by Louise, Tia
“We’re at Darby Lake. You thought someone was attacking us.” Holding the blanket over my body, I reach for him. “Are you okay?”
My fingers brush his warm skin, and his expression changes first to horror then to dread. He jumps out of the truck and pulls on his pants. His white undershirt is over his head, and he returns to where I’m watching him from the bed of the truck.
Digging in his pocket, he pulls out the keys. “Can you drive yourself home?” He drops them on the blanket in front of me and backs away.
“Wait! Where are you going?”
It’s too late. He turns and runs, disappearing into the night, leaving me naked, alone, and completely in the dark.
The Ms. Silver Peach pageant kicks off at one, and I’m exhausted and anxious as I help the contestants prepare for the show. In the early morning dusk, I gathered the remnants of Sawyer’s formalwear and drove his truck to my house in my green chiffon dress.
My intention was to change clothes and search for him. Instead, I fell asleep on my bed until noon, which I can only assume was the result of the tequila and the wrestling match-nightmare.
I wrapped my wrist in an ACE bandage, and I’ve been texting and calling him since I woke up. My texts go unanswered and my calls go to voicemail. I’ve got to get out of here and find him, find out what happened, make sure he’s okay.
“Light of Freedom!” Maddie hisses as the chords for “My Country Tis of Thee” ring out over the speakers.
Ms. Turner walks up in her red sequined gown holding a glowing white torch. Across the stage in the wings I see Ms. Wilson in a dark blue sequined gown holding an American flag. The remaining eight ladies are in alternating red, white, and blue gowns, and they hold sparklers as they march out onto the stage beneath the “Grady’s Used Cars” banner. I kind of wish it was a banner for new cars, but that might make it even worse.
Chewing my lip, I peer out at the record-setting pageant crowd of more than one hundred guests, but I don’t see Noel or Taron or Sawyer anywhere. I’m so worried, I can barely breathe.
“How’s it looking?” Mrs. Irene is beside me in a blush pink beaded gown, holding my arm.
“Maddie is a miracle worker. They’re hitting their marks, and Ms. Olivia and Ms. Debbie are standing next to each other on the stage.”
Mrs. Irene shakes her head, but she rubs my back. “Your voice sounds strange. Are you okay?”
“I think I was talking too much last night at the dance.” The truth is my throat hurts from screaming, and I’m completely thrown off from Sawyer’s manhandling me.
“And now for the five finalists. Can I get the card, please?” Mr. Newman is the go-to pageant MC for this area.
“You ready?” I whisper, and Mrs. Irene nods.
She’s on my arm, and I lead her across the stage to hand the card to him. I’m wearing black slacks and a black sweater so the focus is all on her.
“Lovely, just lovely.” Newman says. “You’re not competing this year, Mrs. Irene?”
“Benny Newman, you were always a flirt.” She titters, and the crowd laughs in unison.
He takes the card and opens it slowly, reading the names as I lead Mrs. Irene to the opposite wing. As we expected both of Jimmy Hebert’s conquests made it to the final round. Up next is the swimsuit competition, and I have no idea what to expect. Nobody does. Maddie has kept it all under wraps.
The music swells, and last year’s Princess Peach takes the stage to sing “You Are My Sunshine” while the contestants change into their swimsuits. I’m completely on edge, not wanting to be here. Every number, every break seems to last an eternity.
The little girl finishes her song, and the band changes their tune to the Beach Boys’ song, “The Little Old Lady from Pasadena.”
“I guess that’s okay?” I mutter, but Mrs. Irene’s grip tightens on my arm.
The curtains swish around us, and Ms. Debbie joins us in a navy sequined bikini that’s actually very modest. The bottoms are high-waisted, and the top covers more than most bras you’d see at the department store.
Still, it’s more crinkly old-lady skin than I’ve ever seen in my life.
“I wish I could see this.” Mrs. Irene whispers, and I’m about to tell her I wish I couldn’t when loud voices from deeper in the backstage area attract my attention.
