No Reverse

by Marion Croslydon

  “I’m sorry, Cass. I didn’t mean to force myself on you.” Josh stood too, but didn’t bridge the gap.

  I kept standing there, totally mute, my hand on my chest, like the scared virgin I wasn’t anymore.

  Get a grip.

  “Don’t—Don’t apologize.” I let my hand slide down my body and left it hanging at my side. “I can’t let this happen. It isn’t about me, about what I want.” I swallowed. “What I need.” No man had touched me that way since Josh.

  “For a moment, I forgot—“

  “—I don’t want you to forget anything. I don’t want to seduce you into a quick late-night romp. I don’t want to take you away from Eleanor and destroy your future together. But I need you by my side to claim our baby back. Will you be there for Lucas?”

  I was out of breath. I couldn’t keep up with the tough act any longer. “I’ve dreamt of having you back in my life. It’s been so empty without you. I can’t pretend. But I’m not here for myself, I’m here for Lucas. I wouldn’t be messing up with you and… Eleanor, if it wasn’t for our son.”

  Josh just stared at me, as if he was looking for a trace of a lie. Then he nodded: Was it a nod “yes, I will” or just a “yes, I understand”? He retraced his steps to the door between the living room and the entrance. I wanted to run after him, to tell him not to leave me alone, to stay. But that would have contradicted my earlier speech. And I believed in every word I’d said.

  He turned back. “Are you working tomorrow?”

  “I’m doing the afternoon shift.”

  “Can you come to my place after that? Hopefully I’ll have sorted out the mess in my head by then and I’ll have a plan.”

  “Okay.” It wasn’t okay at all. I wanted him to clear up the muddle in his mind right now, and tell me he’d book the first flight back to the U.S., back to Kansas City, back to Lucas.

  I heard the sound of the door clicking shut.

  What did Scarlett always say? Tomorrow is another day.

  Except, unlike Scarlett, I wasn’t tough as nail.

  nineteen

  Steep Hill ~ November, six years earlier.

  Josh.

  The snowflakes brush my face.

  It snows in Steep Hill every year, but normally not before December. At the earliest. And it never snows enough for it to stay long. Still, this is happening right now. And we’re only in November. I take that as a sign. A sign of what? Not sure. I chuckle and nearly tip over.

  Jeez… Let’s hope the branch of the cotton tree isn’t going to break under my weight. I’d better keep still. I haven’t climbed this tree since Cassie and I were in seventh grade, and I’m much heavier now.

  Through the silence of the snow-covered landscape, I hear the roaring of an engine on the road to Sweet Angel Point. An old engine. Judging by the creaks of the gearstick, that’s Cassie and her antique Chevy. They appear at the turn of the road, their pace slow. Cass is a bad driver, and she knows it. So in these weather conditions, she’s not taking any risks. Maybe it’s also because of the baby.

  Through the windshield, she stared up at the top of the tree where I’m perched. One final creak of the handbrake, followed by the shutting of a door. Cassie struts around to the front of her truck. She’s wearing her favorite cowboy boots and an old army jacket with the hood hiding half her face.

  “What the hell are you doing up there? Wanna break your neck or what?” She shuffles her hands under her armpits to keep them warm while pacing up and down on the spot. She’s cold. I’d better be quick with my speech then.

  “Thanks for coming.” I stall. Come on! I shine in debating class, but now that I need to be eloquent, I can’t put two words together. And what I have to say is pretty important.

  “You’re welcome. Can you get down, please? I’m going to feel dizzy staring up like this. I’m still puking my guts out five times a day, you know.”

  I didn’t know. And that sucks. Two weeks have now gone by since Cass broke the big news. I think she’s eight weeks pregnant now. For the first time since we’ve known each other, I’m disconnected from her. She’s totally switched me off.

  “I have to stay up here. But what I have to say won’t take long.” I’m surprised by how casual I sound. Inside I’m anything but casual. I swallow hard and my tongue licks my upper lip.

  “Okay, fire away then.” She’s now crossed her arms over her chest.

