by A. L. Moore
Jack was very friendly, too much so. Katy revealed in this sort of attention, but it mostly got on my nerves. This was supposed to be a girl’s night. No boys allowed. Every time I took a bite of roll, it seemed he showed up, asking how we were doing or topping off our drinks. Katy prattled on about Drew through our salads. He was gone on vacation, and she had been talking to Lucas on the phone. She didn’t feel like it was cheating, because they were just talking about unimportant stuff like the weather and food. Right.
By the time our chicken arrived, I spilled the beans about Thomas. There was no use keeping it a secret. She would see him leave unless he tunneled under the ground.
“To turn down a job,” she said between bites. “Do you think he has another job lined up? I mean, wasn't he having a hard time before coming back? Isn't that what you said?”
My knife scraped loudly against the silver rimmed plate as I cut into the dry meat. No wonder it was half off, it had probably been cooked last week.
“That’s all I can figure,” I said, nodding as Jack passed by, again.
“Either that or he really wants to get away from you,” she considered, swirling the drink around in her glass before taking a sip. “I told you to stop acting like a prude. I would have…” She shut-up while Jack refilled our full glasses.
“I know what you would’ve done,” I said, “and it’s not helping.”
“I’m only kidding,” she said, tapping her glass with her fork like she was about to give a speech.
“What are you doing?” Everyone was staring at us. Jack nearly tripped over his feet to get back to us.
“Is there something I can get you ladies?” he asked, placing the check on the table.
“What do you think of my friend?” Katy asked bluntly, gesturing to me across the table. “Be honest. You’re getting a big tip either way.”
His French accent thick, he played it safe. “You are both very beautiful women.”
Katy wasn’t satisfied, waving her hand. “I know. I know. But do you want her?”
“Katy,” I said, my face burning with all of Hell’s fury.
The smile that curved Jack’s lips was unnerving. It was clear he was reading way too much into the question. “I get off at eleven,” he whispered, leaning closer to my ear. Katy cut me off before I could argue, smiling seductively back at Jack as he reached for our check before we’d placed any money inside. “It is taken care of,” Jack grinned, backing into another waiter and causing a tray of glasses to clatter loudly to the floor.
We grabbed our purses, me in a tailspin and Katy at a leisurely pace like it were a walk on the beach and headed for the door. Jack was whispering to another dark-haired man when we slipped by.
“If I’d known we were eating for free, I'd have ordered steak,” Katy exclaimed excitedly.
“Me, too,” I agreed, letting the embarrassment go and laughing along with her. Afterall, with Katy, it could’ve been much worse. “You do realize you sold me for a piece of tough chicken?”
“I’m a pimp,” she chuckled, relining her red lips in the car mirror. “And, it was two pieces of tough chicken and salad,” she pointed out. “And don’t forget all that wine. My girl ain’t cheap," she said, linking her arm with mine. “You're going to have a tough time topping this next month.” There was no topping Katy. She could turn a trip to a drive-thru into an event.
We were still laughing when we pulled in front of her house.
“I wonder how long Ole Jack will wait for you?” she chuckled, slamming the door. “Maybe you should go back. He was hot.”
“You go back. I’m going to bed.”
“Bed’s this way,” she said, grabbing my arm when I started for the field.
“I’m going to Thomas,” I said, picturing a younger Thomas waiting for me at our secret spot amongst the corn silks.
“You’re going to bed with Thomas?”
“Yes. I mean, no.” My head felt a little lighter since we'd left the restaurant. “Stop confusing me.”
"Oh, you're no fun," she pouted, getting back into the car. "We should've stayed for another round.
The upstairs was quiet and dark, with just a slither of moonlight peeking in here and there from the window at the end of the hall. Gripping my sandals in my hand, I didn’t stop at my room. I was on a mission, and despite what Katy thought, it was not going to take another round to accomplish it. Thomas’s door was closed but not locked.
