We park in Granite Harbor Grocery and keep a two-feet distance as we walk into the store, the black asphalt drawing in the summer heat.
“Shit. What time is it?” I glance at my watch. It’s eleven thirty a.m. “We’d better not drive through town on the way back to Hallowell. There’s a back road we can take.”
“Oh, God. You and Eli and the rest of the Maine Warden Service.” She shakes her head, smiling.
I can stare at her smile for the next thirty years and never get bored. I’ve missed it.
“What?” I stop walking.
“Oh, it’s a shortcut. Just a back road,” she starts in her best warden voice, which is strong, manly. Merit continues, “Then, you find a dead deer that was poached, and you decide to investigate it. And then you call the warden whose district it’s in. Then, you find casings. And it ends up taking twice as long to get home. But, by God, you’ll get another poacher off the road.”
“You don’t do a good warden voice, just so you know.” I smile as the air-conditioning greets the top of my clean-shaven head as we enter the store.
“And you know I’m right. I’ll find a quicker way home, Taylor. Thanks.” She gives me a wink. “Let’s see. We need bacon, canned potatoes, bell peppers, red onions, rice pilaf, and broccoli for dinner. But I added much more stuff to the list because you have zero in your house to eat.” She stops. “Wait, you still like broccoli, right?”
She remembers. It was the only vegetable I ate as a kid. With a shitload of mayonnaise. Though, as I’ve gotten older, the mayonnaise isn’t needed as much. But canned potatoes, not so much anymore. I won’t tell her that. I’ll choke them down.
We walk to the meat case in the back of the store for the bacon.
“Well, I’ll be. Is that Merit and Ryan?”
We turn to see Ruthie and Milton Murdock, who are in the butter section, and her mother, Ida, comes around the corner.
“Hot dog!” Ida slaps her hands together.
Ida is eighty-seven years young. She was my favorite librarian, growing up.
“Are you two making the whoopee now?”
“Mother!” Ruthie’s eyes roll. “Her filter done left when she turned another year older. I’m so sorry, you two.”
Ida walks to Merit and gives her a hug. “Such a beautiful girl.”
“Ms. Ida, I’ve missed you,” Merit says.
“Nothing stopping you from coming by Granite Harbor Springs Retirement Village for a visit. Unless, you know, Albert and I are having relations.” Ida shrugs.
“Dear God, Mother.” Ruthie shakes her head.
“And look at my sweet Ryan Taylor. You’re so handsome.” Ida takes my face in her hands. “When are you going to marry this girl? The whole town knows you’ve been sidestepping the issue for years.”
I laugh.
Merit turns to the bacon, red-faced.
“Don’t play it off like you two don’t look at each other with stars in your eyes. Don’t waste any more time. Get married. Have sex. And make babies. Okay?”
“Mom, let’s go.” Ruthie takes Ida by the arm. “You two have a nice day.” Ruthie and Ida make their way down toward the milk, Ruthie whispering in her mother’s ear.
Milton stands. Staring. There’s a long pause. “If Ida is any indication of what Ruthie will be like at her age, I hope I’m dead by then.” And he walks past. “Good to see you.” He waves.
Merit and I stand here, looking at the bacon and start to laugh hysterically.
Once we regain control, Merit says, “I don’t remember Ms. Ida having such a vulgar tongue.”
“Yeah, in the past year, she’s really opened up, I guess.”
Our eyes awkwardly search the bacon.
“This’ll do.” Merit grabs a package of bacon.
We walk to the canned potatoes like we’re a couple shopping for food. Like we do this every Sunday. Like we should be holding hands. I want to take her by the hand, but I follow behind, trying not to stare at her ass in the jeans that she’s wearing. The ass that every warden who had a dick stole a glance from as we made our way through headquarters. The ass I’ve taken in my hands and held against me.
She stops and turns to look at the wall of canned food. It makes me want to hurl, thinking of canned potatoes. Not that I didn’t like them before. It was a night tequila was involved.
