by Toni Blake
He flinched, turned, then flipped the chops on the grill. After which he put down his fork and crossed the patio toward her.
Despite her anger at him, putting her arms around her father’s neck provided a familiar comfort she needed, so she hugged him tight and felt a little safer in the world, like the dad she’d known and loved all these years was back.
After he returned to the grill, taking up his big fork once more, he said, “Somethin’ else I should tell you about.”
“What’s that?”
“I, uh, started seein’ a woman.”
At this, Jenny nearly fainted. “Wait—I didn’t hear you correctly. It sounded like you said you’d started seeing a woman.”
He turned to look at her. “I did. I mean, I am.”
Her jaw dropped. Talk about a miracle. “Wow.”
“Is that…okay with you?”
“It’s…more than okay, Dad—it’s great. It was even my suggestion if I recall.”
He nodded in concession. “S’pose it was at that. Anyhow, her name is Anita, and she, uh, owns the Dew Drop Inn.”
Jenny’s jaw dropped still further. “Seriously?”
“Does that bother you? Me dating somebody who owns a bar?”
“Me? No. I’m just surprised it doesn’t bother you.”
“Well, about that,” he said. “Anita ain’t the sort of woman—on the outside—who you might expect me to like. But she’s got a real good heart, and I think once you get to know her a little that you’ll like her, too.”
The irony of the whole thing, that her father was dating a woman who apparently didn’t meet normal Destiny standards, nearly made her burst into tears—but she didn’t. She was done crying. She just said, “I’m sure I will. I think you’d have felt that way about Mick, too.”
That night, around dusk, Jenny finished off her day by canoeing across the lake and taking her telescope up onto the rocks that had first lured her onto Mick’s property. It felt strange to be walking back up that hill knowing he was nowhere around, and it reminded her—all too vividly—of that first night, of the unexpected, hot, urgent sex they’d shared. He’d been a stranger then, but it was almost hard to remember that, to think of him that way now.
As night fell around her, though, as the stars came out, as always, it made Jenny feel a little more at peace. She still hurt inside, but all those stars twinkling up above her reminded her how much more was going on out there, and that she was but an infinitesimal speck on a tiny blue planet on the edge of a galaxy that was one of trillions. And it would all be okay. She would survive this. It still hurt—it hurt so bad that it felt like something was clawing at her insides—but she would survive anyway.
And it was just as she was about to go searching for some deep-space objects that she glanced up in time to see a falling star go trailing downward, appearing to land on some distant hillside. Of course, she knew there was no such thing as a falling star, that what she’d just seen was actually a meteor, a piece of rock that had entered the earth’s atmosphere and was burning up as it fell.
But the little girl inside her that had once believed in fairy tales and wishes upon stars quickly remembered that when you saw a falling star you were supposed to make a wish on it. And her first thought was to wish that she would get over Mick, that she would be strong and happy without him.
But it was just like she’d told Sue Ann; once you loved someone that way, you couldn’t really wish for that love to end—it was too big a part of your soul. So instead she closed her eyes and made a wish for the man who had brought out such reckless abandon in her this summer: I wish for Mick to find true happiness.
* * *
Look, all I’m asking is for you to just have the tiniest bit of vision. You know, to just sit back for one minute and look at the big picture. To take a chance on something that just might end up being the most profoundly impactful moment for humanity, for the history…of history.
Carl Sagan
* * *
Eighteen
Mick stood in front of the bathroom mirror, shaving. He generally only did it every two or three days, but a glance at his reflection after getting out of the shower had reminded him it had been a while, almost a week. He scowled at himself slightly. So you managed to keep yourself shaved and in clean clothes out at that shit-hole cabin while Wayne was dying, but you can’t manage to do it here, where you have normal electricity and a normal life. What the hell kind of sense did that make, besides none?
