by Bri Stone
I haven’t been here for almost fifteen years. I was an entirely different person, fully prepared to start the rest of my life with Pete. I love him irrevocably, even still.
“Something that can drive on rough terrain. Like farm ground.” I answer the teller, a young man, probably a student at Baylor. Everyone around here, no matter where they work, has something to do with Baylor—just like I was when I worked at that gas station.
“Uh, let’s see…” He types and clicks. “We’ve got a Suburban.”
“Perfect.”
I’m not sure why I even know my way back. It’s been so long, I think I am just running on auto pilot, and I never even drove around here. Pete always drove, he loved driving his truck for no reason. Before I lived with him he would come to my apartment and we would just drive around, and when we did live together we would go for night drives, most of the time to that secluded part of the park where he kissed me the first time.
I pass it all on the way to the house—the gas station I worked at, the back of campus, a lot of the restaurants Pete took me on dates to, until I reach the stretch of empty road leading to the house. Not even knowing if he is there, my chest pounds with the patter of my heart, threatening to fly out of my chest.
Once I pull in the driveway, cut the engine, I take a minute and sit. The dark brick is still new but washed down. The porch Pete and I did unchristian things on still had the dark wood bench and football on it, no doubt out of air. The front door, light wood, is still fairly new, the pillars marking the porch are too.
How is it that nothing has changed?
It starts to get too hot in the car, my sweater and jeans was only good for the cold plane ride and not the East Texas heat. I have to get out. One step at a time. I don’t even know if Pete lives here, I doubt it—the thought makes me knock on the door and hope for the best. Or worst. I don’t know which.
Footsteps come ten seconds later, I count to stay busy. I clutch the key and rental tag in my hand before the door swings open. I have no idea who is standing in front of me—shit. A man, young and sun tanned, tall with a lean muscular build, shirtless in jeans worn in the fade of them. His hair is sandy blonde, and his goofy grin is familiar, but I don’t know why.
“Um, hi. I’m looking for Pete Buchanan, I guess he doesn’t live here anymore.” I stammer.
“Oh, Uncle Pete. He stays at the farm. Are you with ESPN or something?” he narrows his eyes, also familiar.
“No—you said Uncle Pete?” I step a little closer. He shucks up his jeans but they just droop down again. I stare at the expression on his face; that goofy grin is incredibly familiar, almost eerie as I keep looking at his face. Wait—
“Yeah, he’s my uncle. Pretty cool that he’s famous and all. The chicks love it, I pretend they don’t use me for it. But I’m guessing you’re a little old for me, and that’s not why you’re here?” he chuckles, even his voice, strikes a chord I can’t name. Deep and nasally, fitting for someone his age.
“No…” I shake my head, shifting in my converse. “You’re—” I inhale sharply and smile at the realization. “Sanders?” I laugh.
“Guilty, how—”
My laugh interrupts him, it’s the last thing I expected, and I seem to be bordering on the edge of crazy with the hysterical laughter. He was four last time I saw him, add fifteen years and it looks just like him now.
“Sorry,” I cover my mouth with both hands and then drop them, “I’m Melinda. Um, Pete’s—”
“Ex-fiancée? I grew up with my aunts cursing your name.” he shrugs, I huff, not surprised.
“I um… just came to find him. I guess that’s weird.”
“Not really. I called it, so my siblings owe me a lot of money.” He leans on the door. “You want to see him?”
I swallow hard, my throat suddenly full. “Y-yeah. Is he here?”
“He turned the farm into an estate, he lives out there.” Sanders leans on the door frame, “We can go if you want.”
“Um—”
“It might be a show, you picked a great day to do it.”
I silently curse myself—Sunday dinner. I just had to fly in today.
“That’s okay. I have to at some point.”
He laughs, “Come inside. I’ll get dressed.” He waves me inside and jogs to the staircase, “I’ll hug you once I’m clothed.” He runs up the stairs and I laugh to myself.
