by Candy Quinn
Damien had been gone for so long she’d almost put him out of her mind entirely, but there he was again. Like a dark knight who’d made an about-face to come rescue her. He held her when she had no one else in the funeral home, and coddled her through his own stoic suffering.
There was no body, just the ashes.
When all was said and done, one of the final visitors was the local attorney, who strode on up to give his condolences.
“I’m so sorry for yer loss, you two. The old man was such a charitable soul,” he said, looking dour.
She wiped away her tears, her face feeling slightly damp and uncomfortable. She’d promised herself she wasn’t going to cry and that she’d be strong, but the loss of someone so close to her shook her to the core. The only thing that took the edge off at all was Damien’s heavy hand on her shoulder.
“Thank you,” she managed, her voice strained. She’d lost her ma at eight, but it weren’t any easier.
“I wanted you both to know, there’s no rush. But your pa had said a few things in his will about the farm that you two should hear,” he said.
She nodded, though her brows were knit and curiosity was inching away her sorrow. She glanced up at Damien as he nodded and squeezed her shoulder.
“Yeah, we’ll get around to it,” Damien said, rubbing her shoulder in support. “I’m sure it’s just a simple matter of splittin’ the farm up half and half.”
The lawyer hesitated, but looked like he had somethin’ more to say.
“Come by and we’ll discuss it,” he said, leaving them both temporarily confused.
The next few days were difficult, but Britney entered into old routines quickly, and found herself not eager to return to her life as a waitress. She cooked and cleaned, kept the house tidy as Damien, after being away much longer than her, reacquainted himself with the old homestead.
He returned as supper approached, the kitchen hot as Britney prepared dinner.
“Repaired that fence anyhow. So whoever buys the place got one less complaint to make when he haggles,” he said, coming to the sink beside her to wash his hands.
Though topless and sweaty, he probably needed to wash more than his hands. A day working in the sun, and Damien’s hard, chiselled body was coated in perspiration.
It only seemed to make him more attractive, and Britney couldn’t help but let her eyes linger along the lines of his body. His muscles were more pronounced after the workout, glimmering in the yellow light of the room. His shoulder blades pressed together, then parted, his pants slung low around his hips.
She forced her gaze away, a blush comin’ to her cheeks.
“Supper’s almost ready,” she said with a bit of airiness to her voice. “Hope you brought your appetite.”
“You kiddin’ me?” He said with a wry grin, “It’s just a good thing those horses were taken over to Mr. Thompson’s farm, because I’d have eaten one or two of ‘em already today.”
The strange thing about Damien now, was that though he was scarier lookin’ than ever, bigger, badder and more ominous, he was actually much nicer to her than he ever was when he was a boy. He rarely spared her the time of day to make a joke then.
“So what’s on the menu?” he asked, claiming a dish towel as his own as he splashed water onto his face and then dried off.
“Well it’s Sunday, so I figured Sunday dinner was in order. Ma never had a chance to teach me, but the diner does it from time to time and figured I’d just take what I remembered and piece it together. Got ‘taters and chicken with all the fixin’s, with apple pie for dessert.”
“Sounds fuckin’ awesome,” he said in that gruff, crass voice of his. Though he looked impressed as he soaked it in before headin’ off. “Gonna go clean up more seriously since yer puttin’ in all this effort.”
Britney smiled as she put down the plates, filling their glasses up and putting the napkins beside the utensils. It all looked rather pretty, she thought. Like somethin’ a real family would do.
It kind of made her regret the fact that he was plannin’ on selling the farm. Not like she could run it all on her lonesome, and she’d never found a man she’d been interested in. Oh, sure, they’d flirt with her at the diner and make her blush, but she’d never felt a pull towards any one of ‘em.
When Damien returned to the table, he was dressed in jeans and a nice shirt. Nothin’ too classy, but downright respectable. Almost wiped away some of the bad boy look. Or well… not quite. Sure, it hid the tattoos on his muscles, but it couldn’t hide the hardened look of the man he’d become. Even if he did spare her a smile as he sat down.
“Smells goddamn delicious, Brit,” he said.
“You still got that mouth on you,” she replied as she gave him a more gentle smile. It was still strange for her, his softened behaviour and his much hardened look. Even if he did still cuss.
He shook his head and laughed before he dug in, and though he didn’t speak again for some time, the way he loaded up his plate with more of everything he tried, and woofed it on down spoke volumes.
“This is damn good, Brit,” he said, eyes wide, looking surprised. “When’d you learn to be such a good cook, huh?” he asked.
She laughed as her shoulders raised in a shrug.
“You’re the one that said you’d have eaten a horse, and they’re tough as leather. So maybe you just ain’t got any taste.” She was teasing, being modest, but she relished his compliments.
Damien shook his head and resumed eating, and she almost thought he was done on the issue. But he was just too wrapped up in eating her meal.
“Can’t remember the last time I ate a meal any bit close to this… if ever. Ain’t had nothin’ like this in the city, that’s for damn sure,” he said, winking to her as he bit into some potato with gravy and gave a deep, pleased moan that had to be exaggerated!
