by Aria Ford
“Like what?” Miller asked neutrally.
I sighed. “I dunno. Like…he’s so old fashioned. Insulting. He told me farmwork wasn’t suitable for girls.”
“What!” Miller sounded shrill with disbelief.
“Believe it,” I chuckled. “He did too.”
“No. No way, Kell. Am I dreaming? Pinch me. This is twenty-eighteen, right?”
“Yeah,” I said strongly. “That’s what I thought.”
“The cheek!” Miller said. I could almost see the expression on her face; utter horror.
“Yeah,” I agreed again. I felt better having heard someone else respond the same way I had. Put out here in the middle of the wilderness, I felt almost as if I was the one with the crazy ideas. Clearly not. “He’s like…really backward.”
“Kell, he sounds awful,” she said, concerned. “What the hell did you get involved with him for?”
I chuckled sadly. “Well,” I sighed. “I guess at the time I felt like I needed someone bossing me around. Someone taking charge, you know? Well I learned my lesson. If they can boss you around, they can beat you up.”
“Yes.”
We sat quietly a while, contemplating the truth of that. I noticed it was almost five o’ clock. If I wanted to get my clothes laundered—and I did—I should go now before they closed.
“Listen,” I said after we’d chatted a bit longer. “I got to run. It was so great hearing you.”
“It was great hearing you too, girlfriend,” she responded warmly. “Now you look after yourself. And if I were you I’d keep well away from Mister Freaky Caveman.”
I laughed. “Oh, Mill. I needed to hear that. Thank you.”
“Pleasure. Keep well.”
“You too, Miller. Bye.”
“Bye.”
I sat there thinking a long time after she’d gone. My phone rang again and I ignored it when I saw it was Reese.
I don’t want to have anything to do with him further.
I took my clothes to the cleaner and dropped them off, then headed into town to visit Grandpa at the hospital.
I sat with him during the time when visitors were allowed through. He looked much better and he was talking about going home.
“I’ll be glad to be outta here,” he said. “Back home. Miss the house.”
“I’m sure,” I sympathized. “You must miss the freedom,” I added, looking around the sterile, cold ward. There were half a dozen other people there and I sensed Grandpa didn’t like being hemmed in and surrounded by fellow patients. He had always been free-spirited.
“Yeah.”
We chatted for a while longer and when dinner came around I took my leave. He frowned.
“Where you goin’, Kells?”
I paused. “I’m going back to the hotel, Grandpa,” I said. “Why?”
He shrugged. “You look sad. What’s wrong?”
I sighed. “Grandpa, remind me not to try and hide things around you.”
“I’m just worried about you,” he said. “What’s on your mind?”
I cleared my throat. “It’s…Grandpa…why are some guys such pigs?”
He chuckled. “I wonder that myself. But who’s a pig, sweetie?”
I hesitated to tell him, but I found myself relating a protracted version of what had happened with Reese and me. He listened carefully, and when I’d finished, he coughed.
“I…you know what?”
“What?” I asked. I respected his wisdom. If he had something to say about this, I wanted to hear it. I trusted him.
“Well, it sounds to me like this guy was an army guy. Dunno why I think that. It’s just a feeling. Big guy, big temper…lots of rage inside.”
“Yeah,” I nodded. “That’s just right.”
He smiled. “Well, then. I knew guys like him. After the service. There were some of us who…didn’t quite come back. It wasn’t like they’d died, or been physically hurt. Not always. They were fine outside. But inside was the anger and the rage. They thought they failed. Carried guilt. They weren’t man enough.” He chuckled. “Whatever that means.”
I stared at him. “That sounds like him.” I was amazed. “Thank you.”
He nodded. “Well, could be wrong. Worth a try. So’s this.” He added, grinning, as he inspected the meal they had brought. It looked and smelled like a curry of some kind. I chuckled.
“I hope it tastes as good as it smells.”
“So do I, Kell.” He tried some, chewing with a thoughtful expression. “It’s not bad.”
“Good,” I said gently. I felt better now that I’d spoken with him. He had made a good deal make sense to me. I felt more peaceful.
“Well, you go safely,” he said. “See you tomorrow, maybe?” He looked hopeful and I nodded.
“See you tomorrow.”
I left, feeling my burden lighter.
I was pleased to see he was better and that they were at least feeding him well—or better than he’d eaten for the last month or so, anyhow.
As I drove, I couldn’t help comparing Reese to my grandfather. He was the strongest man I knew, but he had always been gentle and humble. As far as I knew he had never downplayed my grandma in any way and he’d encouraged his daughter to follow her career. Later, he’d visited often and supported her when she left my dad. He was a real man.
Grandpa wouldn’t assault a man who made a comment like that. He’s ignore it. Or treat it like it was beneath his dignity. Reese didn’t have enough dignity not to fight like a slighted teenager.
