Blondie (Midland Springs Book 2)

by Joanne Ganci

  “I saw you jump away from that guy. I can’t in good conscience serve you more alcohol.”

  “Listen here, Charlene. I’m a grown ass fucking woman. If I want more whiskey, and I’ve got the money for it, you’re gonna goddamn serve me.”

  She sighs, “Let me go get Mark.”

  “Fine, whatever,” I huff.

  While I’m waiting, a large hand lands on my shoulder and a deep voice says, “You alright there, Blondie?” I jump and scramble away from the hand.

  “Leave me alone, Max.”

  “Lydia. What are you talking about? My name is Bryan. We just went over this.” My eyes focus on the man and sure as shit, he’s right. He’s not Max.

  “But...you called me Blondie.” That’s when I notice the room isn’t standing still the way it’s supposed to. What the fuck is going on?

  I hear a glass slam down in front of me. Finally, my whiskey. But when I turn around everything’s all wrong. “That’s not whiskey, Charlene.”

  “Yeah, it’s called water. Drink it.”

  “Fuck you, Charlene. I asked for whiskey. Water isn’t going to get me drunk.”

  “Newsflash, Lydia. You’re already drunk.”

  “I’ll never be drunk enough…” That last one comes out a little choked. Dammit. I was supposed to come here and have a good time. Why did Max have to show up? Why is he always right fucking there, in the forefront of my mind?

  “I’m out. I don’t care how gorgeous she is. I ain’t got time for that kind of crazy,” Bryan mutters and walks away.

  “I wasn’t gonna sleep with you anyway, asshole,” I shout after him.

  “Well, I’m glad your decision-maker isn’t completely broken,” a new voice says. Wait, I know that voice.

  “Parker?”

  “Yeah, Lyd. It’s me. Drink this water, and I’ll get you out of here.”

  “But I don’t wanna be alone, Park.”

  “You won’t be alone. I’m right here with you.”

  “You promise?” I look up at my little brother, the tears already starting up.

  He reaches out for me, and I collapse into his arms. “I’ll always be here for you, Lydia. No matter what.”

  Lydia

  11

  April 5th. Another day that will go into the memory bank to haunt me. Today is Dale’s memorial service. I know he’s been gone for a while now, but the thought of gathering to say our goodbyes is really hitting me. It’s a Friday, so most people are supposed to be at work, but as I walk down Main Street, I see mostly closed signs in the windows. When one of our own passes, it hits the whole town in waves. Even if you didn’t know someone well, chances are you’ve run into them or heard of them. With people like Dale, that are involved in the community in such a big way, everyone knows you. The ones that didn’t know him from seeing him at the farmer’s market or the county fairs with his livestock, certainly heard about him when his son became a big ol’ country star.

  As I draw closer to the town hall where the service is being held, I find myself in a sea of black. It seems like the whole town has shown up to pay their respects. I ignore most of the people as I pass them, there’s only one person I need to focus on today: Maggie.

  Walking up the aisle in the center of the room, I make my way to Maggie’s side. She’s standing off to the side in the front of the room. Max is by her side and our eyes lock. He gives me a nod of thanks just before I pull Maggie into a hug. As soon as I wrap her in my embrace, she starts to sniffle. I rub her back and try my hardest to give her strength. She pulls away and looks at me through bloodshot eyes. “Lydia, thank you for being here.”

  “I wouldn’t be anywhere else. Dale was well-loved. I think he’d get a kick out of knowing he practically shut the whole town down.”

  “Oh, he would have gone on and on about it. That man loved his attention. Always cracking jokes. Every time he would drag me to the farmer’s market, I would ask him why he bothered when we got home. He was so busy entertaining his fan club I just sat there knitting the whole day. But I kept going, because I loved watching him shine.” Her voice breaks, and she bows her head, overcome with emotion.

  “And he loved having you there with him, Mama. Dad loved you so much. Still does. If there’s anything he taught me, it’s that a Weston man hangs onto his love with everything in him. That love never goes away. Death couldn’t stop dad from loving you even if it tried,” Max tells her, clasping their hands together.

