Sheriff James has already informed us he believes Boone simply left of his own volition. Knowing what he knows of Boone’s history with gambling, the sheriff believes Boone packed up what he could and disappeared. Being as the sheriff knows our concerns with Boone’s mental ability, he’s keeping the case open but handed it over to his son, a deputy. Deputy James hasn’t made Boone a priority, though. Lots of small-time crime and unnecessary speeding tickets to write, I guess.
“What are your thoughts? Any more mystery butter tubs? Boone in the dining room with a spoon of margarine?” Janice's voice mocks me, and I scowl. I still believe Beverly fed Boone, at least at one point. As winter began and slowly progressed, I noticed the containers of food no longer appeared on the back step. Whatever she served, to whomever she fed, was no longer being distributed by the back stairs, and while I’d occasionally see a spare butter tub in the sink, I didn’t question the mysterious dinners as they appear to have stopped.
“It’s like he’s disappeared into thin air,” I say, which I don’t believe any more than I suspect foul play. It’s strange, but I feel like I’d know if something happened to Boone. I also think others would have heard something. Gossip at the Pink Pony or rumors at Daisy’s Nut House would lend a hint as to what happened. People who do bad deeds like to brag about them eventually. Even Grady’s Seed and Soil might have caught a whiff of conversation about Boone, but nothing has been said other than some National Park ranger reporting a mystery man wandering in the woods. They couldn’t identify if he was a hiker or homeless but leaned toward homeless and harmless. I’d already taken Jetson into the woods a few times, but only the edge as the deep parts and steeper inclines seem to spook him.
“We might have to accept that he’s just gone,” Janice admits, lowering her voice, and the tone reminds me of losing our mother. Hasting moved her off to a smaller place in the mountains where they went a bit native until they both passed away. “There’s just nothing left.”
“What about the house?” I ask. It’s fallen into disrepair and needs more than tender loving care, but it still might be an asset.
“I say we burn the motherfucker to the ground.”
“Janice.” I snort, laughter filling my throat at her aggressive statement.
“I don’t have any decent memories of that place, Jedd. It means nothing to me.” I’m taken aback by her adamant disgust and apparent secrets as I remember things being bad but not so bad that I’d want to torch a structure and bury its memory.
“What rights do we have to it anyway?” I wonder. It’s just a house. Four walls with a roof and nothing more. The land belongs to someone else.
“We have no rights. It was loaned to Boone out of kindness and regret.” Janice pauses. “It’s worth nothing except whatever the owner wishes to do with it.”
My mind races with plans I shouldn’t be making and decisions that aren’t mine to decide. I nod like a bobblehead as if I understand, as if I hold regrets about the loss of the old place, but my brain waves are galloping with ways to save it.
Chapter Thirty-Two
[Beverly]
“Momma,” Hannah hesitates, standing in the kitchen midmorning. “I saw Jedd at dinner last night…with a woman.”
I… “What?”... don’t believe her.
I don’t believe her.
I don’t believe her, my brain screams on repeat while my heart thumps once and drops to my belly.
Jedd went to Knoxville to pick up a friend from the military. He needs help tilling that back field he promised Hannah and me. I got a text around ten o’clock that he was staying the night in the city and would be back sometime today.
“Is that so?” I say through clenched teeth, keeping my focus on the soap I’m making. My bath bars are made through a cold process, and I’ve already mixed the lye and water concoction in the garage since it needs proper ventilation from the fumes. Jedd and I spoke about converting the space into a soap lab of sorts.
Jedd. Who apparently went on a date.
“Who was she?” I ask, closing my eyes as I will myself not to believe it. He wouldn’t do this to me.
“I don’t know, Momma. I didn’t speak with him.” Her voice softens as an edge returns to my face. My jaw holds firm. My teeth grind. I’ve always had trouble holding back my feelings in my expression, and the muscles of my cheeks pinch.
“And where were you?” The question falls into familiar tones of accusation with my agitation.
