Something Like Family

by Heather Burch

  Rebecca held his gaze. “What kind of problems?”

  What was she fishing for? “I don’t know. Problems. Drugs, guys, mental problems. She lied a lot.”

  “Where is she now?”

  He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

  Rebecca put her hands on her hips and angled into the sun. “I’m sorry. I’m too nosy. Ask too many questions. But it feels like I don’t get a real picture of someone without giving them the third degree.”

  Rave moved a little closer to her. “Are you trying to get a real picture of me?”

  A quizzical look flashed over her face. “I do with everyone. You’re not special, city boy.”

  “How do you know?”

  She shook her head. “I’ve met guys like you.”

  “You realize what a contradiction that is, don’t you? In one breath you’re trying to figure me out, and in the next you’re suggesting you know all about me.”

  She crossed her arms. “I do. I know you’re from the city. Somewhere warmer than here, because you tend to react to the breeze by hunching your shoulders and squeezing your arms to your sides. There are sun streaks running through the blond in your hair. Also, you’ve got a dark tan—not a farmer tan, either. So, my bet would be a coastline. Florida, maybe.”

  “Why not California?”

  Her gaze drifted over him from his face to his shoes and back. “No. Not California.”

  She was pretty good.

  “How can you tell?”

  She grinned. “Your car has a Florida license plate.”

  He laughed. “Nice. You’re observant for a redneck.”

  “And you’re gullible for a city boy.” Her smile faded. “You didn’t answer me. Where’s your mom now?”

  “Dead, I think.”

  “Oh, wow, Rave. I’m sorry.” New emotions played in her features.

  “I don’t know for sure, but I mean I think she would have made her way back to Tampa if she was still alive.” He started walking, the fallen tree coming into view ahead.

  The breeze caught Rebecca’s hair, and she gathered it over one shoulder. It smelled like strawberries. “How long has it been since you’ve seen her?”

  “Over five years.” The sorrow for him was palpable. “She said she was going to the store one day and never came back.”

  “She just left?” Becca’s bright-green eyes widened, catching afternoon sun rays.

  “She was a drug addict. We moved around a lot while I was growing up. Georgia, Alabama, and finally Florida. Those are the states I remember. She always talked about going to Texas. We never had a real home, just places to sleep. Houses or apartments, but no place to call our own.”

  “That had to be a really rough way to grow up.”

  “It could have been worse. I always knew she loved me. At least, until she left. When I was small, I thought everyone lived like we did. I didn’t know how bad things were until I went to school and realized some kids had lived in their houses since they were born. My favorite place to live was Tampa. It felt more like home than anywhere else.”

  “I’ve never been there. What’s it like?”

  “It’s awesome. Great music scene, lots of stuff to do. It’s a fairly big city, though, so a person can get taken if they’re not careful.”

  She stepped around the tree trunk. “I’d probably be there like five minutes and get robbed blind.”

  “Nah, you seem pretty tough. Haven’t you traveled much?”

  “Hardly.” They’d walked a few yards from the downed tree. “I got to go to New York once. With my marching band. Really cool, but not like I’d imagined.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She paused. “I’d heard so much about it—the screaming cabbies, the loud Italian accents everywhere, people being rude, and lots of pickpockets. It didn’t seem like that at all. People there were . . . just people. Our cabdriver was really friendly.”

  Rave listened, content to watch the way her fingers touched the runaway strands of her hair.

  “In my mind I’d created this almost alien place. But New York was normal.” She tilted her head back and forth. “Kind of normal.”

  “Would you go back?”

  She stared up at the gathering clouds. “I’d go anywhere.” There was a sadness in her tone.

  “Why don’t you?”

  Her eyes dropped to his. “Because I live here. My life is here. My world is here.”

  “That doesn’t mean you can’t travel.”

  She swallowed, and the vein in her throat moved. “Sometimes it does.” Rebecca walked on, closing off the conversation.

  They inspected the field, but Rave had no idea what they were looking for, so he walked around, stomping the ground and digging his toe into the soft earth every now and again when Rebecca glanced at him.

