Softly and Tenderly

by Sara Evans

  Carla kissed Jade’s forehead as if she belonged to her, to the old barn, to the family. Her touch seeped clean to Jade’s bones and calmed the storm brewing beneath her chest.

  “How about a pop? Jade? Dustin?”

  Carla tugged open the old fridge in the shop’s corner. Dustin hugged Jade with his eyes. For that moment, she was sixteen, secretly married and waiting for Carla to leave so they could make love in the loft.

  She was home. She belonged.

  “This is my best batch of root beer yet.” Carla handed Jade a cold, opened bottle of her homemade soda pop.

  “I remember these.” Jade’s vision blurred with tears as she took a long, deep drink. “Oh, sweet sassafras.”

  “Used the actual root this time, not an extract.”

  “Best yet, Mom,” Dustin said, lifting his bottle to his lips while keeping his eyes on Jade.

  “Are you holding up, Jade?” Carla leaned against the Camaro and crossed her ankles. She had a youthful air about her, not one of a woman widowed.

  “It’s hard. Lots of things are hard right now.” Jade raised her bottle. “But I’m holding up, Lord willing and the creek don’t rise.”

  “Your husband is doing well?” Carla barreled right past the NO TRESPASSING sign.

  “He’s got some issues, Carla.” Home was where a girl could bear her heart, right? Find comfort, peace, and wisdom.

  “I’m sorry to hear that, Jade. I’ll pray for him.” Carla shook her head, gazing toward the far wall. “I’ve so learned the value of prayer. You can do more by talking to God about folks, than talking to folks about God.” Carla patted the Camaro. “So, Jade, how do you like my car?”

  “Your car?” Jade walked around it, whistling low.

  “Mom decided to join the family business,” Dustin said. “Wanted to build her own car. I found a beat-up ’68 Camaro, and well . . .” He gestured to the work in progress.

  “I’m slow, but learning.”

  “I told you, Mom, you’re a talented mechanic.” Dustin winked at Jade. “She’s good.”

  “I’m not surprised. Look at her son.” Jade stopped a few feet from him, wrestling with the urge to fall into him.

  “This baby’s going to be fast with a 383 stroker engine.”

  “Whatever that means.” Jade smiled and leaned against the workbench next to Dustin.

  “It means I like my cars like my men, with some muscle.” Carla laughed and jutted out her hip. Dustin’s cheeks tinged pink.

  “Yeah, okay, Mom. I told you, I don’t want to hear about your love life.”

  “At least I have one.” Carla held her eyes on her son as she swigged her pop.

  “Isn’t it time for you go inside? Watch the news or something?” Dustin shuffled his feet, tucking his hands into his pockets. “Call your boyfriend?”

  “Fine, I know when I’m not wanted.” Carla tapped her son on the shoulder before gripping Jade’s shoulders. “And you, hang in there. I mean it, you need anything, call night or day.” She kissed her again before disappearing into the shadows beyond the garage light.

  “Your mom, she—” Jade couldn’t speak. She’d lose her last ounce of composure.

  “Yeah, she is. I’m proud of her. After Dad died, she was really lost, but she found herself and the meaning of life again. Church. Faith. Love God. Love others. Moving home helped too.” Dustin eased his pop bottle into a bottle crate at the end of the worktable. “So what’s up, Green Eyes?” He touched the tip of her chin.

  She shrugged, searching for words, noticing the pink Cadillac in the other bay. “How’s the old girl?”

  “Good. They shipped the wrong top, so we had to send it back. The new one should be here in a few days. I installed the new hydraulic and motor.” He ruffled her hair, then gave her a side hug. “Next time, no jumping on the top if the motor freezes.”

  “Next time? There better not be a next time.” Jade swigged the last of her pop and set her empty one in the crate next to Dustin’s.

  The floating, burnt amber sensation hit out of nowhere. Zaps of anxiety taunted her insides. Her abs tightened as her pulse fired. Dark purple dread attached itself to Jade’s thoughts.

  What was she doing here? Run. But she kept her feet planted and concentrated on Dustin’s voice.

  June’s car . . . White, custom leather seats . . . Pink paint job . . . in-dash GPS . . .

