The First Law of Love

by Abbie Williams

  “How about if I pick you up after work today and we’ll drive out there? While it’s daylight, I mean. You said your car wasn’t working…”

  I would not acknowledge the bursting bloom of undiluted joy as he suggested this. I would not. I said offhandedly, “I can be done by three, I’m sure Al wouldn’t mind. How about you?”

  “I have one last lesson at two, then I’m free,” he said. “I’ll take a look at your car when I’m done.”

  “You don’t have to do that,” I told him at once.

  He shrugged. “No big deal.”

  We had reached the front of the law office. Case drew the truck to the shoulder and put it into park. Not wanting him to go to the trouble, knowing he would take the time to climb out and open my door, I hurried to say, “I got it this time.” Over my shoulder I added sincerely, “Thank you.”

  “See you later,” he said, and I resisted the urge to look back as I stepped to the sidewalk and entered the little office, under the tingle of the bell. I was all shaky; as he drove away, I turned and all but pressed my nose to the glass to watch his maroon truck roll down Main Street.

  “See you later,” I whispered in response.

  At quarter to three I was in the back storage room when I heard Mary say brightly, “Well if it isn’t Charles Spicer. What a nice surprise!”

  “Afternoon, Mrs. Stapleton,” he said, deep voice with the sound of a smile. I pressed the knuckles of my left hand to my lips, my bloodstream surging. I drew a full breath, not without difficulty, and then stepped back around the corner into the main room. Case’s eyes moved directly to me, though there was nothing on his face but utter politeness. His eyes didn’t flash a pulse of heat into mine.

  Not one bit…

  He was wearing his hat, sunglasses hooked on the collar of his t-shirt, creating a little gap that exposed the line of his collarbones along the top of his chest. I wondered if he had red-gold hair there too, and if his freckles continued over his chest…

  “Is young Mr. Spicer your beau, Patty?” Mary asked, clearly delighted at the prospect, clasping her be-ringed hands and smiling between the two of us.

  Case, angled away from her to look at me, asked without sound, Patty?

  I hid a giggle by biting my lip. I said to Mary, “He’s helping me out with my car, actually.” And then I couldn’t resist adding, “Charles and I are just friends.”

  Yes, friends, we’re friends.

  Nothing more.

  “Ha ha,” he muttered, narrowing his eyes at me even as he couldn’t quite contain a smile. He explained, “I came to get your keys.”

  “They’re in my purse,” I said, moving to grab them. “And thank you again.”

  Al came through the door just then, saying merrily, “Afternoon, everyone! Tish, my dear, I just had three separate people tell me that they think it’s wonderful that you’re going to take over Howe and James when I retire.”

  I giggled at this, digging through my purse. I said, “Could it be you who started that rumor?”

  “Oh, it was me,” Mary declared, unashamed. “I’ve been telling everyone that very thing.”

  “Mary,” I complained, but half-heartedly. I could just picture her, like a woman who operated one of those old switchboard telephones, the kind where you could listen to any conversation in town, fueling the rumor mill. I found my keys and Case collected them from my hands, seeming to study me with extra speculation before he tipped his hat once more to Mary and headed outside.

  “Well, you tell me the minute you decide that very thing,” Al said, winking as he shed his sport coat and headed for his desk.

  I shook my head at the idea of them hoping for this, something that could never actually be, and went back to work. I was, however, so terribly conscious of Case right out in the parking lot and working over my car that I was nearly useless. No more than a couple of minutes ticked by before I said to Al, “Do you mind if I take off a little early?”

  He was on the phone and nodded distractedly. Covering the mouthpiece, he told me, “That’s fine.”

  Out in the lowering sun, I rounded the building to see Case bent over the open hood. I barely curbed the fierce urge to race to his side and slide my arms around his waist, bury my face against him.

  “So, do I need a new car?” I asked as I came up on his right side.

  “It’s just your battery,” he said, straightening to his full height and leaning one thigh against the side of my car, his hands slightly stained, probably from checking the oil. “You left the headlights on. Don’t worry. The battery is an easy fix.”

