Silver Player: The Silver Foxes of Blue Ridge

by L. B. Dunbar

  “Because I’m a quitter.”

  “Because you always do it.”

  I freeze. What is he saying?

  Surprising me again, he points at the table littered with growlers and samples. With a growl in his tone, he demands, “Tell me.”

  “I…” I glance from the table to my father and then over at Giant, whose hands brace on the wooden top. His head is lowered, his face a shadow. I turn back to my father. “You know, don’t you?”

  “You think I don’t know what goes on in my business. I’ve known for years.”

  “Why didn’t you say anything?” I question, glaring at him.

  “Why didn’t you?” he retorts. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  I deeply inhale. For all my trouble in school, I was decent at chemistry, and I loved to experiment, especially with the family brew thanks to Pap. Despite my dyslexia, he taught me chemistry was full of formulas. Memorize those, and I’d never fail. And although I nearly failed out of college, I eventually shared what I could do with Giant. I got a license making me a professional after I’d been working in this brewery for years, playing around in the passion lab on the sly.

  “I didn’t want your disapproval.”

  “William, this is the second time in a month you’ve mentioned my disapproval. When did I give you that impression?”

  I glare at him, ready to tick off all the ways, but then something occurs to me. “If you knew all along, why didn’t you say something to me?”

  “Perhaps for the same reason you didn’t mention it to me. I wanted you to be proud of what you’d done and tell me.”

  “I am proud,” I state, standing taller. I’ve helped this company in more ways than I’ve been recognized for as both master brewer and pub owner.

  “And I’m proud of you,” my dad says. “And I know you’ll be an excellent father.”

  If I were ten, my knees might give out, and I’d collapse in disbelief on the spot. His eyes travel over the table, and I glance to the side, looking up at Giant, who is still silent but smiling despite his avoiding face.

  “Well, carry on,” Dad says, and he dismisses himself, leaving Giant and me alone again.

  “You’re a rat,” I hiss at Giant, who shakes his head and finally looks up at me.

  “I couldn’t take all the credit, and like he said, there isn’t anything he doesn’t know about this company. Or you. He knows you’re loyal to a fault. Look at what you’ve been doing for the brewery behind his back while running your own business. He isn’t stupid, Billy.”

  “I never said he was.” I only thought he felt that way about me.

  “And he’s right. You’re going to be fine with Sadie. Raising girls is hard. I know what you’re going through.” Giant’s wife died when his daughters were still teenagers. He hadn’t been home long from his tours of duty when his wife passed. “I’m here if you need me. It will all work out.”

  “How can I be sure?” I ask because I’ve never been more uncertain of anything in my life. Sadie. Roxie. It feels like we’re on the edge of imploding, and I don’t want to lose either of them. I want them collectively. I want us all together.

  “You can’t be, man. You have to trust your head.”

  I snort, knowing that’s what gets me in trouble sometimes.

  “And your heart.” Giant taps his large chest, and I want to laugh at his sentimentality, but my heart knows he isn’t joking.

  38

  Christmas tree apologies

  [Roxanne]

  “At the request of the minor, Sadie Wilhemina McAllister, the court awards custody to her biological father, William Forrest Harrington.”

  I stare in disbelief at the judge, and while this hasn’t been a trial, I feel as if I’ve been sentenced to the heartache of all heartaches by having Sadie taken away from me. Deep down, I know Billy isn’t stealing her. He won’t prevent her from seeing me, but it all still feels like a betrayal, and I exit the courtroom numb to his voice calling after me.

  I can’t face Sadie. It’s petty and mean and very unadult-like, but it hurts. While I don’t fault her for her decision, the pain is too deep for me to bear. She decided to reside with Billy, and nothing I can do will reverse that decision. He is her biological father, and I’ve already been cautioned he’d win. Sadie isn’t a competition, but still, Billy won. She’s never truly been mine. She’s my sister’s daughter, but it hurts all the same.

