Tess in Boots

by Courtney Rice Gager

  “Maybe at first. But things changed for me.”

  “No. They didn’t. You may think they did, but they didn’t. You were sad, Tess. And I made you feel better. That’s all. You’re confused right now. You’ll go back home and pick up right where you left off, and you’ll be all the happier for it.”

  “You’re wrong.” I turned around to face him. “I won’t.”

  “You will. It was fun, spending time with you, but that’s all it was supposed to be.”

  “Thatcher, we both know that’s not true. You know you have feelings for me, too. You practically told me as much.” My voice was strained.

  “Look, Tess, you’re great. But this has run its course. It’s time for me to go.”

  He stood up and stepped past me down onto the gravel. Go where? What was happening?

  I hopped up and trotted after him. “Where are you going?”

  “I’m going home. I have a flight to catch,” he said over his shoulder.

  “Are you coming back?”

  “No.” His voice was so cold, I stopped following him.

  “I deserve an explanation, you know,” I called after him. “It’s not right to just leave like this for no reason.”

  He came to a slow stop, and then turned around to face me. In the darkness, I couldn’t make out the look in his eyes.

  “Why, Thatcher?” I took a step forward, and his face became visible in the moonlight. He lowered his head and stared at the ground. “Why are you leaving?”

  “It doesn’t matter.” He shoved his hands in his pockets without looking up.

  I took another step toward him. “It does matter! I told you I loved you. And you’re leaving? You’re just disappearing, like I don’t mean anything to you at all?”

  He let out a quiet sigh. “You don’t know the whole story, Tess.”

  “So tell me!” I threw my hands in the air. “What else is there to know?”

  He lifted his gaze and looked at me for the longest time. The expression on his face seemed pained, as if he were trying to fight off a headache. I held my breath, waiting for him to speak.

  “There’s something about this place,” he said. “It has a way of sucking me in and ripping my heart out. This town, and these people… being back here’s just one reminder after another of why I left to begin with.”

  “Thatcher—”

  “I don’t belong here anymore, and I especially don’t belong with you.”

  I took several long strides to close the distance between us. “Please don’t go.” My voice was half-whine, half-whisper. I sounded desperate and pathetic, but I didn’t care. All I cared about was making him stay.

  He shook his head. “I don’t have a choice. I have to let this place go. And so do you.”

  “You do have a choice.” I grabbed both his hands and squeezed them. “Things can be different. I love—”

  “Don’t say it again. You don’t love me, Tess.”

  “How can you possibly think that? You don’t know how I feel.” I clung to his hands, knowing he’d be gone any minute. We were running out of time. I could feel it in the tension in his arms as he pulled away from me slightly.

  “I do love you.” As soon as the words left my tongue, I realized I didn’t know how he felt. He insisted I didn’t love him, yet he hadn’t said anything about his feelings for me. I needed to ask him if he loved me. I was almost certain he did, or at least, he once had. If I could just get him to admit it, maybe he’d stay. I sucked in my breath and looked up at him, my pulse racing as I willed myself to get the question out.

  “Do you love me?” I asked. It was the most vulnerable moment of my life. My heart seemed to be suspended in midair as I waited for his answer.

  His eyes softened for an instant, and the tension in his arms loosened. For a moment, I thought he was going to stay. I thought he was going to say yes. But then, the tenderness in his expression was gone. He dropped my hands and gave me a sad smile. “I’m leaving, aren’t I?”

  His words stung so much I took a step back and swallowed hard to keep from crying.

  “Goodbye, Tess.”

  He started off again, and I remembered the boots.

  “Thatcher, wait!”

  “I said I have to go.”

  “Please wait. I need to ask you something else.”

  He gazed into the distance as he waited for me to speak. Why wouldn’t he look at me?

  I glanced at my feet. “Is there something I should know about these boots?”

  From the way he paused, it seemed like he was struggling under the weight of the question. But if he was, he didn’t let it show on his face.