All the same, I couldn’t help wondering if Grandpa was right. It was a perfect description of the man, even though Grandpa had never even seen him, as far as I could know. So maybe there was something in that.
In that moment, the phone went. I thought it was Miller, so I answered without thinking.
“Hello?” Reese said. I was about to put the phone down, but I heard him sniff and I had the feeling he was crying.
“Yes?” I said.
“Kelly.” His voice was soft, like the wind on snowbanks. In fact, it had just the same frozen, forsaken feel as that.
“Reese?”
“I’ve been such a fool.”
“Maybe,” I said gently. I sighed. In those five words, he had given me hope. Maybe he wasn’t so arrogant, so ultra-fragile after all. Maybe he was strong enough to admit when he was wrong. “What’s up?”
But he’d already hung up. I leaned back on the chair, thinking. Something was wrong, evidently. But what?
The more I thought about it, the more I felt drawn to go and find out.
I wanted, more than anything, to find that my first impression of Reese as an arrogant bully had been wrong: to find that my image of him as caring, strong and brave enough to face himself was right.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Reese
I was sitting on the kitchen floor. At least, that was where I thought I was. My vision was a little blurry. In the corner, was a stack of open bottles. I could see six of them, though I suspected I’d had a few earlier at the table and just not brought the bottles down to my safe spot by the fridge.
It was only when the knocking echoed through the house another time, louder, that I realized it wasn’t coming from in my head, but from outside. I blinked and moaned.
“What?”
It sounded like someone was trying to break the door down and for a moment I considered it might be just that. I was in the bunker on the edge of the godforsaken valley in Afghanistan and there was flack blasting everywhere.
Then my vision focused and I grunted. “Not…there. In the kitchen.”
I stood and hauled myself to my feet, swaying distractedly as I headed out into the hall. I looked through the window, wondering who could be knocking at my door at this time. I had no idea what the time was, as that went. I’d started drinking at four. The clock told me seven.
“Oh, my…” It had been ages since I was so messed up at seven. I felt the first blow of shame. I really didn’t want to start
doing this again. I groaned as the knocking began.
“For the love of…”
Kelly. She was on the doorstep. Dressed in a warm powder-blue coat and jeans, she looked elegant and strangely self-contained. I looked into her eyes, or at least I tried to. My vision swam a little, and I had trouble telling my eyes where to look.
She looked up at me.
“Reese,” she said gently.
“Kelly,” I said. I felt shame crash over me like a wave. Of all the things to happen, the last thing I needed was for her to be here. How had she got here? Why was she here? “You coming to l…laugh at me?” I slurred.
She shook her head. Her eyes, when I focused on them, were solemn. She looked sad. “No, Reese,” she said gently. “I wanted to say sorry. I misjudged you.”
“Mis…no.” I shook my head. “No misjudging. I was an asshole. Now you know. An asshole…”
I was swaying and somehow my mind couldn’t follow my train of thought, if that made sense. I knew what I wanted to say but I couldn’t figure out how to make myself say it.
Kelly looked up at me. To my surprise, a soft smile touched her mouth. “Hell, Reese,” she said gently. “You’re a mess. Go sit down.”
I nodded. I went through to the sitting room and sat. She followed me in and locked the door. I heard the echo as the key found its mark. Then she was in the living room.
“Go…leave…alone,” I said ineffectively. I wished I could make myself talk properly. But my mouth just wasn’t made for it now. I shrugged. “Mess. A mess.”
“Yes, you’re a mess, Reese,” she said gently. “But it’s not your fault.”
“No…yes, it is,” I said with some pride. “No one makes me do anything. I’m Reese Bradford, and I’m as stubborn as six donkeys on a mission.”
I heard her laugh. It was a nice sound. She was smiling and her lips were very red in the muted light. I smiled back. My body was starting to feel the need for her, though I knew there was very little chance it’d work out.
“Reese,” she said gently. “There’s something wrong, isn’t there?”
I frowned. “Wrong.”
“Yeah,” she said gently. “I was talking to Grandpa, and he said…” she paused.
“What?” I asked. My head was starting to hurt now and I felt the need to close my eyes. I did for a moment and when I opened them, she was looking at me. Her face was so gentle that it took my breath away. I frowned.
“Grandpa said that…when he served in Vietnam, some of the guys came back…not themselves,” she said carefully. “He said maybe you were ex-military too.”
“He said that?” I stared at her. “No way. How’d he guess?”
She smiled. “I told him you were as stubborn as six donkeys on a mission?” she offered.
I roared with laughter. “Oh, you did, did you?” I teased.
“Yeah.”
I sat still for a while, thinking about it. She knew, now. By some strange miracle she had guessed my small secret. So I might as well tell her the big one too. The one that I never told anyone about, not even myself if I could possibly avoid it.
“I was in the military. In Afghanistan,” I told her. “I was with the Fourth. We were…we were stationed at a base just near Dai Chopan. We were there when the base came under fire. I was the among the highest ranking officers at the base at the time—the rest of the guys were out on patrol.” I drew a breath. “It was my watch. And I didn’t give good orders. We should have headed out the back way. I chose to stay. My guys died.”