  She lifted her shoulders and dropped them. “Everything looks OK.”

  Rave agreed.

  “From her yard, Trini can keep an eye on the road if she stands near that giant tree. Did you notice it? The massive, green, witch-hat-shaped blob?”

  “The one that looks like a Christmas tree?”

  Rebecca nodded and turned him by the shoulders. There, far off in the background, the top of the large pine reached toward the sky. “She decorates it every year. A billion or more lights.”

  The pressure of her hands on his shoulders warmed him. “That’s a lot of electricity.”

  “People from all around come to see it. It’s cool.”

  Would he see it? It was spring now. Rave toyed with the idea of sticking around that long. He knew he wouldn’t. Still, it was kind of neat to make a plan, even if it wasn’t going to happen.

  When they made it back to Trini’s, he planted a hand on the porch banister. If he didn’t say what was on his mind, he’d chicken out. “You want to go out sometime?”

  She was halfway to the door and stopped midstep. “No.”

  That hadn’t gone the way he’d hoped. “Why not? City boy, redneck girl. Seems like a perfect match.”

  She turned to face him. “I broke up with someone not that long ago. Summer is right around the corner, and that’s a really busy time for me.”

  “I just broke up with someone, too. Or, she broke up with me. I’m not looking for a girlfriend, Becca. I’m not looking to consume a huge chunk of your space, just—you know, go out sometime.”

  She was going to say yes. He could sense it. “Thanks, Rave. But no. I’ll give Trini the pie pan.”

  She left him standing on the steps. He stared at the heavy wooden door that had closed behind her. He still loved Ash. That, he knew. But having someone to talk to who was near his own age would be nice. “Not giving up on you, redneck girl,” he hollered at the closed door. He instantly felt silly until a blind in the front window moved and her face appeared. She shook her head at him, but the grin was impossible to hide. “Go home,” she mouthed through the glass.

  He turned and headed to his car, passing the giant pine tree. Christmas wasn’t that far away.

  Tuck was happy to see Phil when he arrived at a quarter past nine. More than a week had passed since the memorial, but Tuck and Rave hadn’t spoken of it. Tuck knew it had left Rave with a lot to think about. Phil had come to take Tuck to the doctor. That had been his habit for the last six months or so, after Dr. Rice and Phil ganged up on him. That’s how he thought of it, anyway. And Julius Morehound, down at the pharmacy, was a coconspirator. All of them. Traitors. What seventy-six-year-old man needed heart medicine? In Tuck’s mind, a ticker was supposed to just give out one day. That’s how it was meant to be. You didn’t go dousing it with medication, trying to slow the inevitable. He’d reluctantly added the heart pills to his other medications. But he was an unwilling participant. This was his body, after all. It ought to be his choice. At the same time, now that Rave was there, he was glad he had friends who cared. He could overlook their busybody ways.

  Phil shook Rave’s hand as he stepped inside. “Good to see you,
young man. Looks like Tuck is fattening you up a bit.”

  Filled out, Rave called it. He sure looked better than when he’d arrived. Less stress framing his eyes. It was too much for a young man to carry. Of course, at that tender age, Tuck had carried a good bit as well.

  Rave smiled and started to say something, but the phone in the kitchen rang. “I’ll grab that so you two can get going.”

  He disappeared into the other room. A moment later, Rave’s head popped back in, excitement lighting his eyes. “It’s Ash. Ashley. She’s calling from Tampa.”

  Tuck’s heart swelled a bit. Rave had wanted to share that news before they left for the doctor. Wanted to share it with him. His grandfather.

  Phil hooked a thumb toward the kitchen. “That boy looks happy.”

  Tuck nodded. “That’s his girl back in Tampa. He’s got it bad for her.”

  Phil slapped him on the back. “You ought to feel pretty special. Boy’s giving up time with a girl to hang out with you.”

  It was special. It was an honor. Even if Rave and the girl were on the rocks. “Well, it isn’t that simple. She’s got a young son and is trying to reconcile with the father.”

