And more than that, I recognized that mine and his were one.
Chapter Seven
JULY, 2006
A WEEK HAD PASSED SINCE I’D TAKEN OUT THE FRONT headlight on Aubrey’s car, and we’d not heard a word from her since the evening of Clint’s baseball game. I didn’t know if Dodge had found the time to fix her car, and I had not asked. Fixing it required a new headlight to be ordered and I cursed myself anew for not taking better care with Mom’s big truck; the greater the delay in fixing her car, the longer Aubrey would be stuck in Landon. But I had bigger concerns than Aubrey Pritchard; after Clint’s first day training with the forest fire crew, all thoughts of her were relegated to my back burner when Clint told us about Mathias’s close call at the fire station. The memory of my nightmare about Camille’s wedding loomed as Clint spoke; I reminded myself it was not a Notion.
I hadn’t slept well the past week, blaming all of the things weighing on my mind as I wandered the darkened house while my family slept. More often than not I ended up on the porch swing, keeping rhythm with one foot, watching the pines and letting the sounds of the nighttime woods lull me into a state of sleepiness. I remained more troubled than I could admit, even to myself; something was wrong. Large and amorphous, this knowledge stalked me, growing ever bolder. Even more troubling was the fact that I recognized something was wrong but could not perceive just what. My senses were noticeably dulled, altered somehow, and I was terrified—so terrified that I could not articulate the fear aloud, as though speaking of it would be equivalent to the final nail in the coffin.
Justin could tell I was struggling with something. He would not be pacified with my response that I was fine, just tired. Gently rocking the swing as I sat sleepless in the wee hours yet again, I thought back to the months after my car accident, three years ago now, when I’d moved back in with Mom and Aunt Ellen, unable to navigate the steep, narrow stairs leading up to my apartment. Mom had rearranged the living room to accommodate my near-invalid status, she and Aunt Ellen taking care of me during the day, while Justin was at work, and then he’d hurry over to Shore Leave to be with me all evening, spending the nights in a sleeping bag on the floor beside the fold-out couch; he’d been so worried to jostle my healing body that he’d not dared to sleep beside me. I’d sustained multiple broken bones and a punctured lung, on top of being pregnant. Instead, he lay as close as he could, reaching up to rest his hand gently on my leg, or my hip, curling his fingers around mine.
“I can’t sleep unless I feel you,” he’d explained.
Justin, sweetheart, I thought now, hearing the comforting, low-pitched growl of him snoring through the open window of our bedroom. I pictured the way he looked on our wedding day, late autumn of 2003; my recovery from the accident was gradual, and frustrating, but nothing could dampen my joy that day.
“Because of you, my heart is whole,” Justin said during our vows. He’d been so excited, working on them before the wedding, using an old notebook he’d pilfered from the cafe, absorbed in his writing but refusing to read any aloud, despite my pestering. He’d insist, “You have to wait for the wedding, baby.”
“Well, you are a poet, as I know well,” I’d said; he was fond of creating poems of the impromptu variety, especially when we made love. “Just remember that children will be in attendance.”
From his spot on the armchair angled near the couch, he leaned and kissed my right knee, saying, “Including our own,” and patted my belly, where Rae was cradled at the time.
Clint and Jo stood up for us at the service, acting as best man and matron of honor. Justin carried me up the porch steps at the advent of the lovely, golden hour of sunset that evening, into the dining room at Shore Leave. We’d both agreed we wanted the wedding kept small and simple, at the cafe; there was only one church in the Landon area, where each of our first weddings took place, and a ceremony held there did not appeal to either of us. One of Dodge’s cousins was ordained and officiated for us, but even as Ike Miller spoke over us that evening, I was lost in Justin’s intent gaze. An entirely unspoken set of vows passed between our eyes, an acknowledgment of the importance of the moment, the promise of our lives interconnecting from that day forth. After the ceremony our kiss lasted a good fifteen seconds. Then he’d lifted me into his arms and carried me straight back down the porch steps to his waiting truck, and we’d gone home and made love (carefully and so sweetly) before joining everyone a little later (amid much good-natured teasing) at Eddie’s Bar for the lively reception, well in progress.
