Libra Rising

by Stacy M Wray

  After a brief, cool shower, I toss the linens on the bed to the floor, wanting nothing but air to touch my already overheated skin. As I lie there in just my boxer briefs, I wonder what Harper is doing at this very moment. Is she out with friends? Enjoying her freedom?

  Surprisingly, for the first time since I’ve arrived on this godforsaken farm, I wonder what she thinks of me.

  I surprise myself even further that I care.

  Sleeping in this heat is no easy feat, especially when I begin to focus on the distinctive call of an owl in the distance, echoing throughout the darkness of the night. When I finally turn my brain off, I allow my eyes to close…still thinking of Harper and those one-of-a-kind lips.

  The next morning, I feel different. Nothing drastic. Just maybe one step closer to accepting the position I’ve put myself in. My anger is not as prevalent as it was when I first arrived. But, then again, the day is still fresh, and anything can happen.

  Pulling the screen door open, the screech of the springs announces my arrival. I pass through the mudroom into the kitchen to find Mr. H sitting at the table, finishing his coffee, and Harper standing in front of the sink, her back to me.

  “Mornin’, Reed.” Today is the first day I’ve looked into Mr. H’s eyes straight away. I always avoided them before, afraid I would see nothing but disappointment. His smile reaches them, nothing but kindness behind them – not one shred of disappointment. My heart freezes for a second, then pounds in succession, catching me off guard. “I was wonderin’ if you wanted to call your mom yet. It’s been over a week.”

  “Nope.” I didn’t even need to think about that one.

  He shrugs and says, “Fair enough.”

  I think for a second. “Did she want me to call her?”

  Mr. H holds my gaze and that’s when I notice. “She hasn’t called, has she?”

  His head barely shakes and that’s all the answer I need. Before the hurt has a chance to fester, Harper turns and joins us at the table, her eyes cast an understanding glance my way. Not pity, just understanding, accompanied by a small smile.

  Embarrassed by Mr. H’s admission, I turn my head to the coffee pot to see if there’s enough to fill a mug. It’s a full, completely fresh pot. Pushing myself from the table, I step to the counter, pulling a mug from the small wooden tree, its handle dangling from the peg. I pour the black liquid to the rim, the bitterness invading my nostrils, and I find myself inhaling it, loving the smell. I take a small sip before I tear apart a bagel and plunk it down into the toaster. Pressing the lever to ignite the insides, the orange-red glow of the wires grip my breakfast.

  Walking back to the table, I realize that Mr. H hasn’t said anything about the stalls not being cleaned, confirming Harper had to have been the one to save my sorry ass. No one has ever had my back like that before. Sure, Brent and Kylie always do, but we’ve been tight for a long time, almost three years, Brent longer. Brent and I clicked in middle school, both being defensive linebackers on the eighth-grade football team. We then became friends with Kylie our freshman year in high school, all of us being in the same homeroom. Harper doesn’t even know me, so why would she care if I get in trouble…again?

  Mr. H leans back in his chair, pulling out a piece of paper from his pocket. Unfolding it, he presses it flat on the table, diminishing the creases. “You got your license, son?”

  His question catches me by surprise. “Um, yeah.”

  He nods once, passing the paper to me. With his index finger, he taps it on the list in front of me and says, “Need you to drive into town and pick these things up for me at the tractor supply store. Wrote the directions on the bottom. I got an account there, so you don’t need to worry about money changin’ hands.” He gets up and walks to the drawer at the end of the counter and slides it open, snatching a set of keys and plunking them on top of the list. “These go to the pick-up out by the barn. Any questions?”

  I quickly read over the list, most of it foreign to me. “Um…I don’t know what half this stuff is.”

  Mr. H grins. “Nothin’ wrong with askin’.” He grabs a water from the fridge and yanks an old John Deere cap on top of his head. “Oh,” he says, turning to leave, “if you get lost, just remember we live on nine hundred South. You’ll eventually find your way back. This town ain’t that big.” And with that, he’s out the door, the springs yelling their protest as they squeak back into place.