“I went out with Grizz. We went to Chris Roth’s.” Chris Roth’s is one of the highest-reviewed restaurants in Knoxville. I’ve never been, but I’ve heard of it. Some famous chef on one of those cooking shows I don’t normally watch on HGTV owns the place. They’re best known for pricey steak and fancy desserts. It’s romantic, from what I understand.
“Well, good for him,” I mutter, keeping my head down as the soapy mixture before me blurs. I’m past the point of trace in my process, because I let the stick blender run too long. Removing the handheld blender from the mixture, I set it aside and brace my hands on the table, pushing myself upward. My arms vibrate as my legs shake, and it’s taking all my self-control not to throw the pot of spoiled soap across the room. My heart races, galloping at full speed around a never-ending ring—how could this be happening to me again?—and I gulp for oxygen like a drowning fish.
“I need some fresh air,” I whisper. My body visibly quakes as I swipe the back of my hand over my forehead as if I’m too warn.
“Momma, I didn’t mean to upset you, I just thought you should know. Maybe…” She wrings her hands, and I glance up at the nervous motion. “Maybe it wasn’t what I thought.”
“Maybe,” I mutter, although the word is hollow on my tongue. My history with men leads me down the same mental path. There is always someone else.
I slip into my crutches and step over to the hook by the back door for my coat.
“It’s really cold,” Hannah warns me. She wouldn’t dare tell me not to go outside with the tension rolling off me.
“I’ll be fine. I think I’ll just walk down and see Hickory for a few minutes.” Jedd and I have discussed horse therapy, where grooming a horse or riding one helps soothe the soul. His friend Tower is an expert in this matter, at least among veterans.
Jedd told me he was going to pick up his friend from the airport yesterday, but I see he had other plans. Perhaps today is the day his friend arrives. I wouldn’t know any different. It’s how things went with Howard. Always lies. A drink with a friend. A meeting with someone. A night up in Knoxville at a farm convention. That was my favorite. And I never knew any better. “What friend?” I’d ask. “Meeting for what?” I’d questioned. “A farm convention? Can I go with you?” I’d hope for a romantic weekend away. I chuckle bitterly with the memory of Howard and his excuses as I descend the back steps.
Once I hit the hard ground, I decide the stable is the last place I want to visit. Entering Jedd’s sacred domain will be an overwhelming reminder of him, so I veer off toward the old barn instead. Jedd still hasn’t returned as his truck is absent both from the barn and the stable. He typically parks outside one or the other, but he would have come to the house, right? He’d come to see me after a night without me? I’d like to think the best, but my head suggests the worst. Was I thinking Jedd would want me and only me? He’s told me he has a nomad spirit. He’s told me about the buckle bunnies and the one-night stands. He’s no different than Howard in that regard. What makes me think he’d be a one-woman man with me?
I press open the heavy barn door, recalling the first time I entered and found the ease with which the door slid free. I’d marveled at Jedd and his ability, admired him actually, and all he could do despite his disability. “Differently abled,” he’d corrected. He’s found a way to work with what he has, and he’s forced me to forge a similar path. He’s motivated me to move. Make soap. Garden again. I owe all these things to Jedd. I also owe him my sexual reawakening, and the thought is followed by sadness.
Am I not enough for him?
With Howard, I’d always thought it was my fault. I was to blame for what we lacked. But as time had passed, I’d found myself less satisfied by him as well. Maybe Howard and I had been in a vicious circle, unable to please each other. Never, my heart whispers. You never wanted to please him. There’d been no reward in being nice to Howard. But what about Jedd? Have I satisfied him? He’s given me a horse, a greenhouse, and renewed hope. What have I given him in return?
As I stumble into the empty barn, the hollowness within its cracked panels and shards of dull light feels like my heart. The organ has been restored in many ways but is still not fully healed. And now, the cracks begin to pull apart once again. I stand in the barn with my head turning slowly as I look at nothing in particular.
I wonder where he is.
Suddenly, I’m not thinking of Jedd.