It made her laugh, and that tension she was still holdin’ between her shoulders started to fade away. She wanted to put up an argument, say he was just flatterin’ her, but she couldn’t bring herself to do that. Not when he looked so happy, and she was feelin’ so good.
She was dying with curiosity about him, about what he’d been doing for all those years gone by without a word. She just didn’t know how to bring it up.
Luckily with the lighter atmosphere, the sombre occasion slowly faded into a dull ache rather than a full blown sorrow, she wondered if she’d soon have her chance.
Time came to go meet the lawyer, and Damien was outside, revvin’ his motorcycle to hurry her up.
“C’mon Brit! Let’s get this done with,” he said.
Though honestly, the days they’d spent together on the farm weren’t something she was eager to get over with, and she’d tried putting it off. But Damien was a demandin’ man, and when he had his mind set to something; he got it.
“Coming!” she said, hurrying on down to hop on the back of his motorcycle and clinging to him.
He had his leather jacket on again, that suit only worn for the funeral itself. It wasn’t somethin’ Damien was fond of, that was easy to tell. But that rugged look made him more comfortin’ to wrap her arms about. Like she could count on him in any kind of rough situation.
Before long they arrived at the lawyer’s office, which was really just an add-on to the man’s family house. It was a laid back place, with a mess of papers everywhere.
“Come on in, you two,” he said, smiling comfortingly. “Can I get ya both anythin’?”
“Nah,” Damien shook his head, and Britney smiled and declined politely.
“So then, let’s all take a seat and get down to it, shall we?” he said.
“Sounds good,” Britney said, seating herself in her dress.
“What did pa have to say then?” Damien asked, anxious to get it on with.
“Well,” the lawyer said, slowly seating himself, “your pa loved you both very much. But then, you don’t need me to tell you that.” He looked between them with a warm smile. “And the farm goes back in his family for�
� generations. And that was somethin’ he hoped to see continue.”
Britney’s brows knit as she took in the words. Her legs crossed daintily at the ankle, she begged herself not to glance at Damien. She knew the scowl that’d be there on his face at the thought of not sellin’ the place and makin’ some quick cash.
But she had a little bit more excitement in her, a kind of light that flickered into existence.
“Continue how?” she asked in her soft voice.
“Well…” he said, clearing his throat and opening the folder on his desk to peer at the will again. Though it was clear he didn’t need to. “He has it in his will, that if either of you has a child and is willing to settle down on the farm, you get the whole thing. What was most important to him was to see the family farm benefit the family goin’ ahead.”
Britney frowned. She didn’t even have a boyfriend, let alone close to settling down. And she knew for a fact that Damien wasn’t likely to ever settle down. He was the type of man who did what he wanted, when he wanted. He couldn’t even wait to get out of the farmhouse when he came of age.
“Neither of us has a kid, that’s for damn sure,” Damien said gruffly, arms folded over his broad chest. “And I ain’t even got a woman at the moment, so it isn’t likely neither.”
“Well,” the lawyer said, drawing out his words so slowly, “the terms of the will give you each a year to sort it out. After which time the farm will be split between you and divvied up, as you initially expected.”
She glanced at Damien from the corner of her eye. A year wasn’t so long to wait, but it wasn’t so long to plan a family either. She slumped back in her chair, her arms foldin’ around herself defensively.
“What the fuck kind of game was he playing with us?” Damien said, standing up, and from there the lawyer and him hashed it out.
It wasn’t long before they headed on out, Damien looking annoyed, to say the last.
“Can you believe that shit, Brit?” he asked, jerking his thumb back at the place as he strode towards his motorcycle. “Pa sure as hell knew neither of us had a kid.”
“And he knew neither of us had brought anyone home either,” she added with a sigh. She was embarrassed that Damien had caused such a scene, but she understood it. Prolonging it like Mr. Drake did wasn’t fair.
It woulda been easier just to mourn and be done with it.
“C’mon,” he said, handing me the helmet again before he swung his leg up over the motorcycle. “I need to blow off some steam. You in?” he asked, peering back at me over his shoulder as I strapped on the helmet.
She had no idea how he blew off steam, but she knew it wasn’t likely that it’d be the same as her. She preferred to just lose herself in music or in the fresh smell of the country. He tried to escape the latter and his music wasn’t quite about calmin’ down.
Still, she nodded, if only because she didn’t want to be alone right then.
“Sure, Damien.”
He took her on down country roads and trails she never knew of, until at last they had to abandon the motorcycle altogether.
“C’mon,” he said, beckoning her with an outstretched hand as she took off the helmet.
Her hand in his, able to feel his rough, hard grasp, she followed after him into the woods, over craggy ground. It was one of the few areas where it wasn’t flat land or rolling hills, but eventually she saw the point.
He took her to a secluded spot, where the river that fed the farms nearby instead formed a secluded little pond, away from all else. A place she never even knew about it, despite her years spent living nearby.
“Ain’t been here in years,” he said, stripping off his leather jacket as the sun reached its peak up over them.
She’d been wrong about him. About the types of things he might’ve done, the places he could’ve taken her. More than one bar in town was opened at that hour, and she couldn’t deny that takin’ her there would’ve surprised her far less.