  The amber faded. The purple swirls let go. Jade breathed in deep.

  “Jade?” Dustin gripped her arms. “Are you all right?”

  She peered into his eyes. “Oh, Dustin.” Jade collapsed against him. “It’s all screwed up.”

  “Shh, shh, Jade, babe, it’s going to be all right.” He embraced her, fitting her to the contours of his lean torso and brawny arms. His familiar hands moved around her familiar curves. “Nothing can be that screwed up.”

  “Y-you don’t know. I married into a Southern soap opera.” She didn’t mean to cry, but the combination of weariness, hurt, loneliness, and remorse had taken its toll. Dustin was the wall she needed. But this far and no more.

  “Tell me, what’s going on?” His lips were soft and warm against her ear. Gently, he rocked her side to side.

  “What’s not going on?” Jade wiped her face with her fingers and cradled her head against his chest. “Do you have a tissue?”

  “Here.” Dustin grabbed her hand and walked her to the back of the barn. “Bathroom’s in there. Jade,”—he trailed his finger along the hairline around her face—“it’s going to be all right.”

  “Promise?” She looked around a boarded-up stall. “In the cow stall?”

  He grinned, winked, and her belly flip-flopped. “The cow stall with a sink and toilet.” The fire of his wink traveled all the way to her toes.

  The floor was carpeted with hay, but the toilet and sink were porcelain, the shower constructed of tile, glass, and brass.

  “Glass and brass? Out here?” she called. “A bit nice for a barn.”

  “Hartline has connections.”

  Splashing water in her face, Jade reached for the thick cotton towel and studied her reflection in the mirror. What was she doing here, crying in Dustin’s arms at ten o’clock at night? She was married. And way too emotional to be drifting down this river.

  She leaned against the sink and spoke to the mirror. “You need to go home, Jade Benson.”

  When she came out Dustin was at the stainless steel worktable, putting his tools away.

  “Why’d you come here, Jade?” His blue eyes pierced right through to her core as if he read her private emotions. Seems he’d wised up during the bathroom break.

  She stared at the floor. “No place else to go, I guess. Just so much craziness.”

  “What’d he do?” Dustin began to wipe down the table. “Max?”

  Jade wound the strap of her handbag around her fingers, letting it dangle against her leg. “He—he has a son.”

  “A son?”

  “He’s a year and a half. His mother is Max’s ex-fiancée.”

  “You just now found out?”

  “Yes. She was killed a few weeks ago, making her first solo flight across the country in a small Cessna.”

  Dustin studied her, then replaced the last of his tools without a word. The skin covering his jaw drew tight.

  “It happened . . .” Jade pressed her fingers into her forehead, hearing the confession in her head. Could she verbalize it? Give it life through her words? “Right before we were married. One dumb night . . .”

  “One dumb night.” Dustin faced her, hands behind him, gripping the table’s edge. “You deserve better.”

  “Do I?” She rearranged withered straw with her boot. “I’ve done worse than Max.”

  Dustin’s scoff echoed in Jade’s chest. “Hardly.”

  If he only knew. But tonight, she couldn’t confess. Weren’t there enough emotional balls in the air? Why toss in the one she’d dropped fifteen years ago?

  “You deserve better, Jade. Than
Benson, than me.”

  “Dustin, it’s okay . . . what happened between you and me. It had to be.”

  “Are you going to leave him?”

  “I don’t know . . . I shouldn’t have come here.” She headed for the door without a glance toward him. What right did she have to invade his life? Walk onto his emotional plain and stake a claim? Especially for her own comfort.

  Dustin caught her arm. “Whoa, where you going?”

  “Home. Dustin, I can’t barge in here like we hung out last week, crying on your shoulder like you’re my best friend. Do you date? Have a girl? I don’t even know anything about you anymore.”

  He lowered his face to hers. “You know everything about me.”

  One long inhale and his lips would be on hers. “Dustin, I’m—” Her body trembled.

  “I’m achingly aware, Jade.” He released her and stepped back, gaining his composure. “You can impose on me anytime, Jade. I thought that was clear when I showed up at the hospital.” He regarded her for many heavy heartbeats, then whipped his phone from his shirt pocket. “You know what time it is?”

