Sing Me Back Home

by Eve Gaddy

  “One man’s junk is another man’s treasure,” he said, as if he’d thought up the saying himself.

  “That’s what I like about you, Jack. You have such a fascinating way of repeating platitudes.”

  He grinned and pulled up to the first house on the list. They loaded up a cane-bottomed chair badly in need of re-caning and refinishing, assorted clothes, and a plastic box full of what appeared to be McDonald’s Happy Meal toys. The next house was only a few minutes away from the first. There, they picked up more clothes, more broken down furniture, and a dorm-room sized refrigerator. As they loaded it into the back of his SUV the door fell open, and Maya turned away hastily, coughing and choking. He couldn’t blame her. The smell was overwhelmingly noxious. The people had simply left everything on the curb for them to pick up at their convenience, so he didn’t have to worry about offending them. “Charity or the dump?” he asked Maya.

  “For the refrigerator? The dump. No one could get that dead animal smell out of it.”

  “No argument here.” He drove to the dump before their next pick up, since he really didn’t want his vehicle to take on such a disgusting smell. He couldn’t guarantee the refrigerator door would stay shut, and besides, he imagined the smell would continue to seep out even if it did.

  “Where to next?” he asked Maya, who was looking over the list.

  “Since we’re out here at the dump, we might as well continue on out of town and pick up from that direction, working our way back toward town.” She read off an address and he headed that way.

  In the fall, the countryside around Marietta was just turning from hues of green to hues of gold and golden brown. Harvest was nearing and the fields were thick with the season’s yield. This time of year, Jack often thought he’d like ranching as well as his brothers did. But then winter would hit and he’d be very grateful he didn’t have to be up before dawn breaking the ice on the frozen water troughs, forking out hay to feed the cattle, taking care of the horses, and everything else running a successful ranching or horse breeding operation required. At those times, he was really glad he worked in town at the hospital or his office. He still had to get up at the crack of dawn sometimes, but there was a lot to be said for a warmer environment.

  At the next house, an ancient farmhouse far out in the country, the old rancher and his wife had totally forgotten about promising items for the sale. They wouldn’t hear of them leaving without anything, so Jack and Maya not only had to wait on them to scramble around gathering up what could only be called junk, they also had to listen to the garrulous old rancher’s monologue on what was wrong with the current generation’s morals, manners and addiction to electronics.

  The minute they got back in the SUV and Jack had driven part way down the dirt drive, Maya succumbed to the giggles she’d been trying to hold back during the old man’s tirade. Jack grinned and kept driving. “Do you get the feeling he’s mad at their kids?”

  “Ya think?” She wiped her eyes. “The best part was when he kept talking about ‘my damn kids and their damn electronics.’”

  Jack laughed too. “Yeah, did you notice the satellite dish on his roof? Do you suppose he doesn’t consider that electronics?”

  “I doubt it. Anything to do with the TV is different, I’m sure.” A few minutes later, she said, “You’re going the wrong way.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “The next house is south of here. You’re heading west.”

  “I know. I intended to.”

  “Why?”

  He turned off the dirt road and drove around a fallow field, until he reached a big oak tree in another field, this one planted with winter grass. He parked, rolled down the windows, got out and reached in the back to pick up an old blanket before going around to open Maya’s door. She didn’t move but stared at him perplexed, until he reached in and unbuckled her seatbelt.

  “What are you doing?” He stood at the open door waiting for her to get out.

  “It’s time we talked,” Jack said. “I’m not fighting eau de stinky dead animal, while we do.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Maya climbed out of the truck and stood for a moment, watching Jack. He didn’t go to the big tree as she’d expected, but started walking in the green field. He strode along, never looking behind him until he reached a small clearing.

  Curious to see what he had to say, she followed.

  Jack spread out the blanket and waved a hand. “Let’s sit down.”

  They both did so. “What’s that smell?” Maya asked. “It smells like”—she sniffed the air—“it smells like mint.”