  “Whatever happens, nothing will change between us,” I tried to assure her the night before the decision, but who was reassuring me? During the ruling, Sadie stayed out in the hallway with Elaina Harrington. The two have grown rather close in the past few weeks as, true to her word, Elaina allows Sadie to practice the piano at her home, and I’ve felt Sadie slipping further and further from me.

  “I’m overreacting, right?” I say to Grace as I hide in my office, avoiding a sixteen-year-old child.

  “You’re human. It hurts that she picked him, but it’s not really a choice. She’s not choosing one over the other. Billy is her father. You can’t change that or change the fact he didn’t know. Cases like these never make sense to me, though. The best interest of the child is where the child already has a relationship.”

  “It was her request,” I whine, taking another hardy drink of the wine I’d brought down from my apartment. “And I can’t really blame her. I mean, nothing’s wrong with Billy. He wants a relationship with her.”

  Grace’s brows hitch, surprised by my defense of him.

  “I just mean, he’ll be a good father.” I sigh, my shoulders falling.

  “Why do you think she did it?” Grace asks.

  “I have no idea.” I look up at her sweet round face. “But I’ve definitely screwed up somewhere.” Grace is raising five boys on her own, and I can’t even raise one teenage girl who is self-sufficient and independent. That’s the hardest part to accept. Sadie is smart and responsible, so why pick Billy?

  “You didn’t screw anything up. She’s sixteen. They think they know everything at this age.”

  I snort without comfort from Grace’s words.

  “Maybe you should talk to Billy.” She hesitates because she knows I won’t.

  I should ask Sadie why she chose him over me, but I don’t want to come down on Sadie after she’s been through so much. She needs Billy, but she also needs to know this isn’t like picking out a movie. You don’t get to change your mind halfway through the viewing. We won’t see each other every day, which I thought she enjoyed. I was her daily hug, whether she wanted one or not. Life with Billy won’t be the same.

  Exhaling, I sit straighter, swirling the glass in my hand.

  “It’s not forever, right? In two years, she’ll be eighteen.” I’m trying to muster the positives the advocate tried to spew at me, but the mustering is hard. My heart hurts so much.

  “Is this just about Sadie, or is there something more going on here?” Grace questions. She’s noticed Billy hasn’t paid any random visits to the bookstore or been to dinner in a while.

  “There can’t be anything more, right?” I shrug, but Grace’s forehead furrows with concern. “It was already complicated.”

  “How do you think Billy is handling this? Think it’s settled in for him?” Grace asks, not with compassion but curiosity. The court ordered Sadie move in with Billy by January second, a non-government holiday date. That’s less than ten days away.

  “He must know what he’s doing. He went through with this process despite promising me we could work it out. He’s a liar.” I lift my glass and swallow back my wine.

  “You don’t believe that,” Grace says, but in some ways, I do. He fooled an entire community into thinking he cheated on his wife. He fooled me into believing he cared about me and my feelings. My chest aches as I consider his actions. He’s been a good actor.

  “I don’t know what to believe anymore.”

  I stand, putting an end this conversation. I don’t want to talk about Billy or Sadie anymore. I’m ti
red. Tired of worrying about others. I can’t change the way Theresa handled things. I can’t change how I feel about Billy. I can’t change Sadie’s decision.

  I don’t want to be mad, but I am angry.

  I hug Grace, accepting her embrace in return.

  “It will all work out,” Grace states, leaning back, and I glance back at my friend. At one time, I believed in those words. Now, I find them to be the least trustful words I’ve ever heard.

  + + +

  “We should get a tree,” Sadie announces the night before Christmas Eve—Christmas Eve eve. I haven’t been in the holiday spirit and keeping up the seasonal cheer in the store zaps me of all energy. This would be the first Christmas without Theresa, and Sadie will be at the Harrington’s. My heart breaks in a new way. Theresa and Sadie were always my holiday plans, but the thought of having no one, not even Sadie for the day, just adds to my melancholy.

  “Billy wants you to join us for Christmas,” Sadie told me a few nights ago, but I snorted at the lie.