But he hadn’t felt like doing much of anything since getting back to the city. He’d gotten a new apartment in…well, kind of a crappy part of town, but it was what he could afford right now. He’d gotten one truckload of stuff out of storage so far, but hadn’t bothered to haul the rest over yet. Hell, at the moment, he just didn’t really care if he had a bed to sleep on or a decent place to watch TV. So far, he was sleeping on the same blow-up mattress he’d used out at the cabin and eating a lot of fast food.
It’s the heat, he decided. It was hard to have much energy when it was so damn hot. Never mind that he’d had had plenty of energy in Destiny.
But you had to then, for Wayne.
And you were getting laid. Getting laid can do a lot for a guy’s energy level.
His gut clenched a little at the memory of Jenny beneath him, eager and willing. He closed his eyes for a second and shoved the vision aside. This isn’t about Jenny. If anything, this is about Wayne; this is…mourning.
And he hadn’t been a total lazy ass since coming back to Cincinnati. He’d gotten his hair cut, which it had needed. He’d gotten a new tattoo, something he’d been thinking about since Wayne’s death. And he’d gotten his old job back with the same homebuilder who’d employed him the last few years. His old boss wasn’t crazy about the fact that Mick had quit out of the blue a few months ago and now suddenly shown back up, but apparently the fact that the guy still needed a good bricklayer outweighed that.
So Mick had started work again just this week, and getting back into a routine and feeling a little bit useful in the world…helped. To make him feel normal again. Kind of. This weekend you should get your shit out of storage, once and for all.
As he left his building and crossed a pockmarked parking lot to get in his truck and head to the job site where he was erecting a stone fireplace for someone with a lot more money than him, he decided maybe when he got off work tonight he’d wander down to the bar he’d seen a couple blocks away from his new place. It looked like the kind of place where a guy might meet a willing woman. The kind of place a guy could drown his sorrows in more ways than one. The idea of getting drunk and laid and not feeling anything when it was over appealed. Then why haven’t you done it yet? That he couldn’t quite answer.
He hadn’t left Destiny because of Tolliver’s threat. He’d left due to one thing and one thing only. Because there was no reason to stay anymore. The one reason he’d had up until then had betrayed him in the worst way he could imagine. He still didn’t know why, and he couldn’t understand it.
Had she not comprehended what was at stake? Had she just…not taken their relationship as seriously as he’d thought, as seriously as he had? Well, he’d feared that, hadn’t he? Not that she’d hurt him, betrayed him, on purpose—but that she’d thought she felt more for him than she really did from being on the rebound from her asshole ex-husband. And if she didn’t really love him, surely that had made telling her dad easier.
Of course, maybe she’d told her father back before…well, before it was serious, back when it was just sex. But even then, she’d promised, again and again. She’d made him feel so sure he could trust her. Over time, he’d come to trust her more than he’d ever trusted anyone, including his brother.
The reasons why, though, didn’t really matter—all that mattered was that what he’d always suspected had turned out to be true: You couldn’t trust anyone in this world. It had been his mistake for believing he could. His chest, stomach, felt hollow with thinking of her,
and of how he’d felt when Tolliver had told Mick how he’d found out about Wayne.
But no, this isn’t about Jenny. You’re just…hungry or something.
So he pulled through a Burger King drive-thru and grabbed a breakfast sandwich and orange juice and scarfed it down on the way and tried to tell himself it made him feel better.
Practically speaking, after a few days of mulling over the situation, he’d almost quit being mad at her. Quit being mad, but not quit being…hurt. Feeling…let down. Deeply. She’d proven what he’d already known all along—that they were too different, that there was just too much standing between them for their relationship to be more than a summer of hot sex. Just as he’d told himself that last morning by the cabin, he should have listened to his instincts.
In a weird way, he was almost glad she’d done something to tip him off, to make him realize that what they had couldn’t last—before it was too late. And as for all the shit he’d said to her those last couple of days, about loving her and taking care of her—well, even if he’d meant it, it wasn’t a mistake he’d make again, with any woman. He was better off alone. As always, the only person he could really depend on was himself.