  “No.” He shook his head and walked away. Before he disappeared into the darkness, he turned and added over his shoulder, “Just that I don’t need ’em back.”

  My feet were planted on the ground, but my heart lurched after him.

  Follow him, Tess! Don’t let him leave like this!

  I longed to run after him and beg him not to go, but I willed myself to stay put. He was the one choosing this. I told him I loved him. I asked him if he loved me, and he walked away like it was nothing. I already made a fool of myself. Chasing him wouldn’t make a difference. It would only make things worse.

  Hot tears streamed down my face. I bit the inside of my cheeks, determined not to let him hear me cry. When I was sure he was out of earshot, I collapsed to my knees, clutching the boots and gasping for breath between noisy sobs.

  He was gone. In a matter of seconds, he stepped out of my life just as easily as he came in. And all I could do was let him go.

  CHAPTER 23

  It wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be finding my way back to Suzie Q’s. It turned out I only had to make four turns. It was the miles of back roads between those turns that made the drive seem longer last time. Of course, my mind was also working on overdrive today. Perhaps that was why this trip felt so short.

  Thatcher had been gone for almost twenty-four hours. With each passing hour, I became more and more confused, replaying the things he said to me before he left.

  You don’t know the whole story, Tess.

  That was the part of it bothering me the most. Why wouldn’t he come out and tell me what was going on? If it was big enough to make him leave, didn’t I have a right to know?

  Maybe there wasn’t anything else to the story. Maybe he was just making up an excuse. Or perhaps there was something, but it wasn’t worth telling me because I didn’t matter to him. It seemed so easy for him to walk away. He wasn’t planning to say goodbye in person, I remembered, which meant he didn’t even want to see me before he left. He was going to leave me a note, and then slip away like he’d never known me.

  What if there’s someone else in his life?

  I winced as the question invaded my thoughts. I’d known him for such a short time. For all I knew, he could have a wife and kids back home. The very idea of it made me feel sick. I reflected on what Jake said the night of the concert.

  “Is there something going on with you two? Because if there is, it’s really important for you to tell me.”

  So maybe Thatcher did have someone else in his life. Maybe Jake knew it, and was trying to protect me.

  But then again, that didn’t seem right, either. Because if that were the case, then why had Thatcher been so persistent? Why did he say the things he said to me? And besides, the night he brought the pizza to the cottage, he told me he’d be here all summer. So whatever happened came on suddenly. Something changed his plans and caused him to leave earlier than expected.

  But what?

  I could track him down, if I wanted to. Or corner Sara and get more information out of her. The trouble was, doing so would mean confessing about our relationship, and with the way things ended, I wasn’t sure it was a good idea. Thatcher was gone, and he couldn’t have been clearer about not wanting to see me anymore. What did I have to gain by acting out of desperation?

  Nothing, I decided. I wasn’t goi
ng to fall into my old habits, pinning all my hopes on my love life. I forced myself to ignore the little voice inside urging me to chase after him and make things right. I was not going to give in. It was over. It was time to forget about Thatcher; time to focus on me. And right now that meant meeting with the photographer so I could keep this wedding moving forward.

  I shook my head and tried to clear my mind as I pulled up to the restaurant and parked my car. It was early, so there were plenty of spaces available up front by the building. At first I thought I came at a good time, before the big dinner rush. But as soon as I set foot inside, I wished I called instead of showing up in person.

  Desiree.

  She sat perched on a barstool, facing out as if she were waiting for me to walk through the door.

  “Hey,” she said.

  “Oh, hey there.” It was the last thing I needed, seeing her here, but I tried to sound casual; tried to seem unfazed by her. “How are you?”

  “Fine.”

  “That’s good.”

  We regarded one another in awkward silence.

  “I’m supposed to be meeting someone.” I scanned the place to see if I could spot anyone sitting alone who might be DJ.

