by Blue, Casey
My voice softens, “Bye Momma, I love you. Have a good day.”
Luckily my car starts right up and I back up into the small dirt drive leading out to the main road that will take me to the highway. But as I shift the car into drive a figure standing down the road catches my eye. He’s leaning against his car with his hands pushed into his front pockets. He looks up as my car careens to a stop beside him. My breath catches as it always does at the sight of him. He’s dressed in fitted jeans with a square, silver buckle in the front. His usual black boots and a black t-shirt that fits him perfectly in all the right places letting me know what’s underneath. I should just drive on and not acknowledge that he’s there, but of course I do the opposite. I put the car in park and push on the handle to roll down the window. It squeaks as I make progress and curse my little car. He stands to his full frame stepping toward me with an easy smile. This is exactly why I fall for it every time. He’s just so tempting.
He leans down resting his hands against the window, “Where ya headed off to this early?”
A smile spreads over my lips, “I should ask you the same thing. Why are you so far away from home so early?”
He reaches in, carefully cradling my cheek and shakes his head, “Kimber, how’d you get so beautiful?’
If I were standing right now, I’d probably be a puddle at his feet. He was always so smooth with words. I always knew he meant them when we were dating. But when I heard the rumors about the girls, I didn’t doubt it because of his way with words. The anger I’ve felt at him for the past month slowly dissipates.
“I’m goin to the Bruins Ranch on the other side of town. I help Mrs. Bruin out with things.”
“I heard you are pretty busy taking care of your mom and all. I wanted to catch you and ask if you could find some time for a date.”
My ears prick up as he utters the word date. Andrew Perry is actually asking me out on a date. Maybe I didn’t scare him off after all. I can feel a blush spreading across my face as he leans down closer to the window waiting for my answer.
“Um, yes, I think that would be okay.”
“Well when can you get some time?”
“How about tomorrow night? Work is usually busy on a Saturday night, but I might be able to get Derek to cover for me.” I say a silent prayer Derek will work for me.
He backs up and calls out as I start the car back up, “I’ll see you at 6:30 tomorrow night.”
I nod shifting the gear into drive. The smile can’t be wiped from my face and I do a little celebration dance all the way to the Bruins.
Mrs. Bruin even comments on my mood when I trip while climbing up the steps to the immense porch, “Kimber Maguire, is that a smile I see? I haven’t seen that smile in a long time. And look at you, today you are just glowing with that sweet dress.”
My grin widens but I keep my date to myself still acknowledging her compliment with a thank you. I spend most of the day entertaining the boys, playing with them on the WII. They have every game involving sports possible and we go through just about all of them. Baseball seems to be their favorite and they’re pretty good at it.
As lunch rolls around Mrs. Bruin comes in and asks me to make lunch for the ranch hands. Usually she does this. I think I’ve made meals for them only a few times in the three years I’ve been helping out. Today she seems distracted though, hence my nannyish responsibilities.
I pack up brown paper bags with sandwiches, bottles of water, apples, and homemade cookies. She always makes something home baked for them. Once finished I carry the lunch bags out to a red wagon with big all-terrain wheels. I used to pull the boys in this wagon across the property out to the lake when they were little. They’re both too big for it now. It takes me two trips to get all of the bags into the wagon. Including Mr. Bruin, there are ten other men out in the fields herding the cattle and caring for the land among other things.
One of the men left last week, Mrs. Bruin was telling me. Mr. Bruin was trying to replace him because each man is pretty vital with such a huge ranch. They were amazed when just last night someone new showed up on the doorstep looking for work. She said it was just pure luck. She confided in me that he’s from Dallas and certainly not a country boy but seems to be a hard worker. Mr. Bruin wanted to give him a chance anyway.
