“Kjersten.” He reached out and for the first time in more than three years, touched her, just her shoulder, but he was aware of the contact throughout his body.
Surprised, she jumped and spun to face him. She smiled her beautiful perfect smile, the same one that he’d once imagined was only for him. That didn’t turn out to be the case. But then he squashed that jealous thought. Kjersten is here now. With me. Not with Cam.
“Hi, Galen. Happy New Year.” She bit her lip nervously. She looks amazing. His eyes went to her lips which were overly full and had felt so good back when they slid up and down on his cock. “Galen?” She was staring at him strangely. “You okay?”
“You’re beautiful.” He reached out and drew her into his arms. A stunned Kjersten stiffly allowed herself to be held. Galen reveled in the feel of her body against him. Tall, slender, and soft, she felt so right, the way that she always had. He nuzzled his lips into the silky, lilac-scented softness of her hair. God, she is even better than the dreams. “I’ve missed you.”
Her body eased from rigid and resistant to his embrace, to hesitantly soft and pliant against him. “Galen,” she whispered his name in a throaty voice.
He leaned back and reached a hand out to cup the warm, softness of her cheek. “Kjersten.” He began to gently sway against her. “The music.” He leaned back into her and lost himself in the feel of her form against his.
“Let’s at least get on the dance floor,” she whispered back. “Everyone’s watching. Do you think that you can handle a two-step? Or are you going to fall down as we try to get to the dance floor?”
“I can make it.” He held tightly onto her hand, pulled along by the slightly hazy vision of swaying pale hair and an effervescent smile that she turned on him when she swung around to protest his slowness. She seems happy to see me. Once there, she took him by both hands and drew him onto the dance floor. There, she stopped and released him, and put her arms around him in the posture of country dancers.
Unsatisfied with the distance between them, he pulled her completely up against him, muffling her protests. He rested his hands in the small of her back, just above where her ass began to round out. Once again, she relaxed in his arms. He slid his fingertips down and stroked and kneaded the firm curves, as the sides of his arms brushed against the full breasts that were pressed against his chest.
He felt himself grow harder still. Distantly, he noticed other couples attempting to country dance around them, but he just shut them out and swayed to his own rhythm. He burrowed his lips through her hair and into the warm groove at the side of her neck. There, he tasted her with his tongue. She tasted salty, sweet, hot. He felt as much as heard her soft moan. She tilted her head further to the side, accommodating his gentle nuzzling. He felt her nipples tighten against his chest. Kjersten wasn’t wearing a bra. She felt so good against him, so right.
The song ended and though she drew back, as if to step away, he held her tightly, refusing to let go, oblivious to everyone around him.
Then, a romantic waltz melody began to play and John Michael Montgomery was singing about Texas ladies and dreaming. His warm, velvety tones and the smooth magic of the waltz intoxicated Galen and, it seemed, Kjersten as well. Now, he loosened his grip on her, moved back into a correct waltzing stance, and winked at her while she smiled radiantly up at him. Galen closed his eyes and his feet began to move effortlessly into the steps that they’d learned together in his mother’s kitchen a lifetime ago.
Around and around they turned. Despite all of the alcohol he’d consumed, Galen’s muscle memory ensured that the two of them moved lithely and skillfully together, long legs lean, elegant forms in smooth motion. They had learned to dance together, practicing endlessly before the exacting eye of Jessica Odgers in the weeks before Kjersten’s Junior Prom.
Galen’s every nerve ending tingled, hot and alive. This was far too hot, too pulsing to be nostalgia. His strides grew shorter. Soon, he no longer bothered with footwork. His movement returned to a body-on-body sort of swaying.
The song slowed and then came to an end. Too lost in the moment, Galen began to slide his hands up and down her sides, caressing her.
Kjersten pulled back. “Galen, people are staring.”
“Let ‘em stare.”
“I don’t think.” She detached her body from his and the feeling of separation was almost physically painful for Galen.
“Let’s get out of here.”
“What?”
