If I hadn't Been Speeding

I slammed the truck on my old Chevy, climbed in with a sigh, and headed toward Tulsa.

Drat it all! I didn’t want to leave Branson, but I didn’t trust my resistance to the devastating charm of James Bentley the Third. He had sweet-talked me back before.

The Chevy coughed a bit as usual but traveled smoothly enough along Interstate 44 under a huge yellow orb, a sunny-side-up egg on a giant blue platter overhead. A few puffy clouds were biscuits and maybe a serving of grits on the side.

A beautiful day, I thought. A harbinger of new beginnings. A mix of relief and regret assaulted my mind. Was I doing the right thing?

What did I have to lose? Just two hundred pounds of male animal without a faithful bone in his gorgeous body. James wasn’t the man I had thought him to be, but still the disappointment was sharp.

I had thought the guy was the real deal, the epitome of dreamy romance.

Instead, he convinced me that romance doesn’t exist anymore. It’s only a game people play called I-like-your-looks-so-let’s-get-together.

After that, it becomes sizzle-on-the-sofa or it’s-our last date—a game I refused to play in college. And as sure as Bigfoot won’t make it on Dancing With the Stars, I wasn’t about to put up with James Bentley’s side trips to more willing partners.

James could go to Heck as far as I was concerned at the moment. Heck. That’s a place for people who say words like darn and shoot and for guys who cheat on their girlfriends. It’s not quite as hot there as the fiery place, but still uncomfortable enough.

Heck would suit James just fine.

“I know it looks bad, Linda, but I can explain.” James had insisted, with that I-know-I’m-irresistible look in his eyes.

“I’m sure that you and Miss Chesty-luscious kissing in the car is perfectly explainable, but this time our romance is really off, James. I’m leaving Branson.”

I kept my voice light and pleasant, even though disappointment tugged sharply at my emotions.

I’d once believed in the Cinderella story. Little girls were supposed to grow up, meet a handsome prince, and he would do whatever it took to find them again. Once the prince found me, we would take leisurely walks at sunset, moonlight picnics by the lake, and there would definitely be a wedding before any sizzle on the sofa.

“Like that’s ever going to happen,” my friend Lissa had scoffed while cutting my hair. “You think a guy’s going to stand on his head for you these days? No guy is interested in sunset walks and moonlight picnics when he can cut to the chase. And he won’t bring up the marriage idea until after he’s been leaving his toothbrush on your bathroom cabinet for a while.”

Lissa thought I was crazy to think of dumping James.

Handsome and witty, James certainly had the looks of a Prince Charming, and he did respect my morals—apparently. That was a huge prerequisite. He was also successful in the real estate business and had helped me buy my first home in the hills of the Ozarks. Then he took me to Branson theaters after romantic dinners at Chateau on the Lake or the Candlestick Inn. 

At first, I’d been flattered, but it didn’t take long to figure out that although he showered me with attention, James also had an eye for blondes. And brunettes. And redheads. Charming James was a chick magnet. There would always be pretty women sweeping their fake lashes up at him. I sensed he would never have the integrity to resist a come-on, and I’d become one of many in a long line of “Bond girls” so to speak.

“Linda, nobody’s perfect. Give me another chance,” he’d pleaded. He looked so sincere, promising his undying love and begging me not to leave. As badly as I wanted to believe him, I suspected he could be making equally sincere promises to three other women at the same time.

I assured him pleasantly, “You’ll live happily ever after without me.”

“You’re not serious. I can’t believe what I’m hearing! Calm down, Sweetheart. Have a mental doughnut.”

“I’m not the one who needs calming,” I pointed out. “And yes, this time you can believe what you’re hearing. I’ve already listed my house for sale.”

He responded with laughter. Patronizing laughter, as if I was a small child announcing my intention to walk away from home with my teddy bear.

“This is not the ending I have in mind for our romance. I won’t settle for it.”

Then he winked and kissed me on the forehead.

“You’ll be back,” he said with irritating certainty. And I’ll be waiting for you.” 

I wanted to kick him in the shins. Or other places.

That’s what happens. You hang an image on a guy and fall for him without realizing that he isn’t that person at all. I’d been so besotted I couldn’t see past the charm to the deceit and conceit. Too bad there wasn’t a way to decon-ceit him. Without thinking, I shoved my foot down on the accelerator.

Decon rat poisoning. Now there’s a possibility! I mused with a wry chuckle. Nah. Murder is always out. A girl should never do anything she can’t talk about at the beauty shop.

