Summer of '65 (Bishop Family Book 1) Page 13

  I shook my head, with a little laugh. My nerves were on edge. My heart was pounding and I could barely breathe. I was staring straight at the man I wanted more than anything in the world, and I felt petrified and elated at the same time.

  "I think I might have said we were getting married. I probably definitely said it, I think. I did. I just came out and said that."

  His face went serious. "Who, me and you?" he asked.

  I nodded.

  "Who'd you say that to?" he asked.

  My heart fell at his serious expression.

  "Everyone," I said.

  "What exactly are you saying?" he asked.

  "After I sang, the man interviewed me, and I sort of told all the people at the concert that my name would be 'Ivy Bishop' because me and you were getting married." I bit my lip, and glanced toward the front of the tent. "That's why they said congratulations just now."

  He kissed me.

  I had been expecting him to say something, but instead he just grabbed my face, pulled me toward him, and kissed me—right on the lips—a big, smacking kiss. He held onto my face and we both smiled before he spoke.

  "Did I miss you singing gospel and my own engagement?" he asked.

  I smirked and nodded, and he kissed me again.

  Chapter 19

  We stood under that tent, and Michael let his lips meet mine with a few sudden kisses—excited kisses that made me smile uncontrollably. He kissed me multiple times, tilting my face this way and that as he placed them all over my cheeks and mouth.

  Somebody walking with the fair traffic noticed us and called out from the crowd. It was obvious that they were talking to us, but we pretended not to hear it.

  "Come on," Michael said.

  "Where are we going?" I asked, breathlessly as I jogged behind him.

  Michael was obviously in a hurry to go somewhere.

  "Michael," I said. "Where are you taking me?"

  "Keys to the blue cruiser," he said, looking at Max and speaking to him in shop talk.

  Max shrugged. "Richie started it for a customer earlier."

  Michael looked at Richie, who was on the other side of the tent, talking to someone. "Richie, I need the keys to the blue cruiser!" Michael called.

  I just stood beside him, feeling breathless and quietly holding his hand. Before I knew what was happening, Richie threw Michael a key, and Michael pulled me over to a gorgeous blue and silver motorcycle.

  "What are you doing?" I asked when we came to stand by the bike.

  He straddled it. "I'm taking you away from here. I need to kiss you right now, and we can't get any privacy here. Get on."

  "Michael," I said, unable to believe he was serious.

  "What?"

  "We can't go anywhere on that."

  "Why not?"

  I looked at our surroundings. We were right in the middle of the fairgrounds. The paths were closed to vehicles and only had pedestrian traffic. I looked outside the tent with a cautious expression as if making sure I wasn't missing something.

  "We can't just start that thing up and drive down the walkin' path."

  "Sure we can," he said. "Don't worry, people will hear us. They'll get out of the way. Come on; get on. You'll see."

  "Have you done this before?" I asked tentatively.

  He shook his head as he started the engine. It revved to life with a low rumble that startled a couple of people who were walking nearby. I smiled at them regretfully before getting on the motorcycle behind Michael. I braced myself on his shoulder as I stepped over the seat. I was accustomed to riding with him by now, but I felt a little clumsy getting on because of how very wound-up I was. I was being whisked away under most unusual circumstances, and I shook with nervous energy.

  He revved the engine cautiously as we drove out from under the tent and on to the path. He was right; people saw us coming, and they made way for us. Michael was a gentleman about it, going slow, and waving at people to thank them for moving to let us pass.

  I couldn't help but feel like I was in a parade. Everyone stopped to watch us go by. All of them were either checking out the bike or checking out Michael and me. Several different people yelled out to us. A couple of them must have been at my set because they hollered congratulations.

  It was a surreal ride through the fairgrounds on the back of that motorcycle—even more surreal than that time in the church parking lot. Everyone smiled and waved at us and made way for us to get through as if we were on some kind of important mission. I smiled so much my face felt like it was stuck that way.

