont,” I growled. “I do declare that you’re trying to upset my righteous mind, but I will not let you do that to me this fine morning.” I spoke in my best Southern accent and we both laughed.
“It’s fascinating though.” Zane looked up at me seriously. “Our country has such a rich and deep history. Our grandparents lived such different lives, had such different views. I sometimes wonder what life would be like if certain things didn’t change.”
“I sometimes wonder what it would have been like to have lived in the 1940s.” I paused and looked up to make sure I wasn’t boring him. “And in the Middle Ages.”