“Stay here. I’ll be right back.” I put Mrs. Irene’s hand on Ramona’s arm and hurry to where Beth Hebert is pacing in a circle.
“It’s not your concern, Bethany.” Mr. Hebert is holding up his hands. “You’re making me miss my ladies in swimsuits!”
“Your neck is black and blue!” Beth waves her arms, and when her eyes land on me she strides forward. “Melinda Ray, what happened to my grandad?”
My eyes widen, and I see the fading bruise on his neck. Clenching my teeth, I’m pretty sure I know now what happened, but at the time… “It wasn’t exactly clear—”
“I told her,” Mr. Hebert jumps in, “I was helping Sawyer carry boxes from the storage closet for the pageant, and—”
“Mindy Ray! This obscene display has got to stop!” Heels click sharply on the linoleum tiles, and Liz McMillan storms up to join us. “You’ve turned my great-aunt into a circus freak, and I want it to stop, I want an apology—”
“Just because we’re old doesn’t mean we’re freaks!” The wrinkles in Mr. Hebert’s face multiply as he glares at her.
Liz ignores him, going straight to me. “Did you okay my aunt Olivia parading around in a bikini?”
“Ms. Olivia’s in a bikini, too?” I turn, but Beth cuts in between us.
“You left the peach ball last night with Sawyer LaGrange.” Her eyes flash. “You’re protecting him, and I won’t stand for it.”
They all press closer, and I can’t take it anymore. I’m exhausted and anxious and I throw up my hands. “Beth, your grandad’s neck was injured almost two weeks ago, and you just noticed today? Maybe if you visited once in a while—”
“You are not turning this around on me. I’m calling my lawyer!” She starts for the back door, Mr. Hebert right with her.
“I’m not pressing charges, Bethany. A lot of men never come all the way back from combat. It doesn’t make them criminals. Just calm down.”
“I’m not calming down when someone in the community attacks my grandfather. I’m calling Sheriff Gautreaux.”
They disappear down the hall, and nausea roils in my stomach. Spinning on my heel, I crash through the metal doors out into the blazing hot sun. Running to my car, I’ve got to find Sawyer. The puzzle pieces aren’t exactly falling into place, but I’m starting to see the pattern I’ve missed all along.
22
Sawyer
I can’t control it.
I don’t know what happened out there. The triggers weren’t there. I was in the arms of the woman I loved. We were happy, drinking tequila, sleeping…
Then I woke up, and it was all Mexico.
I was back in that hut, and the girl with the machete was over me. I lost it, and I don’t know if I hurt Mindy… I don’t think I hurt her. She said she was okay. My head is foggy, and my pulse is racing. I feel like shit.
When I left her, I walked all the way home. It’s a ten-mile walk, so I didn’t get back until well after sunrise. It’s Sunday, but during the festival, everyone sleeps late. It’s our day of rest after two weeks of busting our asses on harvest, working harder than we do all year.
I’m out in the shed, trying to understand what happens next. What do I do with this demon I can’t control, and how do I keep it from hurting the people I love…
“Saw you with Mindy last night.” Taron comes to where I’m sitting on the dirty concrete behind the flatbed.
I’m still in my tuxedo slacks and white undershirt, with my knees bent. I left everything else behind. He hands me a mug of coffee.
“Thanks.” Taking a sip, I let the tingles of caffeine clear the fog in my mind. “She was supposed to be my date.”
“Suppo
sed to be?”
Scrubbing my fingers over my eyes, I think about everything, all of it, and how it’s going to impact us all. “I didn’t think it was a good idea. I guess I was having second thoughts.”
He nods. “So was she or wasn’t she? Because it looked like she was.”
“She was.” I take another sip of coffee. “It was a mistake.”
He crosses his arms, walking over to the side of the shed and looking out across the fields. “A mistake because you don’t have feelings for her?”
I can’t answer that. Instead, I push off the floor and dust the dirt off my ass. “A while back you asked me if I’d done what they said when we were discharged. If I’d done the therapy.”