The foyer is mostly the same; the coat rack on the side has jackets no one wears, the walkway into the living room is clear with the same dark rug Pete and I—anyway the place looks the same, another slideshow of memories passes in my mind. I wait by the couch, to keep from wandering around the house. Textbooks litter the coffee table, a notebook too.
“Summer classes, they move fast.” Sanders reappears, coming my way with a blue tee shirt on this time.
“Yeah—” I force a smile, remembering the summer I met Pete.
“As promised,” Sanders flashes his goofy crooked grin, his pearly teeth shining with his tanned face, and outstretches his arms. I laugh once and hug him back, even though he’s a kid he’s tall and solid.
We pull apart. “I don’t remember much about you because I was young, but I think I remember being fond of you.” He drops his shoulder. I smile and nod.
“I remember, you really liked hanging around with Pete.” All the Sunday dinners we went to that year and holidays with his family were memorable, mostly because Sanders thought Pete was a tree he could climb and hang off.
“Yeah, I still am. He’s everyone’s favorite. You look great.” He raises his hands at me and drops them to his side.
“Thanks.”
“And you’re a hot shot doctor now, tv and everything. You want something to drink?” he points towards the kitchen.
“I’m okay. You saw those?” I was on channel news once, when my research got a presidential seal of approval about two years ago. It seems like a lifetime ago now.
“Yeah, we all did. Well, Pete saw it after Gramma saw it.”
“His mom saw?”
“Yeah, she kind of keeps tabs on you, tells Pete when he would pretend to not want to know. My sisters hear your name and scream bloody-murder, but they’ve gotten better at keeping it from them.
“Oh… I had no idea.” I stutter, breathing down the possibility of Pete really still caring about me.
I know he said he still loves me, that night after the gala, but I never even thought of what would happen in between.
“Yeah. I don’t remember much, not until I was ten or eleven.”
“What do you remember?” I cross my arms, widening my eyes.
He slowly stretches a sly grin and nods making a noise as he does.
“You want the scoop. Let’s talk and drive, Pete hates when I’m late for ploughing.”
I nod and follow him out, we get in the car I rented and I head to the farm.
“How do you get to the farm without a car? I didn’t see one.”
Sanders cranks up the AC. “I had one, but I got this DUI that kind of blows.”
I giggle, I always thought he’d be like a perfect kid or something. His mom Penny seemed the type to be strict.
“It could have been worse but the cops here love the family, I mean we do feed them after all. So, I got off with a warning, and my license suspended for six months. I’m all set tomorrow though.”
“So, you work at the farm then?” I’m distracting myself with idle conversation, but I actually care about Sanders. He was always a sweet kid. He doesn’t look that way now, but I’m sure he still tugs at the ladies visually.
“Mostly. I study agricultural business at Baylor. But I only got in because Pete bought them a new lab. Politics.” He mocks a scoff, I laugh without thinking. I would have made this drive on my own, crawling out of my skin with worry.
“He bought them a lab?” I spend half my life now in research labs, those things are no small feat. My own small lab in the hospital was a fifty million dollar undertaking, I
was lucky to get the grant and produce good results to continue funding. Now I get paid to run it instead of the other way around.
“Yep. Pete is this town’s hero. Lots of guys come off the football team as a huge prospect, pictures in the airport and all, some pull it off, but none usually stick around. Pete did both; probably gave the city enough money to start another district. The farm too, he did all that stuff he was talking about doing with the farm, engineering and what not. I wasn’t paying attention.” He laughs at himself.
I smile and shake my head. I had no doubt Pete would do everything he said he would; I know the last thing he expected was to be the town’s hero, but apparently, he is.
My calm glow ends when I reach the wrought iron gate with Buchanan etched across it.
Sanders leans across to punch in a code—that’s new—and I drive through. Cars line the new circular path surrounding a fountain, the house looks the same but like it was added to. A lot.
“See? Pete made us an estate.” Sanders hops out and I follow. It’s past five yet the sun has no intention of going down.
