Song of Life

by C. L. McCullough

  Cas smiled and shook his head. He didn’t want a little cutie, at least not one at that particular table, and he didn’t want to dance. But he did push his depressing thoughts aside and tuned into Reese’s conversation, such as it was, with Stacy.

  “You the sumbitch working up to the inn?”

  The voice was whisky harsh and loud enough to be heard over the deafening beat of the music. Cas looked to his right and gave an inward sigh. The man standing there reminded him of a banty rooster he’d seen once, down to the drooping mustache covering his lips. Bantys thought they were tough, liked to rule the roost. No one could tell them different, they had to learn the hard way. This banty smelled like trouble.

  Stacy’s shrill tone underlined his premonition. “Now, Darryl, I don’t want no trouble. You hear me?”

  Darryl ignored her. “Answer me, you bassard.”

  “Yeah, I work at the inn.”

  “You got one hell of a nerve, punching on Way. He’s a good man and a good friend. I aim to give you what you gave him.”

  “Now, Darryl, Cas didn’t do so much to him,” Reese said genially. “It was Sunny done all the damage. You gonna beat on Sunny? ’Cause, I’ll tell you, you’ll have to go through me first.”

  “I ain’t talking to you, cook man. And I don’t beat up on women. Way can handle her. But we’re sure as hell gonna teach this son of a bitch a lesson. You look at me when I’m talking to you, boy.”

  Cas raised his eyes from his drink and did just that. The man with the big belly standing just behind Darryl stirred uneasily.

  “Be still, Junior, I’m trying to have a conversation here,” Darryl said.

  “Darryl, I think maybe this is a mistake.”

  “How many times I got to tell you not to think? I’ll do the thinking. And I think you ought to shut the fuck up!”

  Junior subsided, looking unhappy, glancing uneasily at the third man in their group. As if cued, the man whined, “Maybe Junior’s right, Darryl. Ennis’ll throw away the key if he gets to arrest us again. Let Way take care of him.”

  “Jesus, some friend you are, Wayne.” Darryl sneered. “Stand back then, I’ll do it myself. Asshole’s probably a damn Yankee. It’ll be a pleasure to mess up that pretty face. Stand up, you fucking bassard.”

  Stacy’s tray clattered on the table. “I said no fighting in here. Take it outside. You bust up my place, Darryl, I’ll make sure Ennis throws away the key.”

  “Shut up, Stacy. Get up, pretty boy.”

  “Don’t see any boys at this table. Myself, I haven’t been a boy for a long time. If I ever was. You think he’s insulting me, Reese?

  “Might be. Sounds to me like he’s trying real hard. You insulted, Cas?”

  “Not quite yet. I’ve been trained by experts.”

  “Stand up, goddamn you.” Darryl’s eyes were almost hidden beneath eyebrows as thick and droopy as his mustache, but there was no mistaking the hostile glare. Cas didn’t bother trying to talk sense to a crazy man. Adrenalin rush had him alert and ready. At the same time he was tired, so tired of dealing with assholes who considered any stranger fair game. Slowly, pushing his back his chair, he rose to his full height. Junior’s jaw dropped as he watched Cas continue to rise long after he should have stopped. He tugged on Darryl’s shirt.

  “Listen…”

  Darryl backed up, stepping on Wayne’s foot. Wayne let out a yelp and stumbled into a table behind him. Cas crossed his arms, staring stoically at his tormentor.

  Reese rose to his feet also.

  “I’d have another think about this, Darryl, were I you. It’s a stupid man don’t know when he’s bit off more than he can chew. Your friends don’t seem to have the same meanness you do and I’m telling you now, you ain’t facing one man, you’re facing two. Howsoever you want to continue with this, bring it on.”

  Cas remained silent, and kept his gaze fixed on Darryl’s eyes. Darryl looked away first. Shuffling his feet, he backed into Junior, who grunted as he was elbowed in the belly.

  “You ain’t heard the last of this. He’ll be alone one day and we’ll get this business settled.”

  “You’re welcome to try,” Cas said evenly, and showed his teeth. It was not meant to be a grin.