I struggle to pull the wagon out to the barn, a red two-story structure towering about an acre away from the main house. They break there for lunch every day. It grows as I get closer. Mr. Bruin keeps his hay supply up in the loft. Below there are stalls for the horses. My flip flops were not made for this terrain and my dress was not the most appropriate choice of attire today. As I get closer, the men greet me by name. Sometimes they come to the main house looking to fill the water coolers or on an errand for Mr. Bruin. So I pretty much know most of them. Handing out the lunches I avert my eyes as much as I can. Half of them have removed their shirts and it makes me squirm staring at men’s half naked bodies who are twice my age.
Joe, one of the ranch hands calls out to me when I turn away, “Hey Kimber, how’s that sister of yours? I hear she’s in town.”
I spin back around and answer rolling my eyes, “She is. But Joe, I’d stay away if I were you.”
“You know I can’t do that.” The rest of the men start laughing at Joe’s declaration. Mike, the foreman, who has been here forever, grasps Joe in a headlock ruffling his hair. I roll my eyes at them again and continue walking. Joe is the closest to my age, at probably about thirty. He’s been after my sister for years now. They met at the Duck one night and hit it off pretty well. I don’t know why it didn’t develop into anything. If I were to guess it’s because she can’t stay in one place for any length of time.
When I get to the last lunch, I spot the newbie. His grey shirt is still on but it doesn’t leave much to the imagination as it’s almost soaked through with sweat. He has broad shoulders leading down to muscled arms that peek out of his sleeves. When he looks up, I can tell he is closer to my age than any of the others. He’s sitting farther away from them keeping to himself. He smiles apprehensively and takes the bag from my hand as I hold it out to him, he quietly thanks me. I can’t help but stare, something about him strikes me. His hair is dirty blonde, a darker shade than mine with the front longer than the back. It covers half of his forehead, pushed haphazardly to the side. His eyes are bright blue and I can’t seem to take my gaze off of them. He looks away uncomfortably and I notice is angular jaw with just a hint of stubble. Embarrassed, I turn to find the wagon. Shit Kimber, you just made a fool of yourself again.
Hurriedly, I make my way back to the big house and continue my video game marathon with the boys after they finish lunch. They love all of this attention. When four thirty rolls around I sprint out to my car, eager to finally call Heidi to tell her about my date with Andrew on Saturday night. Maybe it is meant to be and four years ago just wasn’t the right time.
Chapter Thirteen
Jordan
My mom’s figure in the rearview mirror shrinks as the car careens to my unknown destination. All I know is that I can’t breathe here so I need to leave. I guide the car onto highway sixty-seven and head east; it’s as good as any other direction. It’ll take me into Arkansas. Perhaps a complete change of scenery is what I need. Then maybe I’ll swing down into Louisiana.
But once the landscape does start to change, I begin to second guess myself and wonder if I should have just stayed to face everything. The buildings become sparse as fields lay for miles on both sides of the four lane road. The sun shines bright overhead with few clouds to mask the heat. Once I turn onto highway thirty, nothing catches the eye for miles but for a single house occasionally and numerous herds of cows and horses.
I’ve pretty much been a planner my whole life. Susan and I fit together in that way so well. We had planned for our future together. She knew she wanted two children, a boy and a girl. She had the wedding pretty much mapped out much to her mom’s dismay. That night at the club, she announced to the t
able after I proposed for the second time, that it was practically planned. She already knew where she wanted to hold the ceremony and that she had found her dress. I think the only thing that saved her was the fact that she hadn’t bought it yet. She wanted her mom and mine to see it first to get their opinions. This appeased them a little. Planning was what she did best. Driving off without a destination in mind is something she would have never done.
The weekend Bree and David came to the apartment to tell us about their engagement was one of the most memorable with Susan. Bree burst through the door yelling, “Susan, where are you? He finally did it! He finally asked!”
Susan was making lasagna and her hands were covered in ricotta cheese. She started screaming as soon as Bree turned the corner, hugging her and covering them both in cheese. They ended up on the couch giggling out of sheer joy at Bree’s news.
We spent the night drinking wine and eating Susan’s impeccable cooking while sitting out on the back deck watching the sun set. It was great to see her so happy for her best friend.