  “I want you to be there,” she stated. “Or I can always stay here.” Her voice lost its luster at the suggestion, and I knew in her heart of hearts that she wanted to be with them. She’d already chosen them. It would be a good distraction. Family. The excitement would drown out the absence of her mother, at least for a little bit.

  “I’ll have to think about it,” I lied. Grace invited us to join her family. As a single mother of five, she wasn’t going anywhere this holiday. Her late husband’s parents were traveling to see his brother, and her sister lived in Michigan. Just me and an overload of sugar and testosterone. Come join us, she mocked, but her invitation was sincere.

  “Go with Billy. It’s fine. I’ll see you Christmas Eve.” I hesitated, hating how much the suggestion sounded like a couple splitting visits with a child.

  “Definitely,” she said, giving me a small smile as we sat across from one another at my kitchen as the new awkward silence grows around us.

  “So a tree,” Sadie interjects into my thoughts again as she stands in the living room.

  “What?” I look up from the book open on my lap, but I haven’t been reading.

  “A Christmas tree. We could chop it down ourselves.”

  Umm… “Sure, why not?” I stand from my seat. As she rushes to her room, I reach for my phone, quickly searching for an open tree farm that allows us to chop our own.

  A half hour later, Sadie and I wander through the lane of the Bernard Christmas Farm, which happens to be owned by the judge who decided Sadie’s case. Technically, they close at six, but they allow visitors to wander for up to an hour after. We’ve made it just under the wire, but now the struggle begins—finding a tree and chopping it down ourselves.

  My apartment isn’t that large, but it does have tall ceilings. Still, we need to consider the width of a tree, so when we find one just right, we stare at the base. Sadie’s been looking over her shoulder on occasion, and I’m wondering if she doesn’t want anyone to see us. This is going to be comical.

  “Here.” I hand her the ax provided by the boy at the counter. Maybe she doesn’t want him to see us. I noticed how pink she turned when we checked in at the front counter. “You go first.”

  Crouching, she’s ready to give it the first whack when I place a hand on her shoulder. “Just don’t miss and nick yourself,” I tease.

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” she snarks before she takes her first swing. The ax hits the trunk but ricochets, and Sadie falls to the side. “Wow, is that hard.”

  She takes a few more cracks at it, putting a dent in the base but not making enough of a mark to knock it over.

  “Let me have a swing.” As Sadie stands, I reach for the ax. A saw would be easier, but as I lower for the base and take the first swing, I find the resounding crack invigorating. I sling again and again. Panting and sweating, I’m using the full force of my arm to hack at the sturdy trunk.

  My thoughts drift to all my frustrations.

  The damn holidays. The death of my sister. The ache for Billy.

  “You trying to make mulch of that thing?”

  The ax thuds as it collides with the solid trunk, and the blade sticks. What the…? I wiggle the ax free because I slowly rise and face Billy, standing with his hands in his winter jacket, watching me.

  “What are you doing here?” I snap, and his eyes shift to Sadie.

  “Sadie?” I question. What is the meaning of this? My eyes leap back to Billy, who is still watching me. He doesn’t smile, but he fights a grin. I, however, am not happy. This moment is for us, Sadie and me. We don’t need Billy.

  “I was in the neighborhood,” he lies, and I eyeball Sadie again. My hand curls harder on the ax handle.

  “Here, let me finish it off.” Billy reaches out for the ax, but I hold it back from him.

  “This is a girls’ night only,” I mutter.

  “I like girls,” he teases, and I glare at him. “That’s not what I meant,” he states, his face growing serious.

  “Isn’t this fun? We’re chopping down a tree. It’s like a new family tradition.” Sadie interjects, finding the tension between Billy and me thicker than the stubborn tree we were chopping.

  Uh-oh.

  “Why don’t you put that thing down before you hurt someone?” Billy says, sidling up to me as I’m still holding the ax, primed like I might toss it at him. His hand grips my forearm. His other hand reaches for the ax handle. He’s too close to me. The smell of him invades my senses—clove and spice and a hint of cinnamon.

