Roots and Wings (City Limits #1)

by M. Mabie

  Yet, another thing I wanted to know about her and didn’t know why.

  I hopped inside the Astro, gave it a pump, and turned it over, the smell of exhaust heavy inside. That couldn’t be a good sign, but it always smelled like that right after I started it up.

  I threw my phone in the handy cup holder in the middle console, fastened my seatbelt, and looked behind me as I moved the gearshift into reverse. A feeling of disappointment crept into the passenger seat and left with me.

  Oh well. You know what, if she was busy? No big deal. Now she had my number, and if she didn’t call, or stop by anymore, I’d get the hint.

  I turned onto the lane and slowed at the yield, and then my phone rang.

  The number was unknown, but having looked at it only a few minutes ago, I recognized it.

  She called me back. Quickly.

  I stopped the van and put it in park.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, Vaughn. It’s … me. I got your message. Sorry I didn’t answer, I had a big bastard on my line and couldn’t pick up. I got him though.”

  A big bastard? I wasn’t sure what she was talking about, but I also didn’t give a fuck.

  She called me back.

  “Yeah, I didn’t need anything really. I was just going to see if you wanted to get a beer or something.”

  “I’m already having a few, but I could always use a few more.” Her voice was playful and she sounded happy to hear from me.

  I wasn’t sure if it was her or the whole town, but the people here were so friendly. So accommodating. So kind. They were often pains in the ass, but it was all in jest.

  All of it was very nice, but when you were trying to figure out a woman and, more importantly, if she was interested in you or not, it was a little confusing.

  Was she into me or was she just nice to everyone?

  “Want some company?” I asked, knowing it was possible she already had some.

  Say yes.

  Say yes.

  “Sure. I have about four beers left, if you want to grab a few more, I have room in my cooler.”

  My thoughts drove off into the gutter where “room in her cooler” sounded like an innuendo, but I fought the urge to flirt like that.

  “Ha. Room in my cooler,” she said, laughing. “That sounded pretty bad, didn’t it?”

  “Actually, it sounded good to me.” Okay, I was going to flirt like that. She did it first. Maybe it was being around her so much, but my filter wasn’t catching much these days.

  “So where are you? Home?”

  Yes, I knew she wasn’t at home. Clearly. I was at her home, but she didn’t need to know that.

  “I’m down at Johnston’s Chute, fishing. Do you know where that is?”

  No.

  “Yeah, I think so.” I laid my head on the steering wheel. Why couldn’t I just say no?

  “Oh, well. Okay then,” she said and paused for a second. I’m sure trying to figure out how the hell I knew about Johnston’s Chute. I looked at the phone to see if the call had dropped.

  Then she went on. “Okay, it’s only six. You can still buy beer at the truck stop or Willard’s. That’s the grocery store. I’ll tell you, though, it’s colder at the truck stop.”

  Fun, trivial facts like that were exactly some of the reasons I always wanted to live in a small town. The beer is colder at the gas station. Always good to know.

  “All right. Do you need anything else?”

  “Yeah, I need the radio station to play something new. I’m sick of the same fifteen songs on repeat. Sunny must be napping on the job.”

  That was a lot of information. And how in the hell could I get the radio station to play anything else? I’d need to work on that.

  “Really? What would you want to hear? What do you listen to?” I said as I pulled onto the road and headed back to town.

  “Hell, I don’t know. I like all of the songs, I’m just sick of these. Just something new, I guess.”

  I’ll be honest, I wasn’t really that versed in country music. I’d always been more of a rock or alternative person.

  “I have an iPod dock at home,” I offered.

  “Nah, that’s okay. Just get out here.”

  That sounded better to me, too.

  We hung up as I passed my house, and for a fleeting moment I thought about all of the things I could be doing instead of grabbing beer and going to Johnston’s Chute, which I was only guessing was a fishing place? But none of the things I was putting off couldn’t keep until tomorrow.

  I wanted to see her tonight. To talk to her, get to know her more.

