Can't Stop Believing (HARMONY)

by Jodi Thomas

  Beau opened his guitar case and pulled out an old Gibson. He began to play. For a while the music filled the dawn air like a scented breeze, and then his low words blended with the notes. He sang a song about the “never weres” in life, the things we never do, the words we never say, and how we pile them up over the years we walk this earth so we’ll have something new to do in heaven. When he finished, everyone had tears in their eyes. There didn’t seem a need for any eulogy, any prayer. Beau’s song had done it all.

  Cord didn’t hear most of the rest of the service. He was too wrapped in his own thoughts. The bad thing about coming alive after ten years was that now he thought about dying. He’d never been afraid of dying. First he’d been too young, and then in prison he hadn’t cared. He’d seen more than one inmate carried out on a stretcher with a blanket over him, and all he’d thought was that the guy was free.

  When everyone stood and began hugging, Cord pulled Nevada to him so hard she whispered, “Let me breathe, Cord.”

  He loosened his grip and kissed the top of her head. “Sorry. I thought this was the hugging time.”

  Last night had been the first time they hadn’t made love in a week, and somehow the night had been sweeter. She’d fretted over his snakebite and been worried about her horses. He was sad because of Marty and frustrated that Cameron hadn’t reported in. So they crawled into bed and just held each other.

  She’d whispered about how she wanted to change the locks on the barn and what time she needed to get to work and a hundred other things Cord didn’t really care about, but he loved listening to her whispering in the darkness. It was almost like she was singing him a good-night song.

  He also liked the way he could put his hand on her and she didn’t pull away. Sometimes, while she talked, she would reach up and move his hand from one place to another as she wiggled into just the right spot beside him. He didn’t care; touching any part of her felt just as good. He’d never be able to tell her how much her sleeping next to him meant to him.

  Hoping to clear his mind, Cord tried to focus on where they were, but it was impossible. Nevada was branded into his thoughts and heart too deep.

  When people began to head back to their cars, Cord walked her to her car and asked if she wouldn’t mind waiting while he told Ronny to call if she needed anything. He had no idea what was proper to say, but he needed to talk to her.

  To Cord’s surprise, Nevada pulled a card from her purse and handed it to him. “Tell her the same goes for me. I’m in town. If she needs me I could run over to her place.”

  Cord winked at his wife. Maybe he wasn’t the only one coming alive.

  As he glanced down the line of cars parked in single file all the way to the gate, he noticed a round little woman storming the hill like an invader.

  Looking back, he saw Ronny curling down in the grass beside the grave. Crying. Beau knelt beside her, trying to offer comfort, and the three friends of Marty’s stood behind the grave looking sad and helpless.

  Border Biggs and his older brother were headed toward Cord, but most others who attended the funeral were pulling away in their cars.

  “We got to stop that woman.” Border’s words were low, deadly serious as he reached Cord. “That’s Ronny’s mother, and she’s here to cause trouble.”

  Cord noticed a few other people trying to delay the woman’s climb, but she didn’t stop to talk with them. She kept coming. He stood his ground, not sure what was going on, but if they were somehow protecting Ronny, he’d join the brigade.

  “Get out of my way,” the woman shouted as she reached the path leading up to the grave. “I got to get to my daughter. She’s making a fool of herself lying in the grass.”

  Cord moved, blocking the woman. “I don’t think anyone needs to bother her, Mrs. Logan. Maybe later when she’s rested.”

  Border’s brother brushed Cord’s shoulder on one side; Mr. Carleon was on the other.

  “If Ronny wants to mourn beside his grave all day, I’d say she has that right. You’ll not disturb her.” Cord wouldn’t touch the woman, but he wouldn’t move out of her way either. He doubted she’d climb the uneven grass just off the path, even in her practical two-inch heels.

  Dallas Logan took a step back and looked like she planned to fight. She obviously was a woman used to bullying her way through life.