She looked along the glittering water, smelled the fresh air, and it was like all the tension in her shoulders started to slip away.
“It’s beautiful.”
“Yeah it is,” he said simply in his gruff voice, stripping away his tight white shirt.
She was surprised by it, but there he went, stripping away his clothes so that his bare, tattooed body was gleaming in the sun. Then next came his belt on his jeans.
“I used to escape away here after pa would worked me to the bone all day, wash away the sweat and grime before takin’ off and headin’ to town for the night,” he explained casually, tugging his jeans down from his hips, showing his thick, well-muscled thighs.
Her breathing picked up despite her best efforts to remain calm as she looked over his body before sheepishly glancing away. They’d grown up together, and she’d seen him swim before. So why’d it feel so different?
Her arms hugged around her waist, her white dress clinging to her form, her lightly tanned shoulders peeking out from her blonde hair.
“I didn’t know that,” she admitted, her blue eyes glued to a tree.
Damien shed his boots and jeans entirely, until he wore nothing more than his black boxer-briefs. A brief glimpse showing they were tightly wrapped about his muscled form, though she dared not look longer.
He strode on down into the water without delay, slipping into it until it was nearly up to his shoulders.
“Not as big as I remember it,” he said, though he was bigger than she ever remembered him.
Maybe that was just it. He’d filled out so the pond seemed smaller.
She held a hand over her eyes to block out the glare of the sun as it beat down upon her. She had to admit it was warm, and that a nice dip in the cold water would feel right nice. But she didn’t trust herself around him. Not with the way her eyes lingered and wanted for more.
“So,” he said, his deep voice punctuating the silence of the picturesque scene. “You don’t got yourself a boyfriend off where you’re workin’ and livin’?” he asked, dunking his head down beneath the water to give her a moment to think before he rose back up, splashed water about as he whipped his head back and stroked a hand over his glistening hair.
She shook her head, moving a bit closer to a large rock on the bank. She sat atop it, curling her legs up.
“Naw. Most guys your age left for the big city long ago. Not many stickin’ around anymore.”
He paused and looked at her, running both hands through his hair to squeeze the water out, but in the process giving her ample view of those thick, bulging muscles of his biceps.
“Yeah that’s probably true, huh?” he said thoughtfully. “But you still stuck around in the country. Never took off to the city like I did. Why’s that, Britney?” he asked.
“Never cared for the noise,” she said, feeling more at ease as they spoke. She hadn’t really spoken to him, not before. Not when they were still livin’ together and he had a chip on his shoulder.
“I know it’s not glamorous, livin’ simple, but I like it. All I gotta worry about is goin’ to work, and I like all the folks there.”
He stepped back further into the pond, floating on the water a little now that he was deep enough in, his thick arms moving gently to keep him steady as he watched her.
“Is that what you had in mind then for the long run? Workin’ in town at the diner? Always thought you was a born farm girl,” he said, no mockery or scorn there. If he looked down on her for it, he didn’t show it too directly.
“Couldn’t take care of it on my own. It’s a big job, you know. Lots of heavy liftin’, and never really ends, you know? I figured there’d be time, if I still wanted to do it when I was older. Once I found someone, or...” she trailed off. She hadn’t given it much thought, truly. She simply knew what felt right.
Damien took the time to dip beneath the water and swim about the pond for a while, before finally surfacing again and walking up towards her. His thick shoulders cascading water over his body as he approached her. Th
ose black boxer-briefs clinging to the outline of his large package.
“Just playin’ it all by the feeling in your gut, huh?” he asked, standing close to her, so casually as he poured water off his body in the sun, standing upon the grassy bank.
There was something about his casual confidence that kept drawin’ her in, beggin’ her to steal a glance at him even though she shouldn’t. He’d changed so much since they were young, and he was so much kinder.
“I guess,” she said with a nod.
Was hard to think about whether it was her gut leadin’ the way when it was his gut — hard and ripped, with a six pack that was so prominent — that had her full attention.
“I suppose I never told you why I left for the city, huh?” he said, sittin’ himself back down beside her, leaning on one hand as he let the sun dry the water off of him slowly.
“Didn’t tell me much of anything,” she agreed, her face turned to look up at him. Even sat down he had at least a half foot on her.
“Well, I hoped to find a gal,” he said thoughtfully, peering off over the water and into the forest. “Find some excitin’ times, good stories, return home someday with a good woman on my arm, and settle back down on my terms,” he explained.
That took her by surprise, the idea that he’d want to come back home eventually. She figured he couldn’t wait to leave and stay gone.
Her hair wound around her finger as she watched him.
“Did you find what you wanted?”
He chuckled, but only a little.
“Nah, not exactly,” he said, shaking his head. “I found women there, sure. But none of ‘em were worth holdin’ onto. Good stories? Not really. But as for excitin’ times? Oh yeah, plenty of those,” he remarked with a wry smile. “Plenty of excitement. Like I never dreamed of, or had nightmares of before.”
Resting her chin on her knee, she stared at him.
“Like what?” She hadn’t done much of anythin’, not really, since he left. It was just the plain Jane routine that she liked, but it didn’t lend much to any decent stories.