Merit plucks two cans—not one, ugh—off the shelf. I swallow the tequila taste that has somehow made it to my throat.
We grab the rest of the items and check out but not before running into the Prescotts and the Bravermans.
“About time you got it right, Warden Taylor,” Bob, our elected sheriff, says. He looks at Merit. “How’s Brand, Merit? See he’s got a new lady friend.”
Merit nods. I can tell she’s unsure of how to answer the sheriff’s question about Brand, but nevertheless, she’s happy Pop isn’t alone anymore.
“See you guys,” I say, removing Merit from the situation.
“Thank you,” she whispers, her elbow in my hand.
I don’t let go until we’re outside and close to my truck. We load the groceries into the back of the truck. I know Merit isn’t a you’d-better-get-the-door-for-me woman. She never has been, so I don’t even try to open the door for her.
As we pull out of the parking lot of Granite Harbor Grocery, Merit bites her lip. “We’ll have to drive by Dubbs’s place to take the road I’m thinking of.”
I nod. “It’s just a house, Mer. That’s it. A house. The memories stay with the house.” Saying that took a few visits of mandatory therapy. But I’ll never admit to that.
“No, I’ll drive through town,” she says.
“No, Mer. It’s all right.”
Her eyes grow big as she turns on her blinker. On the corner sits the house I spent most of my adolescence in. A house that doesn’t mean shit to me. I won’t allow Dubbs to have that over me. The memories can stay, too.
You can keep them, Dubbs.
But on the porch of the house is a tall man, and his profile looks familiar. And the familiarity isn’t a good one.
Dubbs hands the man the bag of money that I’d given him.
Dubbs sees my truck that Merit is driving.
“Who’s he talking to?” Merit tries not to look obvious.
“I’m not sure.” As we drive past, I make sure the man on the porch sees me. Takes in my profile.
A protective side to me flares up for Dubbs, the father and son thing, I guess that side will never fade no matter what happens.
Twelve
Ryan
Granite Harbor, Maine
Spring 2001
Age Sixteen
“Get the fuck out of here. I don’t want to see your face here for a week while I’m home!” Dubbs yells across the couch-less living room. A living room that doesn’t look like a living room at all. It looks more like a dying room. A coffee table with four full ashtrays where a heavy layer of smoke sits, smolders, waits.
I tower over the aging man now. The washed-up fisherman who uses fear to rear children. The marks on my body prove it.
His cigarette hangs from his mouth like a loosely worn garment. His eyes slit, he stares at me, trying to intimidate me. With a four-day-old beard, he stinks like whiskey and smoke. A combination that proves detrimental to children. His button-up red plaid shirt smells of old musk, and sweat stains sit at the armpits. Although tall like me, one of the only attributes I hope I’ll ever get from Dubbs, he’s bloated and red-faced due to his inability to stop drinking.
I stare him down, adrenaline coursing through my veins.
“Think you’re tough now that you’re bigger than me? Idiot.” His cigarette bounces fluidly, dangling like an added appendage. “Think you can kick my ass?”
For the first time in all my life, I know I can do damage to this man. Really hurt him. I’m tired of running in fear. I wait for him to jump at me because that’s what he always does. Scare tactic.
I allow his words in, soak them up, and
the anger to flow through my veins like a drug.
Come at me.
As I turn my back, planning my next move, I feel his hands slam into my back.
That’s all it takes.
Flipping around, I take his head and shove it against my knee, and he staggers backward, falling against the wall. His cigarette still sits between his lips as he is stunned. He tries to get up, but I take my foot with my steel-toed boot and shove it against his chest.
“Touch me again, asshole, and I will really fuck you up. And don’t ever call me a fucking idiot again—unless you want to be buried alive.” I give his chest one last push with my shoe before I turn around.
I find Merit at her tree down at the harbor. The sun is setting behind the trees, and the peepers welcome the change in light.
“Hey,” she says as I walk up.
I don’t sit. I’m still fucking pissed.
