Forever Friday Page 7

  Charlie lowered his voice. “Guess what today is.”

  “I know what today is.”

  “Ever hear of the International Pageant of Pulchritude?”

  “When did you start speaking Latin?”

  “Just answer the question.”

  Gabe shook his head. “Never heard of it.”

  “Me neither. That’s ’cause they changed the pageant’s name this year.”

  “Who is ‘they’?”

  “Folks in cahoots with my jealous wife.”

  “Why should Chloe care about a beauty contest?”

  “Because this one,” Charlie said mockingly, “has become an evil tradition that destroys a woman’s sense of modesty.”

  “Are you talking about the Bathing Girl Review in Galveston?”

  Charlie nodded big. “And the opening of beach season, Splash Day, gorgeous dames.”

  “I went one time, way back, because of all the flak about it then.” Gabe set down his coffee cup. “Nothing to see but a few local girls in the latest swimming attire. You’d think with all the gambling and bootlegging down there, folks wouldn’t notice a little beauty contest.”

  “Well this year, the flak returns with a vengeance.”

  “How’s that?”

  “ ’Cause it won’t be just local gals competing anymore.” Charlie cleared his throat. “And there’s a lot less attire, if you catch my meaning. There’s gonna be parades and fireworks and …” Charlie paused, a huge grin lifting his cheeks.

  “And …?” Gabe asked.

  Charlie picked up the editorial and lowered his voice even more. “This bishop fellow is trying to talk women out of strutting their God-given goods. He says, and I quote”—he looked down at the paper, reading—“ ‘If you come here, you will be asked to parade only in a bathing suit before a motley crowd who will scrutinize you at close range.’ ” Charlie’s eyes grew round. “Know what that means?”

  “The tradition becomes even more evil?”

  “That means from only a few yards away, a man can witness world-class cleavage. And some of them gals will be wearing those new French bathing suits that reveal an entire leg.”

  “What about the other leg?” Gabe chuckled.

  “Joke all you want, but the winner gets $2,500 in cash. That’s gonna be one expensive pair of thighs decorating the Galveston seawall.”

  “Are you suggesting we go?”

  Charlie smirked. “Right. I’ll just ring up Chloe and tell her I won’t be home this afternoon because I’m helping forty half-naked young women destroy their modesty. Don’t you remember what happened the last time I helped a female?”

  “Destroyed her modesty?”

  “Very funny. You know all I did was take her to a mechanic’s garage.”

  Gabe sipped his coffee. Charlie had an eye for skirts but would never cheat on Chloe. Several years ago, she’d accused him of having an affair and threatened to make him sleep in his delivery truck—the scene of the crime—until he could convince her of his innocence. In truth, he’d done nothing more than give a stranded young woman a ride after her car broke down. To show her appreciation, the woman blindsided him with a kiss, smearing lipstick on his collar.

  The sly smile reappeared as Charlie thrust the newspaper back across the table. “Doesn’t mean you can’t go, then tell me about each fine feminine detail. So don’t be late. Starts at two.”

  Gabe sighed. “Wish I could go, but I’ve got some things back at the office that need my undivided—”

  “Forget the stinkin’ office,” Charlie interrupted. “Go buy a straw hat and spend your day off at Galveston Beach. That’s where the beautiful women are.”

  “Yeah,” Gabe replied thoughtfully. “Where the beautiful women are.” He repeated the phrase again, as if hearing the words for the first time, allowing them space to slip in between his troubled thoughts. “Where the beautiful women are,” he said a third time. As a fan of numbers, he’d always been fascinated with the law of probability. When flipping a coin, there was a fifty-fifty chance of guessing the outcome. Not a great percentage. But betting on a relatively sure thing, like a good poker hand, was a different matter. The chance of winning multiplied.

  And then it hit him. A new plan. One with much better odds, steeped in tradition. Instead of trying to recapture a magic moment, he’d make a new one.

  Finding Huck meant looking where he’d see the most women. Watching from his office window had been like flipping a coin. Main Street would be like holding a royal flush.