“Come on, baby,” he protested as he followed her.
“Baby?” She pivoted and practically spat the word at him. Her face transformed, losing the soft, aroused look it had worn before. She stared at him incredulously. “Who are you talking to? I’m not your baby. I’ve never been your baby. Who do you call ‘baby?’ I’m Kjersten, remember? Not some football bunny! You’re just drunk!” She pushed him with both hands on his chest and stormed off.
“Whas wrong?” he slurred the words. Then, shook his head, attempting to clear it. Why was she being so difficult? What’s her problem? He started to follow her, but she was moving too fast, and the floor had kept shifting under his feel in the most annoying way
She paused to speak with a girlfriend of hers.
What was that girl’s name? Amanda? No, Margo. They both turned to glare at him. Still, he started to follow after her.
Then, a hand clapped down on his shoulder. “Galen, how about a game of pool?” Coach’s face swam into view. Coach deliberately steered him away from the two women. “Better yet, why don’t you sit down and take a load off.”
“But Kjersten... I need to talk to her. Need to.”
“You’re drunk, Galen, no question about it. You are officially bullet proof,” Tom evaluated as he propelled the younger man over to a bar stool. “You are way too far gone to be dealing with knots as complicated as that one. Let it go for tonight. Don’t do anything stupid. You two got everyone talking with that dance you just had. Don’t stoke the flames.” He pushed Galen down on a bar stool. “You got the rumor mill turning. You need to add to it by having her slap you?”
“Why would she slap me?”
Tom rolled his eyes expressively. “You were getting a little frisky for being out on a dance floor in Eagle River.” He chuckled. “There’s too much history between you two. You’re not going to work through all that during one dance.”
“We were getting along fine.” Galen pushed Tom’s hand away.
“That’s why Kjersten walked away from you,” Tom commented dryly. “For tonight, let it go. You’re in no condition to try to fix this. Trust me.”
Still, he stared longingly over at Kjersten. What did I say or do wrong? How did I mess things up again?
“Galen.” Tom stood right in front of him, trying to get his attention. “There was something I wanted to say to you tonight, something I wanted to tell you. This is probably not the right time, but I’m not sure that there ever really would be a ‘right’ time. There hasn’t been in twenty-one years.” Tom eyed him anxiously. “Maybe its better that you’re a little worse for the wear, maybe that will make this easier to swallow.”
Even through the swirling fog that clogged his thoughts, Galen recognized that Tom was uncharacteristically unsure of himself. He was searching for words, obviously doubtful of what he was trying to say, or how he was trying to say it.
“It’s about your mother. Your mother, you see her and me... well...”
“What?” Anything about his Mom caught Galen’s attention. “What about Mom?”
“Your mom was special, and she and I,” Tom paused.
Galen glimpsed Kjersten heading towards the bar door.
“Focus, Galen. I need you to pay attention.”
But Galen clearly wasn’t. Tom shook his head. He scrutinized Galen for a moment and then stood up from his bar stool and tossed a couple of bucks on the bar. “Come on, Galen. Get Ben and let’s get out of here. I’m going to drive you home. You need to sleep this one off.”
<
br /> Hey, Kyle,” Tom called Galen’s brother, who was busy putting the moves on a rather weathered-looking blond at the other end of the bar. “Can you give me a hand with your brother here?”
Kyle waved back. “Yeah, give me a minute.”
“But it’s not New Year’s yet,” Galen muttered. “Happy New Year,” he shouted. “Where’s Kjersten? Where did she go? I need to talk to her.” He pivoted around, searching for her.
“No, we’re getting you home now.”
“No,” Galen muttered. “You don’t understand. I have to talk to Kjersten. I want her. You don’t understand.”
“That’s enough, Galen. The door’s this way.”
“But I want her!”
Tom grabbed him by the arm and turned him around. “Listen, she’s gone. Left. If you ever want to have a chance with her again, let me take you home now. You can’t do anything about it tonight.”
The words seemed to penetrate Galen’s alcohol fogged brain. “She’s gone.”