“What’s wrong?” She’s the only one, other than Eli, who knows me better than I know myself.
Starting to laugh, allowing the fear behind the adrenaline to quietly come out, I pull her up by extending my hands. She smiles and allows me to do so. I rest my hands on her hips, and we slowly move behind an evergreen, her back against the tree.
I breathe in deep her scent of honeysuckle and touch my lips to hers, careful to keep my body from resting on hers. We haven’t made it that far. She’s never felt me the way I feel her in my dreams every single damn night, but today, I feel unstoppable.
This is the fourth time we’ve kissed.
Giving my lips more pressure, I feel them in areas I shouldn’t. I let my lips dangle against hers, my tongue sliding into familiar territory, and she opens her mouth more. I gently pull away and drop my head to her neck and groan.
“This feels too good, Mer. You feel too good.”
Her hands slide to the sides of my cheeks, and she forcefully pulls my mouth to hers. Merit’s mouth crashes against mine, and I’m lost in her. In her kiss. In her scent. But I can’t stop. Unsure of where to put my hands, I rest them on the tree trunk above her head and allow my body to brush against hers. She feels me, and this makes her kiss me harder. Wanting more. I explore her mouth with my tongue, and her fingers slide up my chest.
“We’ve gotta stop, Mer,” I breathe, pulling away, resting my head on the side of her cheek, attempting to gain clarity and think with the right head.
I feel her heart pound against mine, and it makes me smile.
I do this to her.
My dick hurts so bad. She’s wearing a cute sundress that’s long enough, but all I want to do is touch what’s underneath it.
Breathing deep, I use my face to push hers back up toward mine, and I put my tongue in her mouth again. I get lost in her. All I want to do is kiss Merit Young for the rest of my life. I feel her legs spread more, knowing she’s turned on by me. Knowing she can’t stop this as much as we should. With no one at the harbor because of dusk, I could easily pull her dress up, pull her panties aside, and feel her from the inside, but Merit is worth so much more than that. Even though my dick tells me otherwise, I need to slow down. Be patient.
“Come on,” I say breathlessly. I pull away and grab her by the hand.
We started kissing about two months ago, a pattern that we haven’t been able to stop. She doesn’t want Eli to know, and I can’t help but steal her lips when I can, even when Eli and I are hanging out. When at their house, I’ll go to get water, only to find Merit in the kitchen, getting the dishes done after dinner. I’ll steal a kiss against her neck. But, the last time that happened, we almost took it too far.
It’s the dresses.
It’s her body.
It’s Merit.
We walk along the water’s edge, her hand in mine. The way it should be. This way, life makes sense. I can make sense of why Dubbs used to hurt me. I can make sense of why I was brought up in Granite Harbor and why the Young family is part of my life.
“I stood up to Dubbs tonight, Mer.”
Her grip tightens. Lost in her own thoughts, she stops. “You did?” I hear the courage I felt just a half hour ago in her voice.
“Yeah, it felt good.” I grin. “Really good.”
I know Dubbs is a touchy subject for Merit. She can’t understand why I stay at home. Why I don’t leave. I’ve tried to explain it. I don’t know normal. I don’t know a life without dysfunction. Sure, I see her family, but I’ve never lived it. I know how to act in my house. I know triggers. Warnings. Signs. I’m not sure I’d know what to do if I left. Living in the chaos is easy because I’ve done it for so long.
I look up in time to see Merit pick up a rock and skip it across the ocean’s surface. It doesn’t make it very far because it’s a rough day on the ocean. The small waves curl in quick succession.
“I wish you’d leave and come live with us.” Merit turns back to me, hands on her hips. She’s said this before, and I’ve heard it before but never with the command or the love I hear in her voice. “We have an extra bedroom.”
But I give her the line. The one I give her every time. “I can’t.”
I wish I could say yes. I wish I could ask her to marry me. But she wants college, and I want that for her. Some school out in California. I’ll never hold her back from chasing her dreams even though I want to. Maybe it’d be easier if I try to forget Merit now. Slowly wean myself away from her to make it easier for her to leave next year.