  The sun cut across my eyes as I looked at him. I said, “Thank you. Apparently I’m a moron. I really appreciate the help.”

  He didn’t look back at me as he shrugged and said, his tone implying that he didn’t have anything better to do with a little downtime, “Sure thing.” He wiped his hands on the sides of his jeans and said, “Besides, you could very well be saving my property and that’s no small thing,” echoing my words from earlier today.

  I shaded my eyes to see him better. Still he wasn’t looking exactly at me. I wanted to grab his face in my hands and make him. I whispered, “It’s my job.”

  “Here, I’ll close the hood,” he said, which forced me to step back. He did so and then said, “Let’s get you a battery, first thing, and then we’ll drive out and you can show me the spot.”

  We walked across the street to the hardware and auto parts store, where I recognized the clerk, Ken Nelson, from The Spoke, where he’d been chatting with Clark, and last Tuesday’s meeting.

  “Fine afternoon, ain’t it?” he asked us. “Patricia, how’re you enjoying Jalesville?”

  “Wonderfully,” I said, quite honestly.

  “We need a battery for that little white Honda across the street, the ’97 Accord,” Case said, leaning his hip against the counter. He looked all lanky and sexy, his jeans dirty with motor oil.

  “I’ll see what I have,” Ken said, and went to look.

  Case leaned a little closer to me, which made my heart all the more erratic and said, low, “His daughter is Katie.”

  I giggled, whispering back, “Of the bleacher kissing?”

  Case sent me his half-grin and nodded, and my eyes detoured straight to his lips; with no more than a few inches I could have been hardware-store-counter kissing him.

  “Here we go!” Ken heralded, and I snapped my eyes to safer terrain.

  Back outside, Case carrying my new battery, which I’d had to insist on paying for, as Ken wanted to make it a gift (a welcome-to-town sort of thing), he said, “I don’t have my tools here. I’ll get them from my place when we head over there.”

  I felt incomprehensibly happy at this gift of extra, unexpected time with him, and did not want to waste even one millisecond. But I felt like I had to say, “You really don’t have to do that. I mean, I feel guilty…can I at least pay you?”

  We had reached his truck, parked in front of the law office, and he said, “That’s just plain insulting.”

  I guess I was good at that, though he politely refrained from saying so; I was thinking of exactly what I had once said to him, at my sister’s wedding, and even though his eyes were hidden by his sunglasses, I was somehow certain he had the same evening in mind. I wondered if he would ever mention any of that while I was here; I was far, far too chicken.

  “I didn’t mean…” I faltered, and then jumped ahead to get the driver’s side door for him. Smiling over my shoulder, I said, “Here, it’s the least I can do.”

  He was wearing his impassable face again, but he did say, “Thanks,” as he deposited his armload behind the front seat and I hurried around the hood to let myself into his truck. Already I felt much too at home, at ease, settling onto the leather of the seat.

  Case started the engine and I asked, “What do you think about Yancy’s claim that he had an ancestor who was cheated out of land?”

  “I was hoping to talk to you about that,” he said. “I had
all these things I wanted your opinion on the other night.”

  You did? I marveled. I said honestly, “Me too, with you.”

  “I’m curious just what he’s using to make that claim. Documents, letters, family stories, what?”

  “That’s a good question,” I agreed. “I admit I wasn’t expecting that. But Case,” and I loved saying his name so much I nearly said it again (and I was sure I was not imagining that he liked it too), “I know there’s a connection between the timing of the plant closing and the company sweeping in here.”

  “I agree with you, but it may just be that they caught wind and saw an opportunity,” he said. “It could be nothing more than a sharp business sense.”

  I said, “But I know it’s not. I promised Al I wouldn’t rest until I found out.”

  Case angled a look my way. He said, “You’re dedicated. I respect that very much.”

  Pleasure that he would say so rippled all through me, warm and sweet as melted chocolate. I replied, my voice far softer than normal, “Thank you. I appreciate that.”