Later that night after we drained a couple of bottles of wine and after Bree and David left, I led her into the bedroom. She was a little tipsy but I couldn’t wait. Bree was finally engaged so it was Susan’s turn. I had made the decision to wait because of the long history she had with Bree. I knew that night, that it was finally time.
I released her hand and told her, “Stay right there and close your eyes, okay?”
She frowned and looked at me quizzically asking, “Jordan Rhodes, what are you up to?” But she acquiesced, closing her eyes with a sweet smile. I remember turning around to stare at her for a moment before going to get the ring from its hiding place in my closet. She had a purple sundress on that hugged her tall frame. Her hands were fidgety, not able to rest at her sides. Once I found the ring, I came over to her from behind and rested my hand on her hip. I kissed her neck, creating those goose bumps I knew would show up. I grabbed her hand coming around to face her and rested all of my weight on my knee. I whispered, “You can open your eyes now.”
The surprise and delight on her face when she saw me holding out the ring, is a memory I will never forget. She started shaking and fidgeting more, unable to stand in one spot. I smiled at her and asked, “Susan, will you marry me?”
Her other hand went to her mouth as tears cascaded down her cheeks. She nodded her head vigorously and said, “Yes” in a soft voice.
I stood up and gathered her in my arms. She wrapped her hands around my neck and her legs around my waist and I carried her to the bed.
I shake myself out of the memory spotting the next exit, Mount Vernon. I really need a drink right now. My heart aches from thinking about her. I glance at the time on the dash, 2:00. Steering the car to the exit ramp, I find myself surrounded by fields of dull brown grasses in all directions. I stop at a single stoplight and notice the road extends with a sign pointing to the North for a Mount Vernon place. The light turns green and I head toward this town, hoping for a bar that will be open this early in the day. The two lane road quickly turns to four lanes in a short stretch that must be the town. This is like night and day from Dallas. Halfway through the two mile town, I find a bar with wide white letters across the front displaying, The Ugly Duckling. Next to it is the sorriest looking florescent green duck I have ever seen. This seems as good a place as any. I pull in to the fairly large parking lot noting not many cars are here.
I approach the double wooden doors, reaching out to the one on the right. As I’m pulling the door open, a man comes stumbling out of the bar running into me. He rests both of his hands on my shoulders leaning forward, grumbling, “Sorry man.”
His breath is horrid, stinking of beer and cigarettes. I turn my head trying to avoid it. He stumbles farther out, removing his hands while another man comes out of the door I’m holding open. He yells after the man, “Tommy, go get a job.”
He turns to me and apologizes, “Sorry about that. Sometimes the regulars cause trouble.”
I nod and follow him as he turns to head back in. The lighting is dim and smoky even though there are only three people sitting at the bar. The man from the door comes to face me from behind the bar and asks placing a coaster down in front of me, “What can I get ya?”
He is tall and skinny. When he speaks, it’s apparent one of his incisor teeth is missing. His hair is long and scraggly but he is clean shaven. His black t-shirt displays the same letters and awful duck as the sign outside.
“Just a couple of beers, anything you have on tap will be fine.”
I glance around as he turns to get my beer. A few seats down are two men probably in their late sixties sitting and smoking. Both seem disheveled and weary. To my right is another man, this one is unshaven and badly needs a haircut. His skin is tanned as if he’s spent a lot of time out in the sun.
The bartender comes up, setting the mugs down in front of me. He holds out his hand introducing himself, “Hi, I’m Gabe. You’re not from around here, are you?”
I shake my head and smirk while taking a swig.
He leans on the bar obviously intrigued by his discovery and asks, “What brings you to this shit hole?”
I’m a little surprised at his bluntness. He doesn’t know me from anyone else. I was hoping to get peace and here this guy is trying to have a conversation with me.
“Just getting away.”
