And a minute later I heard the sound of his diesel truck grumbling softly as he took his leave.
***
I went to work every day that week. I ate hardly a bite of food, only drank enough to keep me alive. By Friday Al and Mary were ready to conduct an intervention.
“Patty, you’ve done a world of good here,” Mary told me, stroking my hair as I sat at my desk, face buried in my arms. By noon I had given up all pretense of trying to work, as I had all week, and just let my head drop. “So many families have refused to sell to Overland because of your efforts. Yours and Al’s. You two should be proud of yourselves.”
“Thanks, Mary,” I muttered.
Al came near and said, “Tish, if you’re hurting this badly…”
I raised my head then and lied, “I’m just fine. Just fine.”
Al made me go home at three-thirty, where I crumpled on the floor near my couch this time. I was in no way trying to be dramatic; it was just where my legs happened to give out. Maybe three hours passed and I was half-asleep when the phone rang near my ear, where it had fallen. Somehow I knew I needed to take this phone call, even in my semi-conscious state. I fumbled and brought it to my field of view, heart speeding up to see a Chicago number. Peaches was curled near my belly, as usual.
I cleared my throat but still sounded like a pack-a-day smoker when I answered on the fourth ring, “Patricia Gordon.”
“Miss Gordon?” asked a cultured female voice. “Hello there, this is Ginny Tinsdale, calling from Turnbull, Hinckley and Associates. How are you this evening?”
“Wonderful,” I said, hitching myself to a sitting position. My mouth was dry as sandpaper.
“Glad to hear it,” she said cheerfully, ignoring the way my tone contradicted the word. “I apologize for contacting you so late on a Friday, but you were unavailable yesterday and then earlier today. I am calling on behalf of the partners here. They would like to invite you to return to Chicago to personally accept a position here at our firm. Pending your passage of the bar exam, of course.”
A position here at our firm…
Oh God…
‘Moment of clarity’ were the words that flashed through my mind right then. I sat there on the floor of my apartment, shaking and with a cold chill across my gut, stunned at what I had almost let happen, what I had almost done. Here with my dream job offer literally at my fingertips. Oh God, what had I almost done? How could I have come so close to the brink this way?
Oh God…
“Miss Gordon?” asked the voice in Chicago, when it was apparent that I wasn’t immediately responding.
“Please tell Mr. Turnbull that I decline, respectfully,” I said, and for the first time in nearly a week I was able to draw a full breath, knowing that I had done what I was meant to do; I had finally made the right choice, for once in my life. I said, “Please tell him that I’ve accepted another offer, to work for Mr. Howe, here in Jalesville.”
There was a startled silence coming back to my ear, before she said, in a completely different tone, a tone of shock, “Will do, Miss Gordon. You…have a nice evening.”
“Thank you,” I said.
I will, oh God, I will now.
I rolled to all fours and then to my feet, almost stumbling as I ran to my bedroom, stripping free of my crumpled work clothes and then into jean shorts and a t-shirt, grabbing the first one I saw. I hit the bathroom only to brush my teeth as fast as I could, shaking out my loose hair with my fingers. My eyes were red-rimmed, with terrible smudges beneath, but I couldn’t worry about that right now, not when I had to get to Case as fast as I could.
Call him!
I did, grabbing my keys along the way, slipping into my green flip-flops. I told Peaches, “Be a good girl,” as Case’s phone rang and rang, my heart slicing through my ribs in the silence between each ring. He didn’t answer; it went to an automated message and then I was running, out the door and to my car, fumbling the keys from my purse, dropping them, my heart alive again within me.
Seconds later dust flew in a powdery cloud behind my car as I drove over gravel roads, flew really, out to Ridge Road in the late-evening light; only the thought of the animals slowed me down in his yard. I parked, heart thrusting so hard I put a hand over it, jumping from the car. Mutt and Tiny came tumbling and I hugged them close, calling, “Case! Are you here?”