Chapter 21
Thomas was a peaceful sleeper, his face relaxed of all the tension from the day. I softly shut the door behind me and felt my way to the bottom of his bed. He grunted as I maneuvered up next to him. From behind, he looked just like he used to. His hair was cut short, almost invisible along his neck where his skin was at its darkest. It tickled as it moved across my fingers. Thomas jerked into the table, the lamp wobbling beneath his hand as he reached for it.
“Bree?” He wiped his eyes. “What are you doing in here?”
“Why did you lie to me?”
“What are you talking about?” His eyes squinted in the lamp light.
“You said that you love me, but you don’t.”
“Have you been drinking?”
I shrugged, falling to my back. “Maybe a little but that’s not the point. You shouldn’t tell someone you love them if you don’t.” Propped on his elbow he ran his hand over his face and shook his head as if he'd wake up. “You’re passing up the job…the house, because you can’t stand to be in the same town with me.”
“Oh,” he sighed. “They told you about that.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because it has nothing to do with you.”
“I won’t let you throw away a great opportunity just to get away from me,” I said, staring up into his beautiful hazel eyes, eyes I’d yearned for too many days to count. Brazenly, I reached out and touched his soft lips with my thumb. “You need to think about the future.” He smiled beneath my hand before moving it from his face. “I’ll be starting college soon.” I frowned when he dropped my hand. “I'm planning to live on campus.”
He sighed, lacing his fingers behind his head. “I got a letter from my dad, Bree. He's here."
"In Clay?"
"Bryson City? Where we used to live," he clarified, staring at the ceiling. "He’s got a job waiting for me if I want it. Apparently, he manages a general store in town.”
"A general store? I can't really picture you working indoors."
"I wouldn't be at the store. I'd be working at a distribution warehouse. Dad said the pay is pretty decent."
“Well,” I stared at the ceiling. “Don’t I feel like a schmuck. Of course, you should take it.”
“And you should go to bed,” he said, holding the alarm clock closer. “What dip- stick sold you alcohol?”
“Just some John,” I chuckled at my joke. “It was only a couple glasses of wine, but my chicken was rubber. Didn’t eat.” I explained. “Did the letter say anything else?”
“Bree,” he sighed. “You can read the letter tomorrow.”
Fine. Stretching over his bare chest, I reached for the lamp. “I’m leaving.” I said as the light disappeared. I’m not sure if it was the lingering effect of the alcohol or the sudden darkness, but I was hyperaware of the warmth of his body and the heavenly scent that not only caused butterflies in my stomach but had created them in the first place. Glancing down, as my eyes adjusted to the darkness, my hair fell softly around his face. God, he was beautiful. I couldn’t stop myself. My lips moved at their own accord until they were stopped by the warm, waiting lips below. Lips I’d missed so much. Lips I’d take a bullet for.
“I’m sorry,” I said flustered when Thomas’s restraining hands gently pushed me away. Climbing unsteadily to my feet, I fixed my dress and got out of there.
***
Scrambled eggs sizzled in the iron skillet. The cheese bubbled across the top. I slid them onto a plate and carried it back to the couch. I watched Daddy and Thoma
s unload hay from an oversized pick-up truck instead of turning the television on. Thomas was moving two for each one Daddy moved. Daddy had stopped twice, holding his back. He should've just let Thomas do it. He called me stubborn but if I was, I got it honest. He’d be carried away by a stretcher before he’d stop working the farm. It was barely ten o’clock and the front of their shirts were already soaked. I rinsed the plate and made a couple of glasses of water. The air from the house poured out when I opened the front door. Daddy was coming up the steps. He took the water, wiping his forehead and sat down on the steps.
“Where’s Thomas?”
“Still at it,” Daddy sighed. “Your old pa ain't as young as he used to be.”
“Is someone else here?” He shook his head. “Whose truck is that?” I asked, staring at a shiny blue Silverado backed-in next to our house. It wasn't new by any stretch of the imagination, with sun damage to the paint on the hood and along the roof, but it was clean and shined like it had just been waxed.
