by M. Leighton
As I sat at the window, watching the sun go down, I began to cry. I couldn’t even tell Dane about the baby. He wasn’t the type of guy who would then just watch me walk away without doing something. And if Alton found out…his life would be over. So would his father’s. And it would all be my fault. Because I couldn’t stay away from him and, when the consequence of that caught up with me, I was too weak to do the right thing.
No, I’d have to leave here without a word to him. I’d have to find somewhere to go and I’d have to start over, make a life for my baby and myself. All alone, just like my mother said.
Sometime in the night, after I’d fallen asleep with my face pressed to my wet pillowcase, I felt hands on my legs. I woke with a start to find Alton hovering over me, his face a dark and terrifying landscape in the deeply shadowed room.
My door. I’d been so upset after dinner, I’d forgotten to lock my door.
With a harsh yank, he spread my legs and jerked until I was half hanging off the bed, wedged up against him. When he leaned down to speak, I could smell the alcohol on his breath.
“You’re nothing but trash, Elizabeth, but since you’re giving it away for free, I think I’ll have a little taste. See how you feel about having a baby with scum after that.”
Elizabeth?
Fear, sharp and bitter, sliced through me. “Get off me.”
Even my voice was shaken, my heart pounding away at my ribs.
“Oh, I’ll be getting off. Don’t you worry about that.”
He lowered himself toward me, so I started to kick and struggle as hard as I could. He was so heavy, though. It was like trying to move a block of concrete.
“Alton,” I said, trying to reason with him as my panic rose. “You don’t want to do this. Think of what people would say. Because you know I’d tell them.”
“And risk the pretty boy in the field? I don’t think so. I know your type. I know how nasty little things like you think. In a year, you won’t even remember one more man being between these legs. But I will. I won’t ever forget, Beth.”
He kissed me then, and I almost gagged. I already felt like I was choking on terror and helplessness, though.
“Please, Alton. Please don’t do this.” I was whimpering, but I didn’t even care. I didn’t care how weak I sounded. I just wanted him to stop.
“Keep begging, sweetheart. It’ll only make it better for me.”
I began to cry in earnest, great heaves of my chest as he tugged at my panties and I tried to push his hands away. I turned my head to avoid his mouth, and my eyes fell on the window. Outside that window was the night, was the field, was the rock that I’d made love to Dane James. He’d taken my virginity because I’d given it to him. It didn’t matter what Alton tried to take from me, he could never have what I didn’t freely give. It was that thought that flipped the switch on my emotions and blind rage blew through me like a wildfire.
I clamped my legs around Alton’s waist and I turned my hands. Rather than swatting his away, I curved them into talons aimed at his sides. I dug in as deep and as hard as I could, my nails ripping into his flesh. I felt the warm ooze of blood as he howled in pain.
When he listed to one side, I used the momentary pause to bring one knee up against his belly. In the gap it provided, I reached between us and took one tightly swollen testicle into my hand and, gritting my teeth, I squeezed.
That backed him up. Alton grabbed my wrist and tore my hand from himself and rolled away from me. But I wasn’t done. I was nowhere near finished.
Nearly mindless in my fury, I climbed on top of him. “If you want me, you’ll have to bleed for it. Do you hear me? If you touch me, I’ll touch you back. Like this!” I scraped my nails down his chest, streaks of blood seeping through the material of his sleep shirt in their wake.
I yelled, a wild, ferocious sound that I wasn’t even certain came from my own body. I’d made up my mind that if he raped me, he’d pay for it. I wasn’t going down without a fight. And without leaving him with scars from me.
It was a calm voice that broke the twisted spell that had cursed the darkness in my room. “Alton, leave her be.”
I turned to see my mother standing in the doorway, holding the two sides of her robe tight around her. Her back was straight, chin held high, and I knew what it probably cost her to take a stand against him for me.
She flicked on the light and I saw Alton glance up at me, his eyes first widening then narrowing. He seemed to calm for a few seconds before his fury returned. I could see it in every line of his face.
Both of us heaving, I rolled off Alton and he rolled off my bed. He walked to the door, clutching his sides as he went.
He stopped and looked down at my mother for a few seconds before turning back to me. “This changes nothing. Be gone by morning. If I ever hear of this from anyone, ever, I’ll make him wish he was never born.”
I stood as he started to walk away, but with all the venom coursing through my veins, I could only think of one thing to say. “I hate you.”
I heard his growling, “By morning.” And then he was gone.
My mother waited until he was downstairs before she came into my room. Shaking by then, I sat down on the edge of my bed. She sat beside me. For a few minutes neither of us spoke.
I saw Momma reach for her left hand and begin to wiggle her wedding ring off her finger. Without meeting my eye, she placed it against my palm and folded my fingers over it. “Don’t let them give you less than five thousand for it.”
She stood up and walked to the door. Before she stepped out, however, I stopped her. “So this is it? You’re siding with him?”
“This is my place, Brinkley. I did everything I could for you.”
“Momma, there’s more to life than this.”
“Not for me. This is what I want. I’ve tried and tried to help you, to make you see, and this is the thanks I get.”
