by K. Webster
I stopped, “What did you just call me?”
He shrugged, “Don’t matter.”
I shook my head and continued up the pebbled path that lead to Villa de Scott. “I swear if you start making your t’s sound like d’s and calling me partner I will punch you.”
Brayden patted the top of my head, “Won’t do you no good, I’m bigger and faster than you.”
We fell into silence as we walked. Villa de Scott was my father’s estate he purchased back in ’94 after his four man construction company struck black gold. Claude Scott, my dad, originally planned on building a modest home big enough to raise a happy family of four. While digging a well he hit pay dirt. Decided to scrap the modest house idea in favor of an oil rig and thus C&S Oil was born.
Mom always said that was the beginning of the end for our foursome. Six years after my dad struck it rich, my parents were separated; mom moved back to Palo Alto, dad stayed in Texas. Mom claimed dad valued money over affection and spent her away, as she put it. By the time I was seven, mom and dad were divorced and Brayden and I were shuffled back and forth between mom in California during the school year and summers with dad at Villa de Scott.
Don’t get me wrong, this mansion was tucked back on the most awesome forty acres ever. Lavishly manicured lawns. A pool with rock waterfall that spilled into a spa complete with a swim up bar which was fully stocked at all times. There were plush couches or hammocks and several cabanas to recover from the Texas sun. There was a juniper maze with a golden fountain at the center of it. Lush lawns and trees, so many trees that you couldn't make out the red brick walls or white columns at the entrance of the mansion from the path until you were right at the door.
Living with dad at one time was a constant argument between me and mom. I begged every year for mom to let me stay the whole summer instead of two weeks. Back then all I thought about were killer parties and all the hotties I’d invite. It took two years of begging before mom gave in and let me stay a whole summer. After the first month, I was begging mom to come and get me and take me back home. Yes, I partied, and yes I had my brother, but none of that stopped the teasing from other kids. Only here rich kids teased me about being nouveau riche, instead of teasing me about seeing ghosts.
Brayden bumped my shoulder pulling me from my thoughts. “You ready to tell me yet what crawled up your ass and died?”
“What do you think?” I asked bumping him back.
“Mom.”
I didn’t like how his tone got weepy when he said it. “What about her?” That sounded snappy.
Brayden put an arm around my shoulders, “It’s just us, could you put bitchy Maddie away for a bit?”
What can I say, as a big brother Brayden was as great as he was a giant pain in the ass. I sighed into his embrace, “What do you think happened between them?”
“I don’t know.”
I leaned my head on his shoulder, “I wish I didn’t care, but I wanted him there you know, needed him there. I had to cancel my documentary photography class with Kari Winters. Do you know how hard it was to get into that class? She’s huge. And for what? To deliver a box to someone who doesn’t even care. Uncle Ollie is such a shit …”
Brayden squeezed my shoulder, “I know.”
I looked up at him, “Did you know he wasn’t going?”
Brayden nodded.
“You’ve talked to him?”
Brayden nodded again. What, cat got your tongue?
“And you didn’t tell me? Did he tell you what happened between him and mom?”
“No. We didn’t really talk about her.”
“Now you’re referring to mom as her? What’s next, you’ll forget her altogether?”
“Come on Maddie, I didn’t mean it like that. Why are you twisting everything I say?”
“When Uncle Ollie wrote mom off he wrote us off too.”
“Maddie there’s two sides to every story.”
“And now you’re defending him to me!” My anger was about to get the best of me.
“Stop it. Stop making me the enemy. I’m not.” I tried to pull away but Brayden held firm. “Maddie, I’m taking over.”
“What?”
“A couple of months ago dad came to me and told me he wants to make me the CFO when he steps down. Apparently, he told Uncle Ollie, who called to congratulate me sort of.” We’d reached the porch to the house now and Brayden stopped short, “We got to talking and he extended an olive branch. He’s called a couple times since.”
“Dad talks to Uncle Ollie?”
“I guess.”
I ran my hands through my hair yanking on the roots until the tingling eased the headache forming. “Let me see if I got this, dad’s making you the CFO of C&S Oil, dad talks to Uncle Ollie who is now talking to you.”
