A weak grin curls Hannah’s tight mouth, loosening the tension a little.
“I wouldn’t sleep with him or any other man out of some sense of abandonment. I’m smarter than that,” she states, returning us to the initial issue.
“You are the smartest girl I know, sunshine.” I reiterate what I’d often said when she was a child. “And again, I’m sorry I said what I said.”
“You’re still upset I’m stripping, though, aren’t you?” This is one of our oldest arguments. I turned into my mother, damning my own daughter. When I learned the truth from the local gossips at church—who shouldn’t even know who’s who at the nearby strip joint—I was more hurt than upset at the fact Hannah lied. I thought she was off to Payton Mill each evening when she was really working nights removing her clothes. And all because of me.
“I can’t say I’m pleased with your line of work, but I understand your reasons for such employment.” While I disapproved of her showing her private goods to a bunch of drunk-ass men, she did it for the money. “I take the fault for it. I know you did it for us. For me.”
“Momma, what if it isn’t about you? What if, for once, something I do really isn’t about you?”
I blink, startled by the thought. Is my daughter stripping because she likes it? Does she find pleasure in removing her clothes and baring her bits? Dancing was Hannah’s justification for her current position. “It’s just dancing, Momma,” she’d argued. If I condemned dancing, I’ve really become my mother.
“I hadn’t thought of that. You’re old enough to decide what to do with your body, and you can do with your body what you please, as long as this…this dancing…still pleases you.”
Hannah shrugs, and it isn’t an answer. Instead, she states, “The audience doesn’t get to see the goods.” She sighs, as if reading my thoughts and knowing she’s explained to me a thousand times how all her private parts—the nips and tucks—are covered. Still, enough skin is showing that the imagination for the rest of her need not go far. “I can’t say it’s pleasing to be exposed in front of strangers, but I don’t mind the attention or the tips, and the dancing…” Her voice drifts.
In my head, the skimpy, fuchsia Pink Pony underthings do not equate to a sweet blush-colored leotard and matching ballet slippers, but we’ll just have to agree to disagree. We had other battles to wage.
“Do what you want. I’m just suggesting stripping for a living might not be the best course of action. You’re better than that and so much smarter than it, too.” I’m not suggesting strippers are dumb, but Hannah could be contributing to society in a more productive manner. I suppose if she really wanted to dance, there’s a new dance studio in town Naomi told me about. Stripped is its name. She could apply there for a job.
“Stripping’s worked for me so far, though,” she states. “But I’ll consider what you’ve said.” Conviction lacks in her tone.
I nod, acknowledging I accept what she’s said. Stripping has worked so far, but it’s only gotten us so far, and we’ve reached the point of far enough. Maybe it really isn’t about me. Maybe she enjoys it. Maybe it is her life’s passion. I brush away the thought.
I don’t know what the next steps should be, but they need to be my steps, on the two feet God gave me, as Jedd so blatantly reminded me. Which reminds me…
“Where’s Jedd?”
“He went out the front door after leading me back to the house.”
I recall Jedd’s arms around her, moving her away from me. “Did he hurt you?” I question, my voice cautious and concerned.
She shakes her head.
“Was he mean to you?”
She shakes again, but I have a feeling ole Jedd Flemming did his fair share of scolding my daughter.
“What did he say to you?”
Hannah twists her lips, and her gaze drifts to the sink again. “He told me I could be so much more if I wasn’t under your feet.”
I want to be angry. I want to rant and curse and say Jedd Flemming needs to mind his own damn business, but I can’t quite muster the necessary ire. I’m not certain Jedd Flemming is entirely wrong in his assessment, albeit a bit intrusive, opinionated, and out of place with his advice. He reminds me of my older sister Scotia in this manner.
“You were right, Momma. He shouldn’t be here. He needs to leave. We don’t need him. We’ll find another way. We always have.”
We have…and it’s involved my daughter taking off most of her clothes and working night shifts to wait on others. My girl is good at taking care of others, but it’s time for her to take care of only herself.