  "Where are we going?" I asked just as we got to the edge of the fairgrounds and were about to turn onto the road.

  "Anywhere," Michael said.

  He made a left and gunned the engine in a way that had me squeezing his waist and grinning against his back. He took me down a country road just far enough that we were away from any sign of civilization.

  The fairgrounds were on the outskirts of town, anyway, so it only took two or three minutes of driving before we were completely isolated. I wondered at first where he was going, but once he pulled over on the side of the road, I realized it was to no place in particular.

  He stopped the motorcycle and held it steady as I got off. I stood and waited for him to get off as well, and he did, taking me into his arms as soon as he got to his feet. I easily walked into his embrace, and he held me there, chest to chest. He pulled back and stared down at me with that sweet, gorgeous smirk that said he loved me.

  "Okay, now that I can kiss you properly, go ahead and tell me that whole story again."

  "You mean about what happened at the fair?"

  He nodded.

  "I said that you and I were… I said I thought you and I were gonna—"

  "Wait a minute," he said shaking his head. "Back up, back up. Start at when you were singing. I want to hear the whole story."

  I smiled. "Well, for my last song, I decided to do Amazing Grace, because I was looking out at the crowd and, well, just feeling thankful."

  He nodded contently as if enjoying the story.

  "So, everyone responded really well to that, which made me all excited and everything. Then the guy interviewing me stuffed the microphone in front of me and called me 'Ms. Lewis', so I told him I was soon enough gonna be Mrs. Bishop." I wiggled my own eyebrows and gave him a silly expression as if I couldn't believe it myself, and this made Michael let out a little laugh.

  "What'd you tell them," he asked, "…that you were gonna marry me?"

  I nodded. "I told them you didn't know about it yet, though, and they all got a big kick out of that. The old man interviewing me was funny. Right when I said your name, he asked if you were the same one who built motorcycles."

  "What'd you say?"

  I squinted at him. "I said you were."

  He smiled. "I love that story."

  "I love the part at the end when you drove me through a bunch of people and then sped off to the woods with me."

  "I love that part, too," he said. "But that's not the end."

  "What happens next?" I said.

  He was staring at my mouth, so there was no doubt in my mind what he was going to do.

  "What happens next?" I asked, pretending not to know.

  He continued to look at my mouth. "Guess," he said.

  I licked my lips, and causing him to smile. "We play tick-tack-toe?" I asked.

  "Nope."

  "Red Rover?"

  He shook his head. "You can't play Red Rover with two people."

  "Chess?"

  "No."

  And then it happened.

  He kissed me, and there was no trepidation, no hesitation, no holding back. He put one hand around my back and the other around my head and kissed me as if his life depended on it. I opened my mouth to him, and he answered by kissing me deeply and passionately for several long seconds. My blood ran hot, and I relaxed in his grasp, entirely giving myself over to his kiss.

  I felt like I had melted completely by
the time he broke contact. My heart pounded in my ears. We both struggled to catch our breath for the first few seconds, and then he smiled sweetly at me before placing a gentle kiss on my now-tender upper lip.

  "I see why you had to drive me out here," I said.

  He nodded. "We might have caused a scene with that."

  I grinned at him. "We caused a scene as it was."

  "Yeah, but not one like that would have caused."

  I touched my lips, which were still swollen after his passionate kiss. "You're right, that would have."

  "Will you please marry me, Ivy?"

  I smiled. "I thought you'd never ask."

  He kissed me again. "So, yes?" he asked.

  "I can't wait."

  "Then let's do it."

  I smiled. "Let's."

  "When?" he asked.

  I couldn't believe I was having this conversation. I was elated. He was my true love, and here we were, talking about making it official in front of God and the state of Tennessee and everybody.

  "I think soon," I said nervously. "Do you?"

  "Tomorrow?" he asked.