  “What time?” Jade pinched her brow. “I don’t know, around ten thirty.”

  What was with the slick grin? “What are you . . . Oh no, Dustin, no, it’s not that time. Come on, you’re kidding.”

  “Jade-o, I never kid . . .” With the phone to his ear, he searched the shelves along the wall. “Hartline . . . do you know what time it is?”

  A football spiraled toward Jade. “Ack! Dustin.” She almost ducked, but dropped her purse on reflex and snatched the ball in midflight.

  “Way to go. I thought you were going to miss, Fitzgerald.” Benson, Dustin; my name is Benson. “But it’s all right. You’re a little out of practice. We can work with that.”

  He dialed another number. “This is exactly what you need, Jade-o. Get rid of the weight of the world. Put the light back in your eyes. Help you forget about your husband, your mama . . . just for tonight, it’s game on. Midnight football. All that other crap doesn’t exist. Brill, man, it’s midnight football.”

  The idea appealed like Christmas morning. No troubles. No worries. Peace on her earth. If only for a few hours. She passed him the ball.

  “Game on.”

  Midnight football was Dustin’s invention, and the reason Jade understood what it felt like to laugh until it hurt.

  He cradled her with his shoulder. “In the bright light of morning when your body is so sore from using muscles you forgot existed, your brain won’t care about all the problems, Fitzgerald.” Dustin warmed her temple with a kiss.

  Benson, I’m a Benson. Still chatting with Brill, Dustin dug around in a metal cabinet. Flags and cones and one muddy set of cleats flew out and hit the floor. “Yeah . . . call Spence . . . okay, but tell Susie she can’t call time-out because she broke a nail . . . I know, but once is one time too many. No . . . Jade. Yeah. Jade. Fitzgerald. She’s in town.”

  “Benson,” she said out loud this time.

  “Good.” Dustin gazed over at her. “Yeah, she’s really good. Okay, see you in twenty. And bring the Boss.” Dustin ended the call, grabbed a gym bag, and stuffed the flags and cones inside. “I’ll drive you to your house to change; then we can go out to the field. Bring you back here for your truck.”

  “Sounds like a plan. Convoluted, but a plan.” She followed him, carrying a set of cones to his truck. “Dustin, aren’t we too old for this?”

  “Hush. We are never too old for midnight football.” Dustin opened the passenger door and gave Jade his football face—narrowed eyes, tight jaw, jutted chin. “Get your head in the game, Fitzgerald, and let’s play some smashmouth fooootballllll!”

  Twenty-two

  June hovered by Jade’s bedroom door, arms folded over her waist, wearing a charmeuse robe. “Where are you going so late?”

  “To play.” Off with the nice top and sweater, on with the T-shirt and UT sweats. “How’s Mama?”

  “Sleeping. Play what? With who?”

  “Football. With old friends.” Jade tied on her first sneaker.

  “Football? At this hour? It’s nearly eleven o’clock.”

  “Midnight football, June. It’s played at night. The later the better. Thus, the name, ‘midnight football.’ Dustin is waiting for me downstairs.” With her second shoe on, Jade straightened the legs of her sweats and situated the gathered hem over her socks. “Where’s Reb?”

  “Flew back home. Jade, is it wise to be going around with—”

  “My ex-husband?” Jade searched her toiletries bag for a ponytail holder. “We’re playing football on a public field with other people. I want to laugh, scream, run around, smash some heads, score touchdowns, and forget.”

  “Forget Max? Your responsibilities? You’re not a kid anymore, Jade.” June leaned against the door frame. “Mercy, so you’ve had a bad few weeks. So what? You have a husband who loves you, and—”

  “Loves me? Like Rebel loves you?” Her ponytail was too high and tight. Jade loosened the tie and started over. “All the misery he’s put you through because he wasn’t a hundred percent sure Max was his son.”

  “You heard.” June’s voice was flat and thin.

  “We can hear the ants picnicking in these walls.”

  “Max doesn’t know, Jade. About Bill.” The soles of June’s slippers scraped over the hardwood, then the area rug, as she entered the room.

  “Of course he doesn’t. Your family is all about secrets. Why would any of us want to know the truth?” Jade tossed her hairbrush to the dresser.