  “It is. Or it was. We’re next to a mint field that was harvested last week.”

  “I’d forgotten they grow mint around here. I bet it’s beautiful when the fields are green.”

  Jack didn’t say anything, but seemed fine with allowing her to ramble. After talking for several more minutes, she ran out of mundane conversation. She wasn’t sure why she was delaying any kind of real discussion. Wasn’t this what she had wanted? “What do we need to talk about?”

  “You and me.”

  Maya raised an eyebrow. “I thought there wasn’t a you and me. Besides, I’m dating someone, remember?”

  “I remember.” He smiled. “Rolf. Your imaginary new boyfriend.”

  “What makes you so sure he’s imaginary? Don’t you think another man could be interested in me?” No, not when you look like you do today, she thought.

  Jack stretched out on the blanket, propped up on one arm. “Maya, I think any single, uninvolved man who isn’t interested in you is either dead or gay. But that isn’t the point.”

  “You’re wrong. Rolf is very real.” At first, she thought she’d made him up, but then she remembered why his name had come to her so easily. She’d met the wizened little man at dinner in Los Angeles, the week before her fall-in-the-floor fight with Jack. Rolf had been extremely charming, married, and almost twice her age.

  “What’s the problem, then?”

  Sitting cross-legged, she shifted to a more comfortable position. “He’s a bit older than me. More than a bit, honestly.”

  “How much older?”

  “Forty-six years. Or maybe forty-seven.”

  Jack started smiling. “Besides a little difference in age, what’s the problem?”

  “He’s married, and he loves his wife.”

  “I can see how that would be a problem.” He turned over to lie on his back. Deciding what the hell, Maya followed suit. For a few moments, they lay comfortably side by side, watching the clouds, feeling the occasional sharp, cool breeze slide over them.

  “Brianna and I used to take a blanket outside and lie on our backs and watch the clouds. It was one of her favorite things to do. She saw so many different things in their shapes. To me they were just clouds. Pretty clouds, but nothing more. Even when she pointed out what the shapes were, I couldn’t see them. Usually, anyway.”

  “Jack?” He turned his head to look at her. “That’s the first time you’ve said Brianna’s name to me. In fact, I think it’s the first time you’ve mentioned her period.”

  He frowned. “No it’s not.”

  She let her silence speak for her.

  He put his arm across his forehead. “Maybe you’re right,” he muttered.

  She knew she was, but he had to admit it to himself.

  A few moments later, he continued. “After the barbecue Gina said she wanted to talk. I thought it would be about boys. But no, she wanted to talk about Brianna, but she was afraid I’d get mad or upset with her. She said I never talk about her mother.”

  “Is she right?”

  “Sort of. I wouldn’t say I never talk about Brianna with Gina, but I don’t very often. I don’t unless someone else brings her up.”

  “Why?”

  He was quiet for so long she didn’t think he would answer. “It makes me sad,” he said simply. “I think of everything she’s missing, especially with Gina, and I get sad and then I fee
l like shit, so I try not to talk about her. Sometimes I try not to even think about her. Which also makes me feel like shit.”

  Maya raised up on her arm and looked at him. He still lay on his back with his eyes covered by his arm. Her heart went out to him. “You miss her. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

  “I know. But since you moved back and we got involved . . . ” he hesitated, then added, “I don’t think about her as much.” He sat up and she sat up too. Taking her hand, he rubbed his thumb over her palm and went on. “All I can think about is you. The way you look, the way you smell, the sound of your voice. I think about being with you, or I wish I were with you, talking to you”—he looked straight into her eyes—“making love to you. Damn, Maya, I can’t stop thinking about you.”

  Her heart beat faster. “And that’s a problem because . . . ”

  He didn’t answer directly. “I don’t know. I know she’s gone. She’s been gone for five years, but I’ve never felt like”—He stopped.

