by Dylann Crush
Jeffy in a baseball uniform, Jeffy in a team photo with Sheriff Jordan as the coach. Jeffy with his prize-winning bass from the youth fishing contest. I remembered that day. I’d gone along to watch while Robbie and his brother competed in the two different age divisions. Robbie landed a six-and-a-half pound small mouth bass, the biggest one they’d seen all season. His dad had been so proud of him in that moment. But with only four minutes left to go, Jeffy pulled a giant six-and-three-quarters pounder out of the lake. At the time I’d been the only one to notice how Robbie shrunk into himself when Sheriff Jordan turned all of his attention to his older son.
I glanced over to the couch. The rise and fall of the afghan proved Sheriff Jordan was still breathing. Trying to make as little noise as possible, I gathered up the cans and dirty dishes and took them to the kitchen. Robbie’s mom had been gone for a while. She’d always kept a clean house. What their home lacked in love, it seemed to make up for in Lysol and Windex.
Looked like it had been a long time since anyone had taken a mop to the floor or a soapy washcloth to the countertops. I spent the next couple of hours scrubbing, wiping, and mopping. As I removed the layers of grime from the stove and wiped down the inside of the refrigerator, I thought about what Misty said.
A spark. Did I need a spark at this point in my life? I respected Parker as a business partner. Before we even started dating, he was the one who told me I should leave my current position and take a chance on the new chef he’d been watching. He’d been right about that and he’d be right about launching our new restaurant. He hadn’t bothered to call, but he’d sent an email a couple of weeks ago to say he was still working on things and it was only a matter of time. Just the thought of running my own kitchen boosted my mood into a natural high. But beyond the kitchen, if I was being totally honest with myself, there wouldn’t be much opportunity to find a spark in Texas.
The clock on the mantel chimed 2:00. I drained the kitchen sink and peeked in on Robbie’s dad. Still breathing. It would probably be safe to leave. But what if something happened to him? I didn’t want to be the one to tell Robbie I’d left his dad passed out on the couch because I wanted to sleep in my own bed. Hell, it wasn’t even my bed I’d be going to.
I wandered into the smaller of the two bedrooms on the first floor and flipped on the light. Robbie’s twin-sized bed sat flush against the far wall. Various T-shirts and jerseys draped over the footboard and closet door. Posters of his heroes still hung on the walls. Nolan Ryan mid-pitch, Randy Johnson right after the World Series, and his favorite hometown boys: Bret Saberhagen and Kevin Appier.
I was surprised I still remembered all of their names. Listening to Robbie go on and on about baseball all those years clearly stuck with me. I picked a T-shirt up from the foot of his bed, held it to my nose, and inhaled. The smell of sunshine and musky male with an undercurrent of Robbie’s sport-scented deodorant filled my senses.
Robbie was my past. My future was in Dallas. My head had come to terms with that and my heart was coming around. We still had a couple of weeks left. We’d just enjoy each other’s company then go our separate ways. I flipped off the light, kicked off my shoes, and crawled under the covers, clutching the faded cotton shirt against my chest.
25
Robbie
“Everything settled?” Jake rolled over and squinted at me from his double bed across the dingy hotel room. Neither of us wanted to spring for a single, so we’d ended up bunking together for the tournament.
“Yeah. Go back to sleep, I’ll fill you in in the morning.” I pulled off my sneakers and ducked into the bathroom to brush my teeth. Our starting pitcher decided it would be a good idea to sneak out after curfew and spend the evening with a gal he’d met online. Cops had picked him up trying to use a fake ID to get into a bar. They’d held him at the station until I’d had a chance to go bail him out.
Not only were we down a pitcher, he’d also cost me about four hours of sleep. I loved the game of baseball. Couldn’t think of anything I loved more in life. Well, except for maybe Cassie. But these kids were getting harder and harder to manage each year. I’d raised some hell in my younger years. But I’d always played by the rules when it came to the game. Well, always except for once.