  I smiled and leaned up to kiss him. My mouth landed on his lower lip, and I pulled it into my mouth before letting go and smiling at him again. "I have to work tomorrow," I said, thinking he was joking. "But we could do it the next day."

  "Good, so day after tomorrow it is." He gave me a little business-like smile and nod as if to indicate the deal was set.

  "Wait, really?" I asked when it hit me that he might actually be serious.

  "Yes, really," Michael said. "Tomorrow would be even better, but you're working."

  I gave him a sideways stare and a cautious smile. "You seem like you're actually serious."

  "I am a hundred percent, actually serious," he said. "As far as I'm concerned, we should've done it already." He paused and regarded me like he was realizing for the first time that this might be slightly overwhelming for me. "If you want to," he added with a casual shrug that made me pop up and kiss the side of his mouth.

  "I want to," I said, holding onto him tightly by the waist. "Are we really doing this?"

  "Yep," he said. "Hang on a second."

  He let go of me but didn’t go far. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pocketknife, flipping it open and fidgeting with it until he had the desired tool option. He stooped to the back tire, and used the wire clippers on his knife to cut a spoke loose. I watched as he used the handlebar as a tool to wrap the spoke, creating a small ring. He clipped the wire again before putting away his pocketknife. I watched as he continued to bend and shape the small piece of wire into a circle with his fingers.

  He smiled and handed me the almost perfect circle. "It'll have to do till I get to a jewelry store," he said.

  I took the ring and slid it onto my finger, thinking how cool God was for letting Michael know how to do things like that. I held it out, staring at the silver band that was now on my finger.

  "I love it," I said. "How'd you do that?"

  "I just bent a spoke into a circle," he said.

  "So, you just broke your bike to give me this?"

  "Yes, but I'll fix it. It would be worth it even if I couldn't, but I can."

  I folded my hands, staring lovingly at my new ring. "It would be worth it, huh?"

  Michael and I went back to the fair after that. We rode in the same way we had left, and again, people willingly made a path for us. It seemed by their expression that they almost enjoyed seeing us ride by.

  So many people had seen us that Michael got multiple offers on the motorcycle. I didn't say anything, but Michael could see by my reaction that I was hesitant to see him get rid of it, so he ended up telling the customers he could make them one like it.

  I felt as though the entire night had been a huge roller coaster ride. It ended with Michael dropping me off at my parents' house. (I wasn't planning on living there long, but I decided to stay with them until I got my own place.) Jacob was out with some of his friends, and I assumed my parents had already gone to bed.

  Michael and I parked in the driveway. I got off of the bike, and he put the kickstand in place but stayed sitting comfortably on the seat. "Where are we going to live if we end up getting married soon?" I asked, coming to stand next to him.

  "What do you mean, if we get married soon? I thought it was settled. We already told everybody from the shop it was happening."

  I was fully aware that we had already told people, and I was ecstatic about that, but it honestly hadn't fully sunk in that we were really doing it. I shrugged at him.

  "Are we going to move in together?" I asked shyly.

  He squinted at me. "Of course we are. That's what you do when you get married."

  "Where are we gonna live?" I asked.

  "At my shop for now. We can get a new place if you're not comfortable there, but the shop's apartment is pretty big if you want to—"

  Michael stopped talking when he saw my excited expression. I loved his apartment. It was a big place that needed a woman's touch, and I loved being right there in the middle of the action. I nodded excitedly at the thought.

  "The shop's great."

  "Just until I get you a proper house," he said. "Once we start making babies, you'll want a bigger place, I'm sure."

  I smiled and moved to stand even closer to him so I could tell him goodnight. I rested my leg against his, and he smiled and held onto me. Once again, I felt overwhelming gratitude for this moment.

  "Night," I said. "I love you."

  "Come see me in the morning," he said.

  "I will."

  "Ivy?"

  "Yeah?"

  "I love you too."

  "You do?"

  He nodded.

  "How much?" I asked.

  "More than motorcycles," he said.