  She wondered if he’d ever talked to anyone about his wife’s death. Had he shared his grief with anyone? “Never felt like what, Jack?”

  “I never wanted to move on until you came back. Hell, I’ve barely had sex since Brianna died. Until you.”

  His admission didn’t surprise her. It touched her heart. She squeezed his hand. “It’s okay to love Brianna. It’s okay to miss her. No one is trying to take that from you, Jack. I’m glad you loved Brianna so much. That’s part of what makes you who you are. You’re loyal and loving and that’s a good thing.” She asked him a question, though she already knew his answer. “After Brianna died, did you go to grief counseling?”

  His laugh held no humor. “Are you kidding? I’m a doctor. I know how to deal with death, Maya.”

  “I’m sure you do. But it’s different when someone you love dies.”

  He let go of her hand and shrugged. “Grief counseling is a good thing, for some people. But I didn’t see the point for me. I’m not comfortable laying my feelings out for everyone to see. It’s my grief, my business. I handled it.”

  Maya didn’t point out that obviously his handling of the matter left something to be desired. “Do you feel as if you’re being disloyal to your wife, because you’re enjoying being with me?”

  “That would be stupid, wouldn’t it? Brianna’s dead. It’s not as if I had an affair when she was alive.”

  “No, but maybe that’s the problem. Your head knows Brianna is gone, but your heart hasn’t quite accepted it.”

  Your heart hasn’t quite accepted it. Was that the problem? Could it really be that simple? Jack wondered.

  “You should talk about her with someone, Jack. A counselor, your brothers, me. But you need to talk to someone about Brianna.”

  “Oh, that sounds reasonable,” he said sarcastically. “I should talk about my dead wife to the woman I’ve fallen in love with. Yeah, that would be smart.” Why the hell was she smiling at him?

  “That’s the first time you’ve admitted you’re in love with me.”

  Damn. “That isn’t how I wanted to tell you.”

  Her lips curved upward. “I don’t think you wanted to tell me at all. Which is why you panicked when I told you how I felt.”

  “I didn’t panic. Exactly.”

  Maya laughed. “What would you call it? You became distant. You made excuses not to see me. You absolutely refused to talk when I came over Monday night. You acted as if it would be the worst thing in the world to discuss anything important.”

  “I still think talking is overrated.” He got up to walk around. He didn’t feel like stretching out and his legs could only stay so long in the uncomfortable position he’d been sitting in.

  Jack felt Maya’s hand on his arm and saw she’d gotten up too.

  “I’m a good listener.” Her eyes were dark gray and filled with compassion.

  “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

  “What do you think?”

  He sighed and picked up the blanket, folding it over his arm. “I think you’re a very stubborn woman.”

  “Right the first time,” she said.

  They walked back to his SUV. He tossed the blanket in the back seat, but didn’t get in. Instead, he opened the tailgate so they could sit on the back end.

  “I thought you said the truck was too stinky?”

  “It’s been aired out long enough.” He hoped. They both sat and silence fell. Maya was waiting for him to say something and he didn’t have a clue how to start. How did he talk to the woman he was in love with about the woman he had married, lost, and still loved?

  “Brianna was crossing the street. Minding her own business, obeying traffic laws—the woman wouldn’t have jaywalked on a bet—and the son of a bitch ran the stop sign and hit her. He didn’t stop. Hit and run. Some bystanders got the license.”

  “Did they catch him?”

  “Yes. He got the maximum sentence, ten years. Unless he gets early parole, he’ll be in for five more years.” Jack was glad the man couldn’t hurt anyone else, at least until he got out of prison, but it didn’t bring Brianna back. Nothing would.

  “The doctors operated on her, they did their best to save her, but her injuries were too extensive. She died a few hours later.”

  “Were you able to talk to her before she died?”

  He nodded. “She knew she was dying. Gina and I were both with her when she passed. She talked to us, kissed us both goodbye, and then she was gone.”

