Watching the Sky Cry

by J. B. Hartnett

  I shrugged. “He has loose ends to tie up.”

  “What do you mean by loose ends?”

  I moved from her hold on me and wrapped my arms around my waist as we walked toward the parking lot. “Did I think I’d just move to another part of the state, start fresh, erase Nick from my heart, and take up with a man I was in love with when I was fifteen? I was a child.” I laughed, but I didn’t find one thing funny, because I was making excuses for the very real feelings I was experiencing.

  “Rylie,” she began, and something about her tone made me look at her while she spoke. “I read every letter he sent you, because I’m your mother. I knew you wouldn’t read the last three he sent, and I knew how bull-headed and heartbroken you were.”

  “I read them…last night. I read the letters, starting from when I was ten up to the ones you taped back together.”

  She stopped abruptly, shook her head with a jolt, and went on. “I worried because you were so young, and I wanted you to experience a little bit of life before you were tied to a man. But what he said, and the way he said it, that young man loved you, even though he was still a kid himself. I remember telling your dad, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think a thirty-year-old was writing those letters.”

  “Mom—”

  “He knew what he wanted, Rylie. And I think the only thing that stopped him was his dad and your uncle. And part of what you heard today had to do with exactly that. And it kills me to think…”

  She stopped mid-sentence and didn’t say anything more. She just turned her head and walked to the cottage.

  “What, Mom?” I demanded as I followed her into my old cottage. She grabbed her purse, and followed her right back out to the rental car.

  “Let’s get started. We’ll go deal with that kitchen guy first.” I followed her into the car, put on my seatbelt, and watched as she turned the key in the ignition, her other hand in her purse as she produced her phone.

  “What were you about to say?” I urged.

  “Give me the address, and I’ll put it into the GPS.”

  “Mom…”

  I hated to press her, but I had to know. She looked out the window, and I could almost see my brother in her face, especially her identical concerned expression.

  “We loved Nick, Rylie. I’ll never forget the day he spoke to Dad and said he was worried you might change your mind someday. But Dad said you’d always known your heart, wise beyond your years.”

  She blinked back tears as she looked out the window at the sprawling meadow beyond. Then I waited because I knew there was more.

  “The whole time, when you and Nick were falling in love…I thought about Quentin. I knew about his mother, his horrible childhood, and I wished we could’ve been his family. And I thought…maybe if Lee had given him a chance to talk to you before you flew back…it would’ve saved you both a great deal of pain.”

  “I spent the night with Quentin, Mom.” She held my eyes as I asked, “Do you think…” I began, “Do you think Nick would be hurt? That I’m moving on?”

  She shook her head. “No, honey. I think he’d want you to be happy. That’s all he ever wanted.”

  I reached into the front pocket of my jeans, took my mom’s hand, and put my wedding rings there. “I can’t keep these, but I don’t know what to do with them either.”

  Mom nodded, opened the zipper of her pocket book and closed them inside. “I’ll take care of them.”

  “Quentin seems…different.”

  She put the car in drive and eased out of the parking space. “Rylie, when you believe there’s only one person in the big, wide world for you, no one else is ever gonna be good enough. Even though they might be, if you won’t allow for the possibility, it doesn’t matter. I loved one man in my life, and he loved me back. If I lost him…” She let the words hang until she said, “The pain would be unbearable.”

  I had firsthand knowledge of that pain, and we both knew it.

  “I have to tell him what happened to Nick. I don’t think he knows…”

  “All in good time. Kitchen guy…shop…eat. And maybe drink. I’ve had so much drama this morning, a drink would be nice. Sound good?”

  I couldn’t agree more. “Yeah Mom. Better than good.”

  TEN

  My brilliant mother used her feminine wiles to talk the price of the kitchen down another five hundred bucks. She flirted shamelessly, telling the man, if she wasn’t married, she’d run off with him. He knew her game, but he ate it up, happy for the company, I thought. And when times for measuring and delivery were settled and a preliminary sketch and price worked out for the last bus, we headed to the mall. We shopped, Mom paid, and instead of eating her feelings, Mom decided to drink them.