“You said you didn’t.” He leans against a post, studying me.
I’m at the point where I have to decide. If I’m going to trust anybody, if anybody’s going to understand, it has to be Taron.
“They told me things… the reasons I was sent home… I didn’t want to believe them.”
He squints at me. “So you didn’t go to therapy?”
“If what they said was true, I figured what’s the point?” I look down at my hands—these hands that could have hurt her. My stomach twists. I would never let that happen.
“You didn’t even try.” It’s not a question.
I turn my back. “It’s a life sentence. I’ll never get better.”
Sadness, anger, depression—all three are knotted in my stomach. Taron is quiet, and when I look up, I see by his expression he’s choosing his words.
“When they sent us home, they gave me a diagnosis.” He walks slowly closer. “A life sentence—debilitating back pain for the rest of my life.” He holds out his arms. “Look at me. Do I look debilitated?”
“How are you feeling now?” For someone with his injury, I’m always amazed he never complains.
“No pain.” He leans side to side. “Acupuncture works.”
I nod, truly happy for him. Still, I don’t think needles will fix what’s broken in me. It’s not the same. The body can heal…
“Did they tell you anything else? Anything mental?” I want to know if they told us all the same thing—PTSD, depression, suicidal ideation… Maybe it’s something they say to everyone after being in high-stress situations.
“They said I’d have dreams. I’d see her face.” His voice turns thoughtful. “I did, but I found a cure.”
Tension pulls my stomach tight. “How?”
“Therapy.” As if he can hear my inward groan, he clasps my shoulder. “You don’t have to take what they told you as gospel. New treatments are coming out all the time. You can beat it if you’re willing to try.”
“I’m trying.” The painful truth, what I don’t want to admit, is this problem is stronger than me, and I don’t believe I can be saved.
“You still got the card I gave you?”
“The doctor?”
“She helped me when I thought I’d never get clean. I’d swear by her if you’re brave enough to own your demons and do the work.”
Shame… It’s been holding me back for years.
“I can’t be this way.” It’s not the same as owning it. As we slowly approach the house, Akela trots up, and I pet her gray head. “They need me. Noel, Leon…”
“You don’t think I felt that way?” Taron stops on the porch. “Harvest is behind us. Leon is doing great. Noel is covered. It’s time you own this and do what you need to do.”
“Go to Nashville.” My tone is resigned, and I think about what that means.
“You’ve got friends there.” We’re at the house, and he holds the door for me. “Will you discuss this with Mindy?”
I think about Mindy, and guilt, dread… “No.”
“Because you’re in love with her?” He gives me that Taron look, like he’s so damn smart.
“Because I’m not cruel. I won’t let her hang her future on me. I might not come back from this.”
And I’ve seen how destructive love can be. I saw it in my parents. I saw it in my sister. I would never put Mindy through a lifetime of my brokenness.
“I wouldn’t bet against you.” He follows me into the house. “I’ve seen you with her, and I know you. Mindy is your reason to fight.”
Hours later, I’m in my room packing shirts in a suitcase. I’ve called Patton, and he’s set me up in a penthouse in one of his high-rise apartments in Nashville.
His dad finally gave him control of their family business, a local real estate company Patton turned into the Airbnb of the commercial real estate market. Now he’s richer than anybody I know. He has clients all over the world who come to him for short-term office rentals in the United States. Taron explained it to me, and it sounds pretty genius.
I like Patton, but we’ve always been two alphas in the same pack. In the past it was better if we kept things long-distance so we didn’t bump heads… Now I need help.
My confidence is shot, and I’m going to Tennessee hoping to beat the odds.
“That’s a big suitcase.” Mindy’s voice interrupts my reverie.
I turn, and the sight of her rips through my heart. She’s so beautiful… and I know what I have to do. I have to let her go. I can’t chain her to me when I’m broken.
“Where you headed?”
“Nashville. I’ve got friends there. Taron has this…” My voice trails off before I can say the word therapist.