  The waitress appeared with a tray, unloading several hot plates and refilling coffee.

  “Benny says he’ll join you two outlaws directly.” She smiled. “Y’all holler if you need anything else.”

  When she moved to the next booth, Gabe stood and dropped several coins onto the table.

  “Ain’t you going to eat?” Charlie asked.

  “Give my plate to Benny.”

  “Then you’re off to …?”

  “Where the beautiful women are,” Gabe interjected. “It’s a tradition.” He retrieved his hat and headed for the door.

  “I want details,” Charlie called. “And remember the straw hat. A wide brim will keep the sun out of your eyes so you can see.”

  The bongs from the clock on Market Square echoed nine o’clock as Gabe paced toward the nearest streetcar stop. That very morning he’d convinced himself to go to his office and watch for Huck because Saturday was the traditional day most women ran their errands.

  Where the beautiful women are, he kept repeating, imagining every detail of Huck’s essence. Her smooth oval face. The fullness of her lips. Her exotic scent. With hundreds of stores on Main, the odds of eventually spotting her walking somewhere along that street were good. She’d be smartly dressed, loaded down with shopping bags, and would hopefully accept his offer to help.

  So he’d ride the streetcar up and down Houston’s busiest thoroughfare until he found her. Ride it all day if he had to. And if he didn’t see her, he’d do it again the next Saturday. And the next. And even the one after that. The winning cards were in his hand, and it was no time to fold.

  Gabe boarded a streetcar at the corner of Main and Rusk, paid his token, and shuffled through the crowd toward the rear platform. From that vantage point, he’d be able to smoke and watch both sides of the street with ease. Midway up the crowded aisle, an elderly gentleman dropped a hand-carved cane, and Gabe paused to retrieve it. He handed the cane back to the man as a large woman struggling to carry a shopping bag and stack of hatboxes plopped into a nearby seat. Before Gabe could move, the woman thrust the boxes in his direction.

  “Take … my hats … young man,” the woman demanded, quite out of breath. “They’re expensive … so don’t drop them.”

  “Yes ma’am,” Gabe replied, holding the boxes high enough to not interfere with any of the seated passengers.

  The woman regained her wind and began rummaging through the shopping bag. “I really must find my receipt for those hats,” she announced. “I fear I’ve been overcharged. The clerk said they were each discounted twenty percent. But now that I think about it, the one I bought to wear tomorrow was full price. Cheating a woman on her Sunday best is as bad as cheating the Good Lord Himself and that clerk should be …”

  The streetcar eased forward and Gabe wondered how long he’d be stuck in the aisle, his face full of cardboard, listening to the ravings of a mad woman. “Just my luck,” he muttered. Huck could’ve been standing on the next corner and he’d never know.

  It was an older model trolley, swaying and groaning as it picked up speed. Gabe repositioned his feet for better balance and wished he was out on the platform. Even before he began smoking, he preferred to stand at the rear and watch the city slide by. The interesting people, the pleasing cackle of laughter, the humid breeze cooling his face.

  Without warning, the streetcar dipped with a metallic scrape, then jolted. There was a sudden girlish yelp. In an instant, Gabe found himself s
itting in the aisle with a shapely young woman pressed upon his lap. Instead of cold cardboard, his face was smashed against the nape of her delicate neck, the spring-like scent of her softness …

  Overwhelming.

  Familiar.

  Captivating.

  He placed his hands around her dainty waist as someone helped her stand. And before she ever turned to look at him, he knew …

  He’d finally found his Forever Girl.

  Beneath midnight stars

  Caressed by spring’s pure breeze

  Two lovers strolled

  Hand in hand

  While waves lapped moonlit sand

  Connecting souls.

  Forever, Gabe

  May 1926

  Houston, Texas

  After picking up hats and reassuring the woman that only her boxes had been crushed, Huck and Gabe quickly exited the streetcar. Gabe offered his arm as they stepped up to the curb.

  “I thought you’d be …”

  “I hoped you were …”

  They both spoke at the same time, then laughed, pausing to meet each other’s gaze.

