Craving Country

by Gorman, A.

  “There is one girl, but…you know.”

  He nodded and took a sip from his straw. “It’s not that Braxton girl, is it?”

  “God no. She’s from the city.”

  Pops patted Matt’s cheek. “She must be a real looker to have caught your eye.”

  “She’s pretty.” And smart and generous and wounded.

  “Bring her out to the pecan tree. That’s how I got Elise to fall in love with me.”

  Matt smiled. “Pecans?”

  “You betcha. I also gave her some liquor. Yes sir, you need to bring her out to the farm and pick up the pecans before it gets too cold.”

  Matt sat back in his chair and sighed. Should he tell him it was March? That they were already at the farm, but the farm hasn’t existed for years? That the pecan tree died ten years ago? That what he was suggesting could never happen? Matt looked around the room and settled on the beige walls with the magazine pages he’d ripped from National Geographic taped to them. Even if Pops had been anywhere special, he’d already forgotten it. He lived in a world where nothing lasted longer than a day, not even pain of loss, and for a long moment, he envied the man.

  He said, “Sure. Maybe we’ll come out next week,” even though he knew it wouldn’t happen and Pop wouldn’t remember it.

  He got the canned chicken noodle soup out of the pantry and poured it into the pot he used every night to make Pop dinner.

  He’d just turned on the burner when his phone rang. He checked the caller ID because he’d learned over the last eighteen months to always check it before answering. It was an unknown.

  “Is it her?” Pop asked.

  “I can’t be sure. Probably.”

  “If it’s her, she’ll leave a message.”

  “If it’s her, and she leaves a message, we’re not going to listen to it.”

  He and Pop stared at his phone. It was her; he knew it. When the voicemail notification popped up on his phone, he immediately swiped it left to delete it.

  Chapter Three

  Ashley

  “Damn it!” Ashley hit the steering wheel of the Tahoe with the heel of her palm. The stupid thing was out of gas, and it was all her fault. She climbed out of the driver’s seat and looked down the street both ways, though street was a lavish term for the dirt road she’d somehow ended up on. Pathway was more like it. She hadn’t seen anyone—or anything—for miles. That wasn’t true. She’d seen that tree with the one dead branch at least four times since she’d gotten lost in this five square mile labyrinth of streets with no names on them and directions from old men in Dickies jeans that included sentences like, “Then you turn right at Hank Ketchum’s old farm.” She kicked the tire of Ben’s car. “I hate the country.”

  A familiar truck pulled up and stopped in the middle of the road. Matt. “Did it break down?” he called out through his open window.

  “No. Sometimes I like to hang out on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere. When I’m really crazy, I’ll drive around pretending like I’m lost until I run out of gas. It’s a city thing. You wouldn’t understand.”

  “Are you lost or out of gas?”

  “Both.”

  “Doesn’t your phone have a GPS?” he teased.

  She threw her hands up. “You know very well that I can’t get a signal on my phone out here. I asked for directions, but I prefer those directions to include actual street names, not landmarks that fell down thirty years ago. And I know what you’re going to ask me…why I didn’t stop and fill up at Shorty’s, or the old station, or whatever they’re calling it this decade because I’ve asked myself this a thousand times, and the answer is because, okay? Just because.”

  “That’s gotta be the first time someone has given me the answer to a question I didn’t know I was going to ask.” He was full-on smiling at her, the jackass.

  No. He wasn’t a jackass. He was a nice guy who, within the span of a few months, had made her feel like maybe her life was starting to turn around. One day she’d have to tell him the truth about her past, and she was starting to think sooner would be better than later. It would be better for him to reject her now, before she fell even harder for him. “Do you honestly want to know why I didn’t stop a Shorty’s or whatever the hell it is?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I don’t trust myself to go there alone because that moronic cashier keeps offering me drugs.”

  “I know.” He leaned across the bench seat and opened the passenger door. “Get in.”

  Ashley hesitated when she caught a whiff of something caustic and familiar. “Do you smoke?”

  “Joe Scruggs does. Like a chimney. I had to give him a ride this morning. Are you okay?”

  Cigarette smoke in a car always brought back the memory of when her downhill spiral began, and it always came back like a flood. The fear, the dread, and the shame that overcame her to the point that she needed her first hit of oblivion to get through the experience rolled over her even now. Even after all these years, after all the different men, after all the different cars, she could still smell the cigarette smoke and staleness of the old car, feel the man’s cold hands on her neck, hear her boyfriend outside the car, telling her to hurry because he needed his fix. Matt was better off without her. She shook her head. “It’s fine. I’ll walk.”

  “But you don’t know where you’re going.”

  He was right. She didn’t know where she was going. She never did.

  He held up a white paper sack. “I just have to take this medicine to Pop. I’ve got some gas cans there, and we can go somewhere and talk.” His brown eyes softened. “I think it’s time we talked.”

  “Okay.” She climbed into his truck and leaned against the door, letting the wind from the open window glide across her face. It was a new sensation—all of it—riding down a country road in an old truck with the windows open, a man being kind to her without asking for anything in return. The newness of this promising relationship.