Of course, nobody’s perfect, as he was always reminding me.

Those words do hold a ring of truth.

Was he really that bad? After all the marriage word didn’t frighten him. What if he was the last man who would ever propose to me? What if there weren’t any men left who didn’t have wandering eyes?

I’d met every single guy in the Ozarks. Most had issues like too many ex-wives, or no ambition other than becoming the next Elvis, and failing at that, becoming the next Dog the bounty hunter.

James’ handsome face smiled at me from my longing imagination.

I had not yet actually resigned from my teaching position at Branson Elementary. I could always turn around and—what?

What was I thinking! Why settle for a man I couldn’t trust? I accelerated slightly again.

Arguing with myself, I didn’t notice the rider on the motorcycle in front of me until I tried to pull around him. He made a motion with his hand, indicating I should drop back.

My first thought was, who is he to tell me how to drive? Then I saw the black and white patrol car ahead of him and realized I was speeding.

That’s when the rider flashed a dazzling megawatt grin at me, a glimpse of something delightful.

I slowed my car and pulled back into the lane behind him, noticing his broad shoulders, before he disappeared over the next hill.

What a nice gesture. He had probably spared me a huge traffic fine.

My thoughts drifted back to James. He’s probably seeking solace with Miss Luscious.

The gas gauge registered low, so I pulled into a station beside a restaurant built on an arch over the interstate just outside Vinita, Oklahoma. I had already started filling my car when I saw the motorcycle at the tank beside me.

The rider swung blue-denim legs off the seat with lazy grace and removed his helmet, running his hand through tousled sandy hair. 

“Good thing you slowed down back there, Miss,” he said flashing that same charming grin. “That trooper would have pulled you over for sure.”

“Thanks for the warning. I didn’t realize how fast I was traveling.” I couldn’t help smiling back.

 “Where you headed?” I asked him.

“Oh, just out for a ride and some fresh air. Nowhere in particular. You?”

“Tulsa.”

He merely nodded.

We topped off our tanks and headed for the stairs leading up to the restaurant.

“Seeing we’re both headed for the same place, can I buy you a coke?” the rider asked as we entered the business.

“No thanks.”

“Then would you mind if we share a table?”

He didn’t look like a Hell’s Angel or any scary biker type. No nose rings, grubby beard or tattoos. He looked like a guy ought to look—tanned, sporty, and relaxed. True, he didn’t have the devastating good looks of James Bentley, but there was an honest look in his eyes.

I hesitated a moment before agreeing.

Soon enough we had exchanged names and were chatting like we were not perfect strangers, but old friends.

“I’m Josh Henderson, the musician who has given up playing the theaters in Branson for a career in counseling,” he explained. “I’m getting smart since I’ve left the entertainment world. I even turned my tax forms over to a fifth grader last January, so I’d be certain they’re done right,” he joked.

I liked his easy conversation. Nothing flirtatious or insistent about it. He didn’t look at me with that eye-roving appraisal that some guys are so practiced at.

“Don’t you miss the shows?” I asked, remembering the last musician I had dated. Music had been his passion. His idea of a date was to play his latest compositions for me and wait for my enthusiastic applause. Unfortunately, he had really needed a brutally honest Judge Simon Cowell to direct him to a non-musical career.

Josh answered, “Sure, the stage shows are fun, but they don’t leave you any time for a personal life, and I’m ready to settle down.”

No wonder that grin was so charming. His teeth were as perfectly even as the look in his eyes. He didn’t even glance at the well-endowed blonde who passed our table wearing short shorts and a midriff-baring top.

I couldn’t help thinking how James would have gawked. “I’m only human,” he would have said. That was his standard excuse for ogling women as if being human made it perfectly acceptable.

“So, you live in Branson?” I asked.

“In a little house I’m fixing up. My carpentry skills fall into two categories. One, I’ll get to it this week. Two, I’ll get a phone book and call a pro. I have lots of work ahead of me, but I like it there. I had a condo at Branson Landing for a while. It’s a fantastic place, but I really like the quiet of the country.”

So did I. If I moved to Tulsa, I would be missing those quiet country evenings.

His enthusiastic brown eyes never left my face. “I like walking by the lake too. Have you ever been on a sunset picnic at Lake Taney Como?”

“Never.”

I’d sure like to give it a try with someone like you. I hoped my eyes didn’t betray what I was thinking.

Suddenly and boldly I asked, “How do you feel about people who can’t be loyal?”

His eyebrows went up at that.