“It’s not like I did this, any of this, on purpose.”
“Maybe not, but you’re the only one who can fix it. I’ve given you chance after chance after chance.” I heard her take a breath, like she was trying to remain calm. “Take the ring. It’ll give you a better start than I had.”
With that, my mother walked out of my room and closed the door behind her.
2004
32 Years Old
Chapter 22
I’m sitting in the sunshine on the front porch, taking a break and sipping a glass of sweet tea. As my eyes scan the fields, I see the very tip of the barn roof, the only part that can be seen from this angle and this distance. Of course, it reminds me of Dane. It would have anyway, but since meeting with Lauren, I’m even more curious about what he’s doing and what’s happened in his life over the course of the last fifteen years.
Impulsively, I get up and start down the driveway. Celina just began her algebra, so she’ll be busy for a while. Momma is doing whatever it is she does during the day. So right now, it’s just me and the fields and a brain full of questions.
When I step into the wheat, I think back to those early years of my life, how afraid I was that my love for Dane James might be discovered. I never once came down to this barn. I knew better. Seeing Dane and his father out in the fields, or out in town and speaking was one thing. That was called being cordial or polite. But I knew better than to approach the barn where they lived.
The wheat stops suddenly, like a line has been drawn and it knows better than to cross it. A gravel lot extends from that line to the bar, which looms in front of me like a physical representation of all the questions I have.
I pause in front of the entrance and look straight up. The main doors are closed, as is the single large one above it. I wonder if Dane James ever opened that door and looked out at the night, or if our rock was the only place he could really see that there was life beyond this town.
A shiver passes through me. Being here is like being close to Dane James himself. It’s like being at ground zero for a haunting the place where the
bones are buried. The bones that keep the spirit tethered to this world.
I shiver again.
I’m getting ready to see a part of Dane I never knew. And after fifteen years of being without him, I wasn’t really prepared for how it would feel to be close to him again.
I tug one of the barn doors. I half-expected it to be locked, but it isn’t, so I step inside. The interior is dark but for the stripes of golden light leaking through the slats in the wood. The floor is hard-packed dirt and the back wall is littered with all kinds of scary looking tools. It appears that this particular barn hasn’t held any big equipment for many years, probably not since the foreman lived above it. He probably just kept the truck in here. That old farm use truck that I remember so well.
I glance to the left, to the staircase that leads to the second story.
I’ve come this far. No sense backing out now. If the new foreman lives here, I’ll apologize, introduce myself, and walk back to the house. No harm, no foul. But if it’s empty… I’ll get to see where Dane James spent his childhood, where he spent all the days and nights that I wasn’t with him.
I mount the stairs and try the doorknob at the top. It’s unlocked, so I swing it open, cautiously peeking my head inside. “Hello?”
No answer, so I walk further in. The inside is surprisingly clean and sturdy, not really what I expected to be above a barn. The floors are old, but hard wood, and the walls are all sheetrocked. I can’t tell how recently that’s been done. Maybe it was like this when Dane lived here. I have no way of knowing. It’s brighter than I expected, too, with several windows along the exterior wall, facing away from our house. I imagine there are a few behind the closed doors to the left as well.
The soaring ceiling has been painted matte black, as have the exposed pipes and duct work that line it. It gives the room more of an industrial feel than an old converted barn feel. The living area is huge, as is the kitchen area to the right. There is still a small sofa facing the big closed upper door, and a small table in the kitchen, but it looks residual, not like evidence that someone lives here. Clearly no one does.
There are three doors to the left, all partially open. I poke my head in the first two. One bedroom, one bathroom, both empty.
I walk slowly toward the third door. I know because of the angle of the barn to the house that this has to be Dane’s old room. I know that I’ll be stepping into the place where he slept each night, where he dreamed and fantasized, where he watched my light across the fields. Where he probably wondered what happened to me, and why I just up and left.
Even after all these years, my heart aches.
I push open the door and I’m surprised to find a desk in this room. The top is covered with papers and folders, and there’s a computer on one corner. While no one lives here, clearly the new foreman uses this as his workspace.
I should probably leave. I doubt whoever is running the operation would want me walking around up here, although if that’s the case he should’ve locked the doors. I’ll leave in just a minute, I tell myself. I just want to be here, in this room, his room, for a few minutes. Just a few.
I walk along the walls, from corner to corner, thinking. I stop at the window, just able to make out the house and imagine how the light from my room would’ve caught Dane’s eye.
Things might’ve been so different if I’d only been more careful. Maybe we’d have been able to escape this town, go off to college and be together. Maybe we’d have been able to make a life with each other, and maybe Celina would’ve come later, when she’d have had two loving parents instead of one struggling one.
I wipe at the tears of regret streaming down my face. That life is lost. And so is the boy who lived here and the girl he watched at night.
I turn to leave and nearly run right into a figure standing behind me. Tall, broad, hard as a brick. I gasp and stumble backward, but not too far. Strong hands grip my upper arms, steadying me to keep me from falling.
