It was cooler, and for that, he was thankful. It had been the hottest summer in recent memory, and a few days ago, it seemed to have turned off like a switch.
From the small window above his workbench, he could see his house, and he remembered better times. Like the bachelor party for Gordon. He’d seen Arianna walking the floor, floating past the window like a Grecian goddess in a long flowing nightgown. He’d been drawn to her enough to leave the party and not care who complained. Now he felt repelled from the house, and the woman he could see through the window, busy trimming Aryl’s hair. Even when he’d wanted to talk, wanted to try to reach out, it was like two north sides of a magnet. Some unseen force kept him from getting too close.
He tried to work more than think and sat down to make a list of everything that needed to be done before fall. The little house, for one.
Tucking the pencil behind his ear, he went out to look at it. The walls both inside and out were up, and the exterior mostly covered with wood. Scraps and cut-to-fit reclaimed pieces, it wasn’t beautiful. The roof needed shingles, he needed to find a door—or make one—and two windows. It was simple, but he was proud of it. He liked to think his mother would have been happy enough here.
He stepped inside through the open framing where the front door would be. The main room was sixteen by twenty and took up two-thirds of the floor plan. It would serve as kitchen, dining, and living rooms. The remaining third was split into two small bedrooms. There was no plaster on the walls, and he could see through to each room. There was no bathroom, he planned to pull a long tin tub from the rafters of the barn and put it in the corner next to the wood stove he would eventually buy. He’d come so far with it, but it seemed there was still so much work to do. Not just with the little house, but with his own, too.
He heard the screen door slam and knew Aryl was done with his haircut. As he came around the back corner of the barn, he stopped, stunned.
“I haven’t seen your hair that short since we worked on the Street.”
Aryl rubbed his head. With just enough to comb over, the sides and back were cropped close. All traces of his thick wavy locks shorn.
“Time for a change,” Aryl said simply.
“Claire is going to hate it.”
Aryl shrugged.
“Or was that the point?” Women weren’t the only ones who could take passive digs.
“It’s just time for a change.”
“I’ll go get my stuff.” Caleb jogged up to the porch, darted in and right back out with what he needed.
He threw a bundle in the bed of the truck. “I’m bringing extra blankets. I doubt it will get cold, but you never know.”
“Forget the blankets. Bring that home brew you bartered for.”
Caleb slapped a wooden crate. “First thing I packed.”
“So, how are things?” Aryl asked, nodding to the house. With the smallest frown, Caleb glanced back.
“All right, I guess.” He didn’t look like he wanted to go any further, and Aryl didn’t press.
“We miss you on the boats,” Aryl said, tying a strap around his blanket and pillow. “It’s just not the same.”
“Sometimes I miss it, too,” Caleb said. He lowered his eyes and angled his shoulders away before the conversation could go any further. It wasn’t just that he couldn’t let himself close to Arianna. He couldn’t let anyone close to anyone. “Shouldn’t Jon be here by now?”
No sooner had he said it, Jonathan’s Tourer stopped at the end of the drive. He jumped out of the passenger seat, reached into the back to get his things, and waved as Ava drove off.
He hurried toward them with a bag over his shoulder.
He went to throw it in the back of the truck, and Aryl slapped a hand to Jonathan’s chest, stopping him in his tracks.
“Nice haircut.”
“Thanks. Promise me two things before we go.”
“What?”
“First, we’ll camp in a clearing. You’ll understand if I don’t want to sleep near any trees.”
Caleb snickered.
“And second, we won’t spend the entire time talking about women, and how we don’t understand them.”
Jonathan laughed, reached past him and tossed his bag and blanket roll.
“Fine, we won’t talk about women.”
“And the trees?”
“Aryl, we have no reason to tie you to a damn tree. Relax,” Caleb said.
Aryl walked away and Caleb sidled up to Jonathan.
“When he falls asleep, we should do it anyway,” he whispered.
***
They got a primitive camp set up and a fire rolling well before sunset.
“I’m almost done with that house,” Caleb said as he sat down. “Thanks to Ian.”
Jonathan could hear a trace of resentment in his voice.
“I would have helped more if I could have,” Jonathan said.
“I know.” Caleb didn’t look at him as he dug a stick in the dirt. “I should be able to hire someone just in time for harvest.”
“You shouldn’t have trouble finding people that need work,” Jonathan said.
Something felt off. Every now and then, Caleb’s old self peeked out with a comment or joke. Otherwise, he held a constant frown and it seemed as out of place as Aryl looking like a spring sheep. The tension wasn’t so much between them, as it was each of them and the invisible tether to problems they still had at home, and Jonathan knew this.
“Things any better with Claire?” Jonathan asked.
“Hey, I said no talking about women.”
“I’m just asking because I’m concerned.”
Aryl threw his hands up. “Christ, there goes the evening.”
“Not all night, I promise. I just want to know if things are better.”
Aryl glanced at his watch. “Fine, you have five minutes.”
Jonathan laughed. “You used to love to talk about women.”
“That’s before those women went crazy on us,” Caleb said with a hard look.
“Arianna went crazy,” Aryl said, pointing a finger. “Claire lost her mind.”