  I lean as far forward as I can without tipping over and crashing to the ground three yards below. I take a deep breath. Another one. It has to be now.

  “Cassandra O’Malley, will you marry me?”

  Her reaction is immediate. She lowers her head so that the only thing left for me to see is the top of her hood, and then turns away.

  “Don’t freak out, Cass. Hear me out.”

  She freezes. Slowly she swivels to face me again. Her hand lies on the truck’s hood, as if she needs its support to keep herself standing.

  This is my window of opportunity. “I know what you think. That I’m proposing just because I’m one of the good guys, because I want to do the right thing, with you being pregnant and all.”

  She’s still watching me from the same place. But still no reaction. I stifle my urge to move, even if my right leg has gone numb. Again, I pray for the tree to keep carrying my dreams and not to break down beneath me.

  “The truth, Cass, is that I’ve always wanted to marry you. I dreamt of our wedding day.” I’m definitely making an ass of myself right now, but my pride isn’t what I care about. “I know it’s a girl thing… even if you’ve probably never wasted time on stuff like this.”

  Still radio silence on her side. So I keep rambling on.

  “Granted. I didn’t plan for the proposal to happen while we’re still seniors….” When I still don’t have one single cent to my name either. “But I want you to believe me when I say that marrying you has always been my dream.”

  Cassie takes a couple of steps toward the tree, and the snow crunches underneath her boots.

  “You’re a good man, Joshua MacBride. You don’t need to prove it by marrying me.”

  This is the moment when, if I were a girl—and if I were safe on the ground—I’d be stamping my foot in frustration. But I’m a quarterback—stupidly perched on top of an old tree—but a quarterback nevertheless. Sometimes it has to show. “I fuckin’ love you. Can you drill that fact into that stubborn pretty head of yours?”

  Cassie shudders and leans forward, her side against the truck now.

  How weird that in the eleven years we’ve known each other—and the full year we’ve been dating—we’ve never said the words. “I love you.” They didn’t need to be said. Still, if there’s ever an appropriate time to start, it is now.

  “You love me too. Today, I’m not asking you to say the three words. I’m asking you to say only one. Just one single word. ‘Yes’”

  She slowly walks back to where she was standing before my proposal, right under the tree, her face tilting backwards. She frowns.

  “Why are you doing it from up there? Guys usually do it on their knee, you know?”

  Good question. I’ve got to explain the logic.

  “Well, first of all, I know how much tradition freaks you out. So this is a nice departure from the classic proposal.”

  The ghost of a smile appears on her face. She hides it fast though.

  “I also want you to feel free to make your decision. If you say ‘no,’ I won’t be chasing you. By the time I get my ass down there, you can be back in your truck and driving away. No explanation needed.”

  “I’m no coward.”

  That didn’t sound like the “yes” I’d been praying for.

  “I know you aren’t. But I’m a big believer in free will and all. Given that this might be the most important decision you make in your life, I’d like to hear what you really want.”

  “I always say it like it is, Champ.” There’s a challenge in her voice.

  “No, you don’t. Not w
ith me. Since we were kids, you’ve always tried to protect me or my feelings. You’re the toughest cookie I’ve ever met… and the most selfless person. It’s time for you to look after yourself first. Not me, not your gran, not Woodie. You. What do you want to do?”

  I swear one full minute goes by without another word from her. It’s as if Cassie has frozen into a statue, and the only interruption we get is the sound of a bird in a tree nearby.

  “Can you say it again?” Finally, she’s talking.

  “Say what?”

  “The three words but without the ‘F’ word this time.”

  My brain searches back on itself. “The three words.” Then my mind hits the jackpot. “I love you.” And because I enjoy saying it, I have to repeat it. Shouting this time, the words echo through the empty space around us. “I LOVE YOU.”

  Cassie giggles. This never happens. Girls giggle, but not my girl. Hopefully it’s a good sign. She extends her arm upwards, and her hand waves. “Get your ass down here, Champ.”

  This is definitely a good sign.

  Now how do I actually get back down?

