by DJ Wilson
“It’s those brown bedroom eyes of yours. I told her you were a troublemaker the moment I laid eyes on you.” She snickered.
“Thank you ... Trouble, ah yes, that’s me. Not that the menacing woo-hoo of hers, isn’t?”
Blushing, Marcy continued, “Nope, from all that she’s shared, you’ve successfully managed to corral that thing of hers.” Her eyes drifted back towards my trailer, “Guess that’s the infamous motorcycle you made history on through the cornfields of Iowa and the mountains of Wyoming?”
“It is,” I beamed proudly. “Want to see the scars and the toy that started it all? I’ve got it here somewhere. Might give you some inspiration with your significant other.”
“Ha! Not hardly. You got balls, D, I give you that — big balls. Anyone that would even attempt the indescribable things you’ve already done with her has to have gonads this big,” Marcy said, holding up both hands, resembling the size of grape fruits. “I’d nominate you as salesman of the year — excuse me, seducer of the year.”
“Hey, I resemble that remark!” I resemble many of these off the cuff remarks here lately.
“I’ve heard that, too. Candice — Candi as you call her — is an open book when it comes to you. With you she’s fallen in love with the lake and the mountains you call home. She’s enamored by your random acts of kindness with people you don’t even know. You’ve shared your heart, your mind, your soul with her. You’ve brought joy back into her life that I haven’t seen since we were kids. By now, surely you know you’ve changed her for the better. Whatever happens next in your journey with her, remember that.”
“Enough, Marcy! I’m flattered with the flowers, but it’s been a two-way street. Candi has given me equally as much, if not more. She’s smart, witty and intuitive. It’s either black or white with her, there are no shades of grey.
“I shouldn’t say this to you, but I will. When she makes love to me, she gives me 110% of everything. She embraces the moment—”
“I got it. I got it. You’re right ... Candi has said the same about you. I don’t know all that happened in Canada, she’s been rather vague about the goings on since she returned. But, whatever it was from all that I’ve gleaned from our long conversations of late, it was to protect you from the carnage she brought into your life.”
“I hope you’re right, Marcy. Only time will tell. I’ve got to go, Major is waiting. Don’t forget, I’m dead — two burner phones, two numbers by email only. I’ll email you with the subject line Dale Hollow Lake Lover.”
“I’ll send it when I get home. Good to see you, D. Good luck. Sounds like you’re going to need it.”
Chapter 59
And with that, I was off. Driving to the kennel, not twenty minutes away, I realized the big pink elephant in the room was back. If Marcy was right, at least from her perspective, and this was all about protecting me, I had to hear it from Candies lips ... straight from her heart. The when and the where — well, that was yet to be determined.
Anxiously waiting in the lobby with a kennel assistant in tow was my fluffy pal, washed, brushed and wagging his tail to no end when I came through the sliding glass doors. Patting my chest with both hands, Major leapt the ten feet separating us in one stride, snapping the leash in two before placing his paws on my shoulders and waiting for a long overdue hug. “I’ve missed you, pal. More than you know.” Go figure, I got teary-eyed. Dogs, especially this one, are truly man’s best friend. Major’s hug today, was no different than the last one he gave me when I left him stranded here, a little over a month ago. Dogs show no anger, no malice, no indifference to us, only love, no matter how royally we screw up.
“Major, let’s go. You and me, we’re going to find this elusive Mayberry.” Opening the passenger door to the truck, Major jumped in immediately claiming his favorite seat behind the steering wheel. After settling up with the kennel, I was handed a basket of his remaining goodies, compliments of Marcy. Note to self. ... Thank Marcy again on behalf of Major — and me. I owe her big time.
My drive to the lake for possibly the very last time was serene as well as surreal. The beauty that I’d come to appreciate surrounding Dale Hollow Lake could never be duplicated anywhere else. The lush green rolling meadows and fields were salt and peppered with Holsteins and Black Angus cattle as far as the eye could see.