  Ten minutes later, they pulled up to an old wooden house that was probably the same size or smaller than Ben’s whole apartment. She could see its curtains blowing in the breeze. “So this is your house?”

  “This is it.”

  “Does this mean we’ve taken our relationship to a whole new level?” She said it teasingly but hoped he’d answer it anyway.

  He didn’t. He grabbed the white sack. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

  Ashley watched him hurry to the porch and disappear into the house. He did have a nice ass; jeans and work boots might be her new type. Not that she ever really had a type other than loser. That had been her type until Mackenna rescued her. She checked her phone. She had a little bit of a signal, so she sent Mackenna a text telling her she was with Matt.

  After what seemed like forever, she checked her phone again. It had only been five minutes—not a long time, but not exactly what she’d call right back. She got out of the truck, stretched, and then leaned against the cab with her head tilted up to take in some warmth from the afternoon sun, which masked the chill of the March afternoon. God. It was so quiet out in the country. How did people stand it? She took in a deep breath of fresh air and smiled. So that’s what fresh air smells like. Grass and dirt and something sweet she couldn’t identify.

  There was still no sign of Matt, so she pushed off the truck and made her way to the side and then back of the house. “Huh.” There was a lake with a small wooden dock back there. She never knew anyone who had their own lake. A few men she knew from when she worked in that club on Mockingbird Street said they had one, but they never invited her to see it.

  Drawn by the desire to kick off her sandals and put her feet in the water, she walked to the lake and onto the dock. That sweet scent she couldn’t identify got stronger the closer she got. On the dock, she sat and looked over the edge at her reflection in the water. So different from the curved, distorted image that stared back at her from the gas station mirror. It startled her almost, to see confirmation of a truth she’d b
een grappling with for the last few months. Despite the horrible directions people gave, she liked it out here in the stillness and quiet. She might even belong here. Well, as soon as she could figure out how to decipher the directions these people gave, she’d belong.

  “Going for a swim?” Matt asked from behind her.

  “No, I…” She twisted to face him, almost surprised by the smile on his face. She wasn’t used to men smiling at her. Leering, maybe, but not smiling. “Sorry. You told me to wait in the truck, but I—”

  “No.” He shook his head. “I took longer than I expected. I thought I could invite you in, but he’s having a rough day.”

  “I’m sorry.” She patted the spot next to her. “Sit with me? Maybe you can help me figure out what that sweet smell is.”

  He sat down next to her. “Honeysuckle. Over there.” He motioned toward the grouping of trees at the other end of the water. “You’ve never smelled wild honeysuckle before?”

  “I’ve smelled what some off-brand lotion company has been trying to pass off as honeysuckle.” She laid down and smiled when Matt lay down next to her. “I had no idea you owned your own lake.”

  “It’s a pond, really.” He crossed his arms and rested his head on his hands.

  “Do you swim in it?”

  “Nah. We fish from it, though. You should bring Javier out here this week. We can have a fish fry on Saturday night.”

  “Ohmygod.” She rolled to her side, propped herself up on one arm, and touched Matt’s shoulder with her free hand. “He would love that!” She felt his chest rise and fall a few times and realized the intimate position she’d just put them in, lying there so close to each other, her chest pressed up against him, her hand on his strong body, his body responding to her touch. It was more than his body, though. Another intangible connection had been formed. Like those videos she’d seen in rehab about neurons that reached across the space between them to connect with each other. New habits. That’s what the video was about. “I was in rehab,” she finally said out loud. “I made a mess of my life, and Mackenna went through hell to bring me back. She’s done so much for me, I don’t want her to know that sometimes I’m tempted.”

  “Like at the gas station the other night.”

  “Yeah. You knew?” She thought about the way he grabbed her right before she moved toward the snake tattoo, the way he ushered outside. “You knew.”

  “Yep.” He reached up and twirled a lock of her hair around his finger. “I knew. I’ve seen Theo looking at you, and I’ve seen you desperately try to not look at him.” He pushed the strand of hair behind her ear.

  It was amazing, the feel of a man’s gentle touch. She closed her eyes and leaned into it for a second before old demons reminded her she didn’t deserve this extravagant moment. After the life she’d lived, the choices she’d made, she didn’t get to sit on the dock of a private pond with wild honeysuckle swirling in the air around her. She was a drug addict. A whore.

  “Hey. Look at me.”

  She opened her eyes and felt a tear roll down her cheek.

  “I have to tell you something.”

  “Okay.”

  “God, I hate telling you this now, but I can’t let it go on any further.”

  Everything inside her felt heavy. He did care about her past. Of course he wouldn’t want someone with her baggage. The seconds stretched on, giving her brain the space it needed to make up a thousand different reasons for the sudden tension in his body. “What?”

  “I’m married.”

  “Oh.” A thousand and one. She sat up, wanting to be anywhere but there, wanting to go back to the Tahoe and push it home if need be. Then she’d just be under the same roof with Ben, Matt’s childhood friend who…“Oh my God. Does Ben know about this?”

  “No. Ben left to go live with his foster family when we were in junior high.”

  “I should go. I don’t belong here.”

  She started to stand, but he pulled her back. “She’s a terrible person. She’s in prison and will be for another three and half years, but our marriage was over long before that.”