  There was a beat of something between us, the awareness of a powerful, thrumming connection. I felt tight in the chest and thought I might die, and there was no exaggeration in that notion, if I didn’t touch him at once.

  I knew he felt the same, I knew it to my bones, as his hands tightened on the steering wheel. I let myself study him from the corner of my eye and yearning clamped my body into an immediate and intense stranglehold.

  And so it was that I found myself asking something totally ridiculous, to cover the intensity of my emotions, “So, how long is the winter out here?”

  He answered in the same tone, quietly, “The old-timers have a saying: when summer heads back up the mountains, it meets winter coming down.”

  “Sounds like northern Minnesota,” I said. I swallowed and then asked, “Do you ski and snowmobile, all that stuff?”

  “Some,” he said. “The worst part is that I can’t get out to ride as much as I’d like. It gets a little claustrophobic.”

  “I remember that from Landon,” I said, as we cleared the town and the landscape stretched to the horizon on all sides, gorgeous, giving away no secrets at all. “That’s when it’s great to have the café, especially. Everyone gathers there and hangs out and passes the time.”

  “It sounds like you have a close family,” he said. “That’s such an important thing. Gus and I are pretty far apart in age. Sometimes I feel like he thinks of me as a second dad.”

  “But you always took care of him, so that makes sense,” I said, without thinking, and could have bitten through my tongue. Case didn’t know that Clark had told me so very much about his past.

  I sensed his gaze upon me for a second, though I kept mine nervously out the windshield. He said, “Yeah, I suppose that’s pretty obvious. Our own father was not the world’s best role model. And Faye Rawley was more like a mother to him than anyone. I loved her too, but she couldn’t replace my mom.”

  “How did she die?” I asked him quietly.

  “Faye, or my mother?” he asked.

  “Yours,” I said.

  “She was sick. To be quite honest, I don’t know all the details. I know she had some kind of genetic abnormality that her own mother has passed to her, a defect in her heart valves. It was how Grandma Dalton died, too. Even though we didn’t go much to the doctor, she made sure Gus and me were checked for it.”

  “And?” I could hardly speak the word.

  “They said we checked out all right at the time,” he said.

  His heart. Oh God…

  He had once tried to give his heart to me, and I had not only handed it right back to him, I had thrown it across the ballroom at White Oaks Lodge. My own seemed as tiny and shriveled as a raisin, at just the thought of my own behavior.

  But you didn’t know him then.

  And besides, he doesn’t feel the same way anymore…

  “Well that’s a very good thing,” I told him, my voice low.

  “Aw shit! Look at that!” he said then, in a completely different tone of voice. To my surprise, he braked and pulled to the left side of the road, taking the truck well onto the scrubby edge. He shouldered open his door and called, “C’mon!”

  I scooted after him at once; he was already headed down into the ditch as though drawn by a tractor beam. I hesitated at the edge of the road, in my dress and nylons, heeled sandals. My goddamn ridiculous shoes. Case was standing about twenty feet away, fingers linked together and braced on the top of his hat, looking out towards the distance. I looked that way too and saw a herd of horses, running along fast enough to kick up dust.

  “Oh wow,” I breathed, and forgot all about the inappropriateness of my footwear, hurrying right after him. I was a little winded as I reached his side; he looked to the left, down at me, the lowering sun refracting from his sunglasses, painting his face in amber. He appeared reverent.

  “You don’t see them too often,” he explained. “Isn’t that a sight?”

  “Are they wild?” I asked, shading my eyes from the glare.

  “They are. God, it makes me happy that something still is, you know what I mean? That not every wild creature is locked up in a goddamn zoo.”

  I thought of the Lincoln Park Zoo, back in Chicago, and understood what he meant. Though I had never thought of it that way, it made sense to me.

  “No one tries to round them up? Control them?”

  “No…occasionally a rancher’s horse gets mixed in, and that calls for saddling up, if you want your horse back. Usually the mares, during mating season,” he said, so very matter-of-fact, still studying the horses as they receded into the distance, dust clouding them nearly from view.