As I’ve spent so much time with Jedd over the winter months, feeding my stranger guest became more difficult. I didn’t want Jedd to frighten him off, so when I discovered the man was possibly sleeping in the barn, I began bringing food here instead of leaving it on the back porch. Giving him a warm meal instead of leaving it to cool on the outside steps made me feel better about serving him, even though I had no guarantee he was eating it fresh and hot as intended. I used Jedd’s old room as my drop spot although I knew for certain the stranger wasn’t sleeping there. The enclosed room would have been warmer than another section of the barn, but he also would have been exposed if Jedd wandered into the barn. He’d be trapped in the small confines of Jedd’s original bedroom—a mouse caught.
“Hello?” My voice croaks as I call out. “Are you in here?”
Silence follows my question, but I’d expect nothing less. I could use a friend. I can’t talk to Hannah about my feelings. It doesn’t seem right to share my confusion, my hurt, or my quandary with my daughter. I could call Naomi, and I will in time, but not yet. Instead, I speak to him as if he were some angel who could listen and offer advice.
Are you there, God? It’s me, Beverly. Again.
“What’s wrong with me?” I choke, swallowing back the lump threatening to gag me. “I mean, you’re a stranger, and you helped me out. You know nothing about me, and you were still kind. What am I missing?” Is it a physical thing? I refuse to accept this, knowing how well Jedd and I fit together. Knowing how we both have physical impairments, and it hasn’t made a bit of difference.
“Is it longevity? Is it commitment? Is that the issue? I’m not worthy of sticking around for.” The final statement breaks me, and a sob escapes, though I fight the tears, blinking rapidly. Cold seeps through my jacket. It’s becoming unseasonably warm for late February, but it’s not the external temperature making me shiver.
“Good thing I hadn’t married him,” I mock, my voice full of sarcasm and self-loathing, which shifts to disappointment. “I thought he was different.”
A hiccup-sob breaks free as I mutter things even I can’t comprehend. My throat feels as if fingers press against it instead of a comforting hand wrapped around my nape, tugging me forward for kisses. For foreheads resting on one another. For promises made in the dark.
I’m gonna marry you someday, Bee.
He kept a calendar in the tack room of the stable, crossing off the days until the public notice was finished. His fears are the same as mine. If Howard returns, we’ll lose everything, but I have faith we wouldn’t lose each other. Had. Silly, foolish faith.
I shudder and shake my head.
“You obviously aren’t there,” I whisper, realizing my stranger guest isn’t present, and once again, I’ve been left behind. Tears cascade down my cheeks, and I briskly wipe them away.
I turn as I hear a vehicle drive over the gravel outside the barn. Jedd, my heart leaps inside my chest, thrilled and relieved by his return for a brief second until I recall what Hannah told me.
I saw Jedd with another woman.
I want her to be wrong.
Yet history tells me she’s right.
I hold my breath until the vehicle passes. It makes sense that Jedd would take Tower to the barn first and acquaint him with his pride and joy—the stable.
It’s all he wanted from you, Beverly, my mind reminds me.
Then why’d he take the rest? my body questions.
Because you’re a fool, and you always have been when it comes to men, my heart scolds.
Once the crunch of gravel falls silent, and I know Jedd’s down at the stable, I exit the barn and head for my second haven, my greenhouse. Inside the warm walls, I remove my coat and busy my hands in hopes to rid my brain of all thoughts.
Idle hands are the devil’s tools.
Pulling forth a plastic tray with thirty-six pockets, I fill the flat with potting soil and begin the tedious work of placing one seed at a time in the miniature pots. I already have rows of seedlings. My hope is the annual blue salvia will take, as it’s a hardy plant that attracts butterflies. I’m out of practice at growing from seed, but the pods should break and grow into stems, reaching with grabby hands for the sun as filtered warm makes them cozy inside this glass hut. The change will be slow but steady as young plants burst into independent stalks, growing taller each day, stronger as leaves pop. Working upward until the buds appear, blooms will ready for blossoming, and then I’ll move them outdoors to the fresh air, free from the confines of a plastic container.