  “Oh, Max. He loved you too. I know y’all didn’t see eye to eye after you moved away, but he loved you more than life itself. I hope you know that.” Maggie moves away from me to pull her son into her arms.

  He wraps his arms around her, and presses a kiss onto the top of her head, whispering, “I know, Mama. I know.” I avert my gaze, trying to give them some privacy.

  Looking around the room I can’t help but think of my dad. I was so young when he died, but I remember his funeral. It was nothing like this. There wasn’t a whole town to see him off, just our family and a few of his friends. It makes me a little sad to know he didn’t have all this. I can’t really imagine not having a whole town to support you, since I grew up in Midland and everyone has just always been there.

  Pastor Daniels clears his throat, and the Westons pull apart to look at him. “Maggie, Maxwell. I am so sorry for your loss. Dale was a good man. I hope you’ll take solace in knowing he’s with our Heavenly Father. Whenever you're ready, I’ll get us started.”

  Max reaches his hand out to shake the pastor’s. “Thank you, Pastor. I think we’re ready now.” They both look down at Maggie who nods her confirmation. The pastor nods solemnly and moves to the podium.

  “If you all will take your seats, we’ll begin,” Pastor Daniels says in a commanding voice.

  I start heading toward a seat in the second row, but Maggie snags my hand, “Sit up here, Lydia.”

  “Okay. Of course.” I’m not sure how it happened, but I end up sitting between Max and Maggie. The pastor reads a few Bible verses and says some kind words about Dale, then opens the floor for friends and family to speak. A handful of people get up and share stories of how they met Dale or a sweet memory of him. When Mr. Porter gets up, the room falls silent. Dale and Mr. Porter were friends their whole lives. Chances were if you saw one of them around, you’d find the other close by. They had booths next to each other at the Farmer’s Market and a friendly competition between them about their livestock at the county fair.

  Mr. Porter is a bold, stocky man with a commanding presence. Normally, he’s more of the strong, silent type, always leaving the crowd pleasing to Dale. But, right now, everyone is on the edge of their seats, waiting to hear what he’s going to share with us. “Dale was my best friend, as many of y’all know. We grew up together, though if you ask our wives, they’d probably tell you we never grew up at all.” There’s some light chuckling that spreads throughout the room. He goes on to tell us about the time they both broke their arms and having kids, supporting each other as they grew older, but never apart.

  I hear Max make a noise in the back of his throat and look over at him. Listening to his Uncle—he’s called Mr. Porter, Uncle Caleb his whole life—speak about his Dad is hitting him hard. I can tell he’s trying to hold them back, but tears fall down his face. He doesn’t move to wipe them away, just lets them fall. I reach over and touch his knee. We may not be together, but I need him to know that I’m here. If he needs me, I’ll be here. He closes his eyes briefly and nods his head. I give his leg a little squeeze and pull back. His hand darts out, catching mine. We lock eyes, and I nod, clasping our hands together. I turn away and bring my attention back to Mr. Porter as he finishes his speech.

  “If no one else has anything to say, Maxwell would like to say a few words,” Pastor Daniels announces after Mr. Porter takes his seat. When no one else gets up, he turns his attention to Max, “Maxwell.”

  He releases my hand after a quick squeeze and goes to the podium. “I’m not real good at tal
king about my feelings. I usually pour my heart into a song. That being said, I apologize if this doesn’t come out the way it should. My words sound much prettier with a melody.”

  I can hear the light sprinkle of laughter from the crowd, but I’m so focused on the tingling sensation in my hand that it barely registers. You spend a lot of time with nothing in your hands, but you don’t usually notice how empty it feels. But when you hold hands with someone you loved with all your heart again after nine years, and they let it go, you apparently feel it a whole hell of a lot. I force myself to stop staring at my hand and focus on Max’s speech.