  “Yeah. I know. Me.”

  “Hmm?” I looked back at her and saw a smile on her face.

  “My girlfriends call me DJ,” she said.

  Oh no.

  She broke into a laugh. “You didn’t want to have dinner with me, did you?”

  Be careful, Tess. You need her.

  I made a quick attempt to visibly perk up. “Don’t be silly. I’m just a little surprised is all.”

  She let her gaze roam down my body, concentrating as if she were scrutinizing my outfit and trying to decide if she approved. Then, she looked back at my face and hopped off the stool. “Come on, then.”

  We sat at a nearby table. Desiree pulled a tablet from her tote and tapped away at it. “I have a portfolio you can look through.”

  She pushed the tablet across the table and I swiped through the pictures. As much as I hated to admit it, she was a talented photographer. Natalie was right; her work was incredible. There must have been photos from about twenty weddings, all told. I could tell she had an eye for catching the right lighting in an outdoor setting.

  “Wow,” I said, looking through the photos for a second time. “How long have you been doing this for?”

  She shrugged. “As a side gig a few years. But I’ve pretty much loved photography my whole life. The restaurant job is just a way to support my expensive camera addiction. Well, that and my folks own the place, so I’m kind of obligated.”

  “They do?”

  “Yeah. I grew up running around back there.” She gestured toward the kitchen. “You want food? I’ll go get us something. Are you picky?”

  “Not in the least.” I watched her get up from the table and disappear through the swinging door. All of the sudden she seemed so… decent. This was not the same girl I talked to the other night. This person was relaxed and relatable. It intrigued me to see her like this.

  She reappeared carrying a couple of sandwiches and sodas on a tray. She distributed the food and slid the tray aside in one swift motion. I watched her take an enormous bite of her sandwich, and then wash it down with a drink.

  She noticed me watching her and shrugged. “Waitress problems. You get used to eating fast because the shorter your break, the higher your tips.”

  I smiled. “Makes sense. So, listen. I can see your work is amazing. And I’m in a real pinch here. Will you take the job?”

  She popped a fry into her mouth and nodded.

  “That’s great news,” I said. “Thank you.”

  “It’s no problem. But you should know, I charge two grand for the full package, including editing and digital rights.”

  “That’s fine. Can I pay you in full on the day of?”

  She seemed surprised that I agreed so easily. “Yeah. Friday you say? What time do you need me there?”

  “How about noon to be safe?”

  “Noon it is. I’ll have to get someone here to cover my shift.”

  “I can’t thank you enough,” I said.

  “I do what I can. Hey, did you say you were coming here to ask about catering for the rehearsal?”

  I sat up a little straighter in my seat. “Yes. Can you help me?”

  “Uh-huh. We do parties all the time. I know how this place looks, but believe it or not, we clean up pretty nice. My folks know how to throw together the most adorable picnic you’ve ever seen. We bring everything. Big smokers for ribs, gingham tablecloths, mason jars for the drinks… you name it. It’s the full Southern experience. I can get you a catering menu to look at if you want.”

  “That would be so helpful. You have no idea.”

  She nodded. “No problem. Just so you know, you’re not gonna be able to get away with this in the future, with only a week’s notice and all. But I can call in a favor for you this time.”

  I took a sip of my drink. “Believe me, I will never, ever attempt to plan a wedding in two weeks ever again. You have my word. I’ve spent the past week begging and pleading with people. I almost sold my soul for a cake a couple days ago.”

  She laughed.

  “It’s true. I’m pretty sure everyone in this town thinks I’m a nut job,” I said. “Among other things.”

  “Yeah, well, you’re not as nuts as you seem at first.”

  “Thanks. I think?”

  Her face softened. “Look, I’m sorry for how I acted the other night. I was pretty awful to you.”

  Our conversation flowed so easily I’d forgotten all about it. Now the memory came rushing back to me, and I shifted in my seat. “Don’t worry about it. It’s water under the bridge.”