“Thomas’s. He bought it off Michael Conard this morning. Barely has a hundred-thousand miles on it. He got a good deal.”
“I knew it looked familiar. Michael was our closest neighbor, next to Katy.”
I stepped around the honeybees who were busily working on the newly bloomed roses growing up the lattice on the side of the house. Thomas sat on the edge of the tailgate, wiping sweat from his neck with the t-shirt he’d shed.
“Nice truck,” I said, shielding my eyes from the sun's harsh glare.
“Thanks,” he said, reaching for the frothy glass I held out.
He downed the whole thing in one long gulp. “Thanks. This heat is determined to do me in.”
“You should take a break.”
He handed the glass over and tossed another bale onto the ground. “You stop, and nothin' gets done.”
“I believe I’ve heard those words before,” I grinned at hearing Daddy’s words repeated by the only other man I’d ever loved.
“Your Daddy’s a smart man.” Smartest one in the whole wide world. Too bad his daughter couldn't say the same.
I swallowed my pride and stepped close enough for daddy not to hear me. “I’m sorry about last night. That's not me. I mean, I don't usually do things like that.”
“Consider it forgotten,” he said dismissively, hoisting another bale. “I’ve had a few nights like that myself.”
I was about to question him when the ground crunched behind me.
“Did Thomas tell you he’s decided to stay?” Daddy asked, clapping me on the back.
“No,” I said stunned, looking to Thomas for confirmation. “He didn’t mention it.”
“Do you think you and Katy could give him a hand cleaning out the old house before school gets started?”
Thomas didn’t stop working. His arms as taunt as his lips as he heaved the last bale from the truck.
“Sure, no problem,” I said, watching Thomas carry a load to the barn. “I’ll head on over now.”
The front door was open. Someone had been over this morning, because the wood had been pulled from all the windows. I propped the screen open and fanned out a large black trash bag, examining a few of the papers before throwing them away. Thomas wouldn’t have any sentimental value to any of the things here. I added ashtrays and a broken lamp shade before heading into the kitchen and down the hall. I banged the broom loudly against the worn, wood floor as I went in, hoping to scare away any lurking visitors. I filled another bag in the boy’s old room. I dragged it back to the front porch and went back for the other. It was heavy with the weight of the broken dishes. I had to roll it to get it out the door. The Tyner’s room was next. I’d never been inside it before. I kicked the door, hoping no critters ran out to greet me. Surprisingly, it was the cleanest in the house. There was dust on everything, but there were no papers on the floor. It was clear except for a bedframe that would never support a mattress again. The wood had been chewed along the sides. I backed toward the door at the thought of teeth that size.
“Bree?” Thomas said, startling me from my lucid inspection. “Sorry,” he smiled when I jumped. “I thought you would’ve heard me come in.”
“I guess I was engrossed in these dental plates.” Coming up behind me, he ran his hand over the jagged wood. “You might want to call an exterminator.”
“Brought one with me,” he said, reaching into the hall and pumping a shotgun. Men. “Have you heard anything else?”
“No, but I’ve been making a lot of noise.”
I followed him back through the empty rooms. It was weird not to shuffle through papers. I hadn’t taken time to look around while I'd cleaned. The house didn’t look so bad not littered with garbage.
“I was coming over to help after we got the hay put out,” he said, checking inside the closets and cabinets. “You shouldn’t have done all this by yourself.”
“I wasn’t doing anything else,” I said, following him on to the porch. Mama’s wicker basket sat on the top step.
“You brought lunch?”
“Figured you were hungry,” he said, propping the shotgun against the house. “Your mama threw us some things together.”
“Us?” I asked, surprised when he sat down next to me on the steps.
“Unless you’d rather go back to the house,” he said, unwrapping a sandwich. “It is hot out here.”
It was then I noticed he’d showered and had on a fresh t-shirt. I popped the top on a RC Cola and reached into the basket. “I can handle it if you can.” He smiled into his sandwich.