He walks off, checking on the two men at the end of the bar. I finish one beer and start on the other. I’d really like something a little stronger but it’s early in the afternoon. Wallowing in my pity, I look around the room. It’s really nothing special. A stage spans one wall with posters promoting bands and drink specials. The chairs and tables strategically placed before the stage are well worn wooden ones. All the walls are wood paneling with the exception of the wall behind the bar. It seems to be made of brick, definitely an old establishment. I would imagine most of the buildings around here are. Deep in my thoughts about the town I’m in, trying to avoid thinking about other things, the scruffy looking man down the bar leans toward me with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth and asks, “Got a light?”
I look around not sure he’s talking to me and answer, “Um no sorry I don’t.”
He calls down the counter, “Hey Gabe, got a light?”
Gabe strolls down, pulling a lighter out of the front pocket of his jeans and hands it to the guy. As he lights the cigarette he looks my way commenting, “So you’re not from around here. Where are you from?”
“Dallas.”
He chuckles, “Yeah, I would have guessed that. Big city boy in a small town.”
I don’t respond so he rambles on as Gabe fills two more mugs for me.
“I’d guess you’re running from something. No one in their right mind comes to Mount Vernon for any real reason. Folks round here are tryin’ to get out.”
I take a long drink of my beer avoiding his questioning look. But as I set it down he asks, “So what’s your story?”
My head hangs staring at the bar. I did not come here to be anyone’s entertainment or to make friends. Gabe notices my uneasiness and tells him, “Back off Bert. He obviously doesn’t want to talk about it.”
The Bert guy pipes up one last time as he’s getting up, “Well, whatever your story, there’s no work here if you’re lookin’ ‘cept a ranch hand job out at the Bruin ranch. It might still be open. I left it so’s I could get outta here. Good luck.” He tosses some bills from his pocket onto the bar, fastens a brown cowboy hat on his head and leaves.
Gabe collects the bills and turns to me agreeing , “Bert’s right. The Bruins are good to their people. If you are lookin’, I would go there first. That is if you don’t mind workin’ hard and a little sweat.”
I look up crossing my arms on the bar, “Thanks for the thought.”
“No problem.” He turns to walk to the back where swinging slatted half doors hang; reminding me of the doors the cowboys always came through in the old western movies. I toss
back the last of my beer and check my watch, 4:30. Getting up, I take my wallet out and leave money to cover the beer and a tip. As I walk out I hear Gabe call, “Thanks dude, hope it all works out.”
I continue out the doors and trek out through the scorching heat to my car. Once inside after turning the air to full blast, I sit with both hands on the steering wheel wondering what to do now. I don’t have a plan and because of that I’m lost. Bringing me out of my dilemma, my phone starts to vibrate in my back pocket. I reach down, glancing at the screen. It’s Dave. I debate whether to answer it or not. As it rings a third time I hit the answer button, resigned with the knowledge that my mom probably put him up to calling.
“Hello.”
“Hey Jordan, how are you?”
“I’m good Dave. How are you? How’s Bree?”
“We’re fine. Listen Jordan, I won’t keep you. Your mom asked me to call you. Dude, she’s really worried. Actually, I’m a little concerned too. This isn’t like you to just take off like that.”
I knew she had him call me. I sigh, “Sorry she put you up to this. I know it’s out of character but trust me, I’m okay. I just needed to get away for a while. I’ll be in touch.”
“Okay whatever you want. What do you want me to tell her?”
“Just tell her I’m fine and I’ll call her in a few days. I need to get lost for a little while.”
I push the end button and set the phone down beside me. Out of the front window I watch as the two gray haired men leave the bar laughing while wobbling down the road. One is balding at the crown. Both are dressed in polyester type pants pulled too high above their waists and button down short sleeved shirts. I watch them all the way down the road until they turn a corner, disappearing from my vision. Only an hour and a half from Dallas and I am already in a place so foreign, I feel lost. No one here knows me or my story. This might be the perfect place to help me forget. Turning the car off, I trudge back through the heat to the bar. Once inside again, my eyes adjust to the poor lighting and the chilly air cools me off. Gabe speaks up from behind the bar, “Hey ‘stranger wanting to get away’, you’re back.”