“Galen,” Ben said as he patted his buddy on the back. “Kjersten already left.”
“Gone,” Galen echoed the word, then slowly followed Tom and Ben out through the pub door.
* * * *
In the middle of the night, Galen awoke to a foul mouth and the feeling that a steel band was tightening inexorably around his temples. Carefully, he opened his eyes to assess the situation. He recognized that he was lying on the living room couch at his childhood home and that he was fully clothed. Holding his head as he slowly sat up, he was very aware that he felt like he’d been run over by a truck. It’s still dark outside. What time is it? The stench of cigar smoke and booze clung to his hair and clothing tweaked his stomach. Taking a deep breath, he braced himself for the inescapable pain of getting to his feet. Awkwardly, painfully, he drew his arms down and pushed himself groaningly up. His pulse throbbed in his ears.
Still holding his forehead, he focused, on recollecting the events of the previous night. Kjersten. He focused. Oh, God, no. He groaned, completely mortified; he’d been a total idiot in front of her again, in fact, in front of the whole town, and the worst part about the whole thing was that he could remember almost all of it.
He rose heavily to his feet and stumbled to his bedroom. Slowly, awkwardly, he stripped and kicked the offending garments into a far corner, pulled some old, soft sweats out of a drawer and put them on. The material was comforting, warm, and fresh smelling next to his skin. It was a start to feeling almost human.
Next, he dragged himself in the direction of the kitchen. He was dehydrated, downright parched. He needed a glass of water, some aspirin, and then some sleep. I acted like a jerk. Think. Think of what to do. How can I make up for how I acted? For what I said? He groaned as he made his way down the hall. He could see that a light was already on in the kitchen.
He staggered his way in to find a surprisingly clear-eyed Jim Odgers already seated at the kitchen table. Surprisingly, he had a big mug of coffee on the table in front of him.
It hurts to think. Galen staggered over to the fridge. “Hi Pop.” Something to drink. Kjersten.
“You’re up early,” Jim muttered.
“Did you go to bed last night?” Galen asked. He was very familiar with his father’s Canadian Windsor habit.
Jim shook his head. “Doesn’t look like you did much sleeping either,” Jim said. “There’s hot coffee in the pot.”
“You make it?” Galen glanced over in surprise. His father never bothered himself to do much these days.
“I use it as a chaser for the Windsor.”
He shook his head, but coffee sounded good so he went and got a mug from a cabinet. He poured himself cup of thick, black coffee.
“Thanks, Pop.” He kept his eyes down. I’m not up for any father-son bonding, and I really don’t want to talk.
“Rough night?” Jim questioned.
Galen grunted, not quite sure how to handle this midnight interview with his usually taciturn father.
“Been there myself once or twice.”
Galen had to fight to keep from snorting at the blatant understatement.
“I been meanin’ to talk to you, Galen. You know of all you kids, you were the one that bugged me the most. I never did like your looks. You were always kind of spooky, all quiet and big eyed, watching me. But I want you to know...” The older man paused, then continued, “I think you’re gonna do all right with your football. It’s a crime that a man can make a fortune playin’ a game when a man can’t hardly make a decent living farming no more, but that’s how the world is. Like that Tom Murphy. He’s a worthless piece of crap. Never did a full day’s work in his life.”
Galen sat stunned by chattiness of a man who, for most of his life, barely managed to be civil.
“You listenin’, boy?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Your mom spoiled you. I always told her that but she wouldn’t hear it.” For a moment, it appeared that Jim was lost in memories.
Galen just waited, cradling the mug in his hands, shivering with the after effects of his night of overindulgence.
“You’re looking rough.” Jim chuckled. “Never did have much respect for a man that couldn’t handle his booze or fists. You still ain’t much of a man, despite being a fancy football player and all.”
Galen allowed the cruel remark to wash right over him. It was a skill that he had relied on throughout his childhood.
“Pop, I’m gonna take a shower.”