“I think…” A lump forms in my throat, and I struggle to swallow. The admission I’m about to make clogs the passageway, but I press forward. Straight ahead. “I think…Mr. Flemming should stay.”
“Why?” Hannah’s brows pinch to the point a crease forms between them.
“Because we do need him, and who knows? Maybe, for once, a man will keep his promises.” I don’t rightly believe that, but a strange sense of calm blankets me with the possibility, especially when I factor in the stranger who helped me in the yard. He didn’t hurt me. He helped me. “By the way, you haven’t seen any unfamiliar faces around here lately, have you?”
“Unfamiliar faces?” Hannah questions. “No one ever travels out this far.” She states the obvious, but still, this unknown man traveled near enough.
“No. Big man, looks like a human grizzly with wild hair.” I motion with my hands, exaggerating the width of his locks. “The size of Sasquatch.”
“Momma.” Hannah chuckles. “There’s no such thing.” She eyes me like she’s worried I’ve taken too many meds. I used to do that to dull the pain in my legs and my heart. I snicker, recalling all the times I tried to convince her the noise under the bed, the bump in the dark, or the rustle in the field was not a monster. Maybe there was no monster, but perhaps an angel in disguise. When I think on it, I realize Hannah and I have been darn lucky living out here, a little off the beaten path of Green Valley proper.
“You let me know if you do notice anything, all right? In the meantime, I don’t think having Jedd here will hurt as long as he stays on his side of the yard.” I wink, and Hannah’s smile grows a little bit before she sobers.
“Are you okay after what he did?” She thinks on it a second. “He really should go.”
Throwing me in a tub of icy water when he knows my lack of mobility does make Jedd seem rather mean, but then again, he didn’t do anything to me I didn’t need. Fresh air and a freezing bath calmed me down. Ironically, I do feel…better. Better than I have in a long time.
My next admission is another difficult confession to swallow.
“I may have deserved what he did. That doesn’t mean I won’t be plotting ways to get my revenge.” I grin, and for a moment, I feel like my old self. The one who mischievously did things out of good old-fashioned curiosity and fun without meaning any intentional harm. I rub my hands together as though I have an evil plan, and the smile that spreads across my daughter’s face reminds me of the ones she used to give me as a child. For a flash, she’s my baby girl again, and I’m her momma, making her laugh as if there’s no other care in the world. And for just that moment, all feels like it’s been put back to rights.
Chapter Ten
[Jedd]
I should not have done what I did.
I’m mentally beating myself as I sit at The Watershed, a hole-in-the-wall bar on the river running through Merryville. I needed some space and ended up here where the tall, wooden booth seats are reminiscent of old European pubs. The place is loud but not overwhelming. It’s just enough to cloud my restless thoughts as I sit at the long bar.
“Need another?” the young bartender asks. The spitting image of his father, it’s clear the young man behind the bar is Vernon’s son.
“Thanks, Kodi. I think I’m all set.” I tip the glass before me, signaling the remainder of my swill. Kodi is short for Kodiak. His mama was obsessed with bears when she na
med her three boys: Grizzly, Kodiak, and Kermode. Vernon jokes he’s relieved he never had twins. Abigail might have named them Polar and Panda. Considering his mama’s a severe alcoholic, Kodiak’s position as a bartender seems a bit ironic.
The twenty-something with dark bushy hair nods in silence after I decline another beer, and I sit alone with my plaguing thoughts.
I shouldn’t have tossed her in the tub.
I’d like to think she asked for it. My momma would have made me bite a bar of Dial soap for using such language and slinging false accusations at a family member, and not the fragrance-free white bar but the old gold bar that had a strong aftertaste. I couldn’t very well wash out Beverly’s mouth, though, but her words made me feel dirty. I’d never entertained her daughter in my thoughts. I’ve only had Beverly on the brain. Not to mention, she shouldn’t have insinuated her child would be attracted to an old man like me. Not that I consider myself old, but I could be her daddy, and I don’t go for that kind of hookup.
You want to blank this man.
