by Brandon Witt
He touched Wendy’s door in thanks as he and his dog walked by. If it hadn’t been for her, he would have missed so much more of his children’s lives. Maybe all of them. He wouldn’t have followed through on his promise of living for and loving their children if his sister hadn’t been the powerhouse and whirlwind she was.
Whether it was the snow covering Shannon’s bones or his lips’ desire to feel a man’s kiss, he would not get lost again. He would not take such a risk with those three parts of Shannon’s soul. His children would not lose him too. He would keep that promise to his wife, that promise to himself.
THE NIGHT was a wash of deep blue, the edges of the sky nearly purple. The hue spread over the newly fallen snow. Only the thick masses of stars in the crystalline sky broke through the cool air, their swirls of bright white lighting up the silent world. Just outside the dark expanse of trees, the small herd of buffalo slept in a spread-out oval, each a mound of snow, occasional twitches of shaggy hide causing small avalanches to careen down their muscular sides.
Only Jarrod, the bull and ruler of the herd, lifted his horned head and met Travis’s gaze as he and Dunkyn quietly exited the truck and took their place by the wooden fence. Even across the stretch of snowy field, Travis could see the intelligence in the creature’s eyes, the question, the challenge.
Twin rushes of steam exited the bull’s nostrils, and Jarrod turned away, satisfied, lowering his head back down to rest in the dense fluff.
After dusting the snow off the top rail, Travis folded his arms and rested his weight against the fence. At his feet, Dunkyn let out a whimper. Travis looked down, grinning at the dog. “Not yet, bud. Later this week. I think you’re well enough.”
Dunkyn let out a huff, gave another longing glance toward the resting herd, then plopped down in the snow, his back resting against the side of Travis’s leg.
Travis returned his attention to the herd. Outside of Shannon’s grave, this was the place he felt the most at peace. The place where the world was quiet. Actually his favorite time here was anything but quiet. He loved standing in this exact spot in the late evenings of summer, with sunset newly dead and the Missouri humidity starting to break. The lazy croaking of toads and frogs on the edge of the pond mixing with the frantic electronic buzz of the cicadas made it nearly impossible to think. If he closed his eyes and gave himself over to the sound, it brought him to the edge of enlightenment and insanity. Not a clear thought could get through. It was deafening. It was perfect.
This kind of night was nearly as good, the flawless silence as riotous in its own right as the chaos of summer. It was moments like these, though, that Travis wanted to escape the town that held so many memories, that he couldn’t imagine leaving. Maybe the bustling noise of a city, the crash of ocean tides, the bugling of mountain elk, maybe those could silence the clamor in a man’s head and heart. Maybe. But not like this place did for him. This was his haven. With Mr. Walker’s huge house dark and invisible at the top of the hill, the small forest of trees in the middle of the field gave the illusion that a soul could wander in and never worry about being found. The pond, calm and flat, steamed in the newly frozen night. Creatures of myth and magic slept only steps away. Snow crunched as it settled under his cowboy boots. His dog’s warmth against his leg radiated through the worn denim. This solace was similar to what endless cans of beer offered, but it wouldn’t steal a part of him away.
Shannon’s pregnancy with Caleb had been rough. Strangely it was more fraught with complications than that of the twins so many years later. They’d been so terrified of another miscarriage. If they’d only known. When the twins were conceived, the nine months went without a glitch. They’d finally figured out how to have children. They’d been wrong, it turned out. As agonizing as Caleb’s pregnancy had been, the silent killer that grew alongside the twins had been what they should have feared.
Hindsight and all. It was a bitch.
Neither of them slept for nine solid months as Caleb grew in Shannon’s womb. At least that’s what it had felt like. Turned out, they discovered what no sleep actually felt like for the next year, as the boy never seemed to close his eyes. Caleb had been so much like his boisterous little sister—how Shannon’s departure had changed him.