  “Yeah, well, I still feel like I owe you an apology. I guess… Thatcher makes me a little crazy.”

  “You and me both,” I murmured under my breath.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  She jiggled her straw up and down in her cup. “Anyway, you don’t have to pretend. I know you guys are a thing. I heard all about it.”

  I put my sandwich down and looked up at her. “You heard what, exactly?”

  She took a deep breath as if she were about to recite the alphabet. “Ms. Betty said she saw you guys in her diner a couple weeks back, and then she ran into Thatcher downtown and at first he acted all innocent about it, but then he told her you were the meet your momma kind.”

  “The what kind?”

  “Meet your momma.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “It’s Southern speak for… special,” she said. “You know, like someone you’re in love with. Someone you want to marry.”

  My heart seemed to flip over in my chest, but it came to an abrupt stop as I remembered how he left. “I’m familiar with the expression. But it doesn’t make sense,” I said.

  “Well that’s what he told Ms. Betty. Said you were the one, but you didn’t know it yet. Said you needed some time. And that you were like a deer in the woods.”

  “A what?”

  “A deer in the woods. You know, like something you don’t want to scare off?”

  “Huh.” I ran my hands through my hair. “Are you sure he said all this?”

  “I’m sure. Ms. Betty is our neighbor. She and my mom are close. They talk about everything.”

  I sat across from her, dumbfounded, making a conscious effort to keep my jaw from hanging open. Thatcher said all this? About me?

  She smiled. “You look scared. Don’t worry. He has a crush on you, that’s all. I don’t think he’s going to do anything crazy and propose.”

  I felt my eyelids pop. Propose?

  “Then again,” she said, “you never know with Thatcher.”

  I frowned. It didn’t seem right. Thatcher ended things. He was gone. And besides, Desiree herself was the one who warned me about him. About not trusting him, about wanting something Jake has, about his one t
rue love. And now she was changing her story on me in a big way.

  “Desiree—”

  “DJ. Call me DJ.”

  “Okay. DJ. Do you think Ms. Betty’s… all there?”

  “Like, in the mind?”

  “Right. Do you think she’s losing it?”

  She laughed. “No. She can be a little kooky, sure. But she’s still with it. And the woman knows her town gossip, I’ll tell you that much.”

  “When did you hear all of this?” I asked.

  “A day or two after I saw you guys in here. I’m sorry about how I acted. I saw you with him, and I was… I hate to even say the word. I was jealous. Like I said, Thatcher makes me a little crazy.”

  I studied her eyes, searching for a hint of dishonesty. But I couldn’t find any. Instead, I saw some pain there, and regret, too. She seemed to be telling the truth.

  “I’m confused.” I picked up a French fry and twirled it in my fingers. “You said some pretty awful things about Thatcher. You said I shouldn’t trust him.”

  “Yeah. I did.”

  “And?”

  “And I meant it, too. Well, at first. But then I saw you guys together, and I heard what Ms. Betty said. And… I don’t know.”

  “What do you know?” I asked.

  “I know lots of things. What do you want to know?”

  “Well, for starters…” I folded my hands on my lap and stared at the ceiling, trying to muster up the courage to ask what was on my mind. “You said something about his one true love…” I lowered my head to look at her.

  “Oh yeah.” She rolled her eyes. “Himself.”

  “Himself?” I expected her to give me a name. To tell me something that would make sense of why he left the way he did.

  “Yeah, himself. At least, that’s the way it seemed back when we were kids. He left because he wanted what he wanted. And he didn’t care who got hurt because of it.”

  Of course she would think that, I realized. He told me he headed off to school right after they broke up, and she was stuck here, waiting tables.

  “I don’t think he’s ever loved anyone more than himself,” she said. “Don’t get me wrong. It’s not for lack of options. I’ve seen my share of women throw themselves at Thatcher over the years.”