  I look up at Harper and she cocks an eyebrow at me, guessing I’m clearly out of my comfort zone. Suddenly, I don’t give a shit. I’ll take the keys to the pick-up any day over mending fences out in the hot sun. I fold the paper and slip both it and the keys in my front pocket, smiling to myself as I hear the toaster release my bagel with a pop. Retrieving it, I sit back down and begin to slather it with cream cheese.

  I lay the knife down on the side of my plate, my eyes sliding up to Harper. “Why’d you do it?”

  Her forehead wrinkles in confusion. “Excuse me?”

  I tip my head in the direction of the barn. “Why’d you clean the stalls for me?”

  Understanding crosses her face as she shrugs. “Thought you could use a break.”

  Anger starts to build. It’s my defense mechanism for everything, but I push it back, knowing it doesn’t belong here. I don’t know what to say. “Well, you didn’t have to do that.”

  Her body becomes rigid as she crosses her arms over her chest. “I know I didn’t have to.”

  Not being able to stop the stupid from spilling out of my mouth, I tell her, “And I don’t like owing people.”

  Her expression appears pinched. An exaggerated sigh pushes its way out. “So, don’t owe me. Can’t you just accept it for what it is and move on?”

  I think about this for a second. Where I come from, people don’t do anything without expecting something in return. End of story.

  “And the sacks of food?”

  She rolls her eyes now, clearly annoyed with my question. “What about them?”

  “Was that you, too?”

  She purses those exquisite lips. “Clearly.”

  “And the bug spray?” I couldn’t believe a can of bug repellent appeared in my room a couple of days after my arrival. I was so thankful, never having been bitten by so many pesky mosquitos in my life. Now, I visit the woods in peace.

  A sheepish grin spreads across her face now, unable to hide her amusement. “I had never seen so many mosquito bites on a person’s arms in my life! God, I felt bad for you, okay?”

  This makes me chuckle, and it’s at this very moment that I realize I like this girl. I really like her. She’s done things for me with no agenda, expecting nothing in return…just because she’s a nice person. Something stirs in me, my chest tightening. Unable to deal with whatever this is, I get up, scooting my chair out, and take my bagel with me as I head toward the mudroom. Pushing on the screen door, I stop dead in my tracks, dropping my hand and letting the door swing toward my face. Turning around, I head back towards the kitchen. Harper is now at the sink, rinsing her coffee mug. Standing with my hand on the doorjamb, I say, “Harper?”

  She whips her head around in complete surprise, her eyes widened. “Yeah?”

  I take a breath. “Sorry…it’s just…well…I’m not used to people doing things for me.” I stare at those beautiful green eyes, soaking them in. “Um…I just…thank you.”

  Her mouth curls up into the best smile I’ve ever seen, her eyes shine bright. “You’re welcome, Reed.”

  And before I ruin the moment, I say, “Guess I’ll see you later. Wish me luck.”

  She giggles and says, “You’ll be fine.” I smile at her one more time and then make my way towards the old pick-up. It has its own spot underneath a huge oak tree just beside the barn.

  The trip into town went well. Even though I practically roped an employee to find everything for me, I left feeling like I had accomplished something without screwing it up.

  That evening at dinner, Mr. H fixes omelets with bacon, c
heese, green onion, tomatoes and green pepper, insisting they are the best in the county. I listen as he tells me how he got into farming. His dad had taught him everything he needed to know growing up, eventually passing his farm to him.

  “Did you ever marry, Mr. H?” I’ve never heard him mention any kids and it makes me wonder who will take over the farm someday. I know he’d probably want it to stay in the family.

  A sadness crosses his face and he nods once. “I did. But she passed after just two years. Cancer. We didn’t get around to having kids, though, since Susan was diagnosed not even a year after we were married.” He appears to be lost in thought, staring off for so long that I think he’s forgotten that I’m here.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. H,” I tell him, bringing him back to the present.

  He nods as we continue to eat in silence.