  “Well, you see Darryl, that’s just it,” Reese said. “It ain’t none of your business and that’s the truth. It’s Way’s business. He send you out here?”

  Darryl stared at Reese defiantly, but Wayne and Junior looked guilty.

  “Just as I thought.” Reese sounded disgusted.

  Cas had no doubt that Reese was very disgusted. He’d fought for his country as well as cooking for the men who’d defended it, but although he talked rough and did a lot of blustering, Cas had never perceived him as a bully or someone who deliberately looked for a fight. If Darryl was a banty rooster, Reese was an alpha dog, secure in himself and with no need to prove anything to anybody.

  “Get outta here, Darryl and give us some clean air to breathe.” Reese waved a hand more or less in the direction of the exit and turned back to Stacy.

  “This ain’t over,” Darryl snarled. Pushing his companions roughly aside, he made for the door. Wayne and Junior followed slowly behind him.

  “Praise the lord.” Stacy breathed, picking up her tray. “I appreciate your restraint, gentlemen. Drinks are on the house.”

  “Darlin’, I think I love you. Marry me.” Reese grinned.

  “No fool like an old fool.” Stacy sniffed, picking up her tray. “You know I’m a married woman, Reese.”

  “I like to think of you like a widow. You ever need any consoling, you let me know, hear?”

  She sniffed again and walked off. Reese watched her go with a sigh. “That there is one hell of a woman.”

  “Thanks for backing me,” Cas said, taking his seat again.

  “Fair’s fair. You want to play some pool?”

  “Might as well, since we’re here. I’d rather that than fighting. You going to fleece me?”

  “We’ll see,” Reese said expansively.

  Cas looked at him suspiciously but followed without complaint into the other room.

  Chapter 10

  It was late when they left the Carolina, but the old bar was nowhere near closing. The partying would continue until the first streaks of light brightened the eastern sky. Stacy had gone, leaving her business in the capable hands of Magnificent Mike, an ex wrestler with very precise ideas of proper behavior. One look at his thick neck and hulking shoulders, and no one tried to argue with him.

  It was dark in the parking area–Stacy saw no need to waste money on lighting. The boom boom of some country rock song could be heard faintly, emphasizing the stillness of the night. The air smelled of pine overlaid with a thin layer of gasoline, supplemented every now and then, depending on which way the wind was blowing, with a whiff of the manure loaded in a half ton truck parked at the far end of the lot.

  Reese was feeling no pain. He’d taken Cas at his word, passed the jeep keys over to him and proceeded to make a night of it. He wasn’t quite maudlin, but he was close to it. Cas found it a welcome change from the truly horrible jokes he’d been telling all night.

  “Y’know, Cas, I shoulda gotten married, settled down somewhere, had me a good woman and a passel of kids. Look at me now, old and alone an’ going home to an empty bed.” He shook his head. “It just ain’t right.”

  Cas raised an eyebrow. “What about all those phone numbers you were collecting then?”

  “Compensation. Com-pen-sation,” Reese insisted. “A man’s got to have some compensation.”

  “Even if you were married, I think you’d be sleeping on the couch tonight.”

  “Well now, see, that’s one reason it’s just as well I’m single, ain’t it?” Reese said, completely reversing his stand. “Yessir, got no one to answer to, except maybe Sunny and there’s no need for her to be knowing, is there now?”

  “She won’t hear anything from me,” Cas promised, removing Reese from his arm an
d propping him against the jeep. He was reaching for the door when he heard that whisky ruined voice again.

  “Turn around, pretty boy, real slow.”

  Cas had been focused on Reese or he might have heard Darryl’s approach. He did as ordered and turned around slowly, to find Darryl standing so close to him he could see the feral light in his eyes. Not to mention the pistol pointing at his midriff.

  “Where are your accomplices?” he asked, keeping his voice level.

  “Those assholes,” Darryl sneered. “Ain’t worth the powder to blow them to hell. Coupla cowards.”

  “Smart cowards though. You really think you can get away with this?”

  “You watch me, Yankee.”

  “Cas?” Reese called out querulously as he sank slowly to the ground.