My spine quivers as I recall Beverly’s words. I don’t have a problem using that four-letter word for all kinds of references but not in reference to Hannah Townsen. On the other hand, for Beverly, I need to reconsider it. I won’t lie to myself and diminish the fact that I’ve been entertaining that word with her in my mind. Something about her spunk and spirit girds my loins, and they want to be girding her, and I’m not trying to be silly. I’m serious. Each night, I’m wrestling thoughts of Beverly and then wrestling said loins for relief.
Shaky fingers scrub at my forehead. I have got to get myself under control with this woman.
I know Beverly. I see her, like I said. She’s so buried under insecurity and sensitivity that she strikes out to protect herself. If she lashes first, the recoil won’t hurt. If she stings, she can’t be stung. It’s all a defense mechanism, and one I recognize well. Hell, that was me when I woke up and first learned I’d lost my arm. I struggled with feeling lopsided, incomplete, and unwhole. But eventually, I had to let those self-conscious thoughts go before they ate me alive, so I know. I know.
Beverly also has abandonment issues. Men cannot be trusted, she said. Howard—what a coward and an idiot. Fucking idiot. If she can push people away, it prevents anyone from getting close. Only, her daughter already is close. Too close. She’s put up with her mother for ten years. Striking out at Hannah makes sense while, at the same time, it doesn’t. We often hurt those closest to us because they’re the only ones who can really hurt us in return.
Human beings sure are fucked-up creatures sometimes.
Which is why I prefer horses to men. I’ve been trying to get my partner to commit to purchasing two thoroughbreds since late fall is one of the better times for buying a horse. I’m interested in a set of Quarter Horses I found near Nashville. The barn isn’t winterized, and I don’t have a stable per se, but now is the time to buy.
I continue scrubbing at my forehead. I have so much to do and shouldn’t be wasting time sitting here staring into a nearly empty stein of beer and dissecting Beverly’s behavior.
“Keep scrubbing like that and you’ll wear off the skin.” A deep voice next to me chuckles. “Only two things make a man rub his forehead like that. Troubles with women or troubles caused by them.”
I turn my head to face my barstool neighbor and find a man similar to my age, stature, and status in the gray hair department.
“Adam should have run from Eve in that garden.” I chuckle without humor.
“Nah, he couldn’t help himself. She was too tempting.” He huffs, shaking his head like we understand each other.
“Nathan Ryder,” he says, offering his hand.
“Jedd Flemming.”
We sit in silence for a moment, eyes mindlessly watching a sport’s recap on the television above the wall of liquors. Fun fact: Rodeo is the official sport of Wyoming, and I miss the show.
“What brings you out tonight?” I finally ask, feeling the awkward quiet between us linger for too long. I’ve been known to start a conversation with a stranger and end it with a new friend.
“Waiting on my girl to close tonight. She’s a local librarian. Also had another fight with my seventeen-year-old daughter, so I thought I could use a beer to cool me down before I see Naomi.”
Naomi? Not a typical name for the area.
“Your girl wouldn’t happen to be Naomi Winters, would she?”
The hackles rise on my bar neighbor, and his body shifts, angling toward me. “She certainly is.” His tone hints of possession.
My lips curl, and I nod. “You aren’t going to believe this, but my troubling woman is her sister, Beverly.”
Nathan’s expression shifts, and he lets out a low chuckle. “Oh man, I’ve heard she’s a piece of work.”
“More like a work in progress,” I mutter. Nathan’s eyes spark like he understands what I mean.
“You from around here?” he asks.
“Newly returned to town. Been away a long time.”
“We’re two peas in a pod, man, as I’m newly back in town after a long hiatus as well. Been back about two years.”
“Only two months,” I offer. I can’t gauge his age, so I have to ask about high school graduation dates, confirming we went to school at roughly the same time but were not in the same grade.
“My older brother is Todd Ryder.”
“Small world.” I snort, as I know Todd and his best friend, who now goes by Big Poppy, very well.
“He works The Fugitive, off 129 in North Carolina.”