  I was sure she’d already heard—at least in part—some of what had happened between Rachelle and me.

  If she was interested—and I was hoping she was since she’d not only called me back, but seemed to want to hang out—then I’d want to tell her what actually happened.

  I wasn’t naive. It was a small town, and I was the new guy. A new guy, who’d come to town with a girlfriend looking at a house, and then moved there single.

  I hadn’t talked about it much with anyone, except Dr. Carver, but I didn’t really think it was anyone else’s business.

  However, when it came to O’Fallon, I wanted her to know I wasn’t pining away waiting for a woman, hoping she’d just show up.

  She wasn’t going to show up, and I was fine with that.

  Had I been shocked? Yes.

  Hurt? Yes.

  Pissed? Definitely.

  Who doesn’t feel those kinds of things when they find out their girlfriend, who they were planning on proposing to at their new house, had been sleeping with a guy they called a friend?

  Shit. I’d even introduced Rachelle to Brad and his wife. Yeah, that’s right. His wife, who Rachelle had explained the last time we spoke, he was leaving.

  What a mess.

  I was hurt and pissed and all of those things. But, after a few days with my thoughts in a new place, I realized I’d dodged a huge bullet.

  True, that was only a month ago, and hell if I didn’t think that this was a little soon to feel interested in another woman, but when someone you thought you loved cheats on you, for as long as she did, if you’re anything like me, you’re done. Like done-done. All of the love you thought you had for them dies.

  Then after that, you feel lonely.

  And, being in a new town, it was only amplified.

  So fucking sue me. O’Fallon was fun and kind. A little on the tomboy side, but I found that endearing. She was so different than any other woman I’d encountered. She could take care of herself. She didn’t wait around for someone to make plans. She lived her life every day how she wanted to. She was smart. And damn was she beautiful.

  Even though she put off this kind of tough exterior, I had to wonder, if deep down, she wasn’t lonely too?

  I wasn’t sure how old she was—I guessed maybe twenty-five or twenty-six. Most people our age, especially in Wynne, were already paired off.

  Married.

  Had kids.

  Not her.

  O’Fallon was sweet and thoughtful, which was a giant contrast to Rachelle. Would Rachelle ever have just stopped to help a stranger on her day off? Fuck no. That’s the answer to that. A big, conclusive fuck no.

  She would have thought, “Not my problem,” if I knew her at all. And in hindsight, maybe I didn’t.

  I pulled into the truck stop, hoping whoever was working was just as friendly as everyone else, because I had a few questions.

  “Hey there. How ya doin’?” asked the older man from behind the counter as I walked in.

  “Pretty good, thanks,” I answered as I strolled toward the cooler in the back. “How are you?”

  “Oh, I can’t complain. Wouldn’t help if I did, would it?”

  I chuckled, everyone here had some quip or anecdote for everything. “Probably not.”

  “Whatcha huntin’ for?”

  “I need a few beers. I’m headed down to Johnston’s Chute. You know where th
at is?”

  He seemed nice enough to ask. I didn’t have many options.

  “Yeah, I know where it is. What kind of beer do you want?”

  “I was thinking about grabbing a twenty of Bud Light.” I figured he was just making small talk, but when I looked at his face as I reached into the cooler for the beer, there was something off about it. “Why? Is there something wrong with the Bud Light?”

  “No. Hell no. There’s nothing wrong with it. I was just thinking, if you’re headed down to the Chute, I think you might enjoy Newcastle.”

  I liked Newcastle. Hell, I liked most beers, so I took his suggestion and exchanged the blue box for the tan and red one. It didn’t sound too bad, to be honest.

  As I approached the counter, I looked for a nametag. Usually, attendants wore them, but I was learning that kind of thing wasn’t necessary in Wynne, and he didn’t wear one.

  “Thanks for the suggestion. I’m Vaughn Renfro. I’ll be taking over for Dr. Carver at the end of the year. I just bought a house in town.”