  Darryl’s head jerked around and Cas didn’t hesitate. Quick as a striking snake he wrapped his hand around the pistol’s grip, trapping Darryl’s smaller hand. Then he squeezed. He pushed the pistol to one side, away from his own body, and squeezed as hard as he could, ignoring the weak punches thrown at him.

  Darryl let out a yelp and tried to pull the trigger but couldn’t. His finger was too compressed. Cas intensified his grip. In the silence of the deserted parking lot, the crack of a small bone could be heard. Darryl screamed and frantically tugged at his hand, the gun completely forgotten. Cas relaxed the brutal pressure. The would be assailant snatched his injured hand away, leaving Cas holding the gun. He looked at it in disgust and wanting only to be rid of it, threw it blindly into the trees.

  He ignored the hunched over figure of the man who had talked so big and was now only capable of cradling his hand and moaning. He got Reese into the jeep and settled.

  “What’s going on?” Reese muttered.

  “I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow,” Cas soothed him.

  Reese laid his head back with a sigh. “I’m tired.”

  “Go to sleep then, I’ve got everything under control.”

  He walked around the jeep to the driver’s side.

  “You bassard,” Darryl hissed. “You done broke my hand.” He bunched his good hand into a fist and took a step forward. “You cocksucker, you, I ought to–”

  His tirade cut off abruptly as Cas’s fist landed on his chin. Darryl staggered off balance and went down, scrabbling one handed on the ground as he tried to find his feet again.

  Cas climbed in the jeep, glancing over at Reese. A snore reassured him. He put the jeep in gear and began the hair raising trip down the mountain. As the headlights swept over the grove of pines, he could see Darryl down on his knees, feeling around for the gun. He wondered if he should tell Ennis, if it would even do any good. It might make Ennis even more suspicious of him. One thing he had to say, the south was sure an interesting place. Just a little dangerous for the health though.

  * * * *

  Sunny had made sure she kept out of Cas’s way the rest of that afternoon and evening. She’d felt like a fugitive in her own home, but she just couldn’t face him again so soon after that kiss. She had some thinking to do.

  She made herself a bowl of soup in her little kitchenette and a soothing cup of tea. She got teased for preferring hot tea, unusual in the south where everyone drank it iced. But hot tea seemed more homey than coffee; it brought to mind comforting pictures straight out of a movie of some happy family gathered around a kitchen table, Mama presiding over a big teapot and everyone happy and content.

  Unlike her fictional family she wasn’t feeling very happy. Nor content. More like jittery and full of anticipation. Was she really going to have an affair with Cas? Her willpower was nonexistent with him. But to run away–and there was no other way to put it–she felt humiliated. She had panicked and run rather than make a fool of herself. Before wrapping herself around him and blatantly offering everything she had to give. Something inside writhed at the thought.

  She had never considered herself promiscuous. Not even with Jim. It wasn’t something she wanted to think about, so she wouldn’t. She just wouldn’t, despite her earlier resolution. Feeling better after that decision, she put her dirty dishes in the sink and wandered back to the living room, turning on the television and settling into her favorite chair. An hour and a half later she realized she had no idea what program she was watching and whatever it was, she didn’t like it anyway. Disgusted with herself, she stood up and began to pace. Maybe she did need to think this through before she drove herself crazy. Sunny, thy name is inconsistency . She rubbed her arms and decided a hot bath might help to get her mind straight. For sure, she needed some help; she had never felt so confused in her life.

  Naked, she bent over the filling tub and tested the temperature with a languid wave of a hand through the scented water. Nice and hot, almost too hot. She stepped in cautiously and eased down, her breasts small islands rising out of the water, the nipples pebbling from the heat. Closing her eyes, she tried to bring her thoughts to some kind of order.

  She had liked Jim. She had thought she loved him. They had been high school sweethearts and married soon after graduation. Jim had been assured of a career; one day he would own the Crossroads. For herself, she’d helped in any way she could, slowly learning the different skills necessary to run an inn.