  I pivot on the branch, throwing one leg over it. My arms circle the trunk and I throw myself forward, my legs reaching around the tree.

  “Impressive, Champ, you’re good for boot camp.”

  I don’t want to make a fool of myself right before the “big” moment. Because the “big” moment is coming. I slide my bent legs along the trunk, my arms following. Finally, my feet reach the ground. Thank God! I am fit and I have climbed up and down this damn tree too many times to remember. I turn around to face her, trying to look in charge. But really, Cassie is.

  She takes my hand in hers, entwining her fingers in mine.

  “I think we should both try and compromise,” she says.

  I’ve got no idea where this is going. But I have to trust her, so I let her continue.

  “You’re kind of big into tradition… and I’m kind of not.” True. Still where is she heading with this? “So, this is a way to make everyone happy.”

  Cassie goes down on one knee, my hand still in hers. She pushes her hood back. I drown so deeply in the blue of her eyes, and I am so powerless at the tears edging out of them, that I almost don’t compute what she’s about to do.

  Until she’s actually doing it.

  “Joshua MacBride, do you want to marry me?”

  I’ve never loved her as much as I do now. Whatever the future holds for us, I know life will never be dull with Cassandra O’Malley.

  And there’s only one answer to her question. “Yes, I do.”

  twenty

  Oxford ~ Present.

  Cassie.

  Hurry up, Cass.

  I rushed to the kitchen counter at the Turf to drop off the plates. Last customers of my shift. I flashed back to the table. The couple that had been sitting there forever, cuddling and smooching, had gone. Hallelujah!

  I sprayed some disinfectant on the table and wiped it clean. Then I swept my gaze around the main room of the pub. 6 p.m. The place was temporarily empty, with Sam behind the bar, a large notepad in his hands, doing the inventory. One bottle of vodka and one of gin. And so on, and so on.

  Okay, now, I had no reason to stay any longer. Last night, Josh asked me to go to his place after my shift. The wait was almost over. In the next hour, I’d know if my trip to England had been a success or a total failure. Thumbs up. Thumbs down.

  Once Josh had told me I was the toughest cookie he’d ever met. Right then, I didn’t feel tough at all. I’d crossed an ocean to tell him the truth, to convince him to help Lucas. And now that the time had come for his decision, I was all mushy inside.

  I shook my head, like a boxer on the edge of the ring, waiting to get into the fight. Because this was going to be a fight. And I had to win.

  “Still working hard?”

  I twirled around on tiptoes. Shawn. The lead singer of The Libs. After Josh’s visit last night, the full-on confession and the almost-kiss, I’d nearly forgotten everything about the gig and my fifteen minutes of fame.

  “I’m about to leave, actually.” And now the memory of the kiss he stole before handing me the microphone hit home. I blushed.

  Shawn wasn’t text-book handsome. He was too short for my taste. I liked men tall, what can I say? Still, there was a fire burning inside him, a crazy intensity that, I guessed, some people called “star-power.” I could definitely see him gracing the cover of Rolling Stone one day.

  He came and sat down on the edge of the table I’d just cleaned, his legs balancing under him. The sparks that lit his eyes made him look like a naughty kid.

  “You blew my mind last night, Cassie.”

  Which part of “last night” was the guy referring to? My performance? Or my tight jeans? I wasn’t one of those girls men could sweet-talk into bed. I’d have crossed my arms over my chest to let the guy know I wasn’t falling for it. But I had the disinfectant spray in one hand and kitchen towel in the other. Still, Shawn got the vibe.

  “I was talking about your singing.” He had lifted his hands with his palms up facing me. “Sam had to beg me to let you do our warm-up act. But I’ve always trusted the dude, and he was damned right.”

  “Thanks. I really appreciate you giving me the chance.”

  “Have you been writing your own songs for a long time?”

  I shrugged. “I started when I was about fourteen. A way of dealing with my raging hormones.”

  Shawn chuckled then leaned forward, his forearms resting on his thighs. He stared at me and I wriggled under his gaze. “So what are you going to do about it?”

