The Milkman

by Tabatha Kiss

  I look at Curtis through the open window. His head falls and he keeps his eyes down, refusing to look at me.

  “Go,” I tell him. “Keep driving.”

  Nate tugs my hand again. “Kimber—”

  “I never want to see you again,” I continue. “If I do, I will make sure you regret this.”

  Curtis finally raises his head. His eyes find mine, dark and pitiful, but I won’t pity him.

  “Go,” I say again. “So I can start forgetting you exist.”

  Nate pulls on my arm again. I let him lead me away this time, quickly finding the comfort I need in his arms.

  The Sheriff lowers his gun. “You heard the lady,” he says to Curtis. “Get out of my town.”

  Curtis glares at Nate one last time. Then, he touches the gas and slowly starts driving away, being careful to keep a wide berth around Gertie as he goes.

  Thompson smirks. “I’ve always wanted to say that.”

  Nate chuckles softly as the Sheriff turns around to go deal with the traffic building up behind his car.

  We approach Gertie in the center of the road and Nate shakes his head at her.

  “Dammit, Gertie...”

  I reach out to scratch behind her ear. “Guess we should get her back home,” I say.

  Nate hooks her collar with one hand. He extends the other toward me and smiles.

  “Shall we?” he asks.

  I wipe the last of the tears from my eyes and take it.

  “Let’s go home,” I say.

  Epilogue

  Nate

  Drive, drop, and go.

  The life of the local milkman.

  I park the truck at the end of First Street and slip into the back to fill a crate with as many full glass bottles I can carry. The crate gets lighter as I make my way down the street, stopping to replace the empties on porches with new ones.

  Just your typical Monday in Clover, Kansas.

  I round Will and Jovie’s house and find an empty bottle there waiting for me. I lean down to grab it when a little face appears behind the screen door.

  Joanne stands up and places her itty, bitty hands against the door.

  I grin and take a knee. “Hey, there,” I say, waving.

  She smiles right back at me as if we’re old friends, giggling and smacking her hands against the door. She knows me well enough by now.

  “What are you laughing at out there, girl?”

  Jovie swoops in and she feigns an excited gasp as she picks up Joanne.

  “Is that the milkman?!” she asks her. “Say, ‘Hi, milkman!’”

  Joanne mutters something that I guess counts as words.

  I pull open the door and slip a fresh bottle from my crate into Jovie’s free hand.

  “Thank you,” she says with a nod.

  “Busy morning?” I ask.

  “No more than usual.” She adjusts Joanne on her hip. “How about you?”

  I shrug. “Same.”

  Will steps into the kitchen, bee-lining straight for the coffeemaker. “Hey, Nate,” he says, waving at me.

  “Good morning,” I greet.

  “Are you two still gonna make it to Lucky’s on Friday?” Jovie asks me.

  I nod. “We should. Kimber’s been talking about it all week but it’ll depend on how she feels on the day. No day is ever the same anymore.” I gesture at Joanne. “As you can probably remember.”

  Jovie rolls her eyes. “Gosh, don’t remind me.”

  Will hovers over her shoulder with his mug. “We’re flexible. Just let us know.”

  “Will do,” I say, shifting a step back. “I have a few more deliveries to finish up. I’ll see you later.”

  “Okay. Bye, milkman!” Jovie says. She takes Joanne’s little hand and waves it at me. “Say, ‘Bye, milkman!’”

  “Bai.”

  Will and Jovie gasp.

  I throw my hands up. “Hey! She said it!”

  “Say, ‘Bye!’” Jovie says again, nudging the child’s belly.

  “Bai.”

  “Say, ‘Bye-bye!’”

  “Bai-bai.”

  Jovie shrieks as motherly glee takes over. Even Will fawns over her, abandoning his precious coffee to congratulate his baby girl.

  I take a few steps backward, smiling to myself and leaving them to their moment. Echoes of ‘Bye, milkman’ fade off behind me as I walk down to the next house over. The last stop on my route.

  The VanHouten house.

  Another family moved into it a long while ago but it’ll always be the VanHouten house to me. I can’t help but recall my first day back in town every single time I walk up the winding sidewalk toward the back door. I still find myself wanting to reach for the door handle, let myself in, and wrap my arms around the beautiful, forbidden woman waiting for me inside.

  But I’m not that kind of milkman.

  Not anymore, anyway.

  I replace the empties with two fresh bottles and head back to my truck to drive home.

  The town quickly fades off behind me and I turn off the highway as soon as I see the Scott’s Dairy sign.

  We’re always there for you.

  It’s good to know that relationship has always been mutual with Clover.

  I park the milk truck beneath the oak tree by the barn and head inside through the back door.

  “Hey, Mom.”

  She glances up from her chair at the table. “Welcome back, kid,” she says.

  “Is there more coffee?” I ask.

  “I left enough for one more. Finishing up mine and then the boys and I are tackling that fence out there.”

  I fill a mug with the last of the coffee. “I’ll get changed and come out to help.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “Where’s Kimber?”

  She snickers. “Guess.”

