This work, I tell myself, is better left to me.
Besides, I highly doubt my mother wants anything, and if she did, she would have called.
The house phone rings, and I answer it. “Hello?”
“Hiya, Scarlet. It’s Mike from the Dillon Creek Echo. Got your message.”
Relieved, I say, “Yes, Michael. Can we run the ad?”
“Well, that’s the thing. I don’t have space for you until the first of the year.”
“First of the year?” I say in disbelief.
“Yeah.” He doesn’t explain further.
I’m quick to think. “What if I pay double?”
“Nah, I can’t do that. I made promises to advertisers. I’ve got to do right by them.”
Promises. I smirk. Promises don’t fly in the business world, Michael.
But I won’t be the one to explain this to him. He’ll need to learn the hard way, like I did, having a career and a very lucrative business pulled out from under me.
“Triple. I’ll pay you triple.”
“Triple the price of the ad?” Michael questions.
“Yes. Triple. And if I sell the house within two weeks, I’ll pay more.”
“Can I sleep on it?”
I grow impatient with the small-town businessman, rolling my eyes. Tomorrow is Thanksgiving, and I don’t give a rat’s behind if he calls me then. In fact, I’d prefer a decision today, but Dillon Creek is Dillon Creek, no matter how much I’ve changed.
“That will be fine.”
“All right then, I’ll give you a call tomorrow.”
“Good-bye, Michael.”
“It’s Mike, Scarlet. You can call me Mike.”
“Good-bye, Michael.”
It’s late into the evening, and I’ve just finished the kitchen. I boxed up all the dishes—except for a few I’ll need while I’m here—including the fine china, and the two extra coffeepots most likely used for extra company.
I warm up a Lean Cuisine, grab a Solo cup, and add some wine to it. I pour myself into my granddad’s recliner for an episode of whatever is on and quietly plot how I’ll get out of tomorrow’s Thanksgiving dinner at the Atwoods’.
15
Cash
Present Day 2020
“Dude, you’re nervous as hell,” Colt says to me while I stand near the window, blankly staring at the football game on television.
“Shouldn’t you be playing basketball or something?”
“Bye week.” He stands when a sick Anna comes out from the bathroom.
“Too much to drink last night or what? The flu?” I flick Anna shit. She’s always been one to take it. She’s a good sport.
Anna and Colt exchange glances, and nobody sees it, except for me but I don’t say anything.
“It’s not the flu, and I haven’t been drinking, asshole.” Anna smiles, kisses Colt on the cheek, and walks into the kitchen to see if our mom needs help.
Uncle Bob, Uncle Larry, and Dad are crowded around Uncle Larry’s new pocketknife while their wives sit at the dining room table and drink coffee, discussing the new issue of some magazine.
“Casey and Tess are here,” my mom calls, and Colt and I walk out there to help with whatever they need help with.
“It’s cold,” Tess says as she hands Colt some sort of salad thing.
“As long as it’s not Mabe’s Jell-O mold,” Colt says, and they laugh.
Casey holds his middle, knowing the burning sensation with the broken ribs will start. I guess it’s just another inside joke that I missed while I was on the road, running.
“Anything else you need help with?” I ask.
“Nah, we’re good,” Casey says. “You look like shit.”
We both laugh, knowing we look like shit, and this gives me some ease and comfort.
We’re fighting the same battle. Being asked to quit the only careers we’ve known since we became young adults. It’s not the safest option and that it’s just a matter of time before our bodies make the final decision for us.
While Colt and Tess walk up ahead, Casey says, “Tess told me that Mom invited Scarlet?”
My stomach drops at the mention of her name.
“Yeah.”
“What are you going to say to her?”
“I don’t fucking know, man.”
“Yeah, you messed up royally there.”
“I know.”
“And she just lost her grandparents.”
I stop walking. “Are you trying to make me feel better? Because if you are, you’re really not good at it.”
With a cast on his arm, he tries to juggle the bag of whatever he’s carrying, and I take it from him to help.