I ran to the screen door, tugging to find it locked. To the barn next, stepping out of my shoes so that I could move more quickly, my voice becoming almost frantic as I continued to call for him. Cider and Buck snorted and nickered at me, but I could not waste a moment. Back outside and under the setting sun several things dawned upon me.
Tish, his truck isn’t here.
Calm down. Get a grip on yourself.
It’s Garth and Becky’s party tonight, at The Spoke, remember?
You weren’t going to go, but that’s where he’ll be.
Right. Calm down, drive back to town.
Main Street was already beneath the Honda’s tires when I realized I hadn’t put on my shoes; they were still outside the barn.
Who cares?
Just get there.
The amount of cars and trucks at The Spoke only caused my blood pressure to rise, as I couldn’t immediately tell if Case’s truck was mixed amongst the others. I parked, the ground prickly beneath my bare feet. Certainty had overtaken me, and pure need, and I needed to tell him the truth. I needed to tell Case that I was in love with him and that I was never planning to leave his side ever again.
Oh God.
I burst through the front door of the little bar and grill. Inside it was chaotic with people drinking, dancing to the current musicians, who were playing something wild and raucous, lots of fiddle. There was a bunch of helium balloons on the bar and I saw the Rawley boys from across the room. Many, many greetings were called my way, smiles and hellos; someone asked why I wasn’t wearing shoes, but I had no time for anything but finding Case. He was not in sight.
Where, where, where?
The back entrance!
I darted outside again, into the gathering dusk, raced around the far side of the building and ran smack into the sight of Case and Garth, twenty paces away. My heart seized up to observe Case sitting on a chair he’d dragged outside, curled forward, his fiddle bow held lengthwise against his face, shoulders hunched. His hat was on the ground near his boots. Garth was bent near him, guitar in hand, speaking fervently to his friend, one hand upon Case’s shoulder.
Oh God.
I had done this to him, and to myself.
“Case,” I said, my throat rough, and he jerked at the sound of my voice, as though I had run him through with something unimaginably sharp. Garth turned to regard me more slowly. My heart became even more frantic as Case watched me silently for the space of a few seconds; he had been crying, quietly and devastatingly.
I ran to him, but he had already stood up, turned from me.
“Wait,” I begged him, catching at him, but he jerked roughly from my grip. I hadn’t seen him in almost a week, but I was determined that I would see him every day and night for the rest of my life, come hell or high water. Starting immediately.
Garth caught my upper arm lightly in his grip, preventing my forward motion, while Case disappeared into The Spoke without a backward glance at me, door closing behind him. I struggled furiously, telling him, “Let me go.”
“Hey,” Garth said intently, obviously angry. “Leave him alone. You can’t do this to him. Just go. He’s a fucking wreck.”
I knew Garth loved his friend and was only protecting him. Further, I realized this was Garth’s anniversary party and that I should probably say congratulations at the very least, but instead I yanked from his light grip and decided I would explain everything later, darting at once to try and open the door through which Case had just disappeared, only to find it locked.
“Garth,” I begged.
He shook his head at me and I couldn’t waste time right here. I turned
in a panic and ran back around the side of the bar. There was a huge cluster of people jamming the door.
Goddammit…move…
“Excuse me,” I said breathlessly.
“Tish, you aren’t wearing shoes,” I heard.
There was some laughter but I didn’t care, elbowing rudely through the crush of bodies. It was like being in a nightmare. Barefoot, wild-eyed, I made it around and into the bar in time to see Case and Garth emerge from backstage, probably ready to play next. Dammit. I knew Garth could have let me in the back door. Case was wearing his hat but I could still tell that his eyes zeroed in right upon me. I was prepared to storm the stage, but it was so crowded. People kept trying to talk to me. Someone else asked why I wasn’t wearing shoes.
And then another hand caught my upper arm.
“What a sight you make,” said Derrick Yancy, and I spun to face him, ready to claw at him for touching me in any fashion, but most especially right now. In my mind I saw him as he’d looked at the Coyote’s Den calling me a whore, later threatening me in the parking lot at Stone Creek, and then in my nightmares, smashing me across the face.
