For You

by Kristen Ashley

  I was looking out the window, thinking of stuff I knew I should let go when I felt Colt’s hand take mine. He laced our fingers together and pulled them to rest on his thigh.

  “What’s in your head?” he asked and I looked at him.

  “Nothin’,” I lied.

  “Bullshit,” he replied, it wasn’t mean, it was real and I wondered if there would come a day when I was able to lie to him successfully and I doubted it.

  “It’s nothin’,” I said again and his hand squeezed mine.

  “Amy?” he asked.

  “No.” Even though it kind of was.

  “The mail?”

  “No.” Even though it kind of was that too.

  His hand squeezed mine again and he prompted, “Feb –”

  I sighed, he wouldn’t let it go and the days where I kept myself to myself were long gone and, I realized then, they should have been long gone a long, long time ago.

  So, I said, “It’s just that… this is all a lot.”

  “I know it is, baby.”

  “It’ll take awhile to get used to it.”

  “I know.”

  “And get over what we’ve lost.”

  He gave me another hand squeeze and said, “Honey –”

  “Colt, you don’t really know me.”

  “I know you.”

  “Not really.”

  “I know you, Feb.”

  I looked out the passenger side window and tried to pull my hand from his but his grip just got tighter so I gave up.

  Then I told him, “You got a good job, a home, a life. While I was gone, I didn’t create any of that.”

  “So?”

  I looked back at him. “So, doesn’t say much for me.”

  “How’s that?”

  “It just doesn’t.”

  He let my hand go but only so he could maneuver the truck into the parking lot behind the funeral home and pull into an open slot. Then he turned off the truck and turned to me.

  When he did, he asked, “How do I make this better?”

  Yes, he asked, straight out.

  “What?”

  “You’re doin’ your own head in, how do I stop that?”

  I shook my head, not certain how to answer.

  “I… I don’t know,” I stammered.

  “You know it and you aren’t gonna like me remindin’ you of it but twice this shit happened to me. You, dealin’ with shit in your head and not sharin’ and Melanie, dealin’ with her own shit and not sharin’. Both of you let it eat you and both of you pulled away from me. Now, I’m not dickin’ around with it again, tryin’ to figure out a way in. So, I’m askin’ the only person who can tell me, how do I stop this?”

  “I don’t think you can,” I told him the truth even though it killed me to do it.

  I watched him start to get pissed before he said, “So, you’re sayin’ I just watch it eat at you?”

  “No, I’m sayin’, only person who can stop it is me.”

  “What if you don’t?”

  “I –” I started but he turned his head away to look out the window.

  “Fuck,” he hissed to the windscreen and I was right, he was getting pissed but now he just plain was pissed.

  “Colt –”

  “We’ll talk about it later.”

  “Colt –”

  He looked at me again, clearly done with our conversation and I knew this with what he said next, “Do you need help gettin’ out?”

  I leaned forward, the skirt bit in but I ignored it and put my hand to his neck.

  “Babe,” I whispered, “it’d help me stop it if you don’t give up on me.”

  I didn’t know I had the answer until I gave it to him. He had no reply, he just stared at me and I had no idea what was going on in his brain. All I knew was, I upset him with my shit, which was just what it was, shit, and for then I needed to let it go. He was facing Amy’s funeral too and he wanted to attend it just as much as I did, which meant not at all.

  So I lifted my hand from his neck, ran my fingers around the curve of his ear before I settled them at his neck again to give him a squeeze.

  Then I said, “I think I can hop down but it wouldn’t hurt if you were there to spot me.”

  He closed his eyes, wet his bottom lip and when he opened his eyes again, they weren’t pissed anymore. Instead, they were telling me without words he’d always be there to spot me.

  I gave his neck a squeeze and whispered, “Love you, babe.”

  Without hesitation, his hand shot out and tagged me behind the neck, yanking me forward and testing the limits of the material of my outfit.

  I didn’t care because he kissed me, it was a hard kiss, closed-mouthed but I liked it all the same. When he was done with my mouth, his lips went away but his hand slid into my hair, tilted my head down and he kissed my forehead before he pulled away.