In the wake of my gasp, in that strange silence that follows a moment of terror, a voice rumbles. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
Everything speeds up, and everything stands still. Time falls away, and years catch up. Past and present collide, and the concussion is earth quaking.
I’d know the voice anywhere, even though it’s a little deeper now, a little older. And I’d know that face anywhere, too, even in the soft light filtering through the dirty, dusty window.
Dane James.
Love of my life.
Father of my child.
The one I walked away from to save.
“It’s been a long time, Brinkley.”
My heart is thundering, my blood roaring. I can’t breathe, but I also haven’t breathed this easy since I left. I feel relief and anxiety, everything and nothing, all at once. I’m in the eye of a storm. I’m in the center of chaos.
“Dane.” I finally manage to speak his name, one single syllable on one shaky breath.
He releases me quickly, sharply, as though he suddenly realized whom he was touching. “What are you doing here?”
He takes a step back and I get a better look at him. He’s aged beautifully, of course. He was too gorgeous not to. His eyes are the same intense swirl of fall colors, his jaw just as strong, his brow just as wide. His hair is shorter now, though, which surprises me for some reason. I never would’ve imagined him wearing it this way. It’s almost business-like. But seeing it makes me realize it was Dane that I saw that morning in the fog.
“Y-you cut your hair.”
Clearly, my rapier wit has come out to play. This guy could always turn my world on its ear. That much hasn’t changed.
“Long time ago.” His response is as short and clipped as his hair, and a distinctly uneasy feeling sweeps through me.
“Wh-what are you doing here?”
“The door was open. It shouldn’t have been.”
“Oh. Sorry about that. I was…I was just looking around. Thinking.”
“Thinking about what?”
“Uh.” I stare blankly, my mind racing. I don’t want to tell him. “Nothing particular. Strolling down memory lane, I suppose.”
I am addled, my mind boggled. I feel so unprepared for this, for him.
He says nothing, just stands there staring at me. Or more like glowering. The look on his face is anything but pleasant or welcoming. “So, you still live around here?”
“Yes.”
“Not here, obviously.” I laugh and it’s a nervous sound that makes my insides jitter even more.
“No. I just work here.”
That catches me off guard, too, and my eyebrows shoot up. “Here? You still…you still work in the fields?”
“I guess you could say that. Only I own them now.”
I can’t hide my surprise over that. My mouth drops open and I stare, dumbfounded, at my old flame. A thousand things go through my mind, not the least of which is a nasty little accusing voice that tells me I could’ve avoided this if I hadn’t assumed he was gone, assumed Alton hired a new foreman before he died, and just asked Momma about the state of things.
But I didn’t.
So here I am.
Flummoxed.
“You…you… Wow. That’s great!”
He shrugs, one big shoulder moving the tiniest bit. I used to love that gesture on him. Now it just seems cold and unconcerned. Just like his eyes. Eyes that were always so warm are now frigid.
“You shouldn’t be up here.”
“Oh, oh. Sorry. The door was unlocked. I didn’t know…Momma didn’t tell me she sold this place.”
“She didn’t.”
I frown. “I don’t…I don’t understand.”
“Maybe you should ask your mother then.”
His tone, the edge to his words, the unhappy look on his face—it paints a compelling picture of what must be going on in his mind. And in his heart.
Like an axe to my soul, it becomes clear to me what I’m sensing, what I’m seeing.
; Dane James hates me.
I struggle to swallow the enormous lump forming in my throat, and I blink back tears that spring up before I can stop them. I look away, toward the window that faces the house I grew up in.
“Okay, well, I guess I should get back.”
I start to move around him when he asks, “Why did you come back?”
He couldn’t sound any less pleased that I’m here. In fact, he sounds a little antagonistic. And I’m crushed. Although none of them were the least bit realistic, I’d harbored dreams about Dane James, about what it would be like to see him again, what kind of reunion we’d have, and what might’ve become of him. Seeing him here, now, like this, is like suffering the death of every one of those dreams, as well as my beloved childhood memories.
The boy I loved doesn’t exist.
Not anymore.
And the man I loved, young though he was, doesn’t exist either. This person isn’t the Dane James I knew. He’s someone else.
Someone who hates me.
And with good reason.
I walk to the window. I’m having difficulty controlling the tornado of sadness and regret and hopelessness ripping through my insides. My chin trembles and I press my lips together to still it.
I blink rapidly, praying I can hold everything I’m feeling in until I can get away. Lord God, just let me make it a little longer.
“It’s a long, boring story, and I’m sure you have better things to do than stand here and listen to me drone on about my life.”
A brief pause.
“Actually, I do.” A kick to that axe in my soul, driving it deeper. “Just let yourself out. Close the main door when you leave, please.”
I throw up a hand and utter a chipper, “Will do.”
It seems like forever that he stands behind me, quiet and imposing, before I hear the soft scuff of his shoes as he turns to go. I sag against the window when the fall of his feet disappears down the stairs. I’m gripping the sill when I see Dane walk across the gravel lot and open the door of a big, shiny black truck. For just a moment before he ducks inside, he raises his head. He looks right at me, an odd expression on his face.