The process reminds me of a child growing older, and my thoughts drift through snapshots of Hannah over the years. Her progression from pink tutus to choir girl to stripper. My eyes well with tears once again for all I haven’t given my girl. Independence. Space to reach her full potential. Fresh air. I don’t know why she stays with me.
We’ve both been confined too long, smothered under this farm, and while I don’t want to sell and never have, it might be time to reconsider once I’m divorced. Letting go of the property cuts the final cord to Howard, who won’t note the absence of the land or sale of the house as he isn’t present. I could find some other place, smaller, maybe one level, with only a little bit of a yard instead of acres. Looking up and around the greenhouse, I wonder if it can be moved, how much would it cost, and if I even want the reminder of it.
Another gift from Jedd. Who was seen with another woman.
I blink away more tears, cursing my weepiness. “There must be something in the air,” I say into the silence around me as I dust off my hands and reach for my jacket. I decide to skip the coat as I’m warm from working under the heated glass. Instead, I drape the heavy material over my arm and slip my hands through the braces. I’ve gotten better at carrying light loads in this manner.
Stepping out of the warm hut, I freeze when I see a car in the gravel drive and a man standing near it. My heart skips a beat, and I realize I’m not ready to face Jedd. I know we need to talk. I know there’s an explanation. There’s always an excuse to be had, but I’m not ready for the painful truth that he wants someone else.
As I take a step forward, I realize the man near the sedan isn’t Jedd, though.
Despite my recently busy hands, it’s the devil himself looking as charming as ever.
“Howard?”
Chapter Thirty-Three
[Beverly]
“Howard?”
Before me stands my ex-husband. Husband! I remind myself. He looks dashing in a suit until closer inspection. His hands are thin. His hair is as well. His skin appears gray, and the wrinkles around his eyes are deep. But his smile is still the same as ever—that damn smile that got me in trouble—because I believed the lies passing through his too-white teeth and the puffy, pink lips that could kiss like the devil.
Howard is the devil in my eyes, and I wonder what the hell he’s doing here.
“Beverly?” he questions, and I notice he’s holding that smile a little longer than necessary. My appearance surprises him just as much. I’m no longer the sun-streaked brunette but shockingly white and silver. “It’s so good to see yo
u, baby.”
I want to vomit, and my fingers clutch tighter at the hand supports within my braces. I sway forward, and that’s when Howard’s eyes travel south. My jacket has fallen off my arm, landing on the gravel drive, but I don’t feel the cold around me. My blood boils.
“What are you doing here?” I question, unable to take my eyes off his pinched grin. I bet he wants to ask what happened to me as if he doesn’t know. As if he had no clue I’d ever been in an accident.
“I heard you were looking for me.” The tic to his jaw hints at his lie.
“I’m looking for a divorce,” I blurt. Not you, no longer you.
“I think we should talk,” he retorts.
There are plenty of words I want to say to him, but talking really isn’t on my list of things to do with Howard Townsen. I’ve never wanted to beat a man with my crutch more, but at the same time, I’m having a surreal, out-of-body experience, telling myself I must be dreaming this moment. Howard cannot possibly be standing before me.
The silence that surrounds his declaration to talk is broken by the heavy thud of something crunching over the gravel drive behind me. As if I’m underwater, I hear my name called out, but I can’t turn away from the snake before me. Howard’s eyes shift over my shoulder, and slowly, his forced façade falls.
“Beverly,” I hear shouted again.
“Bee,” follows as the voice gets closer. The thundering crush of gravel comes to a halt as Jedd rushes up behind me. His hand comes to my lower back, but I flinch away from him.
Jedd. Who was with another woman. The devil has a twin, and I refuse to look at him.
I’d never believe in a million years I’d be standing face to face with the two men who’ve crushed my heart. I only need Vernon to appear, and I’ll have a trifecta. Swallowing back the hysterical laughter threatening to escape, I shift my head from Jedd to Howard and back.
Love in Deed: A Silver Fox Small Town Romance (Green Valley Library Book 6) Page 28