Beyond them, stood the mountains casting hues of orange, yellow and red in the towering maples, ash and poplar that filled them. Then there’s Dale Hollow Lake. Unspoiled shorelines, crystal clear water, pristine springs and its undisturbed mountains made this place I’d been fortunate to call home for the last five years, above all things, priceless.
My last time on the lake with Candi, no less, I took her to one of my special places along the Accordion Bluffs. That day, we wined and dined at sunset watching the ice blue skies above us turn into a moon drenched night, complimented by thousands and thousands of stars.
Talking about getting in the mood for love — it spontaneously happens here, for free. And we did get in the mood, as I recall, beautifully — even sharing a little too much of ourselves with two others who happened to get in our way. I laughed out loud over the memory of the skinny dipping incident. We’d made precious memories that would last a lifetime. I sighed, Candi, baby, I wish you were here.
I loved this area. Even the locals that I’d come to know and love were genuine and neighborly in every sense of the word. Every holiday was a time of celebration, filled with food, laughter, and hours upon hours of fellowship. Shared gourmet dinners over a bottle or two of wine with my neighbors at least twice a month kept us informed of the goings on in the community, in this place we were blessed to claim as our own.
My heart ached, my stomach churned, and my hands trembled as I envisioned ripping out the established roots of my heart and soul I had anchored here to replant in another town I’d only imagined thus far.
Chapter 60
Change happens — life happens — whether we want it to or not. Sometimes, it’s not pretty. Sometimes it’s downright, gut-wrenchingly sad. Oft times, if you’re lucky, it’s subtle — raising neither ripple nor flag. Regardless of the hand being dealt us, to survive change we must embrace it and make the most of it or die. Sadly, in this world of instant gratification we live in there is no other option.
I was directed through the gates with a familiar wave from Ron, the daytime security guard. “Welcome back!” announced Ron. “We’ve missed you. You been on a long trip?”
“Yes sir. Leaving again, soon. I’ve got Brinks coming at six. Kindly wave them through and give them directions to the house, along with the code to my gate.”
“Will do, sir. And again, welcome back.”
Coasting down my long and winding drive to the house was bittersweet — the only description I could muster right now, knowing this mountain retreat would no longer be mine. On a brighter note, if I could find one, Vic could transfer the title to my sons easy enough. My desire would be for them to accept it, appreciate it and find in it a lingering piece of me. In that I found some degree of solace, but only in that, nothing more.
My do over life began here, the geography, compliments of the U.S. Government and WITSEC. Thankfully, I was able to resurrect myself, designing and building custom homes and escapes for the well to do people who could afford the quality I spent my entire adult life creating. When I found this property, between projects, I would lie on the rocks at night and listen to the waterfalls directing me on how and where to build. In my sleep, I dreamed this house, this setting into existence. Building this home, suspended on the bluffs over the waterfalls was a major undertaking and not without risks. But, we did it. I designed it, my crews and I built it, hoping one day my sons would come here and let their children, when they have children, grow up with me. Second chances are not guaranteed. You’re dreaming again, D — in another life, maybe.
Releasing Major from the confines of the truck, he went straight to the waterfalls for a refreshing cool drink of w
ater while I went inside and unlocked the walk-in safe. By way of a two-wheeled cart, I handily moved the ten nondescript crates to the driveway, before returning two of them to the safe; for the boys, if and when they come. Vic, after the transfer has been completed, will provide my sons the six-digit pin to access their inheritance. Until then, it was securely locked away.
Loading enough fresh clothes in my truck to get by, I took one last look around the house and got teary-eyed again before sitting down at the farm table and writing a letter to my elusive sons straight from the depths of my heart:
This road of life you are now on has been filled with many twists and turns. You have experienced the highest of highs and the lowest of lows throughout your marvelous journey thus far. You have ventured far beyond the shore, more times than not, successfully. You have been blessed to experience firsthand, the world, its people, its values, its successes and its failures.