“Yeah.”
“Is this like dad’s way of bribing you to stay when you finish school instead of coming back home?”
Brayden looked off to the Southeast corner of the property, “It’s a company, Maddie, not a damned TV show.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“Meaning, familial ties aside, dad ain’t doing nothing unless it benefits the company.”
“And you benefit the company?” Brayden met my gaze and if I weren’t mistaken, I’d wounded him. “I don’t mean it like that it’s just you’re twenty-two, do you know how to run a company? Do you even want to run his company?” I figured when Brayden graduated he’d move back to Palo Alto, back to me.
“I think I do, I mean in theory, well yeah I do. I’ve been working with him in the office on Fridays and last year I changed my major to business communications …”
“You didn’t tell me. Did you tell mom?”
“No, I didn’t want to piss her off. You know how she gets—got with things involving dad.”
“Can you blame her? Dad dumped her, dumped us, for the pursuit of money. Now you’re acting all sneaky and underhanded, much like dear old dad.” Brayden was going to desert me.
“I’m not hiding anything.”
“You sure as hell could have fooled me.”
Brayden swung his arms wide, “Fuck this,” he said, “I’m out, go pick a fight with someone else.” He gave me a one finger salute and turned away from the porch, heading instead, towards the horse stables. “I know you like to covet mom as though it was you and her against the world, but she was my mom and I lost her too,” he hollered over his shoulder as he walked away.
I kicked at the pebbles. “I shouldn’t have come.”
Okay maybe Brayden wasn’t the enemy, but I couldn’t help it, I was jealous. Uncle Ollie was speaking to him, dad wanted to make him CFO and Gram favored him. Unlike Brayden who got along with everyone, I only felt connected to our mom. And now mom was gone. I stared up at the front door debating whether to go inside. I could go to my room and hide out until this trip was over or go apologize to Brayden.
“Dammit,” I hollered and kicked at the pebbles. “I fucking hate this place!”
“Is everything okay?”
The baritone voice startled me. I didn’t recognize it. I spun to see a man walking up to me. “You must be Matilda, Brayden’s little sister, right?”
I started at his scuffed boots, skimmed over his dark jeans (not too tight but covered in dust), black and white checkered flannel (that too was covered in dust) up to his face, which was masked by the shadows of his trucker hat.
“Excuse me, you are?”
“Sorry, how rude of me,” he snatched off his hat and held out his hand to me, “name’s Wesley, ma’am. Wesley Thompson.”
Without the hat I could see his face. Cropped black hair, brown eyes and a fine spray of stubble along his chin, probably took a week or two to get it there, and a mole beside his right eye. He was flirt-worthy but he had such a soft face. By the look of him I could go to jail for flirting with him, but damn if his voice didn’t throw me off.
Keep it casual. I took his hand, “Yeah that’s me, Maddie the l
ittle sister.”
“When’d you all get here?” He put his hat back on.
His baby face and sexy voice were jarring.
“Just now, I think anyways.” I continued twirling my toe in the gravel trying not to look at him, “So, Wesley, did you hear any of that?”
“Any of what?” He smiled. “I always try to ignore a lady’s cursing ma’am. I promise not to think any less of you.”
“I guess that’s good because I was being polite. My mom always told me to say what I mean and mean what I say, I own my words curses and all.”
My anger was flaring up again. How could she leave me totally alone?
Wesley took his hat off his head and started fanning himself. He put his other hand on his hip acting like a proper southern woman. “Well, then,” he said in a high-pitched southern drawl, “shit’s about to get real round here.”
I tried to suppress my smile.
He fluttered his lashes and swished his hips. I couldn’t contain it any further and I started laughing.
Wesley smiled and nodded, “There you are sugah.” Wesley put his hat back on his head. “Care to watch them break in a stallion?”
I looked over at the front door.
Wesley looked with me, “Oh yeah, you probably want to visit with your family. Maybe tomorrow—”
I knew Wesley all of five minutes but going and watching a horse sounded better than going and visiting with my dad. “No, I’d love to play with horses or whatever.”