I’m not sure that I can though.
We begin to walk again. I follow behind her a half-step to take her in. Not in a sexual way, but in a way that I can appreciate her curves, the way she carries herself. The way she loves. I can’t remember the last time I looked at another girl. I can’t remember the last time I felt this way about someone else. I know I’m a teenager. I know I have a dick. I know puberty can be a bitch. I wasn’t taught to love. Love isn’t in the Taylor home. Merit, her family, taught me about love.
“You coming?” She looks over her shoulder. As much as I care about Merit, she’s hesitant. Since her mom died, I think her faith has changed, too. She loves guarded, attempting to protect her heart.
Always, I want to say. But, instead, I say, “Right behind you.”
We’re at the entrance to the harbor, close to Main Street. This is where we stop touching. This is where Merit draws the line in the sand. For reasons I understand. Eli is my best friend, and Merit is his sister. Just someone the best friend is not supposed to fall in love with.
In my eyes though, she’s not just someone. She’s my forever.
Eli and I sit in the living room, mindlessly flipping through the television channels.
“Grace and I are going to dinner,” Eli says.
We settle on SportsCenter.
“Where?” I ask.
“Merryman’s.”
I nod, thinking about Merit. What she’s doing. Where she is. Somewhere in the house.
“Start calling you Daddy Warbucks.” I punch his arm. “Well, I guess it took you long enough to go on a real date, which means you probably should have started saving when you were ten.”
The home phone rings, and Eli gets up to go to the kitchen to answer it, but Merit beats him. She probably heard us talking. Merit doesn’t much care for Grace—not that she’s ever said anything, but I can just tell. Merit’s lip curls when Grace is around. But she’d never sabotage the courage it took Eli to finally ask her out. He’s been gunning for her since we were in third grade.
“Hello?” She pauses. “Oh, Eli? Uh, yeah. Just a second.” Merit leans in the living room. “Duh, Eli, it’s for you.”
Merit wanders into the living room as Eli says, “Hello?” in a deeper voice than he had ten seconds ago.
She sits down on the edge of the couch, next to me. “He’ll be on the phone for a while.”
We both stare at the television, not listening to it or Eli’s conversation, but listening to whatever is happening between us.
“Come to my room,” she says. “I need to show you s
omething.”
I stand. Follow her upstairs. She quietly shuts the door behind me.
“Don’t laugh,” she says as she walks to her closet.
I shake my head. My stomach is raging.
You’ve been in this room before, Ryan. Door was closed. Don’t let your dick do the talking.
Merit pulls out a strapless violet dress, and I lose all feeling in my legs. I take my hand and rub the back of my neck, trying to chase the feeling of want from my body.
Catch your breath, bro.
“Where are you going to wear that?”
“Prom.”
My stomach falls to my feet. I want to throw up right here, all over her bedroom floor. Scared to death of asking the only question that needs asking. I try to hide behind the silence in the room, pretending to take notice of the curtains. On her nightstand, a picture of Rebecca sits in a frame, urging me on to ask her daughter a question in which I’m not prepared to hear the answer to, but I ask it anyway.
“Who are you going with?”
Thirteen
Merit
Granite Harbor, Maine
Present Day
“Who was that guy?”
“Don’t know.” Ryan looks behind his shoulder as we drive past Dubbs’s place.
I look in the rearview mirror, and the man on the porch with Dubbs is still staring back at us.
“Dubbs elaborate on who he owed money to?”
The anger is beginning to build in my stomach—and not for Ryan, but for Dubbs. How could he have asked his son to give him five thousand dollars? I guess for the same reason he can push a lit cigarette to his own son’s skin.
Ryan finally turns to face forward. “He looks somewhat familiar.”
“Is the pain coming back?”
“I’m good,” he says, carefully pulling out his phone from his pocket. He sucks in another deep breath.
Violet Ugly: A Contemporary Romance Novel (The Granite Harbor Series Book 2) Page 8