“I see.” I stand by the truck, looking over the other cars parked in the drive way.
The house is a heavy red brick color, four pillars in pairs on either side of the stone walk up to the double wood front door. It has a traditional farmhouse look. Off to the side, maybe a quarter mile off, there is another house the size of Pete’s house on campus, identical in color and shape, but the main house has two extra wings, that’s why it looks bigger. The other side of the house expands out to the main part of the farm I remember, the barn almost a mile off.
The tire swing is still on the huge oak tree closer to the house, four tractors parked far off by the gate. What most catches my eye is a huge—something… I don’t know how to describe it, looks like an oil well but it isn’t one because there is no oil out here.
“Melinda? You plan on staying out here?” Sanders comes into view, smiling down at me.
“Oh, no. I just… it looks so different.”
“Yeah, it’s great. We’re a real farming stronghold now, the south depends on us.” he smirks, I can tell how proud he is.
“Did your grandpa ever hire any help?” I ask carefully, remembering Pete said he never wanted to hire any help and not knowing how sensitive the topic may be for him, since he passed away.
“Nah, we just grew up. My other cousins Matthew and Abe work the farm, we get most of it done. But since he passed, we have bent the rules a little bit. It doesn’t work without at least ten of us, especially in harvest season.”
“Oh.” I swallow. I’m almost positive that I am frozen.
Sanders waits patiently, it’s chance that I was able to come here with him. If it were just me…
I’m a genetic runner, I need something to root me down.
“So, um, everyone is inside. And,” Sanders checks his sport watch, “Pete’ll probably come out here any second now. Either way you’re going to see him. But I can body block, either way.”
I smile a bit, “I’ve already seen him, technically.”
“Oh, we know that. First the gala and then the bombing, before he showed up at your hospital. My sisters like to say that was your fault. The bombing.”
I gape.
“They don’t like you. Like I said.” He laughs.
“I can imagine.” I make small strides to the front of the car, a few paces from the steps. I can hear them inside now, no more babies crying, but instead adults chatting.
“Hey uh, why did you come back?” Sanders changes his tone of voice; his eyes grow intense as he looks down at me.
I stare back at him until I am almost embarrassed. Thinking I can insert myself back into Pete’s life. His family… after what I did. They have every right to run me off with pitchforks and fire, set the cows loose on me or something.
“Human nature.” I shrug, a sad smile coming on, my eyes threatening to flood, “Having choices makes us take the wrong ones sometimes. I did, years ago. I—Pete made me a better person, I’m selfish to want to be that person again. But if there is a chance… I don’t know, I’m not making much sense.” I shake my head and laugh with nerves.
“No, I get it. I think there’s a chance too. Now come on, we can tell them you’re my girlfriend now to distract them.” He nods towards the house, laughing, the nerves leave my laugh and I will my feet to follow him.
Step by step, my cinderblock feet drag me forward. Past the front door, where the immortal scent of cooking flour and actual flowers cloud through. Blue and white, colorful décor on the mantle and carpet. And people—
So many people.
But only one that my gaze homes in on, only one that makes my world stop. Everything; breath, worry, fear, just him.
Pete.
So marvelously handsome, his jeans and white tee shirts fitting him like a glove. His expression is hard, shocked, a storm. Deep brown eyes, hard on me, holding me in place, it drowns the world out.
“Melinda…” he says, his voice rough yet soft calls over me.
He walks around the pillar of the kitchen he is behind, and it’s just us and Sanders passing by until we aren’t alone anymore. For a few seconds, it’s him and I in this house again. I feel grossly out of place, unworthy—I don’t know what I was thinking.
“Pete I’m… I.” I stammer.
“Melinda what—” Pete holds his hand out to me, I move to reach it before I can’t, the invisible force of less than divine intervention holds me back.
“Well hell has frozen over.” Pepper. I know her stern voice anywhere. She comes behind Pete, eyes focused on me, mouth curled in a snarl; completely opposite of her bright pink Sunday dress.
“Pepper—” Pete starts.