“You’ve been in a bad relationship, huh? Going through a divorce?”

“No, but it probably would have become a divorce if I hadn’t made the break. Where trust is an issue, there’s no point in going on.”

He nodded. “Good for you. No trust, no relationship as far as I’m concerned. I had a girlfriend once, and I was true blue. We were going to get married, but she said I neglected her for my music. She was right. I’ve learned my lesson.”

A momentary flash of regret shadowed his dark eyes. Then they brightened, looking into mine.

“She and I probably wouldn’t have made it anyway. She liked caviar and the Twelve Irish Tenors theater. Unfortunately, I could only afford canned tuna and two Irish tenors.”

I smiled. I liked his sense of humor and found his humility refreshing. 

“That’s all in the past. Let’s talk about something really serious.”

I arched a brow, suddenly on guard. Where is this going?

 “Do you think dyslexic people have trouble dancing to the song, YMCA?” He asked, dipping a fry in the ketchup.

The laughable image of dancing dyslexics trying to form their letters backward totally disarmed me.

“That’s entirely too serious a subject for me,” I laughed, twirling my straw in the cup.

“You live in Tulsa or just visiting?”

“I’m thinking of moving there,” I answered without adding that I’d already filled out several applications for a teaching position.

Lunch was over all too soon. We stopped at the counter to pay our bills and walked down the stairs together.

He was whistling cheerfully.

I was thinking I’d almost go to Heck for a chance to get to know him better.

But that was impossible. We were two strangers headed in different directions.

When we walked out on the pavement, Josh caught me entirely off guard. He leaned down, put his hands on the tarmac, and began walking on them, feet high over his head.

“W-what are you doing?” I stammered, “Trying to impress someone with your gymnastic ability?”

“See this? I’m standing on my head.”

“I can see that. You didn’t tell me you were a gymnast.”

An amused passerby had stopped to watch.

Looking up at me with mischievous eyes, he announced, “I’m not clowning. You’ve turned my world upside down, and I plan to stand here on my head until you promise that you’ll go out on a date with me.”

I broke into a sidesplitting laugh. It had been a long while since I’d laughed so hard, and it felt marvelous.

 “Get up on your feet before you crack your head,” I insisted.

“Better a cracked head than a broken heart.” His face was reddening.

A plump, middle-aged woman standing near me sighed, “How romantic.”

Still, on his head, Josh insisted, “Promise me a sunset walk by the lake. I’ll bring the caviar.”

“I can’t do that. I don’t even know you. Besides, I don’t eat caviar.”

“Did you hear that? She doesn’t eat caviar.” He leaped to his feet and spoke to the watching woman. “Ma’am, will you help me out here? I need an introduction to this lovely lady. Tell her my name is Josh Henderson, and I’m going to marry her.”

Ignoring the incredulous look on my face, the nameless woman played along.

“My dear, this gentleman is Mr. Josh Henderson. He says he’s going to marry you.”

“Thank you, Ma’am” he murmured, bowing over her hand in a courtly manner.

The woman turned to me. “I’ve raised five daughters. I’ve seen a lot of fellows come a courtin’ in my day. I can size ‘em up with a glance. Some guys are always going to be rovers. Some are way too eager. This one here is worth your time, darlin’.”

I stood there uncertain.

“Now, Miss Linda, we’ve been introduced, and you even have a recommendation on my character,” Josh grinned, his eyes on mine, eager and hopeful.

“Well, it seems I have no choice but to accept your invitation.”

“Yes!” He exclaimed.

 “However,” I added with a serious tone, “the marriage offer is out of the question.”

 “Hey, anyone who hates caviar is on my proposal list. But I promise not to bring it up again for a week or so. I wouldn’t want to rush things.”

“You really are cracked in the head,” I exclaimed. “Do you go around proposing to every woman you meet for the first time?”

“Only the ones who are as beautiful as you are and hate caviar.”

I gave him my address just outside Branson city limits, and he grinned at the information. When I added that I had decided to postpone my trip to Tulsa, his grin broadened even more.

As I turned my car around and headed back to the Ozarks, I wore a mile-wide Julia-Roberts smile of my own. He stood on his head. He wants to take me for a sunset picnic on the lake. He’s not afraid of the marriage word. I can’t wait to tell Lissa.

I was thinking that romance is not a lost art after all.

Mister Nobody’s-Perfect James had predicted correctly.  

I was returning to Branson sooner than expected.

But not for him.

If I hadn't been speeding I might have missed the perfect stranger.