He saw the unchecked rage in my eyes, as his eyebrows lifted. My voice shook as I demanded, “How can you show your face here?”
He showed his teeth in a smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. He said calmly, “I told you I wanted to talk to you. And so you will come outside with me, right now.”
“You fucker,” I said, all of the loathing I felt for him, fair or not, surging into my voice. “You broke into my apartment, didn’t you? What were you trying to find? I know you’re trying to scare me, but you haven’t!”
“Jesus, let’s not make a scene,” he said smoothly, putting his mouth close to my ear. “Come outside with me.”
“No,” I told him, through gritting teeth, tugging at his grip.
“I insist,” he said. “Before you go back to Chicago, as I’ve heard you are doing this week, I insist.”
“Let me fucking go!” I raged, and even with the loud music and raucous chatter all around us, more than one head spun our way. And then, abruptly, my world narrowed to a single focal point.
I saw him coming, setting people roughly to the side, and everything inside me lunged forcefully towards him. Case reached us and without one wasted movement, wrapped his right hand around Derrick’s forearm and forcibly removed his grip from me.
“You fucking son of a bitch, touch her again and I will kill you where you stand,” Case said low, through clenched teeth. He was breathing hard, shoulders heaving.
Derrick, clearly flustered, spat out, “Are you threatening me? Fuck you.”
“No, fuck you,” Case said, low and deadly, and with those words he turned from Derrick as though he was no longer worth a moment’s time. Without so much as looking at me, he began walking away, shoving through the door and out towards the parking lot. I took off after him at once, through the doors and into the twilight.
“Case!” I begged, getting my hands around his shirt, but he yanked free and began jogging away from me. My feet hurt like hell on the rough ground but I ran in frantic pursuit, spying his truck no more than fifty feet away. My keys were in my own car, but it was more than twice that distance in the other direction. He would get to his truck and then he would drive away from me. I would not allow that to happen again.
“Stop!” I begged him. He reached his truck first and I ran faster. I slammed myself against the driver’s side door, breathing hard and furious, blocking his way. His eyes were still deadly as he regarded me, but I held my ground.
“Case, oh God, don’t go — don’t go without me,” I gasped out.
“I’m done,” he said flatly. “Done. I can’t. I’m fucking destroyed. Are you happy?”
I reached for him, but he sidestepped my hands. He raged, “Don’t touch me. What are you fucking doing? What the hell can you possibly want from me?”
I was infuriated at the tears in my throat and gushing over my face, as they inhibited my voice. I gasped, “You, I want you. Oh God…I turned down the job…in Chicago…”
He put his hands to his forehead, pressing hard. I had already done so much damage to his heart that my own felt broken, in response. I moved swiftly then, getting my arms around his waist, determined to tell him, even if I had to wrestle him to the ground. He shifted then, suddenly, and took my face into his hands, pressing his thumbs to my bottom lip.
“These are my lips,” he said before I could speak, his voice low and harsh, his eyes driving forcefully into mine. “And no one else will ever kiss them again.”
I trembled against him, needing him so much that it beat at me like curled fists. I pressed so close to him that I could feel his heart thrusting against me.
“Do you understand?” he asked, just above a whisper.
I nodded with a jerk of my chin and told him the truth at last, clinging to him as I said, “Case, I love you, oh God, I love you.”
“Tell me you mean that,” he ordered hoarsely, rigid with tension in my arms. “Tell me you mean it.”
“Case,” I whispered painfully, but I understood just what I had put him through, and I deserved every word he was saying. I told him intently, “I mean it. Case, I love you.”
His eyes.
Nothing had ever felt more right than the joy that burst through my soul in that moment, seeing how my words affected him. Hot tears that recognized the pain I had caused both of us spilled over my face. I held him as hard as I could.