  “Working,” Huck continued. “I thought you’d be working.” She realized she was no longer holding her purse over the stains, but still grasped Gabe’s arm, feeling a muscled tenderness she’d never noticed with any other man. She held on a full second longer before releasing.

  “I have weekends off,” Gabe replied.

  “That’s too bad.”

  “It is?”

  “Because I was planning to stop by Cecil’s and pick up some anchovies.”

  “You were?”

  “Unless the oysters ate them.”

  They both laughed again.

  Another streetcar stopped to empty passengers. “Let’s walk,” Gabe said. “This corner’s getting a little crowded.”

  Huck held her purse over the stains as they strolled the busy sidewalk, with Gabe positioning himself closer to the street. Including the day they’d met, she’d known this man for mere moments, yet was comfortable walking next to him. She guessed he was over six feet tall, with long solid legs like the Huckabee men, but he matched her abbreviated stride with an unhurried ease. Clark was several inches shorter than Gabe and had no patience when it came to traveling by foot, almost dragging her along.

  She glanced at Gabe. “I thought you’d be working and you hoped I was …?”

  “Running errands.” He grinned. “Anything else on your schedule besides anchovies?”

  “I had big plans until a child on the streetcar decided to become a fashion designer.” She peeked at the stains and sighed. “By the time I get home and remove the chocolate, my plans will be ruined.”

  “That’s wonderful.”

  “Wonderful?” Huck stopped in her tracks. “Wouldn’t lousy be a much better adjective?”

  “Not as good as marvelous.” Gabe turned and faced her, his grin lopsided and lovable. “I think it’s marvelous we’re getting to spend this beautiful day together, that is, if you want to.”

  “Then, you know about today? The tradition?”

  “Y-yes I believe so,” Gabe stuttered. “It was a popular topic at breakfast, although a bit controversial.”

  “Controversial? Why?” Huck knew people who were indifferent, but never dreamed anyone would have a problem with May Day.

  Gabe laughed. “Perhaps debatable is a better word choice. Whatever the case, my friend Charlie was so excited, he could hardly eat.”

  Huck giggled. “I look forward to it every year.”

  “You do?” The grin returned, more inquisitive than crooked. “Do you take part in the tradition or just prefer to watch?”

  “I take part, naturally.” She frowned. “So who wants to debate?”

  “Some bishop,” Gabe said with a shrug, “but he probably argues about everything. Let’s keep walking.”

  They passed a street repair crew, the roar of heavy trucks competing with the ringing thud of pickaxes making it impossible to talk. A dizzying excitement propelled Huck’s every step. Spending time with one man while engaged to another was the controversial issue, not May Day. But even the dour bishop would have to agree that engagement wasn’t bound by marriage vows. A woman’s prerogative was to change her mind about whomever, whenever she wished—which was both wonderful and marvelous. So for the moment, she’d consider taking Gabe up on his offer to spend the day together. Especially after the hair-cutting episode with Clark.

  When they paused for traffic at the next corner, the noise faded and Huck made up her mind. She moved the purse away from the chocolate stains, revealing them. “I couldn’t possibly wear this dress all day. And if it’s ruined, I’ll have to buy a new one.”

  “Brilliant idea,” Gabe said, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Foley Brothers isn’t far and I was headed there anyway to buy a new hat. You could select another dress, then ask the store to deliver the chocolate one to Burkhart’s Laundry. They might be able to save it.”

  Huck felt her cheeks redden. She hadn’t meant buying another dress today. “Why, Mr. Alexander … I’ve never purchased a dress with a man along.”

  Gabe laughed. “Don’t worry. We’ll be in different departments.” Then he leaned toward her and lowered his voice. “Miss Huckabee, you might consider calling me Gabe since …” He halted in midsentence, his eyes drawing her closer.

  “Yes?”

  “Since we’re buying clothes in the same store, someone might mistake us as married.”

  “Oh dear,” Huck said, then swallowed. “That would be a mistake.”

  “It would?”

  “Wouldn’t it? Unless …” Her words drifted into an infinite number of unspoken thoughts, each held captive by his sea-sky gaze.

