March 1969

The spring breeze tickled the treetops and kissed Millie Maples’ hot face. She felt the caress of air was a blessin’ on their lovin’, full of promises of delights to follow.

Wait, what am I thinkin’? “Stop! Caleb, that’s far enough,” Millie said mid-pant. “You promised. We’re breaking our rule.”

She could barely stop herself, so slowing Caleb Weathers down was a feat in itself—like stopping a speeding bullet from a long gun.

Caleb halted but with obvious difficulty. He groaned and tried to put his penis back inside his jeans as best he could, but not before he ejaculated all over her girlie parts.

He crab-walked away and moaned, “Sorry ’bout that. I reckon yer right. That was way too close for comfort. I got carried away.” He handed her his handkerchief to swipe away the mess.

“I noticed.” Millie fastened her blouse, shifted her very wet panties back into place, and lowered her maxiskirt. She sighed. “I gotta get goin’ anyway.”

After a sweet kiss from Caleb, Millie headed home.

They had hidden in the shadows under the back bleachers on the football field, since no game was scheduled. Millie worked with the grounds crew and knew how to get inside. She’d hoped being outside could help them slow down if things got too hot and heavy. Some precaution, that was. Caleb needs to get his hands on some rubbers, or I’ll wind up pregnant. She wasn’t too worried, though, despite their close call. Her period was due soon, and she’d pry be fine.

Actually, a bigger problem—to her way of thinking—was her father, who would have a cow if he knew what they had been doing. Her pa was a Baptist preacher who literally thumped the Bible. His daily admonitions were about hellfire, brimstone, repentance, and the evils of fornication. He preached his words not only from the pulpit but also from the dinner table.

She shuddered. If I get pregnant, Pa’ll take his shotgun, not to force a weddin’ but to kill Caleb. Pa’d prefer a funeral rather than a weddin’, and jail to marryin’ me off to the likes of Caleb. The Weather’s family was Catholic. Pa didn’t hold with them. No, Pa’d kill Caleb, and not likely to word no fancy-dancy ashes-to-ashes preachin’ over ’im, either.

She sighed heavily. There was only one thing to do—break up with Caleb—and she better do it fast, sooner rather than later. I have no choice. I got to put the brakes on until Pa accepts him. And truth be told, that would be never. Was it fair to lead Caleb on when she knew she could never marry him? Could some miracle happen?

I love Caleb with everythin’ I have in me, but I’ve got to get real about this. A future with him isn’t possible. If we continue carryin’ on, somethin’s bound to happen. We’ll get caught—one way or another. This has to stop, not only to protect me but to also save him. Caleb will never understand how strong and bullheaded my pa really is. Caleb thinks our love can overcome anythin’, but he’s wrong. We’ll never change Pa’s mind.

Millie sighed again. She really did love Caleb—enough to break his heart—to spare him her pa’s gun. But now she had to do a complete about-face and set him free.

Plenty of girls tried flirting with Caleb, but he had made it clear he was Millie’s beau. Maybe Amy Rae could… Millie was unable to complete that thought. She couldn’t stand even a mental picture of anyone else in his arms.

There’s just no other way. Better he’s wed to someone else than dead. How on earth can I do this? We have so much history together…

Millie had known Caleb forever. She’d first spied him in kindergarten and waited every day at the classroom door for him to walk in. From the get-go, all Caleb had to do was show up on the scene, and Millie would grab him by the hand and announce they were playing house. Then she’d drag him to the housekeeping corner. She was the Ma, and he was the Pa. No two ways about it. No ifs, ands, buts, or maybes either. That was the way it was. She declared it, and he’d had no rest until he complied. She had to play with Caleb. Period. There was nothing the teacher could do to break them apart or get them to broaden their playmates. Millie simply refused to comply.

Pa calls me bullheaded, but I know what’s what. I know what I want and when I want it, and I aim to git it, too, as surely as flies on Shinola. But I cain’t git Caleb. Pa’s fairly stubborn hisself.

Caleb had always been smart, though, even in kindergarten. He had found a way to play house with her yet still managed to use toy trucks and do menfolk things. While Millie had pretended to cook and mother the baby dolls, he had pretended to hunt. He could usually be found hauling a toy truck back and forth filled with wooden animals. He’d claimed the wooden animals were meat for their supper, then he’d deepen his voice, sayin’ Girl, ah brung y’all dinner. Cook it up right quick, hear?

She chuckled at the sweet memory. Love at first sight at age five! Caleb had always enjoyed telling folks we fell in love in kindergarten. And they had.

Millie had spent all her school years with Caleb. Her pa hadn’t had much of a clue about them or her feelings for Caleb. That was, until Caleb came to call on her officially to ask her to their high school sing-along.