  “Roxanne.” The whisper of my name makes me shudder, my body vibrating harder than the thump of the ax against wood. His eyes search mine, but I look away.

  I hate you, I lie to myself. How could you hurt me like this? His cold fingers lift for my cheek, but I won’t allow him to be tender, false, and sweet. I pull back just as Sadie bellows, “Timber.”

  The barely five-foot tree falls to the side. Sadie reaches for the lowest branches and begins to drag the tree down the lane. Billy steps back, and I gasp for air, not realizing I was holding my breath.

  “I got it,” Billy calls out, chasing Sadie.

  “I have it, sir.” A rugged young man in a construction jacket takes the tree from Sadie and begins walking forward with it. Sadie trots next to him, and the two head toward the check-out area. Billy stalks back to me.

  “We need to talk.”

  “We have nothing to say. Everything is very clear to me now. You played me to get Sadie.”

  “Do you really think that, Roxie?”

  “The only thing I think is you’re a player. You’ve always been a player, and you played me. First with the custody and then with…with… my heart.”

  “You think I played your heart?” he snarks, sarcasm deep.

  “Yes. The date.” I wave my arms. “And making love.” I twirl both hands as I blow out a breath, so I don’t cry in my frustration at seeing him. I exhale and lower my hands, slapping them on my coat, which covers my thighs. “Excellent acting, William. The academy called and wants to know where to send the trophy.”

  “I wasn’t acting,” he states, stepping up to me. His voice is venomously low as he stands straighter, curling his hands to fists at his sides. We both breathe hard, puffs of air releasing from our noses in the cold air, mixing with each other’s. “Everything I said, everything I did, I meant it.”

  “Oh, really? You proved a wall and me work well together.” I repeat his words with my own venom.

  “Okay, fine, not everything.” We glare at one another, and I’d laugh if I could find humor.

  “Is there a checklist somewhere? I can’t keep up. This statement means something. This statement doesn’t.” I snort. He loves me. He loves me not.

  Billy’s features turn angular, and his jaw tightens. “Roxanne, can we just call a truce, and you let me explain myself?” His eyes glow in the limited light like an angered animal.

  “I don’t trust you.” The air swooshes out of me, alo
ng with the words. I hate how they leave an aftertaste on my tongue because I had wanted to trust him.

  “Roxie,” he says, his voice falling.

  “It was just sex anyway, right, William? That’s what you’re good at,” I add only as the traitorous tears start to fall because I couldn’t keep it casual. I couldn’t blow it off as cavalier and inconsequential. I’d given him my trust and my heart along with my body.

  Billy’s hand move so fast I don’t have time to dodge him. He cups the back of my neck, not threatening me but holding me in place so I can only see him, focus on him.

  “It was not just sex to me, Roxanne. I told you. I made love to you. And you’re making it difficult to love you.”

  “Me?” I snap.

  “You were pulling away from me.” He swallows as his forehead comes to mine. “And I couldn’t let you go. I couldn’t let you be the first to leave.”

  “I could be the first in your bed but not the first to leave? Is this because you saved me for the last?” I mutter. He told me in his mother’s kitchen that he saved me for last as he insulted me further about my ability with a wall.

  His head pulls back, and he stares at me. “What do you mean?”

  “You told me you saved me for last, after the wall…” I can’t even finish the rest of my statement.

  “First, of all, I don’t understand this obsession you have. You never saw what you think you saw because it wasn’t me. And I’m sorry you thought you were never worthy of wall sex or any other type of sex or position or label or whatever. I thought we were joking around like we always do that morning. I’m sorry for how I acted, but I’m not sorry for what we did. I wasn’t fucking you, Roxanne. I was falling in love with you.”

  Billy stares at me for a long moment, letting the bomb drop, and my heart is suddenly in my throat. His eyes search mine before he takes a deep breath. “And secondly, my grandfather used to say it didn’t matter who you loved first; it was the last who mattered. The last one holds your hand and your heart, warms your bed and your soul. That’s the person who sticks. He didn’t care who my grandmother loved first because he was her last, and that meant forever.”