When we reach the back door, Casey stops. Looks at me for a long minute.
I know he’s debating his words, so I cut him off before he starts. “Look, I don’t need any sappy shit for jumping in the arena, all right? You would have done it for me.”
A grin spreads across his face. “No, dude, I was going to say, you have some dip on your face.”
Quickly, I reach up and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand.
He holds his middle again and tries not to laugh. “I’m kidding. That wasn’t what I was going to say, but at the risk of sounding sappy, as you put it, I do want to say thank you.”
“Don’t mention it.”
“I won’t.”
And with that, we limp through the back door and try to figure out how we can get through life together.
It’s almost four in the afternoon, and nerves get the best of me when I see Scarlet’s car.
God, she’s beautiful.
It’s as if I revert to the little boy who fell in love with the strawberry-blond who was just trying to survive in a way that most kids wouldn’t. I was the only one Scarlet ever told the dark secrets of her mother to, and I hated her mother for a long time for it. But Scarlet never did. She just made excuse after excuse for her.
“If you love someone, you show them,” my dad always says.
Devon has a fucked up, twisted way of showing love—if that’s even the case.
Scarlet’s form-fitting dark green top curves around her breasts and so perfectly. The light dusting of freckles sits on her nose in all the perfect ways, and her blue eyes—the ones that burned through my heart every night I went to bed with another woman.
I see her lips moving as I watch her out the window, as if she were talking to someone or practicing a line. I’ve read articles on Scarlet, and she’s described as tactful, smart, cunning, and a cutthroat businesswoman. She’s been featured in Fortune’s magazine in the 40 Under 40.
But all I see is the same broken little girl, and I’m the same broken little boy who just wants to protect her heart, not break her heart.
I run/walk/limp to the bathroom and hold my ribs as I heave into the toilet any appetizers I ate. I do this until the nerves seem to settle somewhere between my heart and my stomach. My ribs ache something fierce, but I’ve been through this shit before.
I’ve had broken ribs.
A fractured tailbone when a bull got the best of my backside.
Broken fibula.
Broken arms.
Broken femur.
Broken ankles.
Broken face.
It’s the price cowboys pay to do what we love. My eyes reach the mirror, and I stare back at the barely visible black eyes I have from the hit I took from the bull. The bandage on my forehead doesn’t blend with my skin very well.
You’ve faced one-ton bulls for a living, Cash, you can walk through this, facing your past, facing the only woman you’ve ever loved.
I throw up again, and I hold my ribs tight.
Now might be a good time for a pain pill, the rational part of me says.
The irrational part of me says, No, you can handle pain.
I brush my teeth twice, throw cold water on my face, open the bathroom door, and try to figure out what the hell I’ll say to her.
When I reach the living
room, Colt, Calder, and Casey grin at me.
“You all right, Cash? Look a little green,” Casey says.
“It’s time to eat,” my mom calls.
We all crowd around the big dining room table: Mabe, Grandma Clyda, her boyfriend—who she doesn’t call her boyfriend—Carl, my uncles and their wives, Casey and Tess, Colt and Anna, Calder, Mom and Dad, and Scarlet.
Before we sit down, I touch Anna’s elbow and say, “Maybe it’s the flu that we caught.”
She whispers back, “No, I’m pregnant. What’s your excuse?”
Inwardly, I smile, and I’m certain my face registers shock as I look over to Colt.
“Hey,” I say to Scarlet as I sit down across the table from her. “Glad you could make it.”
“Me too.”
She tries to act casual, but I can tell she’s nervous, and for whatever reason, this makes my stomach settle. We’re both uneasy and without words, and we don’t know which way to turn.
“To the old guests, the new guests, to four of my sons, to family. I’m extremely grateful that we can all be together, under one roof, on a chilly day, eating warm food,” my mom says.
My dad says a prayer, blessing the food, and we eat.