Although after he drove back through the winding streets of the under-construction neighborhood and pulled up along the curb of the house where he was working today, he quit feeling hollow—and started feeling pissed as hell when he saw a goddamn cop car sitting there, one that said DESTINY POLICE on the side.
God damn it—what the hell was this about?
Barely able to contain his fury, he slammed his door and marched past the other guys at the site to where none other than Walter Tolliver stood leaning against his cruiser. “Damn it,” Mick snapped at him, “I did what you said, old man—and now you come here to make trouble for me?”
When Tolliver turned his head to face him, he looked…weirdly calm. Not at all like on the day he’d confronted Mick at the cabin. “It’s not like that. I’m not here to make trouble.”
Mick didn’t know what to make of that, but said, “Yeah, well, that car makes trouble. That goddamn car tells everybody on this job site that I’ve got the law on my ass. I’ve worked long and hard to put my past behind me, and I sure as hell don’t need you dredging it up.” He was trying to keep his voice down so the two guys hauling cabinetry up the driveway right now wouldn’t hear, but he had a feeling he wasn’t doing a very good job.
“Relax, Brody,” Tolliver said. “I told your boss and all those other fellas that I’m here on personal business, nothin’ legal, and that’s the truth.”
Personal, huh? That blindsided Mick a little—and he wasn’t altogether sure he believed it. “What could you and I have to talk about that’s personal?”
The older man hesitated slightly, then looked Mick in the eye. “I’m here to apologize,” he said.
And Mick narrowed his gaze, still not quite believing. “You’re what?”
“I was wrong in what I said to you—it wasn’t my business. You can go wherever you want.”
“I know that,” Mick replied simply, gruffly.
“And if you wanted to come back to Destiny, that’d be fine with me.”
Mick couldn’t have been more taken aback—so he just answered honestly. “Well, it wouldn’t be fine with me. I was glad to see it disappear in my rearview mirror.”
Tolliver narrowed his gaze on Mick. “That’s funny, ’cause I thought you might be fixin’ to stay.”
Mick drew in his breath and decided to change the subject a little. “So why the change of heart? And what the hell brought you all the way to Cincinnati to tell me?”
Now it was the police chief who took a deep breath and blew it back out. “Truth is, Brody, I met a woman…who’s made me start thinkin’ maybe I judged you too harshly. Jenny told me you’d changed, but I didn’t give you a chance. I try to be a good man, and I try to make up for my mistakes. I didn’t treat you fairly, and I’m ownin’ up to it, that’s all.”
Mick swallowed. Not many people had apologized to him for much in life. He thought through it a minute and spoke the truth, even if it was humbling. “The fact is, you treated me more than fair. I could be in jail right now, but I’m not. So if running me out of town is the worst you did to me, I’m not gonna fault you for it.”
“Can you forgive Jenny, too? Because when you asked me how I found out about what you were doin’, I didn’t tell you why she told me. So I’ll tell you now. I didn’t give her much of a choice. I was gettin’ ready to head out to your place ’cause I knew your brother had gone missin’ and I’d had a tip somebody might be out at the cabin—and that’s when Jenny stopped me. She told me in order to protect you. And she made me promise to leave you alone. It was real important to her. Otherwise, you probably would be in jail now. So by tellin’ me, she pretty much…saved you. I hope you’ll forgive her.”
“I already forgave her,” Mick admitted matter-of-factly.
“She doesn’t know that.”
Mick crossed his arms. “Well, that’s probably best. I think we all know that her and me…” He stopped, shook his head, glanced down at his dusty workboots. “Hell, when you have to sneak around to see somebody, it’s never gonna work. It means there’s a hell of a lot keeping you apart. I’m sorry I hurt her, but you know and I know that she’s better off without somebody like me in her life.”
“I didn’t say that,” Walter Tolliver replied, surprising him.
Still, Mick raised his gaze back to Jenny’s father. “Nope, but I did. I appreciate you coming here, but you don’t need to worry about me darkening Jenny’s doorstep again. I got a life here, she’s got a life there, and it’ll be easier for everybody if we just keep it that way.”