“Were you even going to tell me?” She’s dressed in all black like she’s in mourning, and I want to pull her in my arms and hold her, tell her I know I’m going to beat this, tell her I’ll be back soon and to wait for me.
But I don’t know if any of that is true.
I only know I have to end it.
“I was going to tell you.”
A sad smile crosses her face. “Why do I find that hard to believe?”
“I haven’t handled things very well.” Shutting everyone out was all I knew to do. Going to Patton, asking for help—these things are against my nature. “Are you… okay?”
“No.” Her voice is quiet.
Shame tightens my brow when I remember last night. “You’re not?”
“The man I love is in trouble, but he won’t let me help him. He’s struggling, but he won’t tell me why. Now I find him packing to leave, and I don’t think he was going to say goodbye.”
I turn toward the dresser, bracing my hands on the sides of the smooth wood. “Don’t say that.”
“What? The truth?”
“I hurt you, Mindy. I could do it again.”
“If you’re in trouble I want to help you.” The anguish in her voice lashes my bleeding chest.
“You can’t help me.” My hands tighten on the sides of the dresser, and I shove it against the wall. It hits with a loud crash, sending everything on top falling. “This isn’t like coming home without an arm or a leg. I can’t control this. I don’t even know why it happens.”
Every word feels like cutting out pieces of my heart.
Silence fills the room—the deafening kind that follows an outburst of rage. It pushes against the insides of my ears. It’s punctuated by the ticking of the clock, the sound of water running downstairs.
Everywhere else in the world, it’s just another Sunday afternoon. Here, in this quiet room, my world is falling apart.
“I love you.”
“Don’t.” I won’t let her say it.
She inhales a shaky breath, and a crystal tear falls when she blinks. “I know you feel like the entire world is on your shoulders. I know you think you have to be strong, to protect us. But please, Sawyer, don’t shut me out again.”
The break in her voice is more than I can bear, but I have to do the selfless thing. I have to set her free.
“I’m not shutting you out.” Turning to face her, I level my eyes, removing all emotion from my face, from my words. “I’m telling you it’s over. Go to Dallas and follow your dreams. We’re through.”
23
M
indy
He’s gone.
For two days, I’ve cried. The pain is so intense, sometimes I can’t breathe.
I’ll never recover.
I don’t want to recover.
Losing Sawyer is more than a breakup. It’s losing my life—years of holding his hand, turning to him when I’m lost or alone. It’s abandonment.
I told everyone I had a stomach bug and stayed in bed until Wednesday. Ma took my temperature and said she couldn’t figure it out. I didn’t have a fever.
Still, she let me be. The festival is so much work, everyone’s pretty exhausted once it’s over.
I messaged Ramona to make sure Beth Hebert wasn’t causing trouble. My favorite nurse said so far, nothing had happened.
I messaged my bestie, to be sure… and Noel confirmed her brother left town. So sudden, and so unlike him. He never does anything spontaneous, and he hates big cities… She didn’t put us together after our dance at the festival. Like I told him, we didn’t arrive together. Everyone assumed we were just old friends dancing.
Everyone but the very few who knew the truth.
Today is Wednesday, and I’ve got to get back to work.
“Rosemary Leblanc is Ms. Silver Peach.” I turn the Xeroxed newsletter in my hands. “She didn’t even wear a bikini.”
“She gave a really good interview.” Mrs. Irene stands in front of the window, pressing her fingertips in the soil of her plants. “They asked her what made her different from the other contestants.”
“What in the world did she say?”
“She’s never slept with Jimmy Hebert.”
I cut my eyes at her. “You’re joking.”
“I am.” Her eyes dance, and she covers her smile with her fingers. “She said something about world peace and feeding the children…”
She’s in a happy mood, and I try to smile, not wanting to bring her down. She knows me too well. “I expected a bigger laugh out of that one. What’s wrong?”
Clearing my throat, I do my best to swallow the pain in my chest. “Sawyer’s gone.”
It’s the most I can get out without breaking down.