Still, they hadn’t known things would get so much worse. Many late nights, he and Shannon had stood watching the buffalo, just as he and his dog did now, Shannon’s hand resting on her twisting child inside, and Travis’s arms wrapped over her shoulders as she rested her back against his solid chest and stomach.
At the time, Jarrod had just reached his maturity, only having one breeding season behind him. They both would become fathers around the same time.
Like him, Shannon found comfort in the late-night serenity of the land. They hadn’t come to the buffalo during the twins’ pregnancy, not with an eight-year-old boy asleep at home, and not when the pregnancy seemed so easy in comparison. Maybe if they had—if they’d stood by the sparkling pond, made eye contact with the mystic native animals, breathed deeply of the clean Midwest air—maybe that would have been her cure. All would have been well.
Travis didn’t really believe that. He’d never been religious or spiritual in the slightest. Life was what it was. He was a true child of the Show-Me State. If you could touch it, see it, master it, then it was real. Everything else was just fluff and lies.
Still, what if there were more?
What if there had been a God watching them, waiting for Travis to trust in him?
What if there was magic in Jarrod’s huge beastly eyes?
What if the cicadas’ call brought healing?
If so, they’d missed it, he and his Shannon.
That was stupid, of course. There was no truth in any of it. They could have stood by the field every night as the twins’ cells split, divided, grew, and made two beautiful copper-headed babies. They could have prayed louder than the amphibians’ mating calls by the pond. Hell, they could have waded into its cool depths and baptized themselves in its pure density, even caught a catfish for breakfast while they were at it.
She’d known. His Shannon had known, even when he hadn’t.
There wasn’t magic in the buffalo, but she’d seen the future revealed in Jarrod’s dark eyes.
There was no power in the screams of the cicadas, but she’d heard what would arrive sung from their frantic wings.
There was no eternal being, but she’d felt the whispered truth from God’s lips next to her ear.
Promises to be strong. Brave.
He wasn’t those things. He’d thought he was. Before he found out what life was, Travis Bennett had thought he was strong and brave.
Hindsight. That bitch.
No, he wasn’t strong. She had been. Shannon had been strong in her love and her willingness to see and accept everything the way it was.
The promises she’d elicited had been strong.
Even her whispers to him, loud against the blue frozen night, were strong. Her warmth seeping into his skin through the dog’s touch was strong. She was still strong and brave.
He would be too.
“Fine, my love. Fine. Only because you ask it of me.” No tear fell, but his heart ached. “Fine.”
Though Jarrod could not have heard his whispered resignation, the buffalo lifted his head once more and met Travis’s gaze.
Travis nodded toward the beast. Far from strong, his whisper was nothing more than a cracked submission. “Fine.”
Though there were no sounds or movements over the snowy surface, there was a reply.
She answered.
The purple edges of the sky began to lighten, the death of moon and the birth of sun commencing. A star fell. One solitary star streaked across the night and disappeared into the horizon.
IT HAD all seemed so clear while staring out on the snow-covered predawn morning. All the promises he’d made to Shannon were coming due. Though it terrified him, it had felt nearly unquestionable.
Travis hadn’t
been able to fall back to sleep after returning home from watching Mr. Walker’s buffalo. He had been nervous—beyond nervous—but he’d also been excited, like he was standing on the edge of a cliff and could feel feathers beginning to sprout from his arms. He was getting ready to leap and soar.
By the time Wendy and the kids were awake, Travis had breakfast on the table, coffee brewed, orange juice poured, and sack lunches for all three kids ready to go. He’d even been whistling, until he’d noticed Wendy’s questioning brow.
He felt alive—or almost, at any rate. More than he had in years.
A change was coming. Maybe the change had already arrived, and he just needed to grab it. He didn’t need to overthink it. He just needed to do it. Whatever it was, the bottom line was that he felt something. As abstract as it might be, it was the first time in years that he’d felt more than sadness, depression, and loneliness. Granted all those were still there, as much as ever, but something else had been added.