  “Let’s get this done,” he murmured, I nodded and Colt got out, rounded the hood, opened my door for me and I hopped out of the cab with his hands at my hips, spotting me.

  * * * * *

  Colt watched Feb work her magic the minute she hit the funeral home. Gone was whatever was eating her in the truck. She flipped on the February Owens light, the old one that he remembered so well and the new one that seemed to shine even brighter. It was a light that lit her from the inside out and she shone it on all around.

  First was Craig Lansdon who was standing alone inside the door and caught their eyes the minute they walked in. Colt watched as Craig manned up immediately and headed to Feb and Colt, his eyes skittering between the two of them, knowing he needed to do what he did but not liking it all the same.

  “Feb, I –” he started but Feb moved into him, put her hand on his shoulder and cut him off.

  “He played you, same as Colt, Amy and me.”

  “I shoulda –”

  Feb interrupted him, “We were all young and stupid, Craig. None of us played it right.”

  He looked away, his jaw tensing. “Lotsa people are dead.”

  At that point Colt entered the conversation by asking, “And you coulda stopped that how?”

  Craig looked back and replied, “I don’t know, I knew him better’n anyone.”

  “He tell you, in a coupla decades, he was plannin’ on headin’ out on a killin’ spree?” Colt asked.

  Something about that struck Craig as funny, his lips moved, biting back a smile and he said, “We used to get pretty drunk but I ‘spect I’d remember him sayin’ somethin’ like that.”

  Feb gave his shoulder a squeeze before she dropped her hand and moved into Colt, so close the side of her body hit his dead on and she stayed there.

  Then she suggested, “How about we let that be all we give Denny Lowe during this occasion?” Craig nodded and Feb went on. “Or ever, Craig, how ‘bout we let that be all we ever give Denny Lowe?”

  The humor in Craig’s eyes died, he swallowed and nodded again. Feb reached out and grabbed his hand, gave it a squeeze and smiled at him. Craig smiled back.

  Colt put a hand to her waist and saw the Harrises, standing alone up by the closed casket, watching them.

  Colt was pleased they’d chosen a closed casket. It was an occupational hazard that he’d seen more death than most and it was never pretty. He didn’t get the idea of willfully exposing a dead body before burial. Dead was dead, it was unattractive, no matter who did the makeup or what outfit you chose and how much satin lined the casket. Colt thought viewing a dead body at a funeral home was one, last, but forced, indignity and he hated it.

  “Baby, the Harrises,” he murmured to Feb.

  She looked up at him and tipped her head to the side before she looked back at Craig and said something which stated her meaning clearly, “We’ll see you in J&J’s?”

  “You bet,” Craig replied quietly.

  Colt gave him a nod which Craig returned and they moved away through the milling, murmuring live bodies to the Harrises. While they did this, Feb caught people’s eyes. Aut
omatically and unknowingly assuming the mantle of Princess of Hearts, she smiled small and nodded, communicating like her mother, sharing understanding and peace with her eyes.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Harris,” Colt said as they arrived.

  He shook Mr. Harris’s hand, gave Mrs. Harris his cheek while Feb introduced herself and kissed them both on the cheek.

  Then she moved into him, close again but she slid her arm around his waist and plastered herself to his side. Not done with her show to the Harrises that Amy didn’t die in vain, she turned into him and rested her hand on his stomach. He reciprocated the gesture, sliding an arm along her waist.

  Then Feb started talking in “we’s”.

  “We’re very sorry about Amy,” she told them, “truly.”

  Mrs. Harris was taking in Feb’s hand at his stomach while Mr. Harris murmured, “Thank you.”

  “She… well, she was lovely,” Feb went on, “and very sweet. We both liked her. It’s… we just don’t know what to say.”

  “Nothing to say during times like these, dear,” Mrs. Harris replied.

  “We want you to know, you and Amy, you’re in our thoughts,” Feb continued talking for the both of them as if they were a unit, one mind, one body, and Mrs. and Mr. Harris both nodded.