Uncle Larry is in the middle of telling the story about him and his buddy Kyle, taking his dad—Tony—and his dad’s buddy Stefano down to the city for a professional football game. We’ve all heard the story over a hundred times, and every time he tells it, it gets funnier and funnier, especially if Uncle Larry is drinking his homemade wine, Portuguese Diesel.
“We’re not even five minutes out of Rio Dell, and it starts to rain, so Kyle turns on the windshield wipers. Tony and Stefano are in the back seat, smoking a pack of cigarettes and drinking their half-gallon of Jim Beam. Tony drops his cigarette between the seats of the 1978 Buick Regal. Well, the damn car starts to fill up with smoke, so we pull over, and Kyle finds the cigarette. We get back on the road, and you’re not going to believe what happens next.” Uncle Larry looks around the table. “The windshield blades fly off, and all you can hear is remnants of what’s left scraping against the windshield. And this all happens before we even make it to Redway.”
Redway is about forty minutes south of Dillon Creek.
“We have a kickoff time of one thirty. We’ve got two hard-core Italians in the back seat in their velour tracksuits and gold chains, and they’re unable to keep their traps shut when we get pulled over by highway patrol for swerving all over the road because of the wipers.”
As Uncle Larry goes on to tell the story, I secretly watch Scarlet laugh until tears are streaming down her face. The good tears. The ones that heal people even if it’s for a moment or two.
When dinner is done, Scarlet doesn’t take no for an answer when she begins to clear plates.
“Really, Scarlet, it’s all right,” Mom says.
“I can’t let you do the dishes, Laurel. You know my grandmother. She would have had my butt if I didn’t help. Please. Let me?” She looks at my mom as I take plates to the kitchen.
“Yeah, Mom. Go visit with everyone,” I say.
And with the nudge, she hesitantly goes to the dining room table and finishes her coffee, occasionally looking back every now and then, silently hoping we’ll fall in love again.
Scarlet and I dance around the kitchen like repelling magnets, and I think of all the possible things I could ask her as I wash and she dries.
So, how’s life?
Are you still married?
I heard there was a divorce.
I hear you live in Boston. Is it cold there now?
Do you have any pets?
Can we please go back in time?
But I don’t ask any of this. I silently do the dishes, and she quietly dries; we move like we’re worlds away.
When we’re done, Scarlet goes to sit at the dining room table with my mother, Mabe, and Grandma Clyda.
I go outside to get some fresh air, even in the freezing cold, Jones at my side. I lean against the old fence and stare out into the darkness, watching my breath come alive and disappear in the cold night air. The back door shuts, and I hear footsteps against the gravel.
“You’re sure as shit not going to win her over, man, if you live here with Mom and Dad,” Calder says as he takes a spot next to me at the fence, Coors Light in hand.
I smirk. “Says the single guy who lives with Mom and Dad.”
“I guess it’s fear that keeps me here.”
“Fear of what? Man, I couldn’t wait to get the hell out of here when I turned eighteen.”
Calder looks out into the darkness. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me, brother.”
“Never mind. Forget I said anything. But you, my friend, need to get a place if you want to win Scarlet back.”
I laugh. “She’s not going to take me back, Cal. Not after how it ended. She’s a one-and-done kind of woman. Besides, I’m sure she’s got men beatin’ down her door now that her and her husband are separated or whatever they are. She probably wants nothing to do with a cowboy anyway.”
“Yeah”—he smiles—“you’re probably right. You’re not worth her time. Just keep on keeping on with the buckle bunnies. That will get you far in life.” Sarcasm leaks into his tone.
Is that what my life has boiled down to? One-night stands with random women. A slew of bad choices. The adrenaline rush. And running from myself?
“If this is supposed to be a pep talk, man, you suck at them.”
“Nope, real talk. Straight shit.” He pulls away from the fence. “My job is done here then.” Calder turns to walk inside.
“Hey.” I turn in his direction.
He stops. Turns.
“If I were to think I might have a chance, how … how would I win her back?”