As I made small circles over my gums with my toothbrush I thought about the one time I’d royally fucked up that had to do with baseball. Crappy thing was, I didn’t even know it at the time. What would have happened if I’d turned my shit in on time and got the scholarship to UT-Austin? Would Cassie and I have ended up together? Not a day went by that I didn’t think about it. Still couldn’t figure out how my paperwork disappeared without a trace. Maybe I never would’ve taken the pitch to the side of my head. Maybe I could’ve gone on to the majors like I’d planned. Maybe then my dad would’ve been proud of me, and I would’ve kept the girl of my dreams.
I rinsed and spit then wiped the coarse white towel over my face. Didn’t do any good to think about shit like that now. There wasn’t any room in my life right now for coulda, shoulda or woulda. I stripped down to my underwear and crawled under the covers.
As soon as my head hit the pillow sleep claimed me. I drifted off thinking about the beginning of the end of me and Cass…
“What do you mean you lost your scholarship offer?” Cassie’s anger sliced through the phone, cutting through me like a band saw.
I wished there weren’t almost six hundred miles between us. I’d give anything to be able to wrap my arms around her and fold her tight against my chest. But Cassie was in Austin and I was stuck in Swallow Springs. Not much I could do from a couple of states away except try to calm her down over the phone line.
“I don’t know what happened. They said they never got my acceptance letter or paperwork. I swear I sent it in, Cass.” My shoulders slumped, and I leaned against the old oak tree by the pond. Knowing how hard she’d take it, I’d walked down to the pond so I could have some privacy when I broke the news.
“How could they just lose your paperwork? Did you tell them you’d resend it?”
“Sure I did. But since they hadn’t heard from me they gave my spot to that pitcher out of Oklahoma. I fucked up.” A sob threatened to wrench from my chest.
Getting out of Swallow Springs and finally having the chance to be near Cassie was all I’d been able to think about. She’d already been accepted and sent in her paperwork. With or without me, Cassie would be attending the University of Texas in Austin next fall. And looked like I’d be stuck at Southeast Missouri State, eleven hours away. Hell, that was even farther apart than we were right now.
“I can’t believe it. We were finally going to be able to be together. You know what this means, right? Another four years apart. I can’t do it, Robbie. I just can’t.”
I let out a deep sigh. Couldn’t blame her. “I know, I know. But I’ll figure out a way to come visit. At least once a month, I promise.”
She let out a frustrated laugh. “When? In between trying to keep up your GPA and practicing every day?”
“I love you, Cassafrass. I’ll figure out a way to fix this. Maybe I can transfer sophomore year.” A cold hand gripped and squeezed my heart. If I lost Cassie over this…
“I’ve got to go, Robbie. I’m late for work. I’ll call you later.”
“I’m so sorry. I really am. Love you.”
“Love you, too.” She disconnected.
I ran my fingers over the edges of a heart carved into the trunk of the giant oak tree a long time ago. Cassie’s grandpa had carved his and her grandma’s initials in this tree when they bought the place. Her dad did the same thing when he and her mama got married. I’d always imagined Cassie and I would make our own mark on this tree at some point. Hopefully I hadn’t fucked that up.
Jake’s wobbly baritone roused me from a deep sleep. He was belting out a George Strait song in the shower. I ran my hand over the coarse sheet, the feel of rough bark still fresh on my palm. A hollow pit sat in the bottom of my stomach, rememberin
g how it had felt to know Cassie was lost to me all those years ago. I hadn’t been able to fix things. We’d talked a few more times, but then she left me that damn note, and I decided to accept the offer from Missouri. Things were never the same. After she went to Europe with her dad that summer, she headed down to Austin and I’d spent a couple of years in Cape Girardeau, until that errant pitch took away all my hopes for the future.
Jake poked his head out of the bathroom. “Good, you’re up. Give me a few more minutes, and I’ll be outta here.”
“Take your time.” I peeled back the covers and sat on the edge of the bed.
My phone beeped on the nightstand and I grabbed it. Just a text from the tournament director that our field number changed. I checked for messages. Nothing. I’d tried calling home a few times the night before, but Dad hadn’t answered. He was too stubborn for a cell phone, so my only option was to keep calling the house phone. I pulled up the number and called again. If he didn’t pick up this time, I’d have to ask Dewey to go check on him.