  “You were saying?”

  “Unless … you call me Huck.”

  They both smiled. Huck purposely slid her arm through Gabe’s and they continued walking. Clark was getting exactly what he deserved.

  “Look at it this way, Huck. Being a bystander may not be exactly what you’d planned, but we’ll be the best dressed couple on Galveston Island.”

  “A bystander on Galveston Island?”

  “Tradition, remember? Splash Day? The International Pageant of Pulchritude?”

  She gave his arm a squeeze and laughed. “Why, Gabe, it appears you’ve tricked me into traveling to Galveston and attending some kind of a beauty pageant.”

  “Actually it’s a bathing beauty contest, but we don’t have to go. There are all sorts of other activities there, and dances that go on until midnight.”

  “Not go see the latest swimwear on an island my mother refers to as a den of wickedness?” She gave his arm a playful pat. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world. And dancing until midnight would be such a daring way to celebrate May Day. Most men don’t even know the day exists.”

  Gabe cleared his throat. “I’m ashamed to admit you’re right, but we’re learning.”

  It was only a ten-minute walk to Foley Brothers department store. They had a delightful visit along the way, asking each other the requisite vanilla job and family questions one might inquire about at a dinner party. Huck told how she was an English teacher at Sidney Lanier, lived in a boardinghouse for career-minded women, and grew up in Huntsville. Gabe asked if she’d attended Huntsville’s major institution. When she answered yes, she knew he was teasing because he acted shocked.

  “I didn’t realize the penitentiary allowed female inmates,” he added.

  She patted his arm again, more spirited than before, and chattered about her father being a farmer and prison guard. How her parents’ land was adjacent to Sam Houston’s historic home and how she and a twin brother were the youngest of thirteen children.

  Inside Foley Brothers, Gabe escorted Huck to the entrance of the women’s department. A mannequin advertised a modern waistless dress, the sleek material dyed in a dramatic color combination of pure pastels.

  “What about this one?” Gabe asked, directing her towa
rd the mannequin.

  “Look, it’s a shift dress.” Huck giggled. “I love the new styles.” She released his arm to stroke the fabric. “And the beautiful colors. A perfect match for my purse and shoes.”

  “May I help you?” An eager salesgirl appeared wearing a summer business suit and a broad smile.

  “She’d like to try on this shift dress,” Gabe said casually. “In my opinion, it would be a perfect match for her purse and shoes.”

  Before Huck could reply, the salesgirl turned to her and asked, “Does your husband have any single brothers?”

  “Pardon me?”

  The salesgirl laughed, then continued. “I don’t mean to pry, but most men wouldn’t come near the women’s department, much less know about style and color.”

  “No brothers,” Huck said, shooting Gabe a lighthearted glare. “Thankfully, he was an only child.”

  “I need to … um … go find a hat,” Gabe managed.

  An hour later, Huck, Gabe, and thirty other passengers were seated aboard the Galveston–Houston Interurban, speeding to Splash Day and the controversial International Pageant of Pulchritude. Gabe donned a new straw hat, and Huck wore the colorful shift, her soiled dress in the hands of Burkhart’s Laundry. For the most part, she’d left all thoughts of Clark behind as well. But an occasional pang of guilt still invaded what had become a delightful morning.

  “That’s Dickinson Bayou,” Gabe said, pointing out the window. “It flows near our ranch. When I was a kid, I built a one-man sailboat. Fished and explored that body of brackish water whenever I had the chance.”

  “I didn’t realize I was seated next to a sea captain.” Huck glanced at Gabe’s strong profile. He did seem a little sea-captain-ish, with his immaculate gray suit and easy confidence.

  “More like a cowboy/bayou captain,” Gabe replied. “Each year, a few of our cattle would wander off our land along the water’s edge and I’d have to find them.” He laughed. “I think my father knew I found sailing more exciting than being stuck in a saddle all day.”

  “Sounds intriguing. Herding cattle from a sailboat.”

  “They were tame as porch dogs, the way my mother babied them. All I had to do was wave my arms and shout. They’d lumber back home the way they came.”