  “I don’t think Dad ever forgave me for leaving Midland. And I don’t blame him. He couldn’t fathom the idea of a Weston man leaving the woman he loved. He didn’t want that type of pain for me. And every day since he left us I just keep thinking about that. I’m living proof that leaving doesn’t make that love go away. So, I know two things to be fact. My dad is sitting right here with us, because he will always love my mother, and he would never dream of truly leaving her. Because he…” he chokes up, shutting his eyes. The anguish on his face causes this fissure in my chest. I press against it, but it doesn’t help alleviate the pain. When his eyes reopen, he lays his gaze on me. “He was a damn good man. And I wish I realized sooner that, that’s all he ever wanted for me. I’m going to be a better man, Dad. I’m home and I’m going to make you proud.”

  As each word tumbled out of his mouth, tears race down my face. The second he finishes his speech, he darts away from the podium, back to the seat beside me. He takes a moment to wipe the moisture from his face before looking over at me. I thought I was prepared, but when his gray eyes meet mine, I’m stunned. There’s this fiery determination in his stare that I’ve never seen before. I quickly look down, I’m not sure I can handle all of that right now. His hand sits between us, palm open and inviting. Before I can change my mind, I slip my hand in his and twine our fingers together.

  Max

  12

  Everyone comes up to me, offering condolences or telling me how much they loved my speech. I barely hear a word of what they’re saying, all my focus is on the promise I made. I will be a better man, and I don’t know if she’s aware of it, but that promise was just as much for Lydia as it was for my dad. I’m home and I need my girl by my side. I can’t keep on coasting through life without her.

  I’m picking my way through a plate of tasteless catered food when Uncle Caleb approaches me. “That was some speech ya made there, son,” he says in that booming voice of his.

  “Thanks, Uncle Caleb.”

  “You mean that shit?” He levels me with a serious glare.

  “Every fucking word, sir.”

  “Good.” He nods his head and clasps me on the shoulder, “Then you’ve already made your daddy proud. Now, don’t screw it up.” He punctuates his advice with a hard slap on my back and ambles back over to the buffet table. I chuckle and shake my head to myself. Leave it to Uncle Caleb to get straight to the point like that.

  After everything winds down and everyone leaves, I pack everything into my truck. Most of the stuff I need to take home is delicate—flowers, photos, and dad’s urn—so I put it in the cab. Even with the extended cab, my truck is full. “Shit.”

  “What’s wrong, Max?” Lydia asks from behind me.

  “Oh. Uh, nothing.” She gives me that same look she used to when we were kids, that tells me I’m being a stubborn ass. I scrape my hands over my beard. “It’s just, the truck’s full. I gotta rearrange all this shit, so I can take Mama home. We rode together.”

  “That’s all? I can take her if that would be easier.”

  “Yeah?” I ask and she nods. “That would be great. Thanks, Blondie.”

  “Let me just go get my car. I left it at the library.”

  “Gimme yer keys. I’ll grab your car and bring it back here. It’s the least I could do.”

  She starts laughing, and the sound wraps around me, like a hug from an old friend. I’ve missed that laugh. “I’m sorry, I just pictured you in my car. Maxwell Weston driving a purple mini cooper is a hilarious image.”

  “I’d drive a fucking clown car if it meant you’d give me that laugh, Blondie.”

  “Oh, what about a weiner car! You know, the one for that hot dog company.” She doubles over, laughing at the mental image of me driving ridiculous cars.

  “You are so easily amused, darlin’. Get me a weiner car and I’ll drive the hell out of it.”

  “Oh, boy. You don’t know what you just did. I’m holding you to that, Weston.”

  God, she’s so beautiful. I could sit around just making her laugh all day, and I’d be fucking happy. I used to, and I can only hope we’ll get back to that some day.

  “What’s so funny over here?” Mama asks, a smile on her face. I think it’s the first genuine smile I’ve seen since I’ve been back.

  “He’s going to go pick up my car, so I can drive you home, Maggie. And I pictured him in my tiny purple car, which led to him making the mistake of promising to drive a weiner car if I got him one,” Lydia tells her, still laughing.

  “Boy, you should have known better than that. Lydia, make sure I’m there for that one,” Mama says through a chuckle. I can’t help but smile at these two women. Sure, they’re laughing at my expense, but they’re laughing. Dad would be so fucking happy right now.