I could hear the way my voice was wobbling and there was nothing I could do about it. I had never told anyone this part of the story. If I wasn’t so stupidly drunk I might not be telling it anyway. But the fact was, she was here. I had been stupidly drunk with other people and it hadn’t come out.
She didn’t speak. She just sat looking at me with those big and gentle brown eyes. Then she said to me: “You know it’s not your fault.”
I shook my head. “The point is, it is my fault. Who else was at fault? I gave the orders that day.”
“Well, maybe if you’d given other orders they would have died anyway. It wasn’t your fault there were guys shooting at the base. It wasn’t your fault your guys were there that day. It wasn’t your fault that the troops were in Afghanistan or that they were fighting. So many other things made that happen. Not you.”
I sighed. “I know you’re right,” I breathed, my voice cracking with the strain of my emotions. “I just don’t believe that. I believe it’s my fault, somehow.”
She sighed. “Why do you want it to be your fault?”
“Because I could have changed it.”
“Really?” she asked. “I don’t think so.”
I felt angry at that. “Of course I could have!” I said crossly. “I could have…” I trailed off as I reached for something I “could have” done. As it happened, she was right. I couldn’t have done any better. What happened that day was unavoidable. I had done my best, and I knew I had. With the information available to me, I had made the best choice. I’ve always tried my best, and I had then too.
“Yeah,” she nodded slowly. “Quite.”
I was profoundly silent after that. Even in my current state of mind, which was completely incapable of standing upright, I could see what she said made sense. It felt as if a little light had come on in my head. A little light that shone in the dark, leading me out into the new day.
I didn’t want to say anything or break the moment. It felt so good. I just nodded.
Kelly smiled at me. She slid down off the chair so she was sitting with me on the floor. It felt so good, so right, to have her close. My lips found hers and we kissed, slow and lingering. I felt my body respond, though I knew I was too tired now to really be able to carry through on it. Just holding her was enough. Holding and being held and feeling that new closeness; a closeness that was beyond roles and strength, beyond anything.
It felt like love.
She snuggled close to me and I wrapped my arms around her. I felt good. We sat there and I felt my mind drift and knew I was about to fall asleep.
The next morning, when I woke, she was gone. I would have thought I dreamed it, except for the fact that everything had changed. The burden had slipped from me and I felt lighter and freer.
I did my best.
My head thumped and ached, my mouth was dry and my body was all bent from sleeping on the floor by the back door. But I knew that I had done my best. I could walk away now and into a brighter future, rich with possibility.
I stumbled through from the kitchen to the shower and undressed, plunging my head under the flow of hot water. It cleared my head and, after a few glasses of water to drink, I started to feel a bit less queasy. I shrugged on a bathrobe and headed through to the sitting room, and stared.
Kelly. She was curled up on the couch, the sunlight touching her red hair with slow fire. She was asleep, her eyes closed. She could have been eighteen years old, the lines smoothed from her face, all care and tension gone from her.
I went closer, not wanting to wake her. I knelt and looked at her beautiful, reposeful face. She stirred. Her eyes flicked open.
“Good morning,” I said.
She yawned and smiled. “Good morning.”
I kissed her cheek. “Breakfast?” I asked.
Her smile was as warm as the new day’s light. “That sounds like a wonderful idea.”
I went through to the kitchen and started to cook.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Kelly
Waking up on the couch in Reese’s house, I smiled. It was oddly intimate. This was the first time I’d spent the night with him.
Not that we actually did anything last night.
It felt as if we had. I sat up, stretching. My head thumped a little and I felt tired. But it was a good feeling. My first thought was for Reese. My second was—after I drew in a breath and smelled something delicious—wondering what was going on in the kitchen.
; I went through and stood in the doorway. There he was. At the stove, his back to me, Reese seemed to be fixing eggs and sausage. The smell was delicious—it caught at my stomach and reminded me that I hadn’t had dinner yesterday. I watched him work. Again, there was an intimate feel to it. This was the first time I was actually in his house.
He looked up. When he smiled, I shivered. It was a beautiful smile. Natural and sincere, the first real smile I’d seen him give.
“Good morning,” I said. “Can I use the shower?”
His smile widened. “Sure. I promise not to come and watch.”
I blushed and flapped a hand at him. “Reese. You are the wickedest…I don’t have words.”
He laughed. “Go and shower. I’ll make breakfast.”
“Wonderful. Thanks.”
While I was in the shower, lathering my hair with Head and Shoulders, I found myself wondering if the old Reese would have fixed a woman breakfast. The new Reese—the one who had let go of the brittle strong-man image, was capable of truly being strong: strong enough to support and help. Enough to be kind.
I was singing in the bathroom, drying my hair with the towel, when he called from the hallway.