The Mason List

by S. D. Hendrickson

  Chapter 40

  Today, 5:36 a.m.

  A tap on the glass causes the bruised heart in my chest to lurch right through the fabric of my shirt. I see a pair of hazel eyes smash right into the dark tint, searching for their prey. Sadie. Clicking the release button, I give my friend access to the sealed up truck.

  “What is that horrific smell?” Sadie spat as she hikes a tiny leg up into the driver’s seat. Even in the middle of the night, she wore a designer pair of crisp jeans and tan high heels.

  “Sorry. I threw up.”

  “Did you eat a decomposed carcass of some road animal? It is positively disgusting out there. And humid. Why does it feel like the steam room of Bontegia?”

  “Bontegia?” I smile. My lips curve just enough on the edges I would like to think it qualifies as a true smile.

  “Oh, sweetie.” Her green eyes reflect back in the same shade as her silk tank top. “We have discussed Bontegia. The holistic gym with the focus on the mind, body and spirit. Remember? You called it a ridiculous use of my over-indulgent expense account.”

  “That sounds familiar.” I really do smile that time. “You’re early. I thought it would be close to nine?”

  She reaches over and threads her fingers between mine. I wait for her to insult my chipped nail polish. “I cashed in a favor from someone I can’t mention. So I arrived in style in my own private jet.”

  “Wasted that one on me?”

  “Just for you, sweetie.”

  “Thank you.”

  I had asked Sadie once why she decided I was worth her time. Every moment of every second of her day came in a detailed plan, usually established weeks or months or years in advance. I asked my question before our senior year. Sadie had pursed her lips in a tiny bow before answering. Sweetie, you seem to need a friend more than an enemy and I am either one or the other.

  “Ok. Now that I am officially in Texas, I refuse to let you stay in this dreary parking lot. No more hiding. Time to step over the vomit and march inside that ghastly place. You have to see him at some point.”

  “I know.” The raw pain scraps in my throat. “Will you go with me?”

  A brief look of fear appears on her beautiful face, and then quickly dissolves into her ever-present confidence. “Yes. I can go with you, sweetie.”

  “Thank you.”

  I climb across the console to exit from the driver’s side to avoid the mess by the door. We cross the parking lot to the revolving entrance. She links an arm through the crook of my elbow. I notice the enormous shoes propping up the tiny person. I notice the orange streaks as they come around the buildings. The light at the end of the tunnel, I suppose, to those looking for that sort of omen.

  “I accepted the position in DC. I had every intention of calling you tomorrow. Well, I guess that is today now, isn’t it. Maybe you should come for a visit. Get away for a bit. The winter will be horrendous compared to here. But you could stay indefinitely. How does that sound?”

  Her green eyes cut toward my sullen face. She fails to offer a smile with the invite. I fail to acknowledge the underlying meaning to her words.

  Chapter 41

  When I was twenty-four…

  Today was my birthday. Sitting at table with Greta and two other students, I sipped a glass of Syrah. We chatted back and forth in easy conversation, all being in French. It was beautiful underneath the lights of the city. It was beautiful in so many different ways. I laughed at a story told by Hanna Prescott. She was another American who was in the program with me. We traveled together sometimes. Hanna and Greta were good, decent people; nothing like the Dutch’s and Darcy’s of the world.

  My phone buzzed in my pocket. Taking out the little box, I smiled at the words on the screen, feeling the warmth spread through my chest.

  Happy Birthday Alex!

  I still thought about him every day. I thought about him and it was ok. I didn’t fall down in a puddle of tears and misery. I didn’t drink myself into oblivion or dream of slitting my wrists.

  You remembered my birthday.

  I remembered.

  We talked occasionally; never for very long and never about anything of much importance. Jess and I were both busy in our new lives. I think we finally reached a place of comfortable existence. We could talk and it was ok. We could not talk and still survive.

  Thank you.

  Are you having a party or something?