  “You’ll have to drive home,” she announced, albeit, a little slurred.

  “I figured that.” I grinned and took another sip of hot chocolate. I’d gone a little daring and decided to try the green enchiladas with a molé sauce. It was good, but weird. This was followed by tequila-infused flan and Mexican hot chocolate.

  Mom had four margaritas.

  If gin was my liquor nemesis, tequila was Mom’s. It was probably not my finest moment, trying to take advantage of my sloshed mother, but opportunity knocked.

  “Are you and Dad okay?” I asked.

  “Yep,” she replied and smacked her lips together.

  “Are Aunt Ardie and Uncle Lee okay?”

  “Nope,” she answered, again with a smack.

  “Why?” I really wanted to know what it all had to do with me. The small snippet of conversation I’d heard was all taken out of context.

  “I’d tell you if I could, but I can’t, and you shouldn’t try to make me either.” Her squinting eyes said to back off.

  “Sorry.” I attempted to get one more spoonful of creamy flan into my mouth, but sadly, I couldn’t eat another bite. “Damn. I’m off my game.”

  “What do you expect when you’re stomach shrinks to the size of a pea?”

  A slight exaggeration on her part.

  “It’s almost shorts and tank season again. And I’ve gained, like, twenty pounds, Mom.”

  “Don’t lie to your mother.” She twirled her hand in the air as the waitress walked past us, her Bat-signal for another drink.

  “You sure you should have another?” I asked.

  “Rylie?” The way she said my name could also be translated as, shut the fuck up. So, I stayed quiet and watched my mom continue to get hammered. More so.

  “Since I can’t talk about things that have nothing to do with me, I want to hear about Quentin and you. Have you slept with him yet?”

  I blinked like I was sucking on a lime.

  She searched my face, something she used to do when I was a kid to make me confess. Even if I didn’t say anything, she knew when I was lying and waited until the silence broke me.

  “So, not yet. You should, honey. You should have lots and lots of sex with that man. And then, you should have babies with him.”

  I wasn’t about to tell her I’d had the same ideas, not in those words exactly. But the sentiment was the same.

  “Okay,” I began, trying to narrow down all the reasons she shouldn’t jump the gun. “First, when’s the last time you saw him? He’s different now. And second, Mom, I mean, you really think I should rush into something? I was trying to take things slow.”

  “Slow is for the birds. You know what slow gives you?”

  I shook my head. “What?”

  “Missed opportunities.”

  I rolled my eyes as Mom checked the text message on her phone just as her fresh drink was delivered. “You’re a doll. Here’s my credit card. Gracias!”

  “You are so obnoxious when you drink,” I mumbled, glad she was calling it a day. We had, in fact, done a bit of shopping. If this year was like last year, summer was going to come fast and hot, the cottages would be booked until September, which meant I’d need to help Aunt Ardie more. Plus the buses…which meant shopping trips to
the mall were going to be rare.

  “So, Dad’s on his way,” she said after a huge gulp. “He wants to talk then have his way with me. He says I’m fun when I’m drunk.”

  I waved my hand in front of her face with my finger at her lips. “Shush. Just, shush.”

  She leaned in on her elbows and got down to business. “One thing before I go,” she began. And I was fairly certain that one thing would be more like twenty.

  “Go on,” I urged.

  “I think you know what you want. And Nick…well, honey, Nick isn’t here. You know it and have for a long time, so you shouldn’t feel guilty about it.”

  She pulled her arms back in and sat up straight, her eyes aimed over my shoulder as she took her glass, held it up, and proceeded to finish the contents.

  It was tempting to chant the words, Chug, chug, chug, but I resisted. “I’ll get the car back to you tomorrow, Mom, and—”

  “Bye now. Have fun.” She leaned in and gave a loud, conspiratorial spittle-whisper to my ear, “Give me grandbabies. Dad and I are looking for a place here. You know we wanted to move back. And, eventually, I’ll get Billy to come down, too.”