  There had never been another man, not in her bed, not in her thoughts. Still, their relationship had changed when she couldn’t conceive. It became important to her, not only because of the insensitive remarks–“when you two gonna make you a baby”, “best not wait much longer, Sunny, you’re not getting any younger”–but because Jim more or less shrugged it off. He wanted children, a son he could pass the inn to, but it wasn’t serious to him. He’d laughed at her concerns, joked about their situation and never seemed to realize how deeply she’d been affected.

  For the first time, Sunny had taken a good look at her husband and seen him with the clear eyes of maturity. She’d seen a man who had never grown up, not really. His passions were hunting and the lottery. He never read a book, he left much of the running of the inn to her and his father, and although he apologized for his many excesses and his insensitivity, Sunny had never really felt he was sincere.

  She’d come to realize Jim was spoiled, one of those men who would never grow into responsibility, and if she were to stay with him, the important things would fall on her shoulders.

  Obviously she had decided to stay, because while she might not have loved him with the passion of a teenager, they had built a life together and she was used to him. She couldn’t imagine living anywhere but where she was. She had fallen in love with the Crossroads and she’d sacrifice much to stay there.

  Gradually the burning desire for a child faded. She’d passed the word they were thinking of seeing a doctor, but she knew they wouldn’t. Jim had adamantly refused to be what he called a guinea pig and said if she couldn’t get pregnant while he was making love to her, she’d have to learn to live with it. Besides, he said, they didn’t have the money.

  When he died, she had grieved. A part of her life was gone forever and she’d found herself remembering only his good qualities. She’d discovered the debts when the banks and loan companies began to dun her, harassing her day and night. If she had been a weak person, she would have folded then. She could only thank God that Papa Douglas wasn’t alive.

  She had pulled herself out of that pit, and although for awhile she’d almost hated Jim for the mess he had left for her to clean up, gradually her feelings for him changed. She was secure now, by her own strength and endurance; it allowed her to remember him with fondness. Jim remained in her memory as a tall, handsome, laughing boy, generous to a fault, loving life and wanting everyone to be happy.

  A thought occurred. She sat up abruptly, sloshing water over the side of the tub. Cas showed more maturity than Jim ever had. Cas was responsible, cared about others’ feelings, and was fighting God knew what memories. Fighting for the right to live his life the way he thought it should be lived. She suspected Jim would have failed th
e tests Cas had been through, and failed them badly.

  So what did this tell her? She had married a man her own age and had fallen out of love with him. The marriage had survived–barely–but they were not a team. There was no partnership.

  She knew so little of Cas. How could she say it would be any different with him? Maybe it was just being male. Maybe he too would take the easy way and not give a damn about responsibility. But she knew that wasn’t true. With Cas it would be different, because Cas took responsibility for his own life and his own actions.

  There was a connection between them and it wasn’t just physical. She felt she understood him, without understanding a thing. She had to know more. If she was to give herself to an enigma, a younger man who seemed older than she, he would have to talk to her. They would have to talk to each other.

  She made her decision. She would resist her body’s urgings until her mind and heart caught up. It was the safe thing to do, but then, she had never been a risk taker. It seemed a whole lot riskier to allow physical intimacy without the foundation of commitment. Cas was haunted by his past, seemed downright skittish at times. She wasn’t sure he was capable of commitment.

  How ironic that the age difference was no longer her main concern, but rather, the demons that rode Cas. Although they certainly hadn't seemed to be riding him too hard in Room Twelve. Perhaps Cas was healing, just as she had. The Blue Ridge could do that. She believed it implicitly, knew it from her own experience. And maybe she had made her own small contribution.

  She shivered. The water was freezing. How long had she been in here thinking, anyway? She rose from the tub, dried herself with a thick warm towel, and shrugged into an ordinary cotton duster. She still wasn’t tired. Her thoughts seemed to go around in circles. She wandered to her sitting room window and gazed out at the brilliant stars and the quarter moon.

  She heard the jeep before she saw it. The yard was all shadows, the pole light that burned at night not reaching Reese’s quarters. She saw Cas–his tall figure was not difficult to recognize–get out and walk around the jeep. Reese must have overindulged, but Cas had the maturity to hold off. It was more than most men around here did. Wayland, for instance.