“All right, come on then.”
We continued down the path heading to the horse corrals in silence. Halfway there I couldn’t shake the urge to talk. There was too much swimming in my head and Wesley, a complete stranger, was easy to talk to. “Did you hear the rest of that cursing match?”
“I try to stay out of business that ain’t my own.”
“I should apologize to him I think.”
Wesley adjusted his hat a few times, “I’m no expert on relationships but genuine sorries tend to go a ways, specially with folk like your brother Brayden.”
“Ugh,” I responded and kicked the gravel. “It’s tiring you know. He’s Brayden the great and I’m just loud-mouth Maddie Jean.”
“Your brother regards your loud-mouth fondly.”
“Just how well do you know my brother?”
“Not well,” Wesley wiped his hands on his jeans, “but, my momma had a sense about people, passed it on to me. And your brother, pardon the reference, is an open book.”
I laughed at that. “Maybe you could translate for me then because I’m at a loss.”
“Um, how do I say it, he’s a what-you-see-is-what-you-get type a fella. He ain’t trying to be anything other than what he is.”
“I guess that’s true. What about me? What’s your sense say about me, besides stay away?”
Wesley’s demeanor changed. He grew serious standing to all five-eleven of his height. “You really wanna know?”
I studied his expression. Creased brow, crinkled eyes, slightly frowning mouth. How did others see me? Was I something bad to be avoided? The tough Maddie exterior was that, a facade, but most people didn’t see past it. Why should I change now?
“I asked didn’t I?”
Wesley slowed his pace, turning to look at me. His face shadowed once again, “You’re like water.”
“Water?”
“Yes ma’am. While your candidness can be refreshing, it can also be too much at times, a bit overwhelming. In large doses it can downright be drowning.” He patted my back, “But don’t worry drowning ain’t so scary.”
Great, I was a torrential body of water.
As we neared the corral, dust and horse poop became so intense I covered my nose. A couple more feet and hooting and yeehaws surrounded us. When we reached the first horse corral I stopped short. My sight caught by one of the riders.
He was beautiful. Tight fitting black t-shirt. Dark jeans perfectly tailored to his body. Working boots scuffed from use and spurs just as worn. My eyes traced every curve of muscle multiple times before reaching his face. And what a gorgeous face it was. Sharp features, large angled nose, full lips and the greyest eyes I’d ever seen.
Grey eyes that were watching me. It was then I realized my mouth was hanging open and I quickly closed it.
He winked at me then dug his spurs into his horse and they turned and headed away from us.
I turned to Wesley to ask who the rider was, but Wesley had ditched me. I saw his flannel shirt retreating towards the stables. I shook my head and looked back to the corral to find the handsome rider but he too was gone. Who on earth was he? When did dad start hiring such hot help?
As I pushed off the fence post a hand clasped down on my shoulder. I screamed as I turned around fists flailing.
“Whoa, it’s me” Brayden said smirking, “You want a fist fight now?”
“No,” I grabbed at my chest, “I wanted to say, well, it’s been a tough couple months and I shouldn’t take it out on you and I’m sorry.”
“Wow, did you just say sorry?” He turned toward the trees and hollered, “Maddie, my little sister said sorry!” He turned back to me with a smile on his face, “And I didn’t get it on tape.”
I slapped his arm away from my shoulder, “Oh, shut-up.”
“I’m your brother you know and you can talk to me.”
I shrugged, “Sometimes I need a reminder is all.”
“Obviously.”
“Don’t make me take it back,” I said and nudged him in the ribs.
Brayden grabbed my arm and pulled me towards the house, “I’m starving.”
I dragged heel, “Ugh, food sounds disgusting.”
“Well by the looks of you, you could stand to eat.”
“Ha ha so funny.” I stopped dragging my feet and let Brayden drag me inside to dinner and my doom.