  Yes.

  Have fun. Good night Alex.

  I looked back up at my friends around the table, celebrating my birthday. Hanna poured more wine in my glass. Reaching forward, I clinked the crystal against the others. The sound echoed under the sparkling lights. I was here and he was there; each choosing a different fork in the road, each learning to breathe on our own, seven time zones apart.

  Good morning Jess.

  Chapter 42

  When I was twenty-five…

  I rolled down the windows of the rented Hyundai, the moment the tires touched the dirt road. They went down on all four doors as if the mere presence of Arlis willed them into submission. Feeling the air whip through my hair, I reached for the radio knob to switch stations. My hand froze in mid stride hearing the deep voice of Jason Aldean. I smiled, imagining Jess flying down this very road listening to the twangy voice sing about some tractor. I’m sure he loved this one. I wondered if he could hear it right now; our lives parallel once more in the world.

  Looking up through the front glass, I saw the vacant farmhouse under the half moon. My father and Caroline had gone to Abilene to visit her cousin. They would return in the morning, just in time for the Mason’s Thanksgiving dinner spectacle.

  Walking through the familiar old house, I felt like a stranger amongst items I had seen most of my life. Time never had a good way of standing still except at Sprayberry. I was the cog out of place here as the hum of a well-oiled ranch continued to pump out the same barrels.

  Opening the back hallway door, I found my room the same as when I left for college. The shelves were lined with old books and walls covered with paintings by an amateur. I paused in front of a photo of a laughing woman with red head and a small, carrot top child; by far the one I always liked the best of my mother. She was happy in that one and so was I. My father must have pulled it out while I was gone.

  The rest of the frames chronicled a whole life with a dark-haired boy, from riding horses to the ridiculous snapshot from the night in the ER with his burn bandages. On the corner of my desk, another portrayed two, smiling kids dressed in Arlis blue caps and gowns.

  Feeling exhausted, I left the memories for a hot shower. The steam helped with the suffocating hold of apprehension. I would see him tomorrow. The entire flight and car drive riveted with nothing else but rambling thoughts of Jess Mason. What would I say to him? Would he be different, look different, or act different? The fear crept in around the edges. Maybe he wouldn’t care to see me at all. I swallowed hard, knowing that was just plain stupid nerves.

  Since I left, my days had become a life without him. The day in and day out of consistent mundane followed with splashes of the wild and extraordinary. I lived exactly as he had asked me to that night on the beach. I experienced it with nothing holding me back. I had a life with a job and classes and people who opened up endless possibilities. I had friends from countries I only heard mentioned in Discovery Channel shows. I had exactly what I desired the entire time I lived in Arlis; a life free of the Masons.

  Brushing out my hair, I settled into the old desk with my trusty journal. The train might leave the station but something always came in the baggage. Tucked in the back section of the little red book, I pulled out the Mason List. My need to mull over the contents failed to surface as often while in Paris. One foot on Sprayberry, I needed to see it. The urgency spread catching my breath. After all these years, how could something so small and insignificant, have such power?

  A sharp tapping sound riveted off the glass window. The paper remained clutched in trembling fingers a
s I peered out into the darkness. A face pressed tight against the glass with a wicked smile. I folded the paper in half and shoved it out of view. Raising the window, I shook my head.

  “Jerk! You scared the crap out of me.”

  “I know. Sort of the point.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Figured you were already back. I wanted to see you.”

  “You could have seen me tomorrow. It’s twelve-thirty.”

  “Which is tomorrow, smartass. And I haven’t seen that rotten face of yours in hell of long time. I couldn’t wait any longer.”

  Twenty-eight months, thirteen days, and roughly seven hours, according to the green glow on the desk; not that I was counting. Jess climbed through the frame shutting out the cold behind him. Turning toward me, he never paused as he scooped me up in a tight hug against his chest. He squeezed the breath from my lungs as I took in the scent of ivory soap against his neck. Every bit reservation had left the moment I saw his face through the window. The grip of his arms relaxed, and I slid down his chest, causing my t-shirt to inch up and expose my white-panty clad butt.