  I’m almost to the point where I enjoy the old man’s company. It’s just the two of us for dinner and that has added up to a lot of meals shared. I can’t help it. He grew on me. As much of a pain-in-the-ass as I’ve been to him, not once has he raised his voice or told me how worthless I was. I’ve never met anyone like him. He’s strict and has his rules, but he’s also honest, fair and has the respect of many in this town. I found that out today at the tractor supply store. Anyone that I told whom I was there for, would say, “Mr. Hainley is the best.” or “God, I love that old man.” or “You’re working for one of the best men I know.” And after all the time I’ve been here, I’ve grown to respect him. A lot. The way he trusted me today meant more to me than he’ll ever know.

  “Harper made us a pie for dessert,” he says out of nowhere.

  I shift in my seat. “I notice Harper doesn’t stay for dinner.”

  He glances at me and nods. “Harper’s got plenty to deal with at home. Probably fixing her dad a decent meal.”

  I frown, confused. “Why doesn’t her mom do that?”

  He sighs, placing his fork on the edge of his chipped dinner plate. “Probably not my place to tell, but Harper lost her mom a few years back. An aneurism, I think. Her dad didn’t handle it so well, and it seems that Harper picks up a lot of the slack.”

  His words stun me, and I try to remember if she’s ever mentioned anything in passing. But who am I kidding? I’ve kept her at a distance this whole time, thinking I couldn’t trust her. It’s no surprise I didn’t know her mom had passed. Damn, this dinner is one of the saddest I’ve ever had. First, Mr. H’s wife, and now, Harper’s mom.

  “Wow,” I tell him, “you’d never know being around her.”

  He picks up his plate and lays it in the sink, carrying Harper’s pie back to the table with two clean smaller plates and a knife. “That girl is the most determined individual I have ever met. Mark my words, son, she’s gonna make somethin’ of herself, one day. Yep, she’ll be somethin’, alright.” He slices the berry pie into sixths, placing a piece in the center of a plate, sliding it over to me. Then, he does the same for himself before saying, “You could learn a thing or two from that girl.” Then, he winks at me, letting me know that he doesn’t mean it in a harsh way.

  I agree and nod, hanging my head somewhat. I remember how angry I was when I arrived. Mr. H sure has a way of putting things into perspective.

  “So,” he finally says, “you get lost comin’ home today?” A grin spreads wide across his face.

  I freeze, wondering how the hell he knew. “Yes, sir, I did.” Might as well be honest. He would expect nothing less.

  He chuckles. “It takes a man to admit the truth, son. Proud of ya,” he says, leaning over and patting me on the shoulder.

  Shaking my head, I ask, “How’d you know?”

  He grins. “Betty McIntire called me earlier. Said she saw my truck over by the doctors’ offices and wanted to make sure my health wasn’t actin’ up.” He chuckles again. “Son, the doctors’ offices are nowhere near the tractor supply store, let alone this farm.”

  I laugh along with him, glad he finds amusement in my having no sense of direction whatsoever.

  Placing his hand on my arm, he gives a little squeeze. In a rather serious voice, he says, “Glad you made it home, son.”

  A small lump forms in my throat every time that three-letter endearment falls from his lips. I’ve never had someone speak to me the way Mr. H does. He treats me as an equal – someone who matters, who has an opinion. I’ve never been allowed to have any kind of say, let alone have someone who’s willing to listen.

  His words tumble through my head over and over as I lay in the heat of my bunk room that night.

  His words warm me from the inside out – the kind of heat I don’t mind.

  Chapter Five

  Harper

  June 26 – July 2, 2010

  Aries Horoscope: Social events dominate the 27th and 28th and family unity may be important; fill them in. An enjoyable week is indicated, with the highest of suggestion to communicate issues with tact, caution, and/or consideration. Praise, acclaim, spotlight on a job/issue, or simply being noticed is likely near the 28th to 30th, so put your best foot forward in everything from attire to attitude.

  I’ve read this horoscope at least ten times since Sunday, practically to the point of memorization. And thanks to Mr. H, I get to spend the evening with Reed all to myself.

  Earlier today, we had just finished our lunch of roast beef sandwiches and potato salad when Mr. H said, “How’d you two like to go into town this evening, get away from this place a bit?” Even though Reed benefits from this more than myself, I’m pretty much stuck just as much as he is - no driver’s license and no car.