  "More than music?" I asked.

  Michael made a thoughtful expression but nodded.

  "Good," I said. "Because I love you more than music and motorcycles, too."

  Chapter 20

  I became Mrs. Ivy Bishop exactly one week after I announced our engagement at the fair. I moved in with Michael, and in the weeks since we got married, I had made a cozy little nest out of the apartment that was attached to the back of the shop.

  Jacob helped me build a couple of planter boxes out back so I would have a vegetable garden come spring. I did things like that (and other small projects) while Michael was working, and he always looked forward to seeing what had changed when he finished.

  We had been married for two months now, and we both loved how the place was looking. It was the middle of fall, and cool weather was officially upon us. The floors of the shop were concrete, and the same was true for the apartment, only when Michael moved in, he had them polished and stained to a rust color. I thought the floors were really nice, and I didn't want to install wall-to-wall carpet, but my latest project was to make a few braided rugs out of scraps of fabric in my mom's attic for the sake of keeping my feet warm. I wasn't great at making rugs, but I enjoyed the process, and my third one was better than my first.

  I liked my side projects, but music was still my priority. My parents bought us an upright piano as a wedding gift, and I played it for Michael all the time. He was sad about missing my gospel debut at the fair, but he got to hear me all the time now. I played soul renditions of hymns for him any chance I had.

  When I wasn't playing music at home, I was doing it in Nashville. I had been back and forth to Nashville way too many times since I moved back home, but I would soon be on a schedule where I was able get by with only going up there one or two times a month. I still wanted to stay active in the music scene, but not nearly as much as I did when I lived there, or even as much as I'd been doing in recent weeks.

  I had to go to Nashville literally every weekend lately. In fact, I hadn't been to church at my dad's at all since Michael and I got married. This would be my first weekend at home, and today my first time back playing the piano for the service.
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  My dad heard about the rendition Amazing Grace that I did at the fair, but he hadn't heard me sing it. He told me just before the service started that a hundred people had requested it in recent weeks, and that many of them would be at the service today in hopes of seeing me sing. He said word had gotten around that it was my first time playing since I moved back. My dad also made a point of saying he would like to hear me do it, which made me even more nervous than the hundred other people.

  I was so uncertain that I didn't commit to doing it. I told Dad we'd do Amazing Grace either way, but that I would decide how it would go once the service started. I knew from the moment I walked out that I would do it.

  I came out of the backstage area and saw right away that the sanctuary was packed. There was not an empty seat in the house, and there were even a few standing in the back. There were familiar faces and some who were unfamiliar. It was a mixed group, and I smiled as I looked out at them. I realized I saw some faces from Jim-bo's and Michael's shop, and other equally unlikely places, and it made my heart feel happy.

  I knew I had to use the voice God gave me.

  There was a microphone next to the piano just in case I decided to sing, and I turned it on the instant I sat down. Mr. Dixon glanced at me in surprise because the plan was that I might sing Amazing Grace, and that was the last song. I winked at him and began playing according to plan. He was the stuck in his ways sort, but he was also a professional, so he rolled with it, continuing with the service.

  I sang along to all the songs, but I did it very softly with the microphone pushed away from my face. I mostly blended in with the choir until it came time for the last song. At that point, I gave Mr. Dixon the nod that I would take over from there.

  I prayed one simple prayer before I sang.

  In those few seconds while the others were leaving the stage, I prayed that God be glorified by what I did. It was my true prayer for that to happen, therefore I sang only to and for Him. I sang with all my heart, thanking God for His truly amazing grace. I glanced at the crowd some, but I wasn't focused on them—I was only focused on singing the song.

  My dad wept.

  I caught sight of him when I was almost done with the song. His face was in his hands and he was really weeping. I had to look away to keep from crying myself. The reason it touched me so much was because I could tell my dad wasn't touched because he was proud of me, or because of the Church was packed. He was crying because he was in just as desperate need of God's grace as I was.