In a matter of hours, Travis had torn through the basics that typically would have taken all day at Cedar County Feed. Jason kept looking at him strangely, but never asked, thank God. As the minutes ticked by, the adrenaline rush of the snow-covered dawn and the decision he’d made began to cool from a nearly frantic giddiness to frozen terror.
Those brief hours of excitement left him tired and lost. Shannon’s closeness as he and Dunkyn watched the buffalo felt like a hangover dream, a momentary delusion, a promise spoken in the heat of the moment that would cost his soul.
Without any other explanation to Jason than that he had to get out of the store, Travis nearly raced to his truck and drove to the cemetery. He was in such a state, he wasn’t able to drive all the way to her grave. He pulled the F-350 over to the side of the road and ran. He rushed to Shannon’s grave like a man lost in the desert seeing a spring in the distance. Those damned tears that had found him again erupted the moment his fingers traced her name.
He sobbed.
He didn’t speak. There was nothing more to tell her.
Then she was with him again, as surely as Jarrod had been sitting out in the field of snow that morning. She had to be. The weight of her presence was simultaneously heavy and comforting.
Travis thought he needed to hear her, needed to make sure he was doing the right thing, what she wanted.
He didn’t. He didn’t need her permission or direction anymore. He knew what she wanted. With that realization, Travis had to admit it wasn’t just what Shannon wanted. He wanted it too.
Still, he just needed to be near her once more, to grieve yet again, to gain enough strength to follow through.
And he found it. It might have taken five minutes, or he might have knelt there for over an hour. Travis wasn’t sure and didn’t care. By the time he stood, his snow-soaked knees popping at the effort, he’d found the strength. He wouldn’t take another moment to consider. He was certain his eyes were red and puffy. He was also certain he looked like shit. Between the beers the night before, the ten seconds of sleep, and the interminable arrival of tears, there was no way he looked halfway presentable. He didn’t look in the visor mirror after he came to a stop in the parking lot. If he gave in to a second’s hesitation, he’d dash away and wouldn’t have the courage again. It was time to pull the trigger. He just needed to get it done.
Chapter Fifteen
AT THE sound of a car door slamming and feet crunching across the frozen gravel, Wesley closed the browser window. The last thing he needed was a client catching him browsing for scarves at Neiman Marcus. He’d just found the perfect gold and brown cashmere. Dammit. With another click, he brought up the appointment schedule screen.
The front door of the clinic banged open, smashing against the wall.
“Oh, sorry, Wesley.” Travis gave a sheepish shrug and closed the door with extra caution.
It took a second for Wesley’s mouth to catch up with his brain. He’d not heard a word from Travis in days—not since Simone’s.
“Is Dunkyn okay?”
Confusion crossed Travis’s expression, then cleared. “Yeah. Dunkyn’s fine. About ready to start playing with the buffalo, I bet.” He took a few steps toward the counter, dripping snow and water over the floor. His jeans were soaked from the knees down. Actually the man looked like a complete mess. His complexion was blotchy and his face was kinda puffy. His eyes were bloodshot and appeared painful.
Maybe if Travis had looked like this when they’d first met, Wesley wouldn’t be as smitten with him. He looked a bit homeless, and maybe a little crazed.
“Are you okay?”
Travis ignored his question and placed both of his hands on the counter like he was bracing himself. He sucked in a ragged breath and held it for a second. “Go on a date with me.”
Then it was Wesley’s turn to hold his breath. Choke on it, more accurately. “What?”
“Go on a date with me, Wesley.” Travis closed his eyes, then opened them again, staring directly into Wesley’s eyes.
Travis looked desperate, near a panic. The feeling was contagious. Beads of sweat broke out over Wesley’s body.
Another exhale. Travis’s breath washed over Wesley’s face. It had a faint sour tinge. “I’m not doing this very well, I’m sorry. It’s been a while.” He swiped his hand over his jaw. “Would you please go out on a date with me, Wesley? To dinner or a movie or something?”