Sweet Southern Sorrow by Tessa Teevan
August 2008
As I walk across campus at UC-Berkeley, I feel like I need to pinch myself. I’m so out of place here in San Francisco, but I also blend right in with the other eager college freshman, ready to start this new chapter of our lives. I’ve only been here for three days, and I’m still finding it hard to believe that I, Cheyenne Hamilton, small-town transplant from Shiloh Grove, Georgia, am approximately 2,463 miles away from home—not that I’d call it that. Ever since my daddy died—God rest his soul—I counted down the days and measured the miles until I could get away from my mama and start over in Daddy’s hometown.
As I walk back to my dorm, a small flock of black birds flies over my head and I’m reminded that I wasn’t always so anxious to get here. I was only eight years old when Daddy died, and I’ll never forget the day I gave him a goodbye kiss as he was about to board the Navy ship in Charleston. He leaned down and pressed a kiss against my forehead, wiping away the tears that were falling from my eyes.
“Hey, Birdie, don’t cry,” he said, calling me his favorite nickname, and I giggled, always loving it. “I won’t be gone too long. I’ll be back before you know it.”
Sniffing, I didn’t believe his words, but I wanted to be a big girl for him, so I forced myself to stop crying. “I know, Daddy. I’m just going to miss you while you’re on the big ship.”
He kissed the top of my head as he looked behind me. “Look, Birdie, over there. Do you see it?”
Turning to follow where his hand pointed, I saw the tiny bird with blue tinted feathers resting on a post near the ship’s entrance. I immediately identified it as a swallow, our favorite.
“It’s a swallow, Daddy! It’s good luck!” I exclaimed, remembering all the tales he’d told me.
Nodding, he swooped me up into his arms and twirled me around before setting me back on the ground. “You’re right, baby. It’s a swallow. And what does a swallow represent?”
I recited the words I’d heard many times. “One swallow takes you from me, and two will bring you back. As long as you have the swallow, forever we won’t lack. And in t
he spring, when the swallows appear, I’ll always know that you are near.”
The smile he gave me is etched forever in my memory—the last smile I ever saw from him. “Bravo, Birdie! The swallows are about to fly south for the winter, but soon they’ll be back. And I’ll be right behind them, okay?”
Sighing, I knew that it was it. He was about to leave and I had to say goodbye. I remember trying my hardest not to let my tears fall, to make my daddy proud by showing him that I was a big girl. It wasn’t until the ship went out of view and I could no longer see his waving figure that I finally broke down.
And that was the last time I saw my daddy.
Shaking the memory out of my head, I jog up the steps to my dorm, hoping that Corinna, my roommate, is gone for the night. Don’t get me wrong. So far she seems pretty great, but she’s the polar opposite of me. Bubbly, cheerful, ready to make friends and meet college boys. Me? I’m depressed, heartbroken, and even though this should be the happiest time of my life, I’m miserable as hell. All because of Sawyer Callahan.
I’m happy when I go into my dorm and see that it’s empty. Turning on my I-Feel-Like-Crying playlist, I curl up on my bed when Carrie Underwood’s The Night Before Life Goes On comes on. As much as I want to resist, I lean down and grab the photo album from under my bed. Fingers trembling, heart racing, somehow I gather up the courage to open it up, my heart stopping when my eyes fall on the first picture. It’s Sawyer, wearing worn jeans and cowboy boots, nothing else. The strong muscles in his back are rippling, and his tan is sexy as hell. He’s grooming a dark chocolate mare, but his eyes are on me, his smile wide. Closing my eyes, I can remember that day, and the tears fall immediately, even though I try to hold them in. It isn’t until I hear the door open and close that I open my eyes and try to wipe them quickly, but it’s too late.
She walks over to me, but I shut the album and put it under my pillow before she can grab it.
Sitting down on my bed, she looks at me with soft eyes. “I’d ask if you’re okay, Cheyenne, but I can tell that you aren’t. Get your ass out of this bed. We’re going out.”
I start to protest, but she glares daggers at me. “I am not taking no for an answer. This is supposed to be the best time of our lives, yet you’ve been doing nothing but moping since we got here. Get up. Get dressed. You have fifteen minutes,” she tells me, walking out the door without another word.