“Go back to where it all started. When we were kids. When she fell for the guy who wasn’t an asshole. Make her remember, Cash. Give her a reason to stay in Dillon Creek and not leave this time.”
The back door opens and closes again, and this time, it’s Scarlet.
“Don’t go down without a fight, brother,” Calder says. He turns and says to Scarlet, who’s leaving, “Good to see you, Scar. Don’t be a stranger.”
Scarlet pulls her jacket tighter around her. “Good to see you too, Calder.”
Make your move, jackass. Make your move.
But all I can seem to do is watch her walk away.
“Bye, Scarlet,” I finally say, almost unable to breathe.
My brother’s voice plays in my head. “Give her a reason to stay.”
It’s when I watch her back out of the driveway that my legs start to move and that I finally have words.
I run toward the truck, my ribs aching, my head pounding, but I miss seeing her brake lights and nick the back of the truck with my side.
Almost doubled over in pain, I make it to her window.
She rolls it down and says, “Are you all right, Cash?”
I hold up a finger, attempting to keep a straight face with the pain surging through my body right now. “Dinner. Tomorrow. With me. Just dinner. Two old friends. Catching up.” At this point, I don’t care if she’s still married. I just want to be with her. In her presence.
She stares down at her lap. A small resemblance of a smile starts when she looks back up and meets my gaze. “I have plans.”
But I can’t help but ask, “What about the next night?”
“Look”—she sighs—“I’m not looking for forever, Cash.” But it’s the next sentence that hits me harder than I’d like to admit. “I walked away from Dillon Creek and put all those memories, all those feelings behind me. I’m not the same woman. And if this is your way of apologizing, don’t worry about it. Go back to your way of life, Cash. You don’t owe me anything.”
And with that, she slowly pulls away, and I watch until her taillights disappear out of the driveway, taking my heart along with her.
16
Scarlet: Age 6
I saw Granddad’s hat through the sea of people that ebbed and flowed in front of me, searching for their luggage, a ride, and their family. Granddad’s hat floats through the stream of travelers, family members, friends. I dropped my luggage and sprinted toward the hat, and the sea seemed to part faster than my little legs could carry me. September was in tow but barely hanging by my fingertips.
And when I saw his face, my heart exploded. Granddad’s arms reached for me as he bent down, and I ran faster than I’d run in my entire life. Tears wanted to fall because I was back in Dillon Creek, back with my grandparents, and back where I belonged.
When Granddad’s arms slid around me, my safe harbor was back.
“Oh, Scarlet. We’ve missed you so much.”
I rested my head on his lapel and took in his minty smell. “I missed you guys too, Granddad.”
I pulled my head from him and looked into his deep blue eyes. I took his cheeks in my hands and gave him the picture smile I had done for this year’s school pictures, and he started to howl with laughter.
“Mom didn’t like that one too much, Granddad,” I said as he took my hand.
We went back to get the luggage I’d left somewhere between the woman with the tie-dye T-shirt and the man in the gray suit.
“I bet she didn’t. Though your grandmother and I loved it.”
When we turned around, I caught my grandma’s eye as she walked into the small airport in Arcata. Next to her, hand in hand, was my best friend of all time, forever and ever.
“Cash!” I began the same sprint across the airport, through the sea of people.
He didn’t see me until I was right in front of him. I tackled him to the floor, and we both fell, laughing.
“Cashy! I’m so glad you came!”
Cash, still recovering from the fall, laughed. I helped him up and hugged my grandma.
She whispered in my ear, “We’ve missed you so much, sweetheart. It’s going to be a fantastic summer.”
I threw my arms around her and told her how much I’d missed her and that it was so good to be home.
On the drive back to Dillon Creek, we talked on and on about school; the new vegetable that my mother had been trying to introduce to me, called kale; new friends we’d both made; and the pesky rat at the Atwood Ranch along with Ed, the king snake who was a frequent visitor at the ranch. We talked about the reptiles Cash had caught, a new bull named Ithica that Cash loved, and finally about our summer plans.
Leaving Scarlet Page 8