  He said it like it would negate the awful vise that was now gripping at her insides. “Then why are you still with her?”

  “It’s complicated. This land belongs to her family. It’s hers. So’s Pop.”

  “I’m not following you.”

  “Pop is her grandfather, not mine.”

  “Oh.” The vise eased a little. “So if you leave her, you leave Pop?”

  “Yes. There are other reasons, but that’s a big one.”

  Ashley looked around at the land, the house, the pond. It would all be hard to give up, but there was something noble in staying married to a horrible woman so that he could care for her grandfather. There was, wasn’t there? Or was she in one of those self-delusional states where she could explain away anything she didn’t want to have to face? “I need time to think about this.”

  “Right. Of course. Take all the time you need. I’d still like to see you, though. You can still bring Javier over to fish, right?”

  See each other? Was that allowed? What were the rules for dating a married man? She was sitting on someone else’s dock, talking to someone else’s husband. What did it say about her that she didn’t feel awful about it? Mostly what she felt was numb. “I don’t know. I guess group stuff is okay.”

  He smiled at her, obviously relieved. “Group stuff. We can do that.”

  “Yeah,” she said, still numb. “Group stuff.”

  Chapter Four

  Matt

  After the fish fry, Matt pushed Pop’s wheelchair up to his bed and engaged the brake. “On the count of three?”

  Pop nodded.

  “One. Two. Three.” He helped Pop into the bed and pulled the sheets up over his chest. “Like those clean sheets?”

  Pop smiled big and rubbed his stomach.

  “That was a good meal, wasn’t it? You like Ashley?”

  “She’s a real nice girl.”

  “Yes, she is. You really turned on the charm.”

  It had been a good day for all of them, Pop especially. Javier had spent the day catching fish, throwing back the small ones and cleaning the big ones. Ashley being there had brought something back to the place that had been missing for so long—life. He and Pop had sat out on the porch and listened. Listened to her talk and laugh. Listened to her encourage Javier. Damn, he wanted her in his life. Every day. Permanently.

  “Does she know you’re married?”

  He sat on the bed next to Pop. “I told her earlier this week. I told her Rebecca was in prison for selling prescription drugs and that she’d be gone for three and a half more years. I also told her the reason I’m still married to her is that this is her land, and you’re her grandfather, and that I’m not leaving her because I’m not leaving you.”

  “That’s not the only reason.”

  “I know. But I have three and a half years to figure out the rest.” He turned off the lamp. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  When he walked out of Pop’s room, Ashley was the only one left in the kitchen. She was standing at the sink, up to her elbows in soap suds, and humming. It was, by far, the best thing he’d seen in years, and something deep inside his soul pulled at him. He longed to wrap his arms around her and put his lips on her neck, kiss her through the night, and make love to her.

  “Are you going to stand there and stare, or are you going to help me?”

  “I think I’ll stare. I kinda like the view.”

  Their gazes locked through their reflections in the window in front of the kitchen sink. The corners of her mouth turned up, and her focus went back to the task at hand, still smiling, though.

  “Where’d everyone go?” he asked.

  She rinsed off a plate and dried it as she turned to speak to him. “Javier got tired, so Mackenna and Ben took him home. Ben’s going back to Tulsa in the morning, so he needed to pack anyway. I didn’t want to leave you with this mess to clea
n up all by yourself.”

  “Dishes, huh? That’s why you stayed?”

  “I love doing dishes. It’s amazing.”

  He pushed up his sleeves and plunged his hands into the sudsy water. She reached into the sink and flipped some of the water up into his face.

  He wiped his face with his sleeve and laughed. “You did not just do that.”

  “You’re right,” she teased. “I didn’t.”

  “Pop had a great night. He really likes you.”

  “Good. Maybe I’ll be able to come over more often then.” She was looking up at him with those haunting blue eyes, but this time, he noticed something different about them, about her. She was with him. Even after what he’d told her, she hadn’t gone to that dark place she always managed to fold herself into after a few minutes.

  “What?” she asked.

  “You look…I don’t know…happier.”

  “Oh.” She blushed. “I guess I feel happier.”

  “Even after what we talked about?”

  “You have three and half years. You’ll figure something out.”

  He rinsed off the final pan and put it in the drying rack. “I want to show you something.”

  She put the last glass away. “Okay.”

  “Wait right here.” He hurried through the house, gathering up two pillows and a couple of blankets. Then he asked, “Do you trust me?” and held his breath until she nodded. She still trusted him. That was a huge relief. “Then keep your eyes closed.” He grabbed the bundle and held her hand as he led her to the pond with instructions along the way to step over that rock and watch out for the hole to your right.

  When they reached the dock, he made a pallet for them with the blankets and pillows and helped Ashley lay down on it. Once he was settled beside her, he said, “Open your eyes,” and watched her expression as she took in the clear night sky.

  “Oh dear God.” She sucked in a deep breath and released it slowly. “I’ve never seen so many stars. I’ve heard of light pollution before, but…oh my God…I had no idea. All this time out at Ben’s place, and I’ve never really gone outside at night. I feel so stupid now.”