  Cord had no idea what he’d do if the old woman stormed the line. Marty’s three friends in suits joined behind him, looking like they felt sorry for Mrs. Logan, but still they couldn’t let her hurt Ronny. Others backtracked from their cars as if hearing a call to arms. The postmaster, two mailmen, a waitress from the diner, two men who wore fire department shirts, a sheriff’s deputy in a suit too small for him. An army of friends stood between Dallas and the grave.

  A standoff. Dallas just glared at them.

  To Cord’s surprise, the undertaker walked around them all and reached Dallas Logan.

  “I’m so very sorry you were late for the service, Mrs. Logan,” Tyler said, as if he’d just noticed Dallas in the crowd. “I know you wanted to be with your daughter in her time of sorrow. It was a beautiful service and a fine morning to walk into heaven, I think.”

  Dallas looked shocked as Tyler took her elbow with one hand and wrapped his free arm around her shoulder. “Why don’t you ride along with me? I’d hate to think of you walking all that way back down to your car. If you took a fall, I’d never forgive myself.” He started moving, leaving her no choice but to follow. “These old roads can be slippery in the morning dew. I’ve got a thermos of hot coffee in my Cadillac. It’ll warm you up and give you time to think about what you need to say to Ronny to help her get through this hard time.”

  When the dragon lady halted, he continued, “I remember when your dear husband died. It was such a nice service and all those yellow roses the postmen sent from all over the state made the chapel look so grand. He was much loved, I could tell that right away.”

  Dallas broke into sniffles and Tyler patted her.

  Everyone watched in amazement as the chubby little funeral director guided her off without stopping his account of the funeral long enough for her to get in a word.

  “Man,” Border whispered, “that Mr. Wright is my hero. Did you see how he walked right into the mess that I don’t think most bomb squads would have tackled?”

  “It’s his job,” added someone from behind Cord.

  “No,” another said, “he’s truly gifted.”

  Cord broke from the others and climbed back up to where Ronny lay in the grass. He could hear her sobs even as she tried to keep them inside. The sound hurt his heart to listen.

  “She won’t get up,” Beau whispered. “She says she wants to stay here with him.”

  Border and Big Biggs joined them as all others moved away, maybe because they couldn’t bear to see her pain or maybe because they didn’t know what to do. Marty’s three friends seemed to be finding their purpose in shuffling Winslow relatives back in their rented cars.

  Cord knelt down and put his hand on her back. “Come on, Ronny. Marty would have wanted you to lean on your friends. Maybe that’s one of the reasons he came home, knowing he was dying. He wanted to be with you and he didn’t want you to be alone when his time was up.”

  She didn’t seem to hear him.

  Cord didn’t know her well, but he couldn’t stand to see her so shattered. He tried to think about what a friend should do, wishing he’d had a little more practice in being one.

  He waited as the cemetery cleared of all cars except for a few. “Ronny, it’s time to go. Marty’s not there, he’s gone to another world.”

  She looked up. “There is no perfect world, you know.”

  “I know.”

  Without a word, he lifted her off the ground. She came to him like a child, too broken to protest.

  With the Biggs brothers on either side, Cord walked toward the cars still parked along the road. He turned away from the black funeral car with Ronny’s mother inside tal
king to Tyler.

  “I’ll take her home,” Big volunteered. “Put her in my truck.” He pointed to the nearest pickup.

  A tall young woman waited by the old white truck. She opened the door to the passenger side as Cord walked closer.

  He lifted Ronny inside. The woman crawled in beside her and wrapped Ronny in a blanket. Big climbed in the other side while Border swung into the bed of the truck.

  Big slowly drove away.

  “Don’t worry, mister,” Beau said when he neared. “We’ll take care of her. Big’s girl said she’d stay with her tonight after Mr. Carleon leaves if she needs someone to.”

  Cord smiled. “She’s lucky to be surrounded by friends.”

  “We’re just strays nobody wants, but when we get together we make a pretty good family.” Beau waved and headed to his old car.