  I deflate and take a quick sip before abandoning the mug on the table.

  The old floor creaks beneath me as I head toward the open door just left of the stairs. I glance at the walls along the way, admiring my wife’s paintings and finding something new I adore about them. Just like I always do.

  I usually love the smell of her paints but my nostrils flare now as I form a scowl and I lean against the open doorframe of my old bedroom.

  Kimber stands in the center with her back to me. She holds a paint roller by her right side, pinched between her thumb and index finger. The roller is caked with a bright shade of blue.

  “Kimber…” I say.

  She turns around and looks at me, her other hand rubbing her chin. “I think I changed my mind again,” she says.

  I take a moment to admire her profile. Her hair is pulled back in that cute, loose ponytail she always wears now. Her sleeveless sundress travels down to her ankles. Her stomach extends out slightly, the beginnings of an adorable bump.

  Halfway there.

  I step into the room. “You don’t like the sky blue now?”

  “Should we go for a dark blue?” she asks, gasping at the idea. “Maybe a night sky theme instead?”

  I pause beside her. This is now the third time in as many days that Kimber has had this argument with herself.

  “No...” She bites her lip. “We liked the open brightness of the sky blue, right?” Her head turns toward me when I don’t answer, her hand unconsciously traveling down to rub her bump. “Right?”

  I say nothing. I gaze at her instead as warmth spreads through my fingers and toes.

  “What?” she asks.

  I extend my hand. “Come with me.”

  “Well, we should decide—”

  “Put the brush down and come with me.”

  “Is something wrong?”

  I guide the roller out of her hand to the mat on the floor and lead her out of the soon-to-be nursery.

  “Nate?”

  I ignore her, knowing that the concern in her voice will be gone soon.

  I open the front door and we step outside onto the porch. She looks at me with cautious amusement but she follows anyway. She
always does.

  I sit down on the porch swing and gesture for her to join me.

  Kimber smiles and takes her place beside me. I turn up my open hand and she lays hers in it, entwining our fingers as we gaze out across the fields.

  We see cows eating fresh grass in the fields.

  We see the milk truck parked beneath the oak tree.

  We see thirty years of beautiful mornings.

  “Sky blue,” Kimber says with a nod. “That’s the one.”

  I raise her hand to my lips, softly kissing her knuckles. She leans in close to rest her head on my shoulder and I wrap my arms around her.

  Thirty years. Maybe more. So many years of life just waiting to be lived.

  Years of making love and counting the stars through the bedroom window. Of rolling our eyes at the town folk of Clover, Kansas. Of watching our son grow up, inevitably reject us, and come back when he eventually figures his shit out.

  A life where I proudly took my place in the world.

  And Kimber learned to love herself, inside and out.

  And Gertie never roamed again.

  Who are Will & Jovie?

  What’s the story behind Kimber’s neighbors,

  Will and Jovie?

  Continue reading to find out in

  The Mechanic!

  I’ve included it for free

  as a thank you!

  xoxo Tabby

  The Mechanic

  The Mechanic

  By Tabatha Kiss

  A free-spirited woman.

  A reformed bad boy.

  Small town life just got a whole lot more interesting.

  How could I forget Will Myers?

  Wrinkled shirts, ripped jeans, and a devil may care attitude.

  He was my teenage bad boy. My first real love.

  Until the day I left town and broke both of our hearts.

  Four years later, I’ve come home, prepared to start my life all over again.

  But my heart never strayed too far away from Will Myers.

  My bad boy is a man now.

  The local mechanic with a perfect smile and strong, trained hands.

  He took one look at me and made up his mind.

  He still loves me and he’ll do whatever it takes to have me in his bed again.

  We’ve been down this road before. It left both of us broken.

  But the mechanic is calling.

  And he knows just how to fix me.

  for all those

  we’ve lost

  we’ll meet you

  in paradise

  One

  Jovie

  Clover, Kansas.

  The Forgotten Paradise.

  I pass the sign on the highway and think to perform a full U-turn to go back where I came from. I don’t, though. I’d just be delaying the inevitable if I did and I honestly don’t think I could stomach going through with this twice. It’s hard enough already.

  I didn’t want to come back home. I promised myself I never would but here I am.

  My car jolts and the forward inertia pulls backward. Smoke begins to seep out of the hood and I groan loudly. Good travel instincts take over. I look into every mirror to make sure I’m not in danger of colliding with any other cars in the pitch darkness but the road is completely deserted. Not surprised. I’m pretty sure the last person to leave Clover was me.

  I pull onto the shoulder as the car continues to slow down and I start to wonder if I’ll make it out of the lane in time before it stalls out completely.

  I reach down, carelessly searching for the lever by my foot to pop the hood before getting out. A biting chill clings to my bare legs. Come back to Kansas in a skirt. In January. Good thinking, Jovie…

  I round the car and throw open the hood, stepping back quickly to avoid the puff of smoke before it burns my eyes.

  Well, shit.

  I glance around the highway and spot the gas station about a quarter mile down the road. For a second, I pause, feeling my stomach churn and I think to once again haul ass out of town. Not that I could anymore, of course. My damn car is busted. I don’t own a phone, either. Guess I’m jaywalking into the night.