  I’d barely looked at my cocoa when Mom exited the booth and was replaced by wall-o-man, Quentin.

  “I spoke with Alyssa,” he said.

  “Well, hello to you, too. Is Alyssa the elusive, loose end?”

  “Yes.” He smirked. “And now, I’m here.”

  And now he was here, so I decided to offer him my own loose end.

  “I gave my mom the wedding rings.”

  His face moved into a smile, warm, but distracted somehow. Like something was still holding him back from committing to actual happiness. The waitress returned and Quentin ordered a beer. I quietly played with the handle of my cup, and when that lost its distraction abilities, I picked up the fork and stabbed at the flan for a bit.

  His rumbly voice stopped my stabbing. “Your Mom wants grandkids.”

  Oh my Lord.

  “She’s drunk,” I told him. “When she’s drunk, suddenly we’re gal pals and everything that comes out of her mouth is uncensored. She just informed me she and Dad are moving here. And she spit in my ear. I was this close to telling her to say it, not spray it.”

  “Rylie,” he said, taking my free hand.

  “And there’s hope Billy will come down,” I told him, waving my fork.

  “Rylie, please look at me so I can say I’m sorry.”

  I lifted my eyes and saw what I’d been seeing in my mind for years. This was Quentin, the older, perhaps wiser, version who was all grown up and knew how to kiss and give a great orgasm. And honestly? I didn’t care about carts before horses. I saw those blue, pained eyes and wanted to use my experience with sorrow to take his away.

  But if we were going to do this, it had to be done right.

  “I’m the one who owes you an apology. We need to talk, Quentin, and I don’t think it can wait.”

  “Right. I need to go to my new place. I brought your dad. He took the rental, so I’ll take us back.”

  “I thought you had an apartment here…in Santa Rosa.”

  “And I told you I was waiting for my place to be ready. And,” he said, tossing a ten on the table. “I could use your help decorating it.”

  Then he seemed anxious, as if I’d interrupted his plans.

  “I’m sorry if my mom ruined your night,” I said.

  “It’s not ruined at all. In fact, it’s worked out perfectly.” He stood up from the booth and put his hand down for me to take. “I’m sorry, Rylie May. Shit I haven’t told you, things I never said in my letters, but it scares me. Honest to God, I haven’t let anyone in, in such a long time. Scares the fuck out of me.”

  And with that, I put my hand in his and let him take me to his house.

  ****

  During the drive back to Guerneville, Quentin asked about Mom and Dad moving up north and what that would entail. I left out the argument I’d overheard earlier in the day because I had other bridges to cross first.

  As we pulled into a long, winding driveway, I remembered seeing the listing in the window of the real estate office as a rental. There was one picture of the view from the inside of the river below and a Price Upon Inquiry note at the bottom.

  “How many kidneys do you have to sell for a place like this?” I asked, my little attempt at a joke.

  “A few.” He grinned as we pulled in behind a cream-colored Lexus.

  One look at the house, I knew why they only wanted serious inquiries. It made my new place—which I loved, by the way—look like a Bayou river shack.

  “Shall we?” he asked. I hadn’t even realized he was out of the car.

  “Good, God,” I whispered.

  “Do you like it?” he asked.

  “Do I like it?” I laughed awkwardly.

  He only chuckled under his breath as we walked up the long, plank steps. In front of us were bi-fold wood doors, a swirly-patterned square window in each one, and ivy trailing the brickwork above it. It was so pretty, like someone had arranged each tendril to do what they wanted. Random, but perfect, almost too good to be true.

  And that was just the deck.

  Clickety-clack… I heard the footsteps first. Then, coming our way, I saw a tall, beautiful woman with a million dollar smile and legs as long as the cathedral ceilings were tall. She stopped right in front of me, Quentin’s hand resting between my shoulder blades as the woman said with a faux-welcoming smile, “Rylie. We meet again.”

  I took a quick glance to my side at Quentin when he said, “This is Alyssa, Rylie.”