  She caught sight of someone approaching and finished, “We’ll leave you to your guests.”

  “Thank you for coming, Alexander, February,” Mr. Harris said.

  The return of Colt and Feb firmly established for the Harrises, Colt led Feb away.

  When they were out of earshot, Colt asked, “You okay?”

  “Feel stupid,” she muttered. “What do you say?”

  “What you said.”

  Her head tipped back to look up at him, she gazed at him a moment and then she smiled. It wasn’t big, but it was enough and Colt decided, if they were still watching, he’d give the Harrises a bonus. He stopped Feb, bent his head and touched his mouth to hers. When he lifted his head, she curled into him and gave him a hug, a hug that wasn’t for the Harrises, it was for Colt and Colt alone. He hated being there and he hated why he was there but he sure as fuck liked that hug.

  Beyond them, standing by herself, Colt saw Julie McCall. She wasn’t quick enough to avert her eyes before he saw her taking them in, avarice and hunger plain as day on her face.

  Colt also saw an end to her days more bitter than even Amy’s. Amy hadn’t asked for her hand to be pulled away and reshuffled and couldn’t do much with the cards she’d eventually been dealt. But Julie McCall kept calling for new cards instead of playing the ones she already had. Good or bad, she wanted more, not understanding she should raise, call or bluff, because the next hand was coming her way and it could be a hand where she won big. Instead, by asking for new cards, she kept giving it all away.

  “Colt?” Feb called and he saw she was looking up at him, he was still in her arms and she twisted her neck and looked over her shoulder to see Julie slide into a seat. “Who’s that?”

  “Friend of Amy’s.”

  “You know her?”

  “Yeah, she found Amy.”

  Feb studied Julie. “I’ve seen her around.”

  “Probably, she works at County Bank.”

  “Oh,” Feb muttered then she looked at Colt and asked, “Do you want to say hey?”

  “Nope.”

  Feb tilted her head to the side and opened her mouth to speak but Colt kept talking. “She asked me out after she found Amy’s body.”

  Feb’s eyes grew twice their size, she leaned into him and whispered, “What?”

  “No joke.”

  “She asked you out?”

  “Yep.”

  “After she found Amy?”

  “Not right after, she waited about half an hour.”

  Feb’s mouth dropped open and she looked back at Julie. “Wow, Amy really didn’t chose friends very good.”

  “Nope.”

  Feb’s gaze came back to him. “What’d you say when she asked you out?”

  “She asked if I’d meet her for a drink later and I said I’d be with my girlfriend.”

  Feb pressed her lips together but a brightness lit her eyes and Colt reckoned the lip press was to stop her from bursting out laughing.

  Then she mumbled, “I shouldn’t laugh, it’s not nice, her gettin’ shot down and all, not to mention we’re at a funeral, but, for some reason, I think I’m gonna laugh.”

  Colt gave her a squeeze and advised, “It isn’t nice and neither is she but save it, baby. You can laugh later.”

  Feb kept pressing her lips together but now she was nodding.

  Her eyes went over his shoulder and she pulled partially away, keeping on arm around him, whispering, “Dave Connolly’s headed our way.”

  Colt turned in her arm and saw Dave moving in their direction. He noted instantly that Dave had learned the lesson that the drama seemed exciting until it became real and people were dead. Dave looked crushed.

  “Colt, Feb,” Dave said when he hit them.

  “Dave,” Colt replied.

  “You all right?” Feb asked.

  “She worked for me,” Dave told Feb like she didn’t know. He looked at the casket and continued, “Amy,” then he looked back at them and finished, “what a waste.”

  Feb took a small step forward and grabbed his hand, giving it a little squeeze before she dropped it again.

  “Never find someone like her to work a station,” Dave muttered. “These days, folks don’t have Amy’s work ethic. They sneeze, they take three days off. Findin’ someone will be a pain in the ass.”

  Feb pressed her lips together again and tipped her head back to look at Colt. Like Colt, she was uncertain how to react to someone who considered the loss of a human life a “waste” because it was an inconvenience to them.