“I’m in love with you,” I told him and my heart thrust fiercely as he closed his eyes and breathed in hard. I caught his face between my hands and implored around the lump in my throat, “I don’t want the job in Chicago. I already told them I’m not taking it. I don’t want to leave because I never want to be away from you, ever again.”
“Tish,” he whispered my name, and his voice was hoarse. He cupped my face in his hands, his thumbs moving softly along my skin. “I told myself I could live without you, that I’ve faced worse things, but nothing is worse than the thought of that. Not one thing.”
I pulled him back to me, hugging him with all of my strength. He stroked his hands through my hair and I put my lips to his right ear, kissing him, caressing him with both hands as I said, “I love you, oh God, I love you. I love how you sing and how you love your horses, and how you touch your instruments. I love the man you are. I can’t imagine being without you for one more moment.” I kissed his lips then, hard, before whispering, “Please tell me that you can forgive me for being so stupid, so blind.”
He said, low and husky, “You. You are all that I need in this world.” He used both thumbs to brush aside my tears and then asked softly, “Will you come with me, right now?”
I nodded, kissing his chin, his jaw, breathing against him. He bent enough to lift me into his arms, carrying me to his truck, using one hand to open the door, setting me gently on the seat.
“Come in this way,” I told him, tugging him after me. “I can’t bear to let go of you.”
He climbed in directly after me, keeping me close to his side as he started the engine and drove us out of the parking lot.
“Is this happening?” he whispered hoarsely. I took the hat from his head, setting it aside and then getting my arms around his neck, holding him close.
“I’m so sorry I hurt you,” I whispered, kissing his temple, his cheek, warm and wet with tears, his jaw, the side of his neck. Words poured from me as I told him, “I was going to tell you that night, in your yard…” My heart clenched in pain at the thought of that. I rushed on, “I was afraid. But there’s nothing more frightening than the rest of my life without you. Oh God, I’ve been dying without you. You have to know that. Dying.”
He took the truck straight over the dark roads to his place. The moment it was parked he caught me forcefully to him, kissing me deeply, his hands tangled into my hair. I clutched his shoulders, tasting him, needing nothing more in the world than this.
“I di
dn’t think I could go on another moment,” he whispered painfully. Through the open windows of the truck, we heard Cider and Buck at the corral, nickering at us. I laughed then, through my tears, as the dogs jumped up on the truck.
“They’re welcoming me home, I think,” I said, around the lump in my throat.
“That’s exactly what they’re doing,” he said hoarsely. He stroked gently over my arm, where Derrick had gripped me, and whispered, “Did he hurt you?”
“No,” I assured him.
“When I looked up and saw you outside, just a little while ago, I thought maybe I was hallucinating,” he said. “I couldn’t bear to hope that it was really you.”
I clung to him and explained, “I can’t go on without you, not one more day.”
“It’s the same for me,” he whispered back, pressing soft, tender kisses to every part of my bare skin near him, my shoulders, my neck, my eyelids, the corner of my mouth, my ears. I held fast to him, running my hands repeatedly over his hair.
“There’s something…” I whispered and he drew back to cup my face, listening intently. I said, almost shyly, “There’s something I want us to do. Can we ride Cider? Together, I mean? I’ve been imagining that…”
“You have?” he whispered. “Oh God, I would love to ride her with you. I would love that with all my heart.”
He lifted me from the truck and carried me to the corral; secure in his arms, I put my own around Cider’s warm neck, kissing her.
“Hey there,” I said, stroking her. “I’ve missed you.” And then to Buck, “You too, buddy.”
Case kissed her between the eyes and asked her, “You want to take a ride with Tish and me, sweet girl? How would that be?”
“I don’t have on the right kind of clothes,” I worried, getting my arms back around Case’s neck. I curled my fingers into his hair and he grinned at me, sending heat and sparks all through my center. I said softly, “I don’t even have my shoes.”
“You’re perfect,” he whispered. “We won’t ride long.”
In the corral he set me gently to the ground and then said, “Let me help you up.”
The First Law of Love Page 33