  “I’m glad you two were able to be with her. I’m sure it comforted her to have her family with her. It must have been a comfort to you and Gina as well.”

  “A comfort?” He shook his head. “No. Nothing about her death was a comfort to me.” Once started he couldn’t stop. “One moment Brianna was alive and the next she was dead. I couldn’t do a damn thing to save her. It wasn’t a disease we could fight. I couldn’t fix her injuries. My medical training made no difference. I was helpless. I couldn’t stop my wife from dying.”

  Maya didn’t speak. She held his hand in both of hers and looked at him with such understanding, such compassion, such love that his heart turned over. He didn’t think he would be so understanding or so compassionate in the same situation.

  Talking to Maya hadn’t magically made him feel better. But—and he didn’t know why—it had helped. He remembered what Brianna had said to him shortly before she died. She’d rested her hand on Gina’s head and looked at Jack with all her love in her eyes. “Be happy, Jack. Promise me you’ll be happy,” she said fiercely. “Don’t mourn me forever. It isn’t fair to you or to Gina.”

  He’d soothed her, tried to pretend there was no need for deathbed promises. They’d both known she was dying, but he couldn’t say it. As if not speaking of it, would stop it from being true.

  “Promise,” she’d whispered.

  And he had.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Maya didn’t know how long they sat on the tailgate of his SUV. Had she been wrong to convince him to talk to her? She didn’t think so. From what she’d gathered, most people tiptoed around the subject of his late wife. She wouldn’t do that. Brianna was a part of his life and his daughter’s life, and she always would be. Maya understood that. Now, Jack had to understand that he could move on with his life without being disloyal. That loving a woman, a living woman, didn’t mean he’d forget Brianna and all that had made her special.

  She had talked enough. This was something Jack needed to figure out for himself. He knew how she felt. And, she knew that he loved her. So, she would wait.

  “Whose field is this?” she asked, an unwelcome thought suddenly occurring to her.

  “My brothers’. Why?”

  “They might not appreciate us driving into the smack dab middle of their field.”

  “First off, it’s the edge of the field. Second off,” he added and smiled, “I’m not going to tell them. Are you?”

  “I wouldn’t dare. They already don’t like me.”


  “Sure they do. What makes you think they don’t like you?”

  Maya started singing the song Heartbreaker. Jack laughed until he was holding his sides. “You knew what they called you?”

  She gave him a pitying look. “I’d have to be pretty stupid not to. Everyone in town knew it, and they all had to tell me. I left two days after graduation and during that time, twenty-five people must have told me what your brothers thought. And said.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Why? They were just looking out for you. Wyatt and Dylan, I mean. Most of the others didn’t have such a good motive.”

  “That was then. Wyatt and Dylan don’t hate you now.”

  Maya wasn’t sure about that but she didn’t argue. Jack looked at his watch. “We’d better get going. We still have several stops to make.” He put his hands on her waist to help her out, but instead of putting her down, he boosted her up, wrapped his arms around her and kissed her.

  She kissed him back, then pulled back to look down at him. Taking his face in her hands, she smiled at him. “Does this mean we’ve made up?”

  “What do you think?” he asked.

  “I think yes,” she said, and kissed him.

  “What are you doing, Dad?” Gina asked him when she came in his study Sunday afternoon. She plopped down in the other easy chair and watched him quizzically.

  “Playing the guitar.” And doing a mighty crappy job of it, Jack thought irritably. Who knew the song would be so hard to play? It hadn’t seemed so hard years ago when he first played it.

  “You’ve been playing the guitar a lot lately. What’s up with that?”

  He struck a sour note and winced. How was he supposed to sing if he couldn’t play the melody worth a shit? “Nothing’s up. I’m playing the guitar. That’s nothing new.”

  Gina looked at him skeptically. “You haven’t played this much, not in a long time. And you haven’t sung in like, forever.”