  “Would you give me your keys, woman? If I wait ‘til you’re done laughing, we’ll be here all night.” That makes her laugh a little harder, but she reaches into the pocket of her black dress and tosses me her keys. I catch them mid-air and start the trek to the library, “I’ll be right back, ladies.”

  ∞∞∞

  After another round of laughter when I pulled up, I finally got them in the car. When we got back to the farm, Lydia helped me bring all the stuff in from the truck while Mama made us some coffee.

  “What are we going to do with all these flowers, Mama?”

  “I can transfer some of them to my garden. The rest we’ll just keep as long as we can, I’m sure we can find a place for them.”

  I nod my head and take the mug she hands me over to the kitchen table. “Sure thing, Mama. We’ll work on that this weekend.”

  “That sounds good, Maxy. If y’all would excuse me, it’s been a long day.” I stand up from the table and give her a tight hug.

  “Love you, Mama.”

  “I love you too, Max,” she says with a delicate hand on my cheek. “Thank you for coming home.”

  “Mama—”

  “No, it’s okay. It just needed to be said. I’m happy you’re here. I wish it were under better circumstances, but I’m happy all the same.” She turns over to where Lydia is sitting and sighs. “And I’m real happy to see so much of you, sugar. Thank you for everything, Lydia.” She’s about to protest, but Mama holds up a hand, shushin’ her before she even gets a word out.

  “You’re welcome, Maggie,” Lydia says, standing up to hug her.

  We watch Mama as she drifts off toward her bedroom, worn down from all the activities and emotions of the day. My eyes drift to Lydia and her wavy blonde hair, done up in a neat bun on the top of her head. With her hair up, it accentuates her neck, and the pretty pearl earrings—I know were her grandmother’s—that are dangling from her ears. She turns around and catches me staring at her. We start talking at the same time and laugh. “Go ahead, Blondie.”

  “I was just going to ask if you needed help with anything else,” she says with a little smirk.

  “Nah, I think we got everything done that needs done today. Any farm stuff would have been taken care of by the farm hands.”

  “Good, good. Then...I guess I better get going.” She picks her keys up off the table and gestures toward the door.

  “Uh, yeah. Sure. Let me walk you out.”

  “Okay.”

  We walk silently to her car, and just before she reaches the door handle, I blurt out, “Can I interest you in a ride?” She looks up at me w
ith a raised brow and I realize how bad that sounded. “On horses. I definitely meant on horses. Let me rephrase. Would you be interested in riding a horse with me as I ride my own horse?” Yeah, because that sounded much better.

  She chuckles and looks down at the ground where she’s using the toe of her boot to draw a line in the dirt. “Um. I haven’t been on a horse in a long time, Max. I don’t know—”

  “It’s like riding a bike. You never really forget,” I try to go for casual but I’m pretty sure it comes out a little desperate. “C’mon, Blondie. Take a ride with me.”

  Lydia

  13

  We walk side by side toward the pasture on the east side of the farm. When we reach the it, we keep walking down along the fence line. “Do y’all still have Mandy?”

  “Of course. Bucky passed on a few years back, though,” he responds, solemnly.

  “Yeah, your dad told me about Bucky. I was so sorry to hear he passed, but Dale said it was just his time.”

  “Yeah, he was approaching 20 when I left...” he trails off.

  “It's okay, Max. We both know all too well that you left Midland. It's going to come up.”

  He runs his hand over his stubble, letting out a sigh. While he collects his thoughts, my pace slows as I ponder whether it's still called stubble at this length. It's not quite beard-length, but it seems too long to call it stubble. “I'm sorry, Lydia,” he says, interrupting my thoughts.

  “Ah, I'm back to Lydia now, huh?” I tease.

  “I'm trying to be serious, here.” He stops walking, and I almost run into him.

  “I was just messing with you, Max.”

  “I know, but I just realized that I never even apologized to you. I walked away, then show up after nine fucking years, and didn't even have the decency to apologize.”