  “You know, an old friend once told me, things always work out. And when you think it’s the darkest hour, you know the sun is getting ready to rise.”

  That’s what Millie used to say. Tuck grabbed his light jacket from the back of the chair as Phil stepped outside. Tuck was always cold these days. Old-man cold. Like life was slipping away from him, escaping from the inside out. It left a chill in its wake. He supposed the rest of his days, be they few years or many, he’d continue to get colder and colder until one day they’d lower him into the stony ground, and the transition from warm-blooded being to chilled and lifeless statue would be complete.

  That was all right with him. He was ready to cross that beautiful river and take Millie’s hand. That’s how he’d dreamed it once. The most beautiful place imaginable, a lush garden with brilliantly colored flowers and a crystal river. Millie was in her favorite church dress, her feet bare, and she was as young and beautiful as the day he’d married her. All those years ago when he’d felt like life was done.

  They’d met by accident. She was kicking a flat tire on the side of the road. He had been home from the war for three months, spending his days in Gatlinburg with the family and his nights laying outside on a sleeping bag on the back porch because the house felt too small, too tight, like it was about to fall in on him. One day he’d gone for a drive and ended up deep in the mountains near Gatlinburg. When he reached the crossroads, rather than follow the sign home he’d turned and headed south.

  He’d not been right in the head. That he knew. And life was waiting. But he wasn’t ready to live it. And then, he’d seen Millie.

  CHAPTER 6

  1975

  “Stupid, stupid car.” Her hands were fisted, and she pounded on the hood.

  Keep driving, Tuck’s mind warned him. You know hostile territory when you see it. Nothin’ but danger there.

  But the blonde looked up as his car slowed. The sun glinted off the gold in her hair. Long, gorgeous locks he’d like to sink his hands into because there was nothing that felt better than fingers in a woman’s hair. It was one of the things he missed most while serving. The heat of a woman’s flesh, the scent of her skin. Tuck closed his eyes for a few moments as his car came to a stop a few yards before hers.

  She leaned into the passenger window, propping her forearms on the sill. Already, a scent like mint and fresh berries entered his nose. If he was like Mack, he’d say something brilliant about the car being a worthy opponent in a boxing match but hard to beat. Mack always had a line for the ladies. He’d tried to teach the other guys in the unit, but it became more of a game than anything. “Mack, what do you say to a woman who gets dumped and left in a bar?” “Mack, how do you pick up a woman who’s out with her girlfriends?” “Mack, how do you—” It went on and on for months. The situations became outlandish. The pickup lines hilarious. And right now, with the pretty blonde staring at him, Tuck couldn’t access a single one.

  “Are—are you going my way?” As soon as the words left his mouth, he shrank. Goin’ my way? That was the best he could do?

  He hadn’t really made eye contact with her yet, so he mustered his energy and looked over. Into a sea of feminine perfection. Straight blonde hair, parted in the middle, framed her face in a flawless A shape. Her lips were full, her flesh moist from the sun and the battle with the car. Her midriff top showed off a flat, tanned belly. High-waist sailor shorts with oversize white buttons drew more attention than they should, and Tuck knew he was blushing.

  When his eyes returned to hers, there was a smile on her face. A knowing smile, a Cheshire smile. She had a white peace sign painted on her cheek. Faded, as if it’d suffered through a full night.

  Finally, she answered him. “I don’t know. Which way are you going?” She angled her head and stared down the long road before them.

  Well, that was the question, wasn’t it? Which way are you going? If he’d only had an answer that worked. An answer that fit, that made sense. He’d taken a road leading south. Instead of home—that’s all he knew. Tuck tapped the steering wheel with his thumb. “I don’t know.” He needed to explain, give her something logical, or she’d think he was a lunatic. At the same time, something in her demeanor begged for honesty. “All I know is, I’m not ready to go back.”