Mick didn’t go to the bar up the street that night. Or the next night. Or the next.
Instead, he watched reality TV and decided that most of those people didn’t know anything about reality. And he thought a lot about his visit from Walter Tolliver—because apparently, miracles did happen. He couldn’t think of anyone on the planet he would be more surprised to get an apology from, and it gave him a grudging respect for the guy. He supposed that was why he’d gotten so honest with him before all was said and done.
As for Jenny, though…he didn’t like to think of her hurting because of him, but he was hurting, too, and what he’d told her father was true: All of their lives were going to be easier with him here and her there. People in Destiny would never accept him. And once upon a time—hell, as recently as a couple of months ago—he hadn’t cared what people thought of him, but somewhere along the way, he supposed that had changed. He’d started caring what Jenny thought of him. And now he supposed he cared what the people in Jenny’s life thought of him. He just wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad one.
And it did weird things to his heart to realize, to wonder, if maybe he’d been wrong in the end, if maybe this was more than a rebound thing she’d gotten caught up in, if maybe it had been just as serious, just as real, as she’d made it sound at the time. Just as real as it had turned out to be for him.
Even if that was the case, though, it didn’t alter the big picture. It was good he’d left when he did. In the end, she’d be happier without him—she’d be happier eventually settling down with somebody more like her, somebody who could give her more than he could.
It was Friday night when he brought home a Big Mac and some fries and ate at his old kitchen table while he watched the same television set he’d taken out to the cabin for Wayne. Local newscasters said the current heat emergency was still on and shelters were still open for people without air-conditioning. It was so hot now that it was killing people. The heat wave was finally supposed to break again tomorrow, but Mick decided he’d believe it when he felt it. And was thankful that at least he did have A/C. Not central air like at Jenny’s house, but an old wall unit that kept the place comfortable enough.
When a knock came on the door, he flinched. Shit. Who would be knocking at hi
s door? Almost panicking reflexively from his days of hiding out with Wayne, he glanced at the picture of him and his brother as boys—he’d picked up a frame for it and set it on a shelf on his TV stand, next to the arrowhead—then remembered Wayne was dead and that he wasn’t doing anything illegal anymore.
So he decided it had to be somebody selling something and nearly didn’t answer, but when the knock sounded again, louder and more annoying this time, he abandoned his last few fries and went to the door.
He opened it to see a scruffy-looking kid, probably eight or nine years old, holding a cardboard box. He glanced inside to see what the boy was selling—and flinched again at the sight of a miniature yellow cat. The cat looked up at him and said, “Meow!” It looked kind of desperate.
“You want this cat?” the kid asked.
Mick felt his eyebrows crinkle. “Uh, no.”
“It’s the last one. Started out with five. I have to give it away or my dad is going to drive it out in the country somewhere and dump it on the side of the road.”
Damn—sounded like something Mick’s dad would’ve done. Even so, Mick had never especially liked cats. Despite Jenny’s affinity for them, he’d always thought they were sneaky, and clingy, and this one looked particularly needy. “Meow!” it said. “Meow, meow, meow!”
“Is something wrong with it? It looks…freaked-out.”
The kid shrugged. “It just likes to meow a lot is all.”
Swell. “Well, I don’t need a cat. Sorry,” he said, and started to close the door.
“Wait,” the kid protested, so Mick stopped.
“What?”
“You’re the last apartment. I’ve been through all three buildings and you’re the last place to ask. So won’t you please take this kitten, mister?”
“Meow! Meow!” the cat said. Like he knew what was going on. Like he was saying, Save me, save me!
Hell. Mick glanced down into the box again. He knew he was just imagining the cat looked afraid. He knew it wasn’t his problem. He knew he shouldn’t give a damn, or be picturing that cat meowing its fool head off on the side of a road someplace where no one would ever find it, like the long stretch of highway that led into Destiny.