“What made you decide to stay?” I asked, reaching for my own.
He passed a folded envelope from his back pocket. It was the letter from his Dad. There was nothing mushy like I’d expected from a parent who hadn’t seen his son in nearly twenty years. It read more like a form letter or a job posting. He’d even signed it, Thomas Smith.
“You're named after your dad?” He nodded. “But your last name is Baldwin?”
“Mama didn’t list him on the birth certificate because they’d split up at the time. They were supposed to change it but never got around to it, and after she died, I didn’t want to anymore. I was Thomas Baldwin when I came into this world and that's who I'll be when I go out of it.”
I still don’t get it,” I said, handing the letter over. “It’s not the best letter I’ve ever read, but at least he wrote. Don’t you want to see him?”
“I talked to him this morning,” he countered, unwrapping another sandwich. “Called information for the number.”
“That’s great, right?”
He shrugged. “It just made me realize we don’t know each other anymore. I didn’t know what to say and neither did he.” He balled up the foil from the sandwich and tossed it toward the trash bags. “I was expecting to hear the man I remember, and I think he was expecting a five-year-old.”
“That’s expected. You’ll get to know each other again.” I reached forward, almost touching his thigh, but drew my hand back. “It’ll take time.”
He leaned back on his hands, exhaling. “I know but he's got another family now, a wife and a kid. Besides, I don't have to work in a store to get to know him. That’s the beauty of a telephone." He stood up and grabbed the bags of trash. "It wouldn't be right to up and leave your dad, not after all he's done for me."
I wasn’t sure how I felt about the change in his plans. Last night, I was confident he should stay, but that’s when I thought he was throwing away an opportunity because of me. Now, he was staying and that had nothing to do with me either. It was disconcerting, not being considered. I watched him effortlessly heave the heavy bags into the trash bin. He rubbed his hands together on his way back, appraising the house.
“It’s going to be a lot of work,” he said, walking up the steps and holding the screen open. “You stickin' around?”
I dusted the crumbs from my hands and pushed the trash into the basket. “Nothing else to do.”
Thomas headed to the back of the h
ouse and reappeared with a toolbox. I soaked a rag in cleanser and started wiping down the walls. It wasn’t long before the scent of pine had us sticking our heads out the door for a clean breath.
“I bet your daddy was surprised to hear from you.” I stood on the back of the couch and wiped the mirror clean.
“I’m sure he was,” he said, hammering a loose floorboard into place.
“Was it weird for you, hearing his voice?”
He held the hammer still, studying. “It was good. I’ve been waiting for so long for him to call me.” I knew that feeling. He gave the hammer another swing. “I thought it would be the beginning of something but after we got off the phone, it felt like the opposite. Like I could finally close that chapter of my life and move on.”
“Did he say anything about what happened back then? Did he apologize?”
Thomas closed the toolbox and reached for my hand, helping me down from the couch. “Bree, with me staying around, we’ve got to get one thing clear. My past is just that, past. It’s over. This is my life now.”
“I get it. You want a fresh start, but is it really so easy to let people go?” It sure wasn’t for me.
“Nothing in life’s easy, Bree.” He lifted the end of the couch and gave it a shove toward the door. “You think you can help me get this out of here? My start will be fresher without this old hunk of junk.”
I lifted the other end and we maneuvered, forced with lots of shoving and kicks, it through the doorframe. Thomas took it from there. He hauled it around back and set it on fire. We added the trash from the bags, watching it swallow up what was left of the Tyners, and I hoped for Thomas’s sake, their memory too. Watching his beautiful face through the flames, his expression looked lighter, almost happy.
“What are you staring at?”
“You,” I smiled. “You haven’t looked this happy all day. What are you, like a pyro junkie?”
“It’s cathartic,” he said, tossing in another pile of garbage.
“If I’d known you were going to have this much fun, I would’ve brought marshmallows.” I grabbed the paper bag before it blew away and torched it. “Should I jump in too? Get rid of all the bad memories at one time?”