  “There’s no reason for him to know.” June’s features were taut and dark.

  “Except another man might be his father.” Jade snatched her jacket from the bed and stepped around June for the door. “A paternity test could put it all to rest, June.”

  “Rebel doesn’t want it. Look down your sleek nose all you want, Jade, but for all Reb’s faults, he raised Max like his own flesh and blood and never once wavered. If it took enduring years of infidelity to be the brunt of his anger about Bill Novak so he could embrace my son as his own without prejudice, then so be it. It was worth it.”

  “I guess I’m not the martyr you want me to be, June.” Jade exited into the hall, then paused to face her. “I’m not going to live like you. Life is too short. And I don’t have a son to consider. This is about Max and me, not you and Reb, so don’t pull me down into your brand of crap. Now, if you’ll excuse me, my friends are waiting.” Jade jogged down the stairs.

  “If you fall in love with that boy again, Jade”—June trailed her—“you won’t know which way is up. Tonight it’s football, tomorrow a lunch. He’ll get close . . .”

  Jade jerked open the front door. Lights from Dustin’s truck reached across the ground, barely touching the edge of the porch. “Don’t you dare make me out to be like you.”

  “You think I planned to fall in love with Bill? Planned to have an affair? When I married Rebel, it was for life. I’d be faithful and true-blue. I was a Christian woman, for pity’s sake; how on earth would I ever find myself in another man’s bed? But I did, Jade.”

  “I’m not going to Dustin’s bedroom.”

  “Really? Just how did you end up at his house in the first place?” She took hold of Jade’s shoulders. “Think about what you’re doing, Jade. You’re mad, upset. Things are messed up. Your in-laws have secrets. Your husband betrayed your trust. Your own desire for children has borne emptiness. But going back to Dustin isn’t going to make it right. It will only make it worse.”

  “You think you know me, June? Think you can understand what it’s like to be barren? To discover your husband gave another woman the one thing you wanted most? Oh, wait, you did that to Reb. Gave another man the son your husband wanted.”

  “Max is Rebel’s son. Goodness, how can you not see it?”

  “On top of it all, my mother is dying.” Jade snapped her shoulders out of June’s grasp. “So I’m ending this conversation and going to pla
y football. And if Dustin happens to flirt with me, I might just flirt back. But I won’t end up in his bed.”

  June crossed her arms, arresting Jade with her steely glare. “Well, since you’re so good at breaking down everyone’s issues, are you planning on telling Dustin the truth about you?” She lifted her eyebrows. “That you aborted his child?”

  “I don’t think it’s any of your business, June.” Jade stood on the threshold. “Do you live to make people as miserable as you, June?”

  “Who says I’m miserable? I’m just asking a question. You accused me of secrets in such a self-righteous tone. I’m merely reminding you of your own.”

  Did she find pleasure in this? Chaining Jade to her pitiful wall? Jade glanced toward Dustin waiting in his idling truck. “I just want to play football, June. Maybe when my present makes sense, I’ll be able to bear the burden of my past.”

  “Before we play, we’ll review the rules for Jade.” Dustin motioned to the fifty-yard line as he walked toward the end zone. The PCM Mustang’s floodlights lit up the field. “And for Susie, because she forgets the rules from week to week.”

  “Don’t talk smack to me, Colter.” Susie walked under Dustin’s nose. “You change the rules every time we play. However, I can recall the periodic table and recite pi out twenty decimals. Can you?”

  He smacked her head with the football. “Geek.”

  “Blockhead.”

  Jade laughed, feeling both shy and elated to be with friend-friends. Any jitters about meeting Hartline’s math and science teacher girlfriend ceased with Dustin’s teasing and her rebuttal. She could hang with Susie, a petite brunette with long, dark hair flowing out from under a wool cap.

  “Susie, this is Jade.” Dustin walked backward toward Hart’s truck. “Jade, Susie.”

  “So you’re Jade.” Susie offered her cold hand, shivering.

  “The one and only.” Why did she say Jade? Like she knew a secret.

  “I’ll say.” Susie smiled as she stared to where the boys worked to light a fire in the fifty-gallon drum, her arms still wrapped around her torso as she shivered. “Dustin talks about you like you’re still in his life.”