The phone rang three, four, five times and then a familiar voice answered. “Jordan residence, Cassie speaking.”
Cassie
“Hello?” Nothing but silence on the other end of the phone line. I glanced at the clock. 6:30 was too damn early for a prank call. “Hello?”
“Cassie?” The surprise came through in Robbie’s voice. “What are you doing there? Is everything okay?”
I twisted the phone cord around my index finger and walked through the kitchen to check on Sheriff Jordan. He hadn’t moved from the couch, the rise and fall of the afghan showing he’d made it through the night.
“Yeah, everything’s fine.”
“Where’s my dad?”
“He’s here. Still asleep on the couch. Why are you calling so early?”
“I couldn’t reach him last night and was worried. What’s going on?”
I wavered. Should I tell Robbie what happened or just wait until he got home? Flimsy explanations of why I’d be answering his phone this early in the morning flitted through my mind. Nothing seemed plausible.
“Cassie? You there?”
“Yeah, I’m still here. Would you believe me if I said I just stopped by with some blueberry muffins?” I located the coffee pot on the counter and pulled open the drawer underneath in search of coffee filters.
Robbie’s tone shifted from worried to aggravated. “What happened?”
“Everything’s fine. How’s the tournament going?”
“Cassie…” His voice dipped down an octave, and I recognized the “you’re taking it too far” tone he’d used on me once or twice in the past.
“Give me a break, Robbie. I haven’t even had my coffee yet.”
“Filters are in the cabinet next to the sink, and he keeps the Folgers in the fridge.”
“Thanks.” I moved toward the refrigerator, stopping to untangle the phone cord from where it had wrapped around a chair.
“Now tell me why the hell you’re watching my dad sleep.”
I fit the filter into the basket then measured out the coffee to make a full pot. “Misty and I ran into him at the Dive Inn last night.”
“Dammit! Was he drinking again?”
“Looked like he had a few. We got him home and I stayed with him last—”
“It’s like parenting a teenager. What the fuck was he thinking?”
“He’s fine now. Just sleeping it off. I’ll wait for him to wake up before I head out, okay?”
Robbie groaned. “Sorry. You shouldn’t have to babysit the bastard.”
The chair scraped on the worn plank flooring as I slid it out from the table and sunk onto the cushion. “You shouldn’t have to babysit either. It’s a lot for you to handle alone. I wasn’t doing anything anyway. Happy to help.”
“Yeah, until you leave again,” he mumbled.
The air whooshed out of me. Yeah, I’d be leaving soon. Part of me couldn’t wait. The other part of me, well, I hadn’t quite figured out what that other part of me wanted. It had started out as a tiny corner of my heart, but over the past few weeks the indecision had been expanding, filling my heart with doubt and letting it trickle up into my brain as well.
“Well, I’m here now and have things under control. Don’t you have a game to coach?” Diverting the conversation had always worked with Parker.
Robbie paused for a few long seconds, the silence weighing down the phone line between us. “Yeah. Two games today and if we win the second one we’ll play again later on tonight. Do me a favor?”
“Sure. As long as you don’t ask me to clean your bedroom. It’s a mess.”
He snorted. “I’d suggest you stay out of my bedroom.”
“Too late. I crashed on your bed last night. Hope that’s okay. The recliner didn’t look too comfortable.”
“Damn. Wish I’d been there. The least you can do is wait to sleep in my bed when I’m actually in it.”
Warmth like molten lava snaked from my chest to my navel, then lower still. I stood and moved to the counter to pour a mug of coffee.
“The favor?” I asked.
“Oh yeah, I got all distracted thinking about the last time we shared a bed, or even better, a bath.”
Tiny pinpricks danced across my cheeks, and I had to lean against the counter. “The favor?”
“Just don’t give my dad the keys, okay?”
“Not a problem. The truck’s still at the bar.” Mug in hand, I took a sip of the dark, pungent brew.