“No.” she pushes his hand off. “I want to know what the hell she’s doing here.” She turns her attention to me.
I’m lost for words, attempting to speak but nothing comes forth. My eyes fan to Pete, as if he will help. He seems equally mute—his full lips in a hard line, jaw tight, eyes narrowed. His beauty curses me now, it doesn’t make it any easier to talk.
“Hey what’s—” Price is next, followed by Phoebe and Penny. I might just drop dead now.
“What the hell are you doing here.” Price yells.
“Who the hell let you in?” Penny follows.
“Uh, hi mommy.” Sanders laughs and goes to hug his mom. She pays him no attention and he shrugs at me, leaning on the back of the couch.
“She came by the house looking for you.” He says to his uncle.
“And you brought her here?” Penny yells at him.
“Don’t yell mom, it’s not a good look.” They carry on their own conversation while I’ve got the eyes of vengeful sisters on me.
Sisters who have barely aged, timeless in beauty and protection of their brother. Penny huffs, straightening out her shirt over her jeans. Pepper shakes her head at me, not giving up the glare, while Price looks like she might cry.
“You shouldn’t be here.” Penny turns to me.
“I just—” I start, cut off.
“You just what? Came by for another round of how hard can you stomp someone’s heart?” Pepper chides,
“Sis—” Pete tries to step forward.
“Don’t ‘sis’ me.” She swats his hand away and walks until she is inches from my face.
“What makes you think you can walk in here like nothing has happened?” Her harsh tone cuts my face.
“I don’t intend to do that.” I swallow hard.
“Who cares what you intend?” Price steps in.
“You have no idea what kind of mess you left behind.” Penny says.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
It becomes a slew of the same things—true things—I shouldn’t be here, I don’t have the right… and I don’t.
“Everyone stop yelling.” Pete snaps. He comes over to me, close enough for me to inhale, to want to fall into. It’s like I can’t make any sudden movements around the
four of them, ready to pounce on me.
“What you think this is okay Peter? After everything?” Pepper is half between us, staring up at him as she points at me.
“I’d like to be able to hear myself think and figure that out.” He looks at his sisters in turn. “And if you keep up with the yelling you might—”
“Melinda!” a soft voice I could never forget appears.
“Do that.” Pete sighs, his mother parts the sea of them and I see her.
The sight is what makes my eyes water. She is smiling at me, the mirror of an angel in a creamy day dress that hugs over her womanly frame; her brown hair flows down her back, her face bare and colored on its own with her rosy cheeks.
“Oh, my goodness—” she rushes towards me and I wonder if she might be tackling me but instead she is hugging me, I inhale her flowery scent and hug her back. It’s the first hug I’ve had in what feels like centuries.
“Momma are you kidding?” Pepper hisses.
She releases me and turns to her girls, “That’s enough. Your yelling is unbecoming. Go make yourselves scarce and give them some privacy.”
They groan and huff, eventually turning off and leaving. Phoebe stays behind, her eyes are watery, red, her face drawn. The clothes she wears, jeans and blue blouse, fit her frame loosely. Something is different about her I can’t place.
“Sorry, I had to play the united front role. It’s good to see you Melinda.” She comes and hugs me; her scent is equal parts perfume and food from the kitchen.
“Oh.” I hug her back, shocked she isn’t on the same page as her sisters.
“I’ll be upstairs. My sisters owe me money now.” She shrugs and walks off, touching Pete’s shoulder as she does. I’m confused until I remember the bet Sanders said they had. I wonder where his other siblings are for a moment.
“Pete, honey, I’ll be in the kitchen.” His mom turns to me, “You should stay for dinner, everyone behaves at the table.”
“Okay.” I force a smile at her, she squeezes my arms and then walks away, disappearing.
Sanders grins at me and follows her.
Then it’s Pete and me.
I turn to him, staring up into his easy gaze. It feels like an eternity since the hospital, since I watched him walk away. Would it have been worse if I let him see me walk away? See me run?