  Cord walked back to Nevada, thinking he fit in that category too, or he would in a few months when the marriage was over. He had no one, and Nevada only had her brother Barrett, who she said called once last year just to tell her he was never coming back. He’d cleaned out all the accounts, sold the ranch to her for all she could raise, and vanished, saying he never wanted a sister anyway.

  “Let’s go home,” Cord said to her as he slipped into the passenger seat of her car, very much aware that her place wasn’t really his home.

  How would it be to look across his fields and see Nevada’s land after he’d moved back to the farm? She’d made it plain that she’d only wanted him and his name until the first frost. By then the crops would be in, the cattle sold for a good profit.

  Then, like she had after every marriage ended, she’d go back to being Nevada Britain. She’d be back in her world and he’d be back in his. Suddenly the money he would walk away with didn’t seem nearly as important as the fact that he’d have to sleep alone again. The clear difference from before would be that he’d miss her every night for the rest of his life.

  How could he tell her that he didn’t want this marriage to end? She’d think he was just playing her like the three husbands before. He couldn’t break the bargain they’d agreed on. He’d have to live each day as they’d agreed until the day he walked away.

  That day, he’d be just as dead as Marty Winslow was now. They might as well put him in the ground.

  “You going into town to your office?” Cord had to concentrate on what had to be done. He forced his entire body to harden because if he didn’t, he’d fall apart. “I’ve got work in the south pasture. I told the men to start on it after breakfast and I’d be out as soon as I could. I’d like to have the fence ready to hold about a hundred head by next week. Sooner we get the cattle on the land, the fatter they’ll be for winter.”

  “I don’t want to go in,” she whispered, almost like a child begging. “Take me flying, Cord, please. If you can spare the time?”

  “Of course.” He lifted his arm and stretched it behind her shoulders. “I’ll be happy to. Maybe it will do us good to get away for an hour. I’ll take you up where the air is pure. I need to clear my head.”

  Neither said a word as she drove to his place. He was surprised how clean the yard looked on his parents’ old farm. The road crew must have carried away some of the weeds and trash that had blown up with the last storm. The house almost looked lived in and not abandoned. Someone had even replaced the missing boards on the porch steps. The place had been his only home growing up, and he’d fought like hell the past three years to hang on to the farm, but nothing about the house drew him. No sense of coming home. No longing to be there. It was just a place where two quiet people lived with a son who never asked for much, even love.

  Nevada parked beneath the old oak halfway between the house and the barn.

  They pulled out his grandfather’s old plane and flew, crossing back and forth over their land. Now and then she’d tap him on the shoulder and point to something below she wanted him to see. The crops coming up, the cattle, her horses.

  When they flew along the back of Britain property where the land was rocky and uneven, Cord noticed black spots in places, like shadows of clouds. Only the sky was clear. When he flew lower, he could tell the grass had burned. Maybe fires set by lightning and put out by the rain. Maybe not. Nevada didn’t comment on the charred spots, so Cord didn’t say anything, but he made a mental note to drive out as soon as the earth dried enough to cross open field.

  His mind and body slowly relaxed as childhood memories of flying with his granddad drifted back. He’d let Cord fly the plane when he turned twelve and by sixteen he’d had his license. The old man moved into a home the next year, his body crippling with arthritis, his mind dulling.

  Cord felt his grandfather’s loss. School, the farm, even his horse didn’t really matter once the old guy left. A few times Cord tried going to the nursing home to talk, but his grandfather was too drugged up. Each time less of the man he’d loved was there and only a shell remained.

  Cord began to run with a wild crowd looking for excitement, looking to feel alive. He wasn’t old enough to understand why, but he knew he had to run fast because he’d seen what was coming at the end. One day his grandfather could fly and it seemed the next he couldn’t even feed himself.

  Part of Cord was glad his grandfather didn’t know where he’d been headed that last summer. Gramps wouldn’t have been proud of him, and it would have torn Cord up to know he’d discovered his only grandson had gone to prison. Cord’s parents hadn’t even written to tell Cord of the old man’s death. Cord had read the Harmony paper’s obituary to learn the truth.

