obvious disappointment. She grinned then, however—her foxish, sly grin—and said, “But that was sure some welcomin’ kiss you gave him. I thought we were gonna be waitin’ here all night before it ended.”
Cricket glanced back over her shoulder toward the watering trough. Her heart sank to the pit of her stomach with miserable disappointment when she saw that Heathro Thibodaux had already mounted his horse in preparation to leave. She heard him growl, “Yaw!” and watched the horse break into an immediate gallop.
“So?” Vilma prodded. “What did he say? Was he mad or glad? For Pete’s sake, Cricket, you’ve got to tell us everything! We couldn’t hear a whisper!”
Full realization washed over Cricket then. They hadn’t heard the scolding Heathro Thibodaux had given her—hadn’t clearly seen the kiss. From where the girls stood behind the old oak, it must’ve looked like Cricket simply kissed Heathro, that he’d accepted it, and therefore that the kiss had extended far beyond anyone’s expectation.
She looked to Marie and saw the hope shining in her foxish eyes—the hope that if a near total stranger had accepted a kiss from Cricket, then surely Hudson Oliver would not spurn hers. And she knew what she must say.
“He thanked me for welcomin’ him,” Cricket lied.
“He did?” Marie exclaimed. The hope was welling so thick in Marie that Cricket could almost smell it.
“H-he did,” Cricket continued. “He said that he was grateful for the welcome, and…and once I started kissing him…he kissed me back.”
Ann’s blue eyes widened with wild enthusiasm. “Was it…was it simply wonderful, Cricket? Kissing him? Did it make you feel…well…wonderful?”
Cricket forced a smile as she stripped the wet mask from her head. “Well, if you want me to be entirely honest…”
“Oh, definitely!” Vilma assured her, smiling with impatient anticipation.
Cricket’s smile broadened as it became more natural and not so feigned. “Then I’ll say it this way. I have never in all my life experienced anything the likes of what just happened between me and Mr. Heathro Thibodaux!” It was the truth after all. She had answered Ann’s question with complete honesty. Good or bad, blissful or frightening, Cricket’s moments of kissing Heathro Thibodaux truly had been like nothing she’d ever known.
Cricket’s three friends squealed with delight, giggled, and threw their arms around her in warm embrace.
“How marvelous, Cricket,” Ann giggled. “You did it! You kissed him! No matter what happens now…you’ll always know what it feels like to kiss Mr. Thibodaux.”
“Yep,” Cricket said as more tears filled her eyes. She felt unhappy, confused, spurned. And yet at the same time, a strange thrill would well up in her each time she relived the moments with Heathro in her thoughts.
“But why did you fall?” Vilma asked. “It’s not like you to be so clumsy.”
Leave it to Vilma to point out the worst part of the event.
“Don’t you know anything about kissin’, Vilma Stanley?” Ann asked. She rolled her pretty blue eyes and explained, “When a man kisses you the right way, it makes you dizzy and turns your knees to raspberry jam.” Ann looked to Cricket. “Isn’t that right, Cricket?”
“Yes…that’s exactly what happened,” Cricket fibbed, smiling and nodding with rigid affirmation. “I-I was so overwhelmed by the bliss of it all…that my knees wouldn’t hold me up any longer. Mr. Thibodaux did try to catch me, but I was already too far gone.”
The girls all giggled and sighed, and Cricket was relieved that they believed her. And after all, it was mostly the truth.
But the evening wasn’t about Cricket; it was about Mrs. Maloney, Mr. Keel, and Mr. Thibodaux—and it was about Marie and Hudson Oliver. Cricket knew the faster she turned her attention to ensuring that Marie captured Hudson for her own, the more quickly her own poor experience with the ex-Texas Ranger
Cricket glanced back over her shoulder toward the watering trough. Her heart sank to the pit of her stomach with miserable disappointment when she saw that Heathro Thibodaux had already mounted his horse in preparation to leave. She heard him growl, “Yaw!” and watched the horse break into an immediate gallop.
“So?” Vilma prodded. “What did he say? Was he mad or glad? For Pete’s sake, Cricket, you’ve got to tell us everything! We couldn’t hear a whisper!”
Full realization washed over Cricket then. They hadn’t heard the scolding Heathro Thibodaux had given her—hadn’t clearly seen the kiss. From where the girls stood behind the old oak, it must’ve looked like Cricket simply kissed Heathro, that he’d accepted it, and therefore that the kiss had extended far beyond anyone’s expectation.
She looked to Marie and saw the hope shining in her foxish eyes—the hope that if a near total stranger had accepted a kiss from Cricket, then surely Hudson Oliver would not spurn hers. And she knew what she must say.
“He thanked me for welcomin’ him,” Cricket lied.
“He did?” Marie exclaimed. The hope was welling so thick in Marie that Cricket could almost smell it.
“H-he did,” Cricket continued. “He said that he was grateful for the welcome, and…and once I started kissing him…he kissed me back.”
Ann’s blue eyes widened with wild enthusiasm. “Was it…was it simply wonderful, Cricket? Kissing him? Did it make you feel…well…wonderful?”
Cricket forced a smile as she stripped the wet mask from her head. “Well, if you want me to be entirely honest…”
“Oh, definitely!” Vilma assured her, smiling with impatient anticipation.
Cricket’s smile broadened as it became more natural and not so feigned. “Then I’ll say it this way. I have never in all my life experienced anything the likes of what just happened between me and Mr. Heathro Thibodaux!” It was the truth after all. She had answered Ann’s question with complete honesty. Good or bad, blissful or frightening, Cricket’s moments of kissing Heathro Thibodaux truly had been like nothing she’d ever known.
Cricket’s three friends squealed with delight, giggled, and threw their arms around her in warm embrace.
“How marvelous, Cricket,” Ann giggled. “You did it! You kissed him! No matter what happens now…you’ll always know what it feels like to kiss Mr. Thibodaux.”
“Yep,” Cricket said as more tears filled her eyes. She felt unhappy, confused, spurned. And yet at the same time, a strange thrill would well up in her each time she relived the moments with Heathro in her thoughts.
“But why did you fall?” Vilma asked. “It’s not like you to be so clumsy.”
Leave it to Vilma to point out the worst part of the event.
“Don’t you know anything about kissin’, Vilma Stanley?” Ann asked. She rolled her pretty blue eyes and explained, “When a man kisses you the right way, it makes you dizzy and turns your knees to raspberry jam.” Ann looked to Cricket. “Isn’t that right, Cricket?”
“Yes…that’s exactly what happened,” Cricket fibbed, smiling and nodding with rigid affirmation. “I-I was so overwhelmed by the bliss of it all…that my knees wouldn’t hold me up any longer. Mr. Thibodaux did try to catch me, but I was already too far gone.”
The girls all giggled and sighed, and Cricket was relieved that they believed her. And after all, it was mostly the truth.
But the evening wasn’t about Cricket; it was about Mrs. Maloney, Mr. Keel, and Mr. Thibodaux—and it was about Marie and Hudson Oliver. Cricket knew the faster she turned her attention to ensuring that Marie captured Hudson for her own, the more quickly her own poor experience with the ex-Texas Ranger
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