“Thanks, Cass. I owe you one.”
He disconnected and I walked over to hang the handset up in the cradle. I paused, letting my forehead rest against the doorjamb.
“Rob read you the riot act?”
Startled, I turned toward the gruff, scratchy voice. Sheriff Jordan leaned against the doorway. His checkered shirt hung loose on his frail frame, and his cheeks sported an uneven smattering of gray whiskers.
“Sorry, I didn’t hear you get up.” I walked across the kitchen as he settled into a chair at the table. “Can I get you some coffee?”
“I’d appreciate it. Just black.”
I poured a mug, set it down in front of him, and then retrieved my mug from the counter before sliding into the chair across the table from him.
He stared into his coffee for a few moments. The warbled cock-a-doodle-doo from the stupid fugitive rooster broke the silence.
“Been trying to shoot that damn bird for years now. Rob tell you we almost had him once?”
“Look, Sheriff Jordan—”
“Haven’t been sheriff for a few years now, Cassie. Just call me Jeff, will ya?”
“Okay…Jeff.” The name felt awkward and stilted as it tumbled off my tongue. “Robbie cares about you, that’s why—”
His yelp of laughter cut me off. “Let’s not pretend, hon. Rob’s doin’ the right thing by stickin’ around. I was a shitty husband and an even shittier father.”
I wanted to disagree, but we both knew the truth. “It’s not too late, you know. He does care about you, you’re still his dad.”
“Whatever I’d do now would be way too little, way too late. I’ve been doin’ a lot of thinkin’ lately.” He took a long draw from his mug. “Dyin’ will do that to a man. I’ve made a real mess of things and there’s not enough time left for me to fix it all.”
Sensing he might be in the right frame of mind for a conversation about my mom, I decided to risk bringing it up. “You were calling me Angel last night.”
He ran a hand over his face. The purple and blue veins on the back of his hand stuck out, a stark contrast to his pale, papery skin. “That’s what I used to call your mama. It was a long, long time ago. I suppose nobody ever told you that your mama and I used to date?”
“Mrs. Cahill mentioned it the other day. How come nobody ever said anything?”
“What good would it have done? Ever held a ray of sunshine in your hand, Cassie? That’s what bein’ around your mama was like.”
My eyes w
atered at the memory his tender words evoked. Mama and me standing by the pond, fishing poles in hand. Soft, scattered sunlight bathed the world in a golden haze. Mom spinning me round and round on the tire swing that used to hang in the front yard of my grandparents’ house. Yes, I knew what it felt like to be part of her light. I carried it with me still.
He peered up at me through a clump of greasy, gray streaked hair that had fallen over his eyes. “She was the best thing that had ever happened to me and I fucked it up. Excuse my language, will ya?”
I nodded, hoping he’d go on, but he stood up from the table and disappeared into the bathroom instead. A box of tissues sat in the middle of the table and I grabbed one, dabbing at my cheeks. How would things have turned out if my mama had stayed with Robbie’s dad? Would he have been able to make her happy? I didn’t think so. His kind of mean came from a place deep inside. Not even the goodness of my mom could have changed him. It was just too bad Robbie had to suffer at his hand for so long. Maybe it was too late for them. I rinsed out the mug and put it in the top rack of the dishwasher, then went back to Robbie’s room to make the bed.
As I straightened the comforter and propped the pillow up against the headboard, I glanced at the nightstand. A ray of sunlight filtered through the blinds and caught on something shiny in a tiny dish sitting on the table. I moved closer for a better look and lifted the silver chain. A cross dangled at the end of it. The necklace Robbie had given me for my seventeenth birthday. He’d put it into his pocket the last time we’d gone swimming in the pond. I’d been afraid I’d lose it. Dad had shown up a day early to pick me up that summer, and I’d never gotten the chance to get it back from him. I slipped it into the pocket of my jeans and picked up my purse.
I held the door open, taking one last look around the living room. It shrank before my eyes. I used to be so intimidated when I’d walk into this room. Now it just seemed hollow and sad.
Like Robbie’s dad.