  He’d written asking his father to save the plane for him.

  His father had sent a note saying simply, “Will do.”

  They’d never talked about it again, but the plane was waiting in the barn when Cord came home, the only thing that welcomed him. Flying now was like drifting through time, weightless among memories of the past.

  When they finally touched down, he helped Nevada from the plane and couldn’t resist pulling her against him. He needed to hold on to someone, to her, to one spark of happiness in life while it still burned.

  “You feel so good, Babe,” he whispered as he smelled the wind in her wild hair.

  When he kissed her, it occurred to him that this was one less day they’d spend together.

  The kiss deepened, not out of passion, or need, but just with the pure pleasure of knowing that she welcomed his touch. He knew she’d had many other lovers, but it didn’t matter; right now she was his.

  When he finally lowered her feet to the ground, she smiled as if she understood how he felt. “Thanks for taking me away. It was nice.”

  “You’re welcome. Anytime.” He took her hand and they headed toward the car.

  A picnic basket sat on the farmhouse porch when they walked close. He wanted to keep her beneath his arm even though the day was more cool than cold, but Nevada laughed when she spotted the red basket and ran to open it like it was the first gift Christmas morning.

  “Ora Mae must be getting used to the idea that she might need to find us now and then to feed us.” He watched Nevada pulling out food wrapped in plastic. “I feel like I’m a free-range diner around this place.”

  “She probably didn’t notice we were back, since she’s always in the house, but I’ll bet Galem did. He’s the one who guessed where to leave the basket.” Nevada grinned. “I’m starving. Want to eat inside or out here?”

  Cord didn’t care. He wasn’t ready to go back to the world just yet. Work, his and hers, could wait an hour. He liked having her all to himself. “It’s dusty in there.”

  “Not on the bed,” she said, smiling as if she knew a secret.

  He picked up the basket and followed her in and up the stairs to his old room. He moved through the shadows, watching her drop clothes as she rushed toward his bedroom. Her jacket, her shoes, her blouse. He barely noticed that someone had cleaned his room, adding fresh linens and a colorful bedspread.

  “You been in here?” he man
aged to say as she unsnapped her skirt.

  “I wanted to surprise you,” she said, stripping down to her bra and panties. “I thought we might want to use your place as our getaway cabin. Since we spent the afternoon here the other day I think of it as special, like an enchanted cottage where we are just ourselves and the world can’t interfere.”

  He knew how she felt. The ranch house of hers seemed heavy with unhappy memories and stale like old velvet flowers in a winter window box.

  She pulled the covers back and climbed in, standing on her knees to tell him, “I want to paint this room blue and maybe take out that wall so the upstairs area is one huge bedroom. Since college I’ve never had the opportunity to redecorate more than my study, but I didn’t figure you’d mind if I had some fun with your place. It’s a wonderful old house that’s got great bones.”

  “I don’t care what you do around here. Knock yourself out.” He thought of his closet full of clothes he’d never have time to wear and figured he was releasing a monster. But she was a cute monster, especially in pale blue underwear with lace that almost wasn’t there.

  “I’ve been thinking this place could be great with a few coats of paint and a dozen carpenters hammering away. We could knock out part of the roof and you’d have skylights over your bed. Then I’d start on the kitchen. Really could use some—”

  “Hush, Babe. Talking time is over.” He pulled her to him as he popped the last button on his shirt. He needed them skin on skin. “We’ll talk while we eat, and we’ll eat later.” The sight of her body was driving him crazy.

  Nevada giggled. “I thought you’d never take the hint.”

  Hours later, Cord lay back watching moonlight drift through the cloudy sky. Nevada was curled against him fast asleep, wearing one of his old T-shirts they’d found in his drawer. They’d made a slow kind of love that drifted like a song, beautiful. Then they’d taken a shower together in the tiny bathroom off his room and eaten everything in the red basket as if they were starving. Still on the bed, huddled in blankets, they talked about everything and nothing.