Our wedding was perfect in every sense of the word.
Out in the woods a gray owl hooted, answered seconds later by its mate, and the baby pressed at my belly. “Hi, son,” I murmured, patting the little foot. I shifted position, wishing for a smoke, wondering if Jo was still awake and if she would sneak over to hang out if I called her. I knew she would, but she was tired these days, too, what with a toddler and two teenagers in her house. I heard the screen door ease open, just behind me.
“You don’t have a pack stashed out here, do you?” Justin teased in a whisper, reading my mind.
I peeked over my shoulder, shaking my head even as I admitted, “I wish.”
“Come to bed, baby,” he murmured, scratching his bare chest. “I’m lonely in there without you. And I worry about you out here alone.”
“It’s peaceful out here,” I said, though I rose to my feet and joined him where he stood holding open the screen door, fitting myself against his warm torso.
Justin rubbed his palms over my upper arms, as though to ease a chill. He kissed the top of my head and invited, “I’ll rub your back.”
“That sounds wonderful,” I murmured, and he led me to our bed.
“Yay, Mama, it’s sunny!” Rae announced the next morning, her little face right at my ear. She rejoiced, “Today’s the parade!”
“You’re right,” I mumbled without opening my eyes. I could hear Justin in the shower, getting ready for work, though he and Dodge would close up early so we could take the kids to the parade downtown. The Landon parade was always held on the third of July, as the high school band was expected in Bemidji for a larger event tomorrow. Mom and Aunt Ellen had been planning their annual potluck party for the last week, which would take place tonight at the cafe.
“Get up, Mama!” Rae insisted, rubbing her hands over my back about as soothingly as a rug burn. She demanded, “C’mon!”
“Sweetie, go see if Clint’s up. Mama’s still tired.”
“I’m up!” Clint said, pausing at the open door. “I have to be at the station in like twenty minutes. Mom, can I borrow your car?”
“Sure,” I grumbled, tugging a pillow over my head, though Rae managed to roust me out of bed before too long. I showered and helped my daughter choose a red, white, and blue outfit, then sat on the edge of my bed wrapped in a towel, another wound around my wet hair, turban-fashion, holding the comb between my teeth as I worked Rae’s silky hair into two braids. She was impatient with excited energy and I kept my knees around her torso in an attempt to restrain her bouncing.
“Hurry, Mama!”
“Hold still,” I replied around the comb, tying off one of her braids with a sparkly blue rubber band. I finished my styling and she scampered back atop the bed, smiling at me with all of the joy that being two years old and anticipating a parade lent to a kid. Her eyes crinkled at the corners as she smiled, just like Justin’s, and I smoothed a strand of hair from her cheek.
“I love you, stink-bug,” I said, and she giggled at the nickname.
“Mama, get dressed!” she ordered, clapping. “Wear a pretty dress!”
I rose and opened the closet, gamely plucking a possible choice from its hanger. “What about this one?”
Rae rolled to her knees and tipped her head to one side, with a critical frown. “No. I like the pretty red dress, Mama.”
I replaced the first dress and found the one Rae meant; I was fond of it, too, and had worn it a couple of times when pre
gnant with her. It was a gorgeous geranium-red, casually styled like a tank top with a long skirt.
“This one?” I asked, and she nodded, braids bobbing.
Rae raced to her room and found a few strands of plastic bead necklaces, blue and silver. I brushed out my hair and let her drape the beads over my neck; I discreetly adjusted the first necklace so that it wasn’t lassoing my right breast. I giggled, thinking I’d have to keep watch for that all day. After getting ready, Rae and I walked over to the cafe to find everyone eating breakfast. Mom, Aunt Ellen, Jo, Matthew, Tish, Ruthie, Clint, Camille, and Millie Jo were all present when we clacked through the screen door, and I reflected, observing the usual morning chaos—Clint and Tish arguing, Jo trying to have a conversation with Camille and Ruthie that kept getting interrupted by the little kids, Mom and Aunt Ellen poring over an order sheet, coffee cups at their elbows—that I was pretty damn fortunate. We sure as hell weren’t wealthy; we lived in modest homes and drove mostly old cars. Modern technology still had a long way to go to reach Landon; the nightlife here was basically nonexistent; my son would probably never know that there was such a thing as jeans that cost more than twenty dollars. Would I ever want to live anywhere else? Hell, no. I had long ago learned the value of a simple life.