  “Yeah, I figured that’s who you were. You stick out about like a turd in a punchbowl. My name’s Donnie. So ya fish, huh?”

  His expression wasn’t hiding that he was trying not to laugh about something.

  “I guess. I haven’t been since I was a kid.”

  “Oh, I’m sure you’ll catch on fast. Everyone around here fishes. Hell, my dog fishes.”

  I chuckled and his big belly bobbed as he rang me up. Then I thought it might be a good time to find out how the hell to get to Johnston’s Chute.

  “So, I’m a little turned around here. Which way should I go to get out to Johnston’s Chute?”

  A knowing smile spread across his face and I began to think he was on to me. Did he know she was out there? She might have stopped here first.

  “Yeah, just take the highway north out of here and you’ll see a sign,” he answered. “But, you know, some people don’t fish right there at the Chute, some go just south of it.”

  He winked.

  He knew exactly what I was doing.

  “Just south, huh?” I lifted my chin, feeling a little foolish, but also like he was trying to help.

  “Yup, when you see the lot for the Chute, pull in, then take the little side road on the left and just keep following that.” He coughed and grinned. “Needin’ anything else?”

  I took my card out of my wallet and ran it through the machine on the counter. “No, thanks. I think you’ve got me all set.”

  He ripped the receipt off the machine after it printed and handed it to me.

  “You have a good night then.”

  “You too, Donnie. Thanks.”

  I put the beer in the back of the Astro and headed out of town, following his directions.

  He was right, there was a sign on the highway. I took the road for a few miles, it turned into gravel, and sure enough, there was the lot he was talking about and I saw the road off to the left.

  The lane was rough and I wondered if the old van would make it. I took it slow, but it seemed to go on and on. Soon I was driving past little cabins that were up on stilts, but I still hadn’t seen her truck. The road led into the woods, but I just kept going on blind faith that he had told me where she’d be. Donnie never came out and said it, but it was too coincidental not to hear what he wasn’t saying.

  The van drove along the terribly battered road, parallel to the river, and I hoped I was close. Sure enough, about a mile past the other cabins there was one more, right where the road ended.

  Her truck was there.

  Thank you, Donnie, my new best friend.

  I saw the headlights on the van pulling down the lane and wondered how in the hell he knew how to find me. I was expecting him to call back so that I’d know when he was close … and so I could run in and check my hair.

  That’s right. Check my hair.

  I’d never in my life been a girl who wanted to check her hair. I’d never bothered with trying to impress anyone. It just wasn’t in my character. I knew he’d seen me looking less than my best on many occasions. Okay, on every occasion, but this time I—at very least—wanted to make sure I looked halfway feminine.

  I’d spent most of the past two days out there, at my cabin, thinking about things. What I came up with was, I really, really wanted him to like me.

  Good thing it was dark. I could find some excuse to go inside the cabin and freshen up.

  “I can’t believe you found me all the way out here.”

  He smiled as he stepped out of the Astro. It still made me laugh seeing him drive that thing. And when he didn’t laugh and turn down the offer for the rental, it did something else to me. He was genuinely relieved to have a ride while Dean and Dad fixed his SUV, even if it was taking longer than they’d originally thought.

  He was still wearing nice clothes. Dress pants and a white button up shirt. Had he even been home after work? The thought of him looking for me first caused a buzz inside me, like there was a spinner in my body zipping around, bumping into the walls of my chest.

  “I didn’t see your truck in the Johnston’s Chute lot, so I took a chance.” He reached into the back and pulled out a twelve pack of Newcastle.

  My favorite.

  “You drink Newcastle?”

  “Yeah, it’s good,” he said, walking my way.

  I was sitting in a fold out chair next to the bank of the river, and I began reeling in my line so I could give him my attention.

  The sun wasn’t gone, but it was fading fast. I’d already had four beers and certainly feeling the effects of them—not drunk, but on my way. In the summertime, that was what I usually did on Tuesdays. So, what you see is what you get rang very true for me at that moment.