  Feb looked back to Dave and said, “Hopefully, you’ll luck out.”

  “Yeah,” Dave muttered, saw folks moving to seats, nodded to them with a small wave of his hand and said, “Later,” before he headed toward Julie.

  Feb exchanged another glance with him, it communicated volumes and Colt communicated back without words, instead he shook his head.

  Then he guided Feb to a seat and whispered, “You gonna be able to sit down?”

  “Just be prepared to offer me your jacket if this skirt gives way.”

  She took her time aiming her ass into the seat while she held her breath and Colt couldn’t stop his smile even as he held back his own laughter. Once she accomplished this feat, he sat beside her and slid an arm around the back of her chair. She cautiously let her weight fall to the side until it hit him and she settled with her hand on his thigh.

  The pastor headed to the podium but Colt’s eyes caught on something and he looked to his left.

  Mrs. Harris was turned in her seat. She didn’t smile, she didn’t nod, she didn’t do anything, just looked at him and Feb. Then he watched her turn back when the pastor started talking and he wondered what was on her mind. Colt and Feb being back together was no balm to her soul, he knew, nothing would be.

  Colt’s eyes moved to a casket containing the body of a woman who lived half a life. Pressed to his side was a breathing woman who’d done the same. Both, he figured, in one way or another, did this because of Denny.

  He lifted his arm from the back of Feb’s seat, curled his fingers around her shoulder and bent his head so his mouth was at her ear.

  “Love you, baby,” he whispered, her head tilted back, her eyes caught his and then, with that February Owens light pouring out, she smiled.

  * * * * *

  Doc waited until after the funeral and everyone was walking to their cars from the graveside to make his approach.

  Colt stopped Feb at the passenger side of the truck and waited for the old man to arrive.

  “Colt, February,” Doc said when he made it, his face showing this wasn’t a friendly visit. He had something on his mind.

  “Doc,” Feb smiled at him and Doc smiled back, then h
is eyes went to Colt.

  “Let the dead dog alone, Doc,” Colt told him, he felt Feb’s body jerk in surprise at his side but he didn’t look away from Doc.

  “I see, you two together, you worked it out. And you two here, I figure you found it in your hearts –”

  “Nothin’ to find, Doc, let it lie.”

  Doc stared at him then he looked at Feb then back at Colt before he said, “Boy–”

  “She told you it was me,” Colt said.

  Doc closed his eyes, opened them and said, “I know, man like you, even the man you were then, you’d –”

  “She didn’t do anything to me, Doc. Let it lie.”

  Doc got closer and his eyes slid to Feb and back to Colt and Colt knew what he was communicating.

  Softly, he informed him, “The baby she had wasn’t mine.”

  “Colt –”

  “It wasn’t mine, Doc, let it lie.”

  “She told me –”

  “Let it lie.”

  “Boy, you know now, I know you do, no denyin’ it, you got a son.”

  “The baby was Denny’s.”

  Colt watched as Doc took a step back, his face showing surprise.

  “I reckon,” Colt went on, “she didn’t wanna tell you because either she was in denial herself or, if she told you she’d been raped, she expected you’d try to get her to report it, something she didn’t have the strength to see through. She picked me because she knew you’d let that slide and she picked Craig for the birth certificate because she wanted me and Feb to have no more harm. Now the bones are exposed Doc, let’s all let them lie.”

  “I had no idea,” Doc whispered, pain stark in his voice.

  “She didn’t want you to,” Colt told him.

  “I coulda helped her.”

  “We all could have, Doc, like I said, let it lie.”

  “Rape?” Doc was still whispering but looking away, the pain now stark on his face.

  Feb moved forward and gathered the old man in her arms and, to Colt’s surprise, he let her. He was old, that much was obvious, but he never acted it. Now he looked like a hundred years of life had settled in his soul.

  “You couldn’t fix what you didn’t know was broken,” Feb said softly to him. “But you gave her the peace of mind she was askin’ for at the time.” She pulled back and looked at him before she asked, “And that’s a good thing, right?”