  I was a bit dazzled by my potential life-altering home purchase with lots of zeros the last time we met. But now I knew for sure, she was too pretty to be a real estate agent. Unless the house being sold was a game show prize and she was the one in the sparkling gown pimping the showcase.

  “I’ve heard so much about you Rylie. I thought Q made you up.”

  Q?

  “No. I’m real,” I said and glanced around her to see the fireplace that went from the floor to the top of those high ceilings.

  “And how is your new little place working out for you?”

  Alyssa’s small talk sucked. All I knew about her? She was gorgeous, offensively so. And, apparently, she and Quentin had a thing. But I powered through.

  “Yeah. I fell in love with it as soon as I saw the picture,” I told her. “It’s what I always envisioned, coming back here.”

  “I can’t wait to leave this place.” She laughed. “I know it’s pretty, trees and nature, blah, blah, blah, but I’m a little over it.” I think she was holding back her own eye roll. “Anyway, I did the walk-through. You just need to sign these, and I’ll get out of your hair, Q.”

  The Q thing bugged me. I couldn’t help it.

  It was hard to tell if Alyssa was peppy or impatient, opening her purse and digging around for something or other. Quentin was just closing the folder when she reached down, took my hand, and leaned in to my ear. “I wish you both the best.” Then she lifted the same hand to Quentin’s cheek. “I’m glad she came back to you, Q. Take care.”

  “You, too, Alyssa. Thanks for making the house thing happen so quickly.”

  “Well,” she said, looking around. “The proposed tenants were devastated you wanted it back. But, you know, it’s yours.” She shrugged. “Goodbye, Quentin.”

  I moved away from Quentin and disappeared toward the kitchen as he walked her to the front door. I turned on the taps, opened the dishwasher, checked out the walk-in butler’s pantry—awesome—and moved into the main living room with the big fireplace and floor-to-ceiling windows. Then I heard him approach.

  “I do not envy your heating bills.”

  “Double-glazed windows,” he told me.

  “Of course. So…Q?” Apparently, I couldn’t let that go. “I will never, ever call you that.”

  “Good.” He smiled. “I found it irritating. She just started doing it one day. I never stop
ped it.”

  “She seemed…” I shook my head, unable to find anything complimentary to say. “That was awkward.”

  “I’d planned on meeting her here when your mom and dad sent me a message. So I had to reschedule. We have history, obviously. Since it officially ended, we’d meet up every couple of months for a drink.”

  A drink meaning sex, I assumed.

  I held out my hand to the side where she’d been standing only minutes before. “Quentin, the woman is a supermodel. Have you seen me?” Quentin wasn’t exactly repellant. And Alyssa was his counterpart. She was also younger than me. By about ten years.

  Then, like lightning, he was in front of me, his hands in my hair, his voice low and firm when he said, “Don’t do that. I have never seen a woman more beautiful than you, Rylie May.”

  “Quentin,” I whispered. “You’re hurting me.”

  His grip loosened, and I tried to step out of his hold. But he wouldn’t let me go. “Look out the big window, toward the river.”

  I did as he asked, still there in his hold.

  “A long time ago, we sat on a big rock right behind those trees and looked at the empty space here, and I told you, one day, I was going to build a house. And you told me it needed to have giant windows so my Christmas tree could look out at the other trees. You had this whole thing about not wanting the tree to get lonely.”

  “You built this house?”

  “I designed this house. This is my property. My dad’s house is over the ridge.”

  Feeling overwhelmed, I pushed away to finally free myself from him.

  “I need a break,” I gasped.

  “From?” he asked.

  “This!” I threw my hands out to the sides. “This intensity! I’ve seen you three times, including right now, and it’s always…intense!”

  And it was about to get even more intense.

  He chuckled and took my hand, pulling me back to him. “Tell me what you need, Rylie.”

  “I need…” I said, trying to catch my breath and get my head straight. “You came back to town pretty quick. I just want to know it’s not all about me. Like, you haven’t been carrying some kind of torch for me the last twenty years. Right?”