  I felt a hot pulse all along my center at his words, peeking over at him as he remained in the same position, his hands braced over his hat. His biceps were amber-tinted in the sunbeams, solid and strong and sharply defined. I felt my jaw bulge as I gritted my teeth, determinedly knocking aside all feelings of raging attraction.

  No use.

  “That makes my whole day,” he said, turning back for the truck.

  “Mine, too,” I muttered, picking my way carefully along the uneven ground. Just behind me, Case stooped to break a twig from a nearby plant.

  “Here, for your car,” he said, offering it to me. “It’s sage.”

  “Thanks,” I said, still terribly unsettled, desire skimming along my skin like the tips of knife blades, just as keen, demanding my attention. I took the sprig from him, oddly as charmed as though he’d offered two dozen red roses. I held it under my nose and inhaled. “Oh, that smells so good.”

  At the truck, I clambered in the driver’s side ahead of him and he took us back out on the road. A minute later we drove past the Rawleys’ place, and then Case took the left on Ridge Road, out towards his own home. I could tell he wasn’t going to question exactly why I had been out here the other night, letting that sleeping dog lie; I was glad, as I couldn’t exactly explain why either, even to myself. I recognized the mailbox, the barn cast now in sunlight, the trailer as rundown as ever.

  Why are you so judgmental? I demanded of myself. Jesus, Tish.

  He parked near the barn and Buck and Cider immediately came loping from its depths. I could tell that the barn was in far better repair than the trailer, appearing to have new shingles. It was constructed of stained wood, unpainted, a split-rail corral circling outward from the west side. A pair of medium-sized black and white dogs, fluffy and with tails wagging madly, came bolting from behind the barn.

  “Get down, guys,” he said, as the dogs leaped up on their hind legs against the truck. He climbed out and bent immediately to one knee to knuckle their heads. The second my feet touched the ground, the dogs raced around the truck and leaped at me, tongues lolling, their bodies wiggling excitedly to displace each other for full attention.

  I leaned to rub their heads with affection; I knew I looked like a snobby city girl, and actually, embarrassingly, cultivat
ed that image, but I truly loved animals. These two reminded me of Grandma’s old labs, Chief and Chester.

  “Guys, come on. Down!” Case ordered, though he was smiling, pulling off his sunglasses and then his hat, swiping the back of one wrist over his forehead before resettling it into place. The dogs obeyed, though they crowded my knees, their brown eyes bright with excitement at this new body in their yard.

  “So, who are these two?” I asked.

  Case indicated with his sunglasses, pointing to one and then the other as he said, “Mutt and Tiny. They’re border collies. Poor guys need sheep to herd.”

  A sleek orange cat leaped atop the highest rail of the corral and walked precisely along, while Cider and Buck stuck their noses out and Cider made a neighing sound, a clear call for attention.

  “What are you talking about? You have a zoo right here,” I teased him, moving to cup Cider’s nose. She blew a breath at me, and I laughed, patting her neck, one hand on either side of her face.

  Case joined me near the corral, scooping the cat into his arms and rubbing a thumb over its head; it began purring as though equipped with a motor. He said, “You know, as a kid I wanted to be a vet more than about anything.”

  “That’s funny, I wanted to be one too, for a long time,” I told him. I nodded at the cat. “Is this everybody?”

  I swore a flush stole over his cheeks, but it was difficult to tell, as he was already so tan and still wearing his hat. He used his free hand to pat Buck’s neck as he said, “No…”

  “Who else?” I asked, rapt with curiosity.

  “I have a rabbit in the barn,” he said. “And a few chickens…”

  “You do?” I giggled at his expression. He looked like a kid, sweet and endearing. I couldn’t resist teasing him, “Do you have a shoebox with a turtle, too?”

  “No, thank you very much,” he said, his tone teasing me back a little. “I like animals, what can I say?”

  “So that wasn’t just an excuse to leave last night,” I said. “You really did have to feed all the animals.”

  He looked at me in complete silence for a moment; my heart hammered hard against my ribs. Only Cider swinging her head in annoyance broke our absorption with one another. Case said, “Whoa there, girl, I’ll get you fed.”