John crooned, “Well, I don’t know, David. They do sound alike, you know.”
Cara said in a low voice, “Not really.…”
Linnea bumped shoulders with John. “Stop, don’t scare her.”
John turned to Hope. “Have you been near an alligator?”
She shook her head, wide eyes.
“Well, let me tell you, if you ever hear the rumbling of a big bull alligator, you’d never confuse that sound with a frog’s. It’s so low and loud, you can practically feel the vibrations.” He heard the doubtful comments of the group and called out, “I kid you not.”
“He’s right,” David said. “I’ve heard them on Dewees, and it’s powerful.”
“That,” John told Hope, “is the night call of a male bullfrog. As a matter of fact,” he continued, leaning back into his chair, “he’s my pet.”
Hope drew near, wide-eyed. “He is?”
“Yep. He’s taken up residence in this pond, which is okay by me. He does me a favor by eating up all manner of insects. He just sits real still, like this,” he said, posing in a stiff-backed manner, his eyes wide open. He was rewarded with Hope’s giggle. “He’s got these big ol’ eyes and just sits there, watching. He doesn’t move a muscle. Then, when an insect flies by… zap!” John shot out his hand and poked Hope’s belly. She shrieked and jumped back. “He snaps out his tongue and grabs it.”
Hope was all the more enchanted by John. “Can I see him?”
“Well, darlin’, we can try. We have to find him first. His big eyes reflect light. The thing to do is get a flashlight—they freeze when you shine light at them.”
“Don’t touch it, honey,” warned Cara. “They’ll give you warts.”
Emmi laughed and slapped her knee. “Oh, come on, Cara. First of all, that’s toads. Second, that’s an old wives’ tale. Only witches can give you warts.”
“Then stay away from Miss Emmi,” Cara teased back.
“Don’t worry,” John said. “Jeremiah is a clean bullfrog.”
“Is that his name?”
“Yes,” John said with a crooked grin, and let his gaze sweep over the circle of chairs. “Jeremiah was a bullfrog.”
Palmer called out, “Was a good friend of mine.”
Cooper added in a serious tone, “I never understood a single word he said, but I helped him drink his wine.”
Everyone in the group started to groan and laugh. Hope looked confused.
“It’s true,” John said to Hope. “Jeremiah the bullfrog is famous. Google it if you don’t believe me. Go on.”
Hope ran across the patio to David, crashing into his knees. “Daddy, will you look up Jeremiah the bullfrog?”
David pulled his phone out from his pocket. “Sure, honey,” he replied with a straight face, playing along. “Hold on a minute while I find it.”
A minute later the first words of the song “Joy to the World” blared out of his phone.
One by one they all joined in the chorus, belting out the lyrics, clapping hands. Linnea leaned back and looked at the smiling faces. Julia was holding Palmer’s hand. Hope leaned against her father. Cooper and John sat side by side near the pond. Emmi sat beside Cara, who looked at her with eyes shining in the fairy lights.
John truly was a Peter Pan, she thought. Only this time, she appreciated his ability to bring a group together. Linnea couldn’t remember the last time they’d gathered around like this on a warm night, singing together. This was a rare moment, and one she hoped they would repeat. The song ended, and Palmer was calling out for David to find another they could sing to, offering suggestions.
“I’ll get my guitar,” offered Cooper.
“David, find a Beatles song,” Emmi directed. “Something we all know the words of.”
Then Linnea heard a voice from behind her with a crisp British accent. “Hello. I hope I’m not disturbing you.”
The talking stopped as all eyes went to the man in linen trousers and a white shirt. His skin was deeply tanned, and his blue eyes shone in the light as she imagined a bullfrog’s might if caught by a flashlight. She felt the vibrations.
“Gordon!” she exclaimed, leaping from her chair, and hurried to his side. “I didn’t expect you to come down until tomorrow.”
He smiled into her eyes. “It’s been two weeks. I’ve tested negative. And I couldn’t wait till tomorrow to see you.” He put out his arms.
Linnea hesitated a moment, more out of habit of not giving hugs, then stepped into his embrace.
She turned and, smiling, said to everyone who stared back at them with curiosity, “Y’all remember Gordon Carr.”
Most called out a warm welcome, except for Palmer and John. They were polite, but lackluster.
“Will you excuse us?” Linnea asked. “We haven’t had a chance to say hello.” Then to Anna, “Will you bring Luna home?”
Gordon held out his hand and Linnea grasped it. They walked out from the fairy lights into the soft light of the stars and the moon. Away from the prying eyes. Linnea was aware of every neuron in her hand that was touching his, warm and dry. They didn’t speak. The sound of gravel crunching beneath their feet heralded their progress to her home. By the time they reached the deck the sound of the Beatles’ “Let It Be” filled the night air, and she smiled to herself, thinking, Well chosen, David.
Before they entered the house, Gordon stopped and turned to face her. He cupped her head in his hands and let his gaze sweep her face, his eyes bemused and a soft smile on his face.
“I just want to look at you for a moment,” he said in a low voice. “You’re really here. I’ve imagined being here with you so many times, I have to take a moment to let it sink in.”
“I know,” she said, staring into his eyes. “I don’t quite know if I can believe it’s really you and not my screen.”
His lips moved to a quick smile in response; then his gaze kindled. His smile drifted away. Slowly, with intention, Gordon lowered his head to hers. Linnea closed her eyes and tilted her head in welcome. His lips touched hers, gently at first, tasting her. They pulled back slowly and looked at each other, each knowing that the spark was still there. They’d always had this spontaneous combustion, from their first kiss.
Her arms clung to his neck as she pressed herself against him. She relished the feel of him, his arms around her. She hadn’t had sex in so long she’d worried how it would be. But there was no worry now. No negotiation of terms or thoughts of what this all might mean. There was only a thumping, beating, primeval drive. An urgent, pressing message of want and longing.
Still clinging together, lips pressed, they somehow managed to open the door to her bedroom and stumble across the room, clothes falling to the floor en route. With a soft growl in Gordon’s throat and a giggle in hers, they collapsed together on the bed.
Which, they both knew, was where they were going to end up.
* * *
WHEN LINNEA FINALLY awoke, the dawn song had been replaced by the gentle beat of pop rock music coming from the kitchen. Turning her head, she saw Gordon’s ruddy face lying on the pillow beside hers, his red-gold hair falling in disarray around his head, his mouth open. A soft snore revealed he was still in a deep sleep.