Wearing only a tank top and slacks, I let the warm southern California air wash over me, cocoon around me. It felt pleasant without being too hot. It swirled inside the cab of the truck, drowning out the radio, filling my senses. On it danced the scents of jasmine and lavender, as the spring rains awakened the desert community and brought out the foliage in full force.
Two miles west of the turnoff for Tecate I hooked a right, turning south onto an unmarked road, the narrow lane wide enough for just a single car at a time. Wild grasses and shrubs hugged the drive tightly on either side, their bright green standing in contrast to the gray asphalt, their tops swaying in the breeze. My tires found the grooves worn into the roadway by years of use, the engine pushing a little harder than necessary, the road stretched out in a straight line in front of me.
The Gonzalez farm slid past on my left, a series of low-slung buildings all standing quietly, sun reflecting off their roofs. A pair of thick and waddling horses grazed in the paddock out front, their tails swatting flies in a constant circular motion. Neither one looked up as I passed.
A mile farther down the Rhodes spread came into view, a central farmhouse with white construction and a red roof standing two stories high. The smell of hay and livestock passed over my nostrils as I drove by. I glanced over at the pristinely kept front lawn, the fountain beside the driveway that spouted water in a wide fan almost ten feet high.
Nervousness, excitement, apprehension welled in the pit of my stomach as I crested a hill and my final stop came into view.
Tucked away in the corner of a small valley, a two-story farmhouse sat warm and inviting, its light exterior standing out against the dark green background. Behind it flowed an offshoot of the Tecate River, a lazy, rambling finger that framed the house on two sides, providing all the water that was needed, keeping things cool in the summer.
My heart hammered away in my chest as I pulled off to the left without bothering to use the blinker. The only other car that ever ventured this far down was already sitting beside the house. Bits of gravel kicked up from my tires, pinging against the undercarriage of the truck. A plume of dust rose behind me as I slid to a stop and stepped out.
The moment my boots touched the ground, the front door of the house swung open, long and easy, its springs groaning as it traveled in a complete half arc and reached the wall behind it. The familiar clomping of boots on hardwood rang out, one at a time, in no particular hurry, as my wife stepped out onto the porch.
Her hand-stitched brown leather boots stopped midcalf, giving way to toned legs and a yellow sundress; its hem, starting mid-thigh, was ruffled a bit by the breeze. Her honey-blond hair swung down around her shoulders, framing a heart-shaped face with clear blue eyes and high cheekbones.
She stopped on the edge of the porch, one hand resting on the railing, her right foot crossed over her left. A mischievous smile flirted with her lips as she stared down at me, a sparkling light flashed from her eyes.
Given the time of day, I knew Alice was down for her nap, tucked away upstairs, curled up with her favorite stuffed bunny. In an hour or two I would take the stairs three at a time to wake her, join her in bed, and demand to know every last detail since I’d left.
For the time being though, it was just me and Elizabeth.
The grass of the front lawn was soft underfoot as I walked across it and stopped just short of the front steps, staring up at her. I’d pictured her in my mind every moment since I’d been gone, but it was nothing compared with seeing her in the flesh, an expectant look on her face, feeling the air crackle between us.
“Damn, it’s good to see you,” I whispered, letting her hear every bit of feeling I had for her, cramming it all into just six words.
She stared down at me a long time before tilting her head to the side, her hair drifting out across the exposed skin of her upper arm. “What took you so long?”
There was no good way to answer that question, no way for me to ever explain all that had transpired since we last saw each other, so I didn’t even try.
“Just got held up for a while, had to go hunt some Krokodils.”
“Did you get them?” she asked, a look of complete understanding on her face.
“Yeah,” I whispered, adding a small nod for emphasis.
“Yeah,” she repeated, extending a hand out toward me.
One step at a time I rose to the porch and accepted her hand, her soft skin sliding against my palm, our fingers intertwining. Without a word we passed together through the front door of the house, the world around us succumbing to darkness.
The sweet, sweet darkness of peaceful slumber.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Dustin Stevens is the author of The Zoo Crew series, Quarterback, Be My Eyes, Scars and Stars, Just a Game, 21 Hours, Liberation Day, and Catastrophic. He is also the author of several short stories appearing in various magazines and anthologies, and is an award-winning screenwriter.
He currently resides in Honolulu, Hawaii.
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