“I think there might be more you can do to get things back to normal. I had to do something I didn’t want to do. And then I had to compromise on top of that. And then I had to admit that I was wrong on a few things to begin with.”
“Don’t sit there on your high throne with your perfect marriage preaching to us, Garrett.”
Jonathan blinked. Aryl hadn’t called him by his last name since well before the crash.
“I’m not saying it’s perfect. I’m saying I had to…” He looked at each of them and sighed. “Never mind.”
Caleb added more wood to the fire. Jonathan dug a pot from his bag and Aryl added three cans of beans and a pint of broken bacon. Jonathan tore off chunks from a long loaf of bread and passed it around.
They ate in silence. Crickets and owls grew louder as the half-moon rose high in the sky. Aryl spread out his blanket and lay down on his side, staring at the fire, trying to read the flames.
In not more than a mumble, he asked for a beer. He finished it off and then resumed his thousand-yard stare.
“She wanted to get rid of it.”
Jonathan looked up. “I know.”
“I don’t understand that.”
“You don’t have to. It was a false alarm. You’re acting like the option is still on the table.”
Aryl tossed small sticks and leaves into the fire one after the other and watched them burn.
“If she gets pregnant again, it will be.”
One of those rare moments popped up again, and Caleb lifted his head. “I have those castrating shears in the barn. I could help you out.”
Jonathan snickered and even Aryl smiled. “Thanks, but no thanks.”
Opening his mouth brought Jonathan’s attention to Caleb. “What about you.”
Suddenly uncomfortable, Caleb shifted. “Never in my life have I seen Arianna try harder.”
“
And?”
“And, it isn’t helping. I can’t seem to try with her this time.”
“You’ve been trying for years,” Aryl said. “You’ve been more than tolerant of her antics. If it were me, I’d have faked my own death a long time ago.”
A smile cracked and Caleb turned his head.
“Bad joke,” Jonathan said.
Aryl brushed it off. “Maybe that’s the way, Caleb. Just let her try. Maybe your job should just be to show up every day. After a while, perhaps you’ll feel like giving back. She might have to wait for it like you waited for her to grow up.”
Caleb listened and then scrubbed his face with his hand. “Christ, what are you, Maura now?”
“Maura’s too busy to deal with this stuff. Frankly, I think she’s tired of it. We should be able to figure this out on our own.” Out of habit, Aryl went to brush the hair off his forehead that wasn’t there.
“What was Claire’s reaction?” Jonathan asked.
“She looked shocked, but she didn’t say anything.”
“You know she’s mad. She loved your hair.”
He threw a shoulder and reached for another beer. He sipped and made a noise. “It’s not as good warm.”
“Is it me or did we have a lot more fun doing this as kids?” Caleb asked as he lay back on his bedroll.
***
On the day of Ruth’s end of summer party, Muzzy sat hostage in Arianna’s kitchen.
“Hold still.”
“I’m trying,” Muzzy growled through gritted teeth.
“I swear, I get one section detangled and it springs right back into knots. You have the most frustrating hair.”
“I honestly don’t know why you’re doing this. Or why I’m letting you do this. It’s just going to get messed up on my motorbike.”
“Oh, no it’s not,” Arianna said, biting her bottom lip and she pulled the brush through a section of hair. “You’re riding with Jon. I already arranged it.”
“I don’t want to ride with Jon.”
“Well, tough. I’m not going to turn this nightmare into a masterpiece just to have it blown apart with you zipping around on that bike.”
Muzzy grunted, folded her arms, and sank down.
“Don’t hunch. It’s bad for your posture.”
“I’m only going to Ruth’s party to take pictures and speak to people. There’s no need for all this.”
Arianna came around, took her by the shoulders, and glared with her best mommy face. “Yes, there is. Everyone knows what you look like running around this town. If they see you transformed into a glamorous Hollywood starlet, it’ll be good for business.”
“Business?”
“I’m going to ask Caleb to let me use that little house for a salon. I want to go into real business for myself.”
“That would be a great idea. You think he’ll let you?”
“I don’t know,” Arianna said with a frown. “He’s barely speaking to me, but he can’t argue that we couldn’t use the money.”
“I can help you develop a business plan,” Muzzy offered, turning her head. Arianna straightened it with a yank.
“I don’t know that I need one.”
“Of course, you need one.”
Arianna ignored her, turned to the table, and flipped through a magazine trying to find the picture that inspired her.
Muzzy glanced at the clock. “Better hurry, you won’t have time to do your own hair.”
Arianna was in a creative trance, focused on the challenge before her and didn’t answer because she didn’t hear. She grabbed her scissors and began snipping.
***
Jonathan brushed the edges of his jacket after he got out and went around opening Ava’s door. He felt like one of the pretenders he’d witnessed at the club with scuffed shoes and worn jacket elbows. It didn’t matter, he supposed.
Ava, however, looked stunning as she stepped out, even with Amy on her hip, playing with her earrings.
“If someone had told me a year ago that I would be wearing one of Ruth’s dresses to go to her end of summer gala, I’d have told them they were crazy.”
“This life has taught me to expect anything and anticipate nothing.”