  His question threw me back. But my answer threw him back. “Nothing.”

  “You’re shitting me.” His eyes widened. His mouth gaped.

  I shrugged again. There had been a day when I’d have given my soul to climb on stage and perform, to burn my darkest secrets through songs. I still had the same urge inside me, but today I wouldn’t give my soul for it and certainly wouldn’t give up Lucas.

  “I have a son back in the U.S.” I didn’t care if I broke my newly acquired rock-chick persona.

  “So what?” So what? My answer was pretty self-explanatory. “You can sing and have a kid. The two aren’t mutually exclusive.”

  “At this point in my life, they are. My son’s just been through a tough time and he needs me to be there for him. I can’t do that if I’m on the road all the time, living in a tour bus, going from one gig to the next, auditioning… and all those things you’re supposed to do when you start up.”

  Shawn kept staring at me as if I hadn’t spoken at all. His mouth twitched. Then, suddenly, he jumped off the table.

  “We’re flying back home over the weekend to start a cross-States gig. I came here as a favor to Sam ‘cause we know each other from New Orleans.” He reached out a finger and played with one of the wisps of my hair, then he let it down and stepped away from me. “Ask him for my cell, just in case you change your mind.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate it.” But the timing wasn’t right. It probably never would be. And as much as I wanted to make it right for Lucas, the loss of my dreams made my heart heavier in my chest.

  Shawn gave me a salute with the tips of his fingers. “I hope it works out for you and your kid.”

  He walked back to the bar and Sam.

  My hand rested on my tangled-up tummy. I really hoped it would work out too.

  I really had to get to Josh ASAP.

  twenty-one

  I hadn’t been back to Josh’s place since the party on the day of my arrival. Looking back, I hadn’t been nervous that night, more like on an adrenaline rush. I hadn’t known Josh anymore and, for sure, I hadn’t known he was engaged.

  Otherwise I might have felt the way I did right now. Clammy hands. Shaking knees. Rushing heart.

  The door opened wide. He stood there, and again I had that feeling in the pit of my stomach that he had mutated. Same hair and eye color, same height, but his core wasn’t
the same. More icepick-chiseled these days.

  I shivered.

  He stood aside to let me in and I brushed past him. The house was nice inside. Not big, rather deep and narrow like all the English houses I’d seen so far, but the finish beat hands-down the house where I squatted. Fresh paint, dark wooden floor, neutral-colored furniture, and in the back I could see a fully-fitted kitchen. Eleanor’s touch was everywhere.

  “Cool place,” I admitted while turning back to face Josh.

  He pressed his lips together and shoved his hands in his pockets, then said, “We were lucky to find it.”

  Josh gestured toward a couch covered with plump cushions. “Do you want to drink anything?”

  I shook my head. I sat my butt down on the couch, my hands clasped to my thighs, my knees stuck together, my back stiff and straight. Josh’s feet kept shuffling, his hands back in his jeans, his head down. Tension ping-ponged between us. Last night’s smooch wasn’t going to happen again anytime soon.

  “I need to start with an apology.” Josh’s words should have been mine. I guessed my eyes looked like flying saucers, because he rushed into his next sentence. “I’ve spent the last week accusing you of all the sins of the earth… and I’m still angry.” He buried his hands even deeper in his pockets and the muscles on his forearms tensed. “But I’m in no position to judge you. I proposed to a girl while I was still married to another and didn’t have the decency to ask for a divorce myself. I sent a lawyer instead.” He muffled a groan. “In anyone’s book, that’s topping the jerk charts.”

  I chose the mute option because, well, I kind of agreed.

  But Josh was in a much more talkative mood. “The truth is that I’ve been a coward. I wanted to prove to myself, my family, the whole world how strong I was. That what you did hadn’t entirely destroyed me. I never took the time to lick my wounds.” The hurt in his face right then strangled my throat. “I pretended you never existed, as my best friend, my first love, my wife. I cut off Steep Hill, Woodie, my parents. Then I met Eleanor.”

  A soft smile spread over his face and his gaze swept away from me. He loved the girl.