You have been blessed with the fondest of memories that warm your heart and soul, memories that reflect the happiest of times through the carefree eyes of a child. Unfortunately too are memories that you see not as grand, for as you’ve grown, carefree gives way to the world you now see as a man.
You have succeeded beyond measure in many things. You may have come up short in just a few. You continually made those proud who love you. Take a deep breath, pat yourself on the back, take just a moment to glow and be thankful for the little things that make you who you are.
You have discovered through personal relationships what it means to love and be loved. You have unfortunately experienced with this love, both heartbreak and the sorrow of loss. You have relished in the opportunities to give with abandon and learned, ever so humbly, what is expected of you through the gracious art of receiving.
You have come to see that change, no matter how large or small, is inevitable, whether you like it or not. How you choose to accept it will forever define you and your happiness throughout your life. Living in the past may be the ideal, but living in the moment is reality and that my son is life.
No matter what you may wish would not have happened, when people and emotions are involved, unless you have walked long days in their shoes, their lives are not yours to judge. We all seek to be happy and we flee from rejection and pain. As you age, wisdom will follow and you’ll come to understand that true lasting happiness begins and ends within.
You have been taught from where your strength comes, where forgiveness begins and where joy abounds. You have been given through God’s grace, the wisdom to know you are precious in the eyes of the One who made you and can take comfort in the knowledge that He always has your back. If you will always call on Him for the little things, you will find in life through Him, there are no big things.
You live in a world that is constantly in motion. Stopping the world to get off, when things don’t go your way is not a luxury you will ever be privy too. The ebbs and flows of life remain in constant flux. Move with them, embrace them and you will always find your steps firm and your path made exceedingly clear.
With you, each new day creates an opportunity to reflect not on the “what ifs” of yesterday, but to embrace and cherish the moments of today; to believe in the hope that tomorrow will bring a brighter day. Second chances, too, will come your way, but it’s best to seize this time, this place, this second and do what’s right today.
You are the future. In you there is hope. You are my sons. Whether we live together or apart, my heart and my prayers go with you each and every day. I long to grow old with you in my life. You fill me with joy as I watch your dreams come true.
My wish for you today is to remember where you came from and the values you were taught. In you I have given my all, in spite of what you may think, so that you may have all the tools necessary to succeed in this life and the knowledge and wisdom to discard the rest.
Finally, I pray you will look beyond my shortcomings and forgive where forgiveness is due. I’m not perfect, as you well know; nor will I ever be. I ask for you to cherish the good in me that makes me who I am and look beyond that which disappoints you, that you may find in me, not just a parent but also a friend.
I signed and dated it. Stuffing it into an envelope, I addressed it to the three of them and left it on the table. I closed the door, knowing in my gut I might never be back. I was sitting on the teakwood bench near the waterfalls with Major beside me at twenty minutes shy of six o’clock when the Brinks truck arrived. I signed the necessary paperwork while the men were loading the crates and watched them drive away.
Now it was my turn. Loading Major in the truck, I said goodbye one last time to the dreams I’d realized here and to the fond memories I’d made — the best of them being those I’d made with Candi. With her, I could make new ones, better ones, shared ones. … Maybe, just maybe.
Chapter 61
Driving south on Highway 111 across the mountains, bathed in the beginning colors of fall, towards Chattanooga, and all points south, I reflected on happier times. One, in particular, brought back fond memories of a time not that long ago.
I was balls-to-the-wall, flying south in the M3 for my second romantic interlude with Candi. I’d swept her off her feet after work one sunny, weekday afternoon. We traversed the winding roads, commando, to Cloudland Canyon, before arriving at a Civil War-era B&B, where we made love for the very first time. It was incredible how much pleasure she brought me. We were entwined for hours on end in that oh-so-brief overnight rendezvous. During what was to be the first of our many nights together, I rediscovered the child in me who could never get enough of a good thing and was always longing for more.
Candi was refreshing, relishing each moment we spent together, even if it was just by phone. Sure, it was the newness of us, the mystique of me, the innocence of her that made each waking moment we spent together pleasurable — but, it was worth it ... so worth it. You are one sick puppy, D. What did Jim say? Something like, ‘the flavor of the day.’