I laugh again. “Oh, I’m familiar.” The Fugitive is a biker refuge along the famous Tail of the Dragon, a twelve-mile strip of road with snake-ish curves and slithering dips. Mainly a bar, there’s a small motel attached to the side of The Fugitive, owned and operated by Big Poppy and managed by Todd.
“Been there recently?” Nathan inquires.
“About two months back. When I first returned to the area.” I explain how I’d been overseas and then out in the Western states.
“What brings you back home, soldier?” he teases.
“Family.”
His lips pinch, and he nods once again. “Always does, doesn’t it?” This reminds me that I still have no word on Boone, and my sister hasn’t returned my last call.
I learn Nathan’s in construction work, working for Monroe & Sons, a builder in Green Valley.
“Ever build a stable before?” I inquire. “Do you contract on the side?”
“Haven’t ever considered it, but we can talk.” Suddenly, an ear-splitting alarm sounds, and even with severe hearing loss in my left ear, I don’t miss the ring tone.
“What was that?” I chuckle, nodding at Nathan’s phone, which was the source of noise.
“My alarm. Time’s up for me. Need to get to my girl.”
“Enjoy,” I say, lifting my glass which still has a thin layer of liquid at the bottom.
“Here.” Nathan scribbles his number on the napkin and hands it to me. “Let’s talk about your stable.”
He pats my right shoulder and excuses himself after I offer my pleasure in meeting him. Kodiak returns before me.
“It ain’t any of my business which way you swing, Jedd, but my dad didn’t mention you were gay.”
What the…? “What the hell you talking about?”
“That man gave you his number on a napkin and then mentioned a stable. Isn’t that code for something?”
I stare at Kodiak, his question earnest. “No, kid. It’s called getting help with a construction project.”
His eyes light up. “I like building things.”
My lips twist as I consider him. His physique is large and hefty like his dad. “Ever build a barn before?”
He laughs at the question. “Jedd, I was raised on barn raisings. Remember Grady Seed and Soil?” He points at himself. I had another kid in mind to help with the extra hands I need around Beverly’s land, but I can see Kodiak is eager for this work.
> “Okay, Kodi. I’m gonna write my number on a napkin, which doesn’t mean I’m trying to pick you up, nor does it mean I have the hots for you, even if you look as cuddly as a widdle bear.” His eyes roll at the reference to his name, and his cheeks pinken.
“Jedd.” He sighs. “Give me your phone. I’ll just put my number in it.”
Now, why didn’t I think of that? Maybe I am older than I thought.
While The Watershed was a good distraction, I realize an hour later that I need to face the music—or rather, the buzz of Beverly.
The house is dark as I stand in the gravel drive at the side of the old farmhouse. I’m torn between tossing pebbles at Beverly’s window and staring at it like a love-sick stalker. Why did Romeo decide to climb the trellis? Horny. That’s what drove him up a building to Juliet’s balcony. Me, on the other hand, I’m conflicted, caught between serenading her with an apology and storming the house to demand she apologize to me.
As I stare at the blackened window, my thoughts turn to Hannah and how often she’s mentioned her mother needs her. Is she trying to convince me or herself? And what has this meant for Beverly? Beverly has so much potential she could reach if her daughter didn’t smother her with well-intended but misplaced kindness.
The thought sends a shiver down my spine again.
Good Lord, have I had it all wrong?
Did I misinterpret Beverly’s actions or her daughter’s reactions? Have I assumed Hannah was the disadvantaged one when in all actuality Beverly’s been enabled? My chest clenches, and my stomach feels as if a boulder’s been dropped in the pit.
Did I misread the situation here?
Chapter Eleven
[Beverly]
I wake the next day feeling mentally drained but physically refreshed as I glance at the folded wheelchair leaning against the wall. I’d be a fool to dismiss it entirely as I know my limits, but I need to walk. I’m going to grow frustrated, and I’m going to tire easily, but I’m going to do this on my own two feet with a little assistance from my crutches.
Love in Deed: A Silver Fox Small Town Romance (Green Valley Library Book 6) Page 11