Besides, we had each other. And that was worth more than any riches in the world.
“C’mere, baby,” Justin ordered with lazy contentment. We’d walked downtown after lunch and were currently situated at the far end of Fisherman’s Street, under the shade of an enormous sunburst locust. Our town spread out before us under the afternoon sunlight, people we knew milling all around, talking and sidestepping excited kids, sipping lemonade and iced tea and beer; the scent of black powder, hot dogs and mini-donuts, tootsie rolls and bubble gum, diesel from the trucks hauling parade floats all intermingled in the still, hot air.
I settled on my husband’s lap, kissing his jaw. He wore his swim trunks and a t-shirt from his baseball league, which would start up again in late July, with the word MILLER written across the back in black letters. I felt a swell of belonging and happiness, infinitely more precious than gold, as Justin kissed the side of my forehead and our kids sprawled on the curb near our row of lawn chairs. Rae, one of her braids coming unraveled, was crouched with steely-eyed determination, watching the street corner where the parade would start, clutching her candy bag. Clint was also wearing his bathing suit, along with a faded Landon Rebels t-shirt from his high school days, leaning on one elbow and appearing half-asleep behind his aviator sunglasses, one leg angled protectively behind Rae. He was barefoot but I didn’t pester him about it, since I’d also kicked off my sandals.
“Life is pretty damn good,” Justin murmured, lashes lowered to study my face, grinning as he rubbed his palms over my belly. “Sitting here with you like this, my sweet little woman, is such a blessing. You know how many times I used to watch you bring Clint to this same parade and wish I was sitting with you guys?”
I cupped his right cheek and stroked the scarring on that side of his face. “I would have welcomed you with open arms, just so you know.”
“Next year the baby will be here with us, too. I can hardly wait.” He nodded at our daughter and added quietly, “You think Rae will like being a big sister?”
“She won’t even remember a time before him, after too long. Can you remember a time before Liz?”
He shook his head. “No, and speaking of the devil…”
I giggled, waving to Liz as she headed our way with her triplets in tow. Ruthie and Tish were with them, along with Clint’s buddies, Jeff and Liam. Within a few minutes our whole clan inundated the sidewalk. Joelle, Camille, and Liz settled on lawn chairs, along with Mom, Rich, Aunt Ellen, and Dodge, while the kids flopped all over the threadbare blankets we’d spread on the sidewalk. Mathias and Blythe joined the kids on the curb, Bly with little Matthew on his lap. Matthew snuggled against his daddy’s broad chest and stuck a thumb in his mouth, eyelashes fluttering. Mathias pointed out a team of quarter horses with sparkly blue ribbons on their harnesses to Millie Jo, explaining why the animals were wearing blinders.
“Good thing we came early to get seats, we take up almost the whole block,” Clint said, resting his forearm on my knee, as though he was little again. I cupped my oldest child’s face, struggling to accept the fact that he was on the precipice of leaving me for good. I knew he’d return to Landon to visit but it would never be the same after he went away to college; my heart shrank at the thought.
Justin ruffled Clint’s hair and Clint grinned, again like a little boy, before reclaiming his place beside Rae; he wrapped an arm around his little sister and teased, “I’m getting all the candy! You better watch out!”
Rae squirmed away and crouched forward like a runner at the starting line. “Nuh-uh!”
The first stirring sounds of the high school band rang through the hot air, getting things rolling with “The Star-Spangled Banner,” the color guard leading the way with flags lofted high. Justin shifted so that we could stand and my eyes flickered to Rae, making sure she stayed put, but Clint kept his hand on her head, corralling her. Everyone around us was in the process of saluting or placing their hands over their hearts, and I was about to do the same when something across the street snagged my attention. What exactly alerted me I was not entirely sure, maybe a certain unnatural stillness or just an uncomfortable shifting of the air, but I saw Zack Dixon then, watching me.