  Feeling self-conscious, I turned bright red in the dim shadows of my desk lamp. I tugged at the bottom of the fabric, pulling it down as his eyes cast over the front of it.

  “Is that my shirt?” A large blue number, the same as his favorite cowboy Emmett Smith, graced the front over my breasts, which incidentally was the same number Jess wore on his high school football jersey.

  “Maybe.”

  “You know that was my favorite and you stole it.”

  “I didn’t steal it. It’s been right there in that closet. You could have taken it back anytime.”

  “Liar. I think it came back in your suitcase.” He reached up and touched the side of my neck. His fingers ran over my skin then down through my loose hair. His thumb stroked the soft strands at the end. I watched his face shift to that look. The one I knew very well; a desire deep in his blue eyes that said I want to kiss you. My breath held for a second, thinking he might just do it. “They not have any sunshine in Paris. You’re like crazy pale and just all freckles.”

  “You jerk.” I punched him slightly in the shoulder, feeling the pull of our familiar dance. I looked back into his eyes and without thinking, I slipped my arms around his neck. Jess held me tight against his chest. It felt so incredibly good to touch him after all these months. My tall frame relaxed against his body, molding into the every curve. The room went dark as my eyes closed. His right hand left my shoulder and traced lightly down my spine coming to rest on my hip; a delicate and familiar touch coming from his hands.

  While in Paris, I think my mind had done an excellent job suppressing how much I missed him, how much I wanted to feel him; excellent until he climbed right through the window. I whispered against his shoulder, “I’ve really missed you, Jess.”

  “I know, Al. Me too.”

  I released my grasp and backed away. Jess held onto my hand and turned it over, exposing my wrist with blue stars inked into my skin. “What’s this?”

  “I drew it. You don’t like it?” I wasn’t sure his reaction to another permanent spot, once again, added while I was away.

  “It’s really good. I get it, I think. Texas?”

  “Something like that.” I smiled as he released my hand. The tattoo was a simple design of four stars; a memorial to the beautiful sky I left behind, drawn in the same color as the eyes of the person who showed it to me. Ironically, I now had both; a left hand that bore shame and a right that captured something I couldn’t explain to anyone. Climbing in my bed, I covered up my freezing legs. “How you been? I mean really.”

  He plopped down on the little twin bed, making the springs creak with each bounce. “Rough, but I’m hangin’ in there. It has been long days and even longer nights sometimes. I swear problems around here don’t come in threes. It’s more like thirty-threes.”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t come to the funeral. I wanted to. I just… I had…” my voice trailed off with little conviction.

  “It’s ok. Not much notice. Frank went out the way he lived around here. Sneaky and inconvenient.”

  “That’s one way of putting it. He went off like a crotchety old dog in the pasture to die alone.”

  “Can’t say I blame him, Al. Propped up against a tree with his last thoughts bein’ the meadow grass wavin’ in the wind under the blue Texas sky. I guess it must have been peaceful.”

  “I guess so.”

  “I keep hearin’ in his cranky voice, you know. Boy, we don’t got no time to be shootin’ the shit. I hear it every time I stop to take a break. Makes me work twice as hard. I want to do this place justice. He trusted me with it even if he had an odd way of showin’ it.”

  He was tired. I could see every one of those lines of fatigue. His days were filled with unlimited responsibility. Most graduates took a job they would just leave for the next big thing. Jess inherited a life; a legacy.

  “You’re doing a good job. I know you are. It’s just going to take some time with the transition.”

  “Thank you.” He watched me for moment with emotion tugging around his tired eyes. “Means a lot hearin’ it from you. But, I’m scared a little, Alex. I’m scared of failin’ and detroyin’ it.”

  “I believe in you. Besides, there’s no way you could destroy something you love as much as Sprayberry.”