“Slow down, slow down. I got somethin’ I’ve been wanting to say to you. I know you don’t have much respect for me. You think I’m a drunk, which I am, that I’ve been worthless since the accident, which is also true. I’ve been a shitty father. I’ll admit it. Don’t try to bullshit me. I know what you and your brother and sister think... Did Sandra tell you that she’s been taking me to a doctor? Yeah, I’ve been seeing a shrink. The doc told me that I have depression problems, manic depression. That jerk is making a hundred bucks an hour to tell me something that I’ve known for years, that I’m blue, sometimes for no reason at all, and that’s why I drink. The drinking dulls things when they seem too bad. I think it’s because my brain doesn’t work right that I didn’t know that I had it good for a while, what with your mom and Kyle and Sandra. Then, after the accident, my brain worked even worse.”
“You don’t need to tell me any of this, and I don’t really want to hear it.”
“Listen up. I’m not making excuses. I made my choices, but now I want to set things straight, have my say. The doc has me on some pills, but the liver is shot and so are the lungs. I’m not gonna live much longer and I can’t change what’s past. But I do want to take care of some business.”
Galen rose abruptly, knocking his chair over as he did so. His hangover had eroded even the little pity that he felt for this man. “You’ve never had anything worthwhile to say to me before. Let’s not waste each other’s time now.”
“Sit down and shut up. You’re gonna hear what I gotta say.” Jim slammed his fist down on the kitchen table. The rheumy eyes were firm and unyielding in the wrinkled and sun damaged face. The thin, proud features from which the skin hung limply suddenly revealed their resemblance to Kyle’s. “I know I ain’t done right by you kids.”
Because of the uncharacteristic quiver in his father’s voice, Galen sat reluctantly back down.
“Your mama was fourteen years younger than me and so pretty and alive. I still don’t know why she married me. Jess thought I was something fine at first, because I’d served in the military overseas. We were married real fast, before she figured out that I was just a farmer and an ornery cuss at that. I knew better, but I let her anyway. Then, when things got bad for me, well she stuck by me for as long as she could. You know your mother was like that, always taking care of sick or weak animals. You remember that damned three-legged cat? It followed her everywhere. Your mom was wrecked when I drove over it.”
“That cat always slept under the trunk. You just were t
oo drunk that night to remember to check.”
“Don’t interrupt me, boy. I was just like that cat, worthless. You know your mom and I had split up before you were born? We were heading for divorce, then I had that accident.”
“When you nearly killed yourself.”
“You know the story. She took me back and took care of me.” Jim’s voice was matter of fact. “But things were over between us after that... Sometimes I think I should have died in that accident. You all would have been better off without me. I know Jess would have been. I always thought that when we were split up, there was another man, someone she never got over.”
“We all turned out fine.” No thanks to you. I am so done with this conversation.
“I’m not done. Just wait.”
“What are you getting at?” Galen felt the hair at the back of his neck rise up. “What is this really about, Dad?”
Jim leaned forward and grabbed Galen’s wrist. “We’ve never liked each other much. You were always a mama’s boy, and close to that damn football coach who was always sniffing’ around after your mother. They thought I didn’t know, but I did. But there was no point in bringing it up when she took me back. I wasn’t in any condition to.”
Galen pulled his arm away and leaned back from his father, trying to avoid the spittle shooting out of the man’s mouth
“You and your mama are both the same,” Jim’s tone was bitter. “She thought that I was blind and deaf, too. But I knew about it all along. There are no secrets in this family that I don’t know. You think you’re so smart. You don’t know nothing. But I know! I know!” This final exclamation was punctuated with an outburst of shrill laughter that dissolved into a hacking cough. “I may already be dead to you all, but me and this farm, we’re still here. That’s not going to change no matter what Kyle thinks. He’s just like his mother, too, with his plans and his secrets. But I know. I know!”
Galen stared at Jim despairingly. The old man’s gone, lost in the hateful, tormented world of his own mind. This strange conversation had just come to an abrupt end. “Night, Pop. Thanks for the coffee.” He rose to his feet.
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