  She stood. Her hands folded over her stomach. Her slender arms rose and fell with each of her breaths. Over the drone of his engine, he thought he heard her say, “Good. Let’s not go back together.” A moment later, she reached in, pulled up the lock on his ’68 Oldsmobile 442, and opened the door. Tan legs entered his car first, and Tuck felt his temperature rise.

  “I’m Millicent, but everyone calls me Millie.” She held her hand out to him.

  “I’m Tuck. Everyone calls me Tuck.” Her fingers were warm velvet, but when she shook his hand—firmly, not daintily like a lady should—he knew there was some granite at her core.

  “Answer me three questions, Tuck.” She tilted on the seat so she could look at him fully.

  “Fire away.”

  “Are you a crazed maniac who means me harm?” The intensity of her gaze vibrated through the air between them, causing it to feel electric.

  “No. I am not.”

  “Have you ever hurt a woman?”

  Tuck swallowed hard. A hut flashed before his eyes, a woman screaming, a misplaced bullet. Tuck closed off the image. “No.”

  “Do you promise not to hurt me?”

  Tuck placed a hand over his heart because that was a vow he could keep. So many he’d not been able to while he was in Vietnam. We’re getting outta this, I promise. He couldn’t count how many times he’d held the hand of a dying soldier, telling him he was going to be OK. Telling him he was going home. “I swear, Millicent. I will never, ever harm you.”

  She smiled, her cheeks moving the edges of her hair. She mimicked his posture and placed a hand over her heart. “Then I promise to do the same. I won’t hurt you, either, Tuck.” The depths of her blue eyes darkened. Her word was as solid as his own, of that he was sure.

  “Where are we headed?” He hooked a thumb behind him. “And what about your car, Millie?”

  She glanced back. “It’s not mine. I’m not even supposed to be driving it. I don’t have a license. It belongs to the guy who broke my heart by spending the night with one of my friends.”

  “You stole his car?” Tuck had to grin at that one.

  “No, I stole his keys, the car just came along for the ride.”

  “So, where to, auto thief?”

  She turned on the radio, and Elton John’s voice singing about Bennie and the Jets filled the silence. “I don’t care. Just drive.”

  Rave slipped out the back door and sat on a lounge chair where he could look out over the lake and imagine Ashley beside him. His hand had gone sweaty holding the phon
e. “How’s Daniel?”

  “He’s fine, sleeping in this morning. Still misses you. Still talks about you, but not to Barry. Not that it matters much now.” Her words were breathy, filled with concern or distraction or some other thing Rave couldn’t put his finger on.

  “What’s wrong, Ash?” Just hearing her voice, just listening to her made the ache in his chest that much stronger.

  “Nothing.” Too cheery. Something was off. “I don’t want to talk about things here. Tell me about you, Rave. Tell me what it’s like seeing your grandfather.”

  He had to pull a few calming breaths before continuing because this was how it should be. How it was supposed to be. The two of them talking about everything. “It’s kind of great.”

  “So, he didn’t want you to come to help pay his bills or put you to work or something?”

  An eagle swooped over the glass-calm lake, wings tipping against the wind. “No. Not at all. He’s kind of a pack rat, so we’ve been clearing out boxes of junk and mostly storing them in the barn.”

  “A barn? Is he a farmer?”

  “Not really. He’s got a large plot of land—quite a few acres.” Saying that made Rave grin. “I don’t know if he ever really worked the land here. He was an electrician by trade until he retired. I know my grandmother Millie had a vegetable garden.”

  “That sounds really nice. Electricians make a lot of money.” Money was something Ash had always been preoccupied with. If you had money, you were a little higher on her importance list. It was a character flaw Rave found easy to overlook, since she’d never had money. He hadn’t, either, but Ash had to take care of Daniel, not just herself. That was a big responsibility. He understood why she envied people who’d never had to worry about their cash flow.

  “How are you doing?” he asked.

  Ashley sighed. There was a distinct sadness to her tone.

  “Ash. What’s going on? This is me. I know when you’re upset.”

  “I just—I’m a little bit worried about the bills. Barry made me think he’d be willing to cover half, and we’re not together now.”

  Rave swallowed. “What happened?”