As if to prove that point, Muzzy exited, not concerned with chivalrous acts or etiquette.
“Muzzy, I’m still in shock,” Ava said. “I can’t stop looking at you!”
“Arianna went all out, didn’t she?”
The hair was only the beginning of the torture session with Arianna. After that, she did her makeup and presented a dress, another of Ruth’s loaners, and forced her to put it on—very nearly physically forced her.
“I feel like an idiot,” she said, glancing at the peach-colored gown, the beadwork sparkled in the late afternoon sun. Long and off the shoulder, it showed off a waist that no one knew was there and shoved her bosom up so high she felt as if she would smack her chin if she looked down.
“Well, you look like a princess,” Jonathan said, swept up her hand and kissed it.
“You’ll be lucky if Peter can form two words tonight.”
That was a relief to Muzzy. The last thing she wanted was him going overboard with the attention. He already paid her too much.
Jean piled out followed by Eddie. They stood in awe of the stone mansion.
“You’ll be the nanny’s helper with all the children tonight?” Ava asked. Both boys nodded excitedly.
As they weaved around the mass of automobiles parked in Ruth’s yard, Muzzy wondered if he’d even like it. Peter had told her he hoped she never changed her hair. Maybe she was worrying over nothing either way.
They came around the side of the house. Ruth had a few chefs cooking with a wood fire under large cast iron slabs. There were torches burning and metal tubs with open fires, servers in airy tops and flowy skirts.
“Tahitian themed,” Jonathan said. It wasn’t what any of them would have guessed to be her first choice.
Ruth herself was dressed like a Caribbean goddess showing a shocking amount of leg and waved when she saw them.
“I’ll take the kids upstairs,” Ava said. Jonathan saw a table with fresh mango, papaya, and pineapple and made a straight line for it.
Muzzy glanced around, holding her camera close. There were about fifty people here, outside anyway, and she made for the large French doors leading inside before any of them took notice of her.
Inside was just as lavishly decorated. The ballroom was overrun with tropical bouquets, replicas of ancient artifacts and a faux rock waterfall pressed into the corner of the room. On each side extended a bar with a professional attendant behind mixing up fruity drinks.
“Wow, she really knows how to throw a party,” Muzzy whispered. The expense boggled her mind. She pulled her camera from its case and walked around a massive ice sculpture at the opposite end of the room, a strange fire god of some kind shining in the early stages of melting. She took two pictures, marveling at the detail.
When she turned, she spotted Peter leaning on the bar, talking to the bartender. He slouched on his elbow, one leg draped lazily over the other, a pink drink in his hand.
She began walking, and when he looked over, she smiled and put up a hand.
His eyes popped, his mouth fell. He moved the wrong leg trying to stand up straight, got tangled and hit the floor, the pink drink flying from his hands.
Muzzy ran to him trying desperately not to laugh.
“Are you all right?”
He nodded, staring wide-eyed as he pushed off the carpet. She picked up his empty glass and handed it to him.
“What happened?” he asked.
“Did you hit your head?”
“No, to you? What happened?”
Muzzy rolled her eyes. “I suppose I’m a walking advertisement for Arianna. Or that’s what she said anyway. She’s been dying to get her hands on my head all year.”
He looked at her slowly from top to bottom.
“Well, don’t hold back. How ridiculous do
I look?”
“You look amazing,” he said in a breath. “If I hadn’t already asked you to marry me, I would right now.”
Her lips pursed. “You didn’t ask me to marry you. You told me I was going to marry you.”
“Fine,” he said and dropped down to one knee. “Will you—”
“Get up!” she hissed and yanked on his arm. “You’re making a fool of yourself.”
He stood grinning, took her hand, and locked it beneath his arm. “C’mon.”
“Where are we going?”
“I am telling every single person here that you’re my wife.”
She groaned as he began walking. Then she looked down and smiled.
***
Three days before the party, Aryl bought a 1919 Ford Model T with a center door. She ran rough, the paint was flat and worn, and it would overheat if he drove more than ten miles. But there was something wonderful about being under one’s own steam again.
He opened Claire’s side. It surprised her. She’d forgotten how he’d done that for years. She moved around the seat and considered the car’s design awkward, but she wouldn’t say anything, grateful for it with winter coming. Regardless, there was no graceful way to exit a vehicle like this.
He’d said nothing to her as they got dressed and then very little as they drove. Jac smattered the backseat with cookie crumbs and was well behaved, more enchanted with the vehicle than the idea of causing mischief.
“I wish Maura could be here,” Claire said as Aryl reached in for Jac.
“She won’t leave Tarin’s side. Swears it’s going to be any minute now.”
Claire wanted to say nothing on the subject of pregnancy, birth, or children.
“Sounds like a lively party,” she said. She waited for him to take her hand. Instead, he brushed off Jac’s clothes and then scooped him up. What should have felt like a date felt more like an obligation.
“Aryl.” He turned to look at her. “Do you even want to do this?”
“Yes,” he said quietly and began walking.
She followed behind him and hoped the night would go quickly.
***
Purling Road - the Complete Second Season: Episodes 1-10 Page 24