  “You can put those in my cooler. There should be plenty of room.”

  He came to my side and knelt to open it. Then, one by one, restocked me. What a sight.

  “I must confess I thought you’d bring cheerleader beer,” I teased. Not that I didn’t drink Bud Light or Coors or whatever was handy, but if given a choice, I always went for something a little darker.

  “Cheerleader beer?”

  “Yeah, you know lightweight stuff. Bud Light. Light beer, in general. I just thought you’d bring something more mainstream.”

  “I like variety. I drink that stuff, too. I guess I was just in the mood for something different.”

  I hoped to myself he felt the same way about women. I wasn’t mainstream. I wasn’t typical. I was rough around the edges and even I knew it. Maybe that was why I was still single, but I didn’t really care. If there was someone out there for me, they’d like me for who I was, not what trends I did or didn’t follow.

  “Well, it’s my favorite,” I admitted as he packed the cooler. “That’s what I usually drink.”

  “This place is great, you own it?”

  I might have lived with my dad in town, but that little cabin by the river was all mine. Dad came out every now and again, but on many weekends when the weather was nice and the water was low, I was out here.

  Dad played cards with some of the guys in town on Tuesdays. Sometimes they were at our place, but they moved around. That’s why I started coming out on card nights, just to get out of their hair. It was quiet and the fishing was good.

  “Yep, it’s all mine. Want to see inside? It isn’t much. Kitchen, living room, bathroom, and a room. With a bed.” I set my pole next to my chair and pulled my beer from the cup holder, downing the little that was left.

  “Sure, I’ve never been in a cabin with legs.”

  “All right, I’ll give you the nickel tour. Grab us a beer,” I said as I headed for the stairs that led up to the wraparound porch at the top. It was an A-framed cabin with sliding doors on the front and back.

  It really wasn’t much, but it was great in the summer. Coming out here. Swimming off my small dock, fishing and boating around with the other river people.

  He followed behind me as we took the stairs up. The cabin
sat about twenty feet off the ground on stilts, and those steps were tricky bastards the more I drank.

  “The view is great in the morning. That’s my favorite time out here.”

  He walked straight to the front edge of the deck and looked out, handing me the extra beer he’d brought up and grabbing my bottle opener off the small table so he could open his.

  “It’s awesome up here. Crazy how much more you can see.” That was true. From up here you could see down the river a little more, and looking down at it somehow made it seem bigger, wider than when you were standing on the bank.

  The sun was setting and the sky turned pink, orange, and purple, causing the water to look like it was on fire.

  “It’s beautiful out here,” he said quietly, almost like it was only for him to hear.

  “I think so, too. It’s peaceful and I can think.”

  We silently leaned on the rail, having put off the tour for the minute. We drank our beers, not saying a word, but it was also comfortable. It was nice letting someone appreciate something I cherished so much.

  After a little while, he turned to face me, and flashes of our almost kiss raced through my mind. We weren’t nearly as close at the moment, but we were leaps and bounds closer than the last time I’d thought about it—which was about every five minutes all day long.

  I wasn’t sure what was happening. I wasn’t sure if it was the same for him. For all I knew, I was growing a crush on the town’s new shiny toy and he was trying to score off a rebound. I was so different around him, not knowing how to behave—like a fish out of water.

  Surely I wasn’t the only one who’d noticed how handsome he was. How he walked with a rhythmic gait, or how when he smiled it was devastating and contagious at the same time.

  Nevertheless, he hadn’t kissed me. And I didn’t kiss him. So there we were. Standing in front of each other, beers in hand, watching the sun play tricks with the way the brilliant colors lit up his eyes and made the short whisker stubble on his cheeks almost look red.

  I was staring, but, if I was right, he was staring, too. Then I remembered I looked like hell warmed over.

  “Do you want to look around inside? I’m going to the bathroom.” I tipped my head for him to follow me. “Or you can stay out here. Whatever you like.”