  Reed and I looked at each in complete surprise and Reed asked, “What do you mean?”

  Mr. H shrugged his shoulders and said, “You can take the pick-up and go get some ice cream, or whatever it is you kids do today.”

  I laughed at that and said, “Kids still get ice cream, Mr. H.”

  His eyes warmed and he turned to Reed. “Good. Then go get yourself some ice cream after dinner.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a twenty, slapping it on the table. “My treat.”

  But now, I need to clear this with my dad, which is completely unfamiliar to me since I don’t do much outside of our house. With anyone. I’ve discovered that people don’t know how to act around someone who has lost a parent, never knowing what to say. So, they don’t say anything, avoiding the situation all together. And after a while, I was okay with that because I didn’t want to talk about it anyway. I have way too much on my plate for a teenager trying to run a household, though not by choice.

  Dad and I are seated at our respective places at the table when I bring up my evening plans.

  “Did I tell you that Mr. Hainley’s nephew is working at the farm this summer?” Okay, so I’m not starting out on a great foot, but this is just so much easier.

  Dad’s already on his second cocktail, his eyes appearing somewhat glassy. “No, I don’t recall you mentioning that.”

  “Oh…well, he’s a really nice kid. Anyway, Mr. Hainley wants to take us out for ice cream this evening, as a ‘thank you’ for all the work we’ve been doing.” I know, white lie number two. Again – easier. “Is that okay with you?”

  He smiles his sad smile. Guilt seeps its way into my heart a little, knowing I’m taking advantage of his blasé demeanor. “Sure, hon, that sounds like a nice time.” He goes back to eating the quiche I prepared for dinner, oblivious to the fact that his daughter just lied her way out of the house tonight.

  With that out of the way, I can concentrate on what I’m going to wear without making it seem obvious that I gave it a second thought.

  At exactly eight o’clock, my dad already thoroughly engrossed in an old rerun of Family Feud, I yell to him that I’m leaving. I don’t hear if he responds or not. I quickly make my way down the driveway, this time, not noticing the faded red flag on the mailbox that’s been hanging on for dear life. My eyes are already focused on Reed. He’s leaning up against the driver’s side door of M
r. H’s navy-blue pick-up. He’s wearing faded jeans, a gray T-shirt and work boots, looking exactly like an ad for Abercrombie & Fitch. He takes my breath away.

  I attempt to walk at a normal pace, not wanting to seem overly eager. I’m sure tonight doesn’t mean near as much to him as it does to me. I have no idea what he thinks of me. Sometimes, I catch him eyeing me, but I’m not sure how to take it. I’m totally inexperienced when it comes to the opposite sex.

  Reed sees me cross the street, a smile forming on his face. “It’s a good thing you’re coming. I wouldn’t have a clue how to get anywhere,” he teases.

  Returning his smile, I tell him, “It’s a very good thing, indeed. Wouldn’t want you making a wrong turn into a cornfield somewhere.”

  He rolls his eyes as we both climb into the truck.

  “It was nice of Mr. H to do this,” I tell him.

  “Yeah,” he says, starting up the engine and backing down the drive. After stopping, he looks at me, his brows rising in question.

  “Oh! Head north.”

  Backing into the street, he puts the truck in drive and heads north. I roll down my window, allowing the cool evening air to slip through the cab of the truck. My hair flies across my mouth, strands of it sticking to the gloss that I slid across my lips before leaving. I use my index finger to release them while Reed tries to find a decent radio station.

  And in this instant – this very instant right here – I feel free. Content. Happy for the first time in a long time. And it brings a huge smile to my face. I look out my window, so Reed won’t notice that I’m being such a girl.

  “This is a far cry from Chicago,” he says, glancing at me. “You ever been there?”

  Slightly insulted, I roll my eyes. “I’m not some country bumpkin. Of course, I’ve been to Chicago. Numerous times.”

  He laughs. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”

  His words are softer than before, and I can tell he didn’t mean to insult me. “I know.”

  After further instruction, we arrive at The Frosty Scoop, one of only two ice cream shops in Warsaw. It’s littered with people. Everyone had the same idea tonight.