My stomach lurched. He wore a ball cap that left his eyes in shadow but somehow I understood that he stared with an unwavering gaze. He tilted his head just enough to acknowledge that he was aware I’d spied him. He remained otherwise motionless for another second before turning away, as though innocently engaged in enjoying the parade. I jerked my gaze from him, my chest tight, heart beating too fast.
Tell Justin, I thought at once. Point Zack out. Who knows how long he’s been standing over there watching you? Somehow the thought that Zack could see my family, my husband and kids, made me all the more ill. But then I thought, You’re being ridiculous. He isn’t doing anything wrong. Why cause a problem where there isn’t one?
And as though I’d imagined the entire thing, Zack was gone when I looked back.
The party at Shore Leave got rolling as soon as the parade ended. Eddie Sorenson and Jim Olson drove directly to the cafe, where they set up their chairs and proceeded to tune their guitars near the makeshift dance floor. I helped Mom, Aunt Ellen, and Jo tote food to the picnic tables, while Justin, Mathias, and Blythe carried more chairs from the garage and hauled wood for the bonfire. Dodge and Rich carried a beer cooler between them and settled near Eddie and Jim, the four older men recalling days gone by, the sound of their voices comforting in the background. Bull and Diana arrived next, bringing along two kegs of beer, and before long the parking lot was jammed, everyone double-parking, or pulling onto the grass, to join the festivities.
The little kids mobbed the dance floor for the first hour; Mathias was the first to brave the wild horde, bowing formally to Camille and escorting her into the fray. I could see him singing to her as they danced, holding one of her hands to his heart. He was such a sweetheart, and my niece’s eyes were aglow with love as they swayed along to the music. Oh God, let us be dancing at their wedding next, I thought, watching them. I’d tried with all of my effort to force the nightmare of her wedding day from my mind, but it clung like oil. I’d not mentioned it to anyone.
“J, you’re not getting out of dancing all evening,” I warned my husband, as we claimed seats at one of the picnic tables.
“Who said I wanted to get out of it?” Justin teased. He carried a plate for Rae, which he set before her on the checkered tablecloth, and then helped her get situated on the bench. “Rae-Rae, you have to eat all your food before you get dessert.”
“Grandpa said I could have as many roasted marshmallows as I want!” Rae announced.
“Is that so?” Justin replied drily, winking at me. “Grandpa better get
Mama’s permission before saying things like that, if he knows what’s good for him.”
Clint slid onto the bench across from me, his plate loaded with two bratwursts, a double cheeseburger, a pound of baked beans, about half a bag of Doritos, and four pickle spears. He was balancing all this on two cans of orange soda.
“Hungry?” I asked.
“Gotta keep up my strength,” he explained, eating half the burger in one bite.
“Daddy! Clint doesn’t have any veggies!” Rae tattled, a frothy pink ice cream mustache decorating her upper lip. “No fair!”
“Pickles,” Clint contradicted around a full mouth.
“We should probably make a trip down to the Cities one of these days,” I told my son. “I made a list of stuff you’ll need. Did you check the college website like I asked?”
Clint shrugged noncommittally; he had expressed zero interest when I tried to start this same conversation on two separate occasions.
“Honey, I know you don’t really like shopping,” I said, as Justin cut Rae’s hot dog into manageable bites.
“Mom,” Clint said.
“I don’t really like shopping either,” I reflected. “Maybe Jo would come with us. She actually likes shopping, and she’s so much more organized than me. And she just went with Tish—”
“Mom,” Clint said again, more insistently, interrupting my musing.
At the tone in his voice I fell silent. Justin looked between Clint and me, clearly wondering what was up.
“See, I’ve been thinking…” Clint slouched a little now that he’d claimed our full attention, pushing his baked beans around the paper plate the way he used to when he wanted to make it look like he’d eaten more than he actually had. He lifted his blue eyes to mine and finished in an urgent rush, “I’ve been thinking I don’t really want to go to school in Minneapolis.”
My lips fell open and Clint looked right back at his plate.
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