Yes, I could have stopped and called Victoria when I passed through Atlanta some thirty minutes earlier. And say what? ‘Hi Vic, I’m passing through Atlanta on my way to find Candi and thought of you.’ That would go over like a lead balloon. Vic’s safe with her cousin and the big gun dude — safer still with no phone contact with me ... for now.
Approaching 11 p.m. with lightning strikes dancing across the moonless sky, I made it as far as Jonesboro, GA, before calling it a day. Stopping at another pet friendly, Holiday Inn Express, Major and I made three trips around the parking lot, checked in at the front desk and crashed.
Waking sometime after five, I found Major snuggled on the couch. Candi would blow a gasket if she were here. I wish she were ... Major, I'm sure would agree.
Dressing in shorts and a tee, I walked, watered and fed the dog, before tackling the Elliptical. Thirty minutes later, sweating profusely, I stopped by the breakfast area and tossed together two eggs, bacon and syrup between two pancakes. Yuck! I used to like this combination of sweet and salty. Not anymore. I choked down a second bite, then spit it out, before tossing the rest of my creation in the trash. Green and black tea it will be, I mused, riding the elevator to the room, my stomach churning on empty.
Major greeted me from the couch, his tail furiously slapping the cushions, expecting the worst, but hoping for the best. I didn’t care, not anymore. Candi wasn’t here to scold him and I no longer had the heart.
Showered, dressed and packed, that was a stretch since I was still living out of my daypack, I wrestled with Major all the way to the truck, before returning to the business center and setting up an alias email address on my Yahoo account.
Retrieving Marcy’s email address, I fired off an email with “Dale Hollow Lake Lover” in the subject line and waited ... and waited ... and waited. Surely, she hasn’t gone to work this early? It’s only 6:30 ... here. Dumb ass, she’s on central time. It’s 5:30 there; she’s still asleep. I’ll give her an hour and log in again. My stomach growled, then roared with hunger pa
ngs. “Cracker Barrel, where are you?” I asked to an empty room. “Your country boy breakfast is calling my name.”
Fifteen minutes later, compliments of my well-traveled GPS, I was feasting on country ham — a piece the size of a dinner plate — three fried eggs, homemade buttermilk biscuits smothered in sawmill gravy and fresh fruit — no grits. I have to have at least one healthy side, geez! My hunger abated, I felt a nap coming on. God forbid! I ordered black coffee to go. Yuk! I enhanced it to make it palatable — two Stevia packets and four little tubs of half and half. There was a time, many moons ago, when I drank four twenty-ounce mugs of black coffee a day. I even ground my own beans — Blue Mountain Coffee from Jamaica. But, once I quit smoking and changed to black and green tea, I never went back. Now, I remember why.
That was a twenty well spent, including a small bag of beef flavored treats for the dog. I arrived at the Holiday Inn at 6:45, Marcy time, hoping her email would be there. I logged in ... it was. “Yippie-ki-yay!” I screamed, “We’re smokin’ now!” Her email was a forward from Candi, listing two numbers — one for her, the other for Giovanni. A short message to me followed:
D, I knew you were safe, I knew it. Stay that way for me, for Major. Call when you can, the sooner the better. I need to hear your voice. Baby ... I miss you ... XOXO
I hopped, skipped and jumped through the hotel; acting like a twelve-year-old boy who’d just experienced his first kiss from the prettiest girl in his class. Progress D, you are making progress. Thankfully, I was in the Tundra pulling a bike and not in the M3. The police protection all the way through South Georgia was inebriating. I lost count, somewhere after thirty, of the Troopers intent on slowing down the northerners who couldn’t wait to put their toes in the soothing Florida sand. I had to admit, I couldn’t wait to get to Florida either and dip my ... in something much more satiating than sand. I panted, Major too, but then, I was vigorously rubbing his belly.