  “I just don’t want to be the stupid one who ran the place into the ground. The buyers are antsy. They’re worried I can’t deliver the same quality. Damn Frank was doin’ the job of ‘bout five guys. It’s a wonder he didn’t fall over dead before now. It’s officially mine now. When Frank died, everything reverted to me legally except my parents’ house and the oil. That’s still tied up between all of us. But I officially own every piece of Sprayberry. All six-three hundred acres.”

  “Wow. I…I didn’t know it would happen that way or that fast.”

  “I didn’t talk ‘bout it much because it scared the crap out of me. It’s why they had to know if I wasn’t willin’ to do it. Arrangements had to be made. It’s hard but I know it was the right decision. Mother had no idea though, on what it took for Frank to handle the place. I stayed with ‘em for a while but I had to move out. She was drivin’ me crazy. I’m not livin’ with ‘em anymore.”

  “The eight thousand square foot Mason Manor was just too small?” I giggled as I watched his face.

  “Not funny.”

  “Ok. I’m sorry. So where do you live?”

  “I moved into Frank’s house.”

  “You’ve got to be shitting me! The spook house? We were too scared to even look at that place and you live there?”

  “Don’t worry. I haven’t seen any shrunken heads stuffed under the floor boards.” He chuckled, rolling his eyes at my thoughts. “Just dirty old man shit.”

  “Like what? Never mind. Gross. I don’t want to know.”

  “Not like that. Just nasty, menthol medicine and cigarettes. The smell seeped into everythin’ in that place.”

  “I’m gone like five minutes and you move in the freakin’ spook house. I don’t even know what to say.”

  “You’re gonna laugh your ass off when you see it too. I can take you up there in the mornin’?”

  “Ok.”

  “Good.” His jaw clenched on the words with troubled thoughts, churning just behind the blue.

  “What?”

  He reached up and touched a piece of my red hair, letting the long strands pull through his fingers. “You weren’t gone for just five minutes.”

  “I know.” A jab of guilt erupted inside my chest. I had planned to come back for several visits. Despite the best intensions, I always seemed to book a ticket to someplace else; someplace new that didn't inflict pain. The thought of seeing his face and then leaving again, was more than I could stand. So I just never made the emotionally riddled trip back.

  Scooting closer, I rested my head against his shoulder. The pain remained, but it
felt better just to touch him. “Tell me what else I’ve missed.”

  “I don’t know.” He picked up my wrist and rubbed his thumb over the blue stars inked into my skin. He held on and didn’t let go. I wondered if he really understood what it meant. I’m sure he thought it was for Texas or Sprayberry or some constellation in the sky. Part of me wanted to tell Jess the truth. That tattoo might as well been his name scripted in my skin; a tiny blue star for each of the letters in his name as they faded off in the distance.

  “Come on.” I needed to keep him talking before I said something stupid. “It’s Arlis. You must have something good.”

  “Well, I guess Skeeter’s got a girlfriend. She’s a teacher from over in Mineral Wells. I think she’s related to Ms. Baker. He met her at the church’s Labor Day picnic. He can’t stop talkin’ ‘bout her.”

  “Like a completely normal woman? And she knows that Skeeter thinks they’re dating?”

  “Yup. I’ve had dinner with ‘em.” He let out a deep yawn. “And I guess the Landry’s may sell. Said they’re gettin’ too old to keep up with it. Kids don’t want it. Now that Frank’s gone, they think it’s time to see what else is out there before it’s too late. They asked if I wanted it. I don’t know. It would be another nine hundred acres. I’m still thinkin’ ‘bout it. I’d like to do it because of the Landrys and its good hay land.”

  “Just add it on to Sprayberry?”

  He reached up, running his fingers through his soft, black hair. “I don’t know. It has been Triple L as long as most can remember. I might keep it separate. It’s a big decision though. I’m already strugglin’ with what I got.”