  I slink back in the driver’s seat, embracing the warmth while it lasts as I fish my wallet out and lock the doors behind me.

  The attendant glances up at me from behind the counter as I step inside. He’s a young kid, just barely out of his teens if I were to guess, meaning he probably doesn’t know who I am. My face, anyway. He might know my name if he’s a local but I won’t risk it.

  His back straightens with each step I make toward the counter and he twitches awkwardly as if I’m about rob his ass.

  “May I use your phone?” I ask.

  He blinks out of it and fumbles beneath the counter for the landline phone hidden under it. “Oh, yeah. Sure. Here.”

  “Thank you.”

  I open my wallet to find the card I used to keep with emergency numbers listed on it. Haven’t seen it or needed it in years, so it might have crumbled to pieces by now.

  It’s there, crushed beneath an empty chewing gum wrapper and a business card for a bar in Seattle I once temporarily called home.

  “Highway patrol…” I mutter, picking up the phone and dialing the faded number on the card.

  I hold the phone to my ear, listening to the dull ringing and glancing up at the kid again. He’s backed off and pretends to read the latest gossip magazine at the other end of the counter.

  “Kansas Highway Patrol,” a man answers.

  “Yeah, hi. I’m in need of a tow truck. My car stalled on me.”

  “What’s your location?”

  “I’m heading east on 70,” I say, clearing my throat. “About five miles outside of Clover near the gas station.”

  “Clover, eh?” he asks, amused.

  “Yeah, unfortunately.”

  “Make and model of your vehicle?”

  “Uhh…” I chuckle. “It’s a 2002, powder blue… POS.”

  He laughs for a moment before turning serious. “Are you traveling alone?”

  “Yeah, but I’m safe.”

  “Good. Hang tight, ma’am. We’ll send someone out to get you.”

  “Thank you.”

  I hang up and slide the phone back over. “Thanks again,” I tell the kid.

  He nods at me and watches as I turn around to walk back out into the cold.

  I rush down the highway, counting the moments until I can get back in my car again. I could have stayed inside but I’d rather risk getting slammed by a speeding truck than stay in that gas station. No offense to the kid, of course. I just have a few memories there I’d rather not relive if I don’t have to.

  I climb into my car and lay my head against the steering wheel to rest my eyes. Every few minutes, I peek up to check for incoming cars but the street is vacant and black, save my own headlights illuminating the few feet in front of me.

  Finally, a tow truck rolls up beside me and comes to a stop in front of my car. The logo on the side reads Marv’s Auto Repair. The best Clover can offer. I could never tell whether or not that was sarcasm.

  I step outside and roll my hands into fists in my pockets, preparing myself just in case this guy is any kind of creep.

  The door opens and the driver pops out onto the ground. He looks up at me like I’m a side-dish but the smug smirk instantly falls as he recognizes me.

  “Jovie?”

  I squint at him in the dark, making out my cousin’s familiar face. “Tucker?”

  “Oh, my God! Jovie!” I flinch as he throws his arms around me and squeezes, nearly lifting me several inches off the ground. “What is this? Where the hell have you been? Are you okay?”

  I laugh softly and pat his back. I guess it was only a matter of time before the awkward reunions started. I’d hoped to put it off for longer than this, but shit happens, I suppose.

  “I’m all right,” I answer the last question.

  He leans back and sets me down but keeps a solid grip
on my shoulders. “It’s been a long time.”

  I nod. “I know.”

  “Are you back in town like... back back?

  “Uh...” I glance around. “Not sure yet. Just kind of back for now, I guess.”

  “Does anyone else know you’re here?”

  “No. I haven’t told anybody. I was just going to surprise my dad when my stupid car broke down.”

  “So, nobody knows you’re here?”

  I shake my head. “Nobody knows.”

  “Like...” he steps back, “nobody?”

  “Nobody,” I confirm. “And I would really appreciate it if nobody found out yet.”

  He throws up his hands in surrender. “Hey, I read you loud and clear, ‘cuz. Nobody knows and nobody shall know. It’s our little secret.”

  I wonder how long that’ll last. “Thank you, Tucker.”

  He gestures to the car behind me and knocks twice on the open hood. “So, what happens to be the problem here, little lady?”

  “No idea,” I say, stepping to the side. “Just kind of went ka-bloom.”

  He leans over, withdrawing a flashlight from his pocket and clicks it on as he scans the inside. “Hmm…”

  “What?”

  “No idea.” He shrugs and releases the hood down. “Well, I’ll go ahead and get you cinched up.”

  I stand back and watch as he attaches the hook to my front bumper. “So, you’re a mechanic now?” I ask.

  “Yep.”

  “And they stiff you with the night shift?”

  “Who’s getting stiffed?” he asks. “I love the night shift. I volunteer for it. It’s quiet and chill. Mostly just get truckers but every once in a while, I get the call for a beautiful lady stranded out in the middle of nowhere and sometimes she’s very grateful for my help… if you know what I mean.”