Wesley’s heart began to pound in his throat. It leaped right up from his chest and into his throat, making it nearly impossible to breathe, let alone actually speak. He nodded, rather stupidly. He thought he might have tried to say yes, but nothing came out. He nodded again.
The smile that broke over Travis’s face was both ecstatic and terrified. If Wesley could have formed a complete thought, he might have laughed. “Good.” Travis nearly panted. “Pick you up Wednesday? Six?”
Still unable to form words, Wesley nodded.
“Great. See you then.” Travis turned and, without so much as a look behind him, walked out the door, making sure not to bang it this time.
Wesley watched Travis’s hulking form through the window as he walked to his truck, pushed Dunkyn over from where he’d apparently been curled up in the driver’s seat, hopped in, and then drove way.
He was fairly certain Travis Bennett had just asked him on a date. He kinda even thought he’d said yes.
He wasn’t aware he was smiling until he realized his cheeks were beginning to hurt.
Huh. A date. With Travis.
The Neiman Marcus scarf was forgotten.
THE DAYS leading up to Wednesday passed in a slow blur. A thousand different times, Wesley almost called to cancel the date. He kept his distance from Wendy. The day of the date, he changed outfits at least fifteen different times.
And then he was sitting in the passenger seat of Travis’s truck, zooming west down Highway 54 toward Nevada.
There were initial nerves and that spike of thrill as Travis picked him up. God, he was sexy. So manly and big. So red. So….
Then, on the way out of town, all sexiness, dirty thoughts, and twitterpation got thrown out of the truck’s window. Travis motioned down a dirt road that angled off the highway. “That’s where Shannon grew up. Her folks still live there.”
Of course their house was on the way. “Oh.” Wesley searched for the appropriate reply. There wasn’t one, at least not that he could find.
About halfway through the drive, after deafening silence, Travis turned on the radio. Alan Jackson began whining about something. Wesley didn’t mind country music, and had actually liked Alan Jackson until hearing him make some belittling comments about gays when the movie Brokeback Mountain was released. He almost asked Travis to switch the station.
No need to make the situation worse. It was just a song.
Music—that was benign. They could talk about music. Wesley knew enough about country music that he could at least drag a few minutes out of the topic. “I hope they play that duet by Taylor Swift and Tim
McGraw. I love her.” He glanced over at Travis, forcing what he hoped was a casual smile. “Do you have her new album?”
Travis glanced at him, then returned his attention to the road. “No. No, can’t say I do. I bet Avery will be asking for it for Christmas, though.”
The drive to Nevada only took twenty-five minutes. At least that was what the clock said. Wesley was certain they’d both aged a year by the time Travis pulled off the highway and headed into the small town. Soon after, Travis came to a stop in the parking lot of the Golden Corral. Wesley turned toward him, getting ready to laugh and make some comment about how funny it would be to actually have a first date at the Golden Corral.
Travis was already pulling the keys out of the ignition and had thrown open his door to get out.
Wesley glanced over at the restaurant, then back to Travis.
Before shutting the door, Travis smiled nervously. “This place has a great buffet. Shannon and I came here for her senior prom.”
With an ever-increasing sinking feeling, Wesley exited the truck and joined Travis in walking across the parking lot.
What. The. Hell.
What the hell had he been thinking? The next time he needed to swear off men, he was going to move to Antarctica. Apparently a small hick town wasn’t even enough to stop his stupid, slutty ways that enabled his poor decision-making. Although Antarctica probably had men too, somewhere, and knowing him, he’d sniff them out. Was the Isle of Lesbos a real place? He should check into that. If he were ever going to give himself the time to just be Wesley, it would have to be there. Lesbians… they’d have lots of cats and horses he could help. Way to stereotype. Seriously, though, if he couldn’t stay away from men in a small town with more churches than any other business—save for used car lots, perhaps—while living in his grandparents’ old house, there really wasn’t much hope for him.