Sultry with a Twist

by Macy Beckett

  “She met someone else while I was in basic.” Then in a softer voice, “Guess she didn’t feel the same about me.”

  Neither of them said a word, choosing instead to let the distant hum of the air conditioner and the whoosh of forced air through the vents fill the silence. After a long minute, Trey recovered his earlier cheer and asked, “So, how many kids have you imagined with Jooonbug?”

  Three—all boys who looked exactly like him—just like she’d predicted in her high school letter, but Trey didn’t need to know that. “Who said I pictured a family with her?”

  Hauling himself out of the chair, Trey gave a dry laugh. “Well, unlike me and Mindy, I can tell June’s just as crazy about you. As crazy as you pretend not to be.”

  “I don’t know.” Luke tossed his screwdriver into the toolbox, satisfied the drawer was level. At least one thing went right that morning. “What would she see in someone like me?”

  “Buddy, who gives a shit? If you win the lottery, you don’t waste your time asking why. You take your winnings and enjoy the rest of your life.” Then he hobbled close enough to infect Luke’s space with the wafting scents of sour body oil and plaster. Clapping one hand against Luke’s shoulder, Trey warned, “If you don’t cash this lottery ticket, someone else will. And you’ll kick your own sorry ass every day for the rest of your life if you lose her. You and I both know it. So don’t lose her.”

  After handing the keys over to a very grateful, teary-eyed Will Jenkins, Luke dismissed the crew and told them to meet up at the Hopkins house in two days, which had burned in an electrical fire a month earlier. There was never a shortage of repairs to be done for good people who couldn’t afford to pay. There was, however, a shortage of time and money to accommodate them all. And speaking of time, Luke couldn’t waste any more of it shooting the breeze with Trey if he wanted to meet his goal of listing the Hallover property by the end of the week. It was time to buckle down and stop letting June distract him.

  Rolling down the window in his truck, Luke let the clean morning breeze toss his hair and clear his mind as he barreled down the highway into the next county. For the first time, he looked forward to the thirty-minute drive, which would give him a chance to think about Trey’s advice, to decide once and for all what he wanted—to fish or cut bait. Slipping on a pair of sunglasses, Luke asked the most basic question: what did he want? That was easy. He couldn’t deny he wanted June; there was no point lying to himself. But that didn’t mean he could have her—not forever, anyway. June’s time in Sultry Springs was growing shorter, and in the end, she’d return to her bar and to her dirty-minded business partner. And then what? A long-distance relationship? It probably wouldn’t last; they never did. Then they’d be back at square one, estranged, their friendship lost. Besides, despite what Trey’d said, Luke just couldn’t believe June’s feelings went any deeper than an old childhood crush. Which raised the next, more important question: did he love her?

  That wasn’t as easily answered. He knew June had some sort of power over him, a way of making him feel elation and despair at the same time. He also knew instinctively that to be inside her—to feel her silken warmth, surrounded by her porcelain skin, her arms and legs wrapped around him—would be to lose himself completely to her. That had been the real reason he’d resisted making love to June two days ago, not because he didn’t have a condom. Luke had never been without one in the last five years. But was that the power of love, or simply a mixture of attachment and infatuation? He didn’t know. Too bad there wasn’t a blood test for this kind of thing.

  Half an hour later, Luke’s mind was still more cluttered than a junkyard, but he’d reached a decision. It was time to let June go. Nothing good could come of a relationship with her—he’d either ruin things, or she’d leave. He’d sit her down right away and calmly explain they’d never be more than friends. Maybe he’d hurt her feelings, but it would spare her in the long run.

  When Luke pulled into the Hallover driveway, his breath caught, and his hands tightened around the steering wheel. The very picture of domesticity, June knelt in the front flower bed, tending a variety of bright gold blossoms with her bare hands. Though her face was concealed by the brim of her straw hat, Luke knew she wore a gentle smile. He could tell from the way her fingers swept and caressed the soil. She’d already filled each window box until they overflowed with some kind of delicate purple flower he’d seen before, but couldn’t identify. Pansies, maybe. He never would’ve thought to mix yellow and purple blooms, but the color combination worked. The house finally looked like a real home. Luke could almost hear the joyful shrieks of children playing in the backyard, the sons he and June would never have. He parked the truck, swallowed the lump in his throat, and tried to steel himself for what lay ahead.

  “Hey,” he said, jogging to the front door. June glanced up and wiped a hand across her brow, leaving a streak of dirt behind, and Luke had to stop himself from brushing his thumb over her forehead to clean it. Instead, he opened the door and nodded inside. “How ’bout you take a break, so we can talk?”

  She turned her face to the earth. “Just a minute. I want to finish this last row.” Her voice was low and soft, like she knew what was coming. Luke’s heart sank into his stomach.

  Stepping into the foyer, he reminded himself that he was not in love.

  ***

  Taking her sweet time, June gathered her trowel and scooped a divot in the ground for the next group of mums. She was in no hurry to hear whatever Luke had to say. There were two kinds of let’s talk, and she doubted he was eager to share some unexpected good news. The inflection in his voice, the way he wouldn’t meet her gaze, the tingles along the backs of her thighs told June this was a letting you down gently kind of talk. A pulling away kind of talk. Already, hot tears pressed against her eyelids. She tried to blink them away, but the bright yellow blooms in her palm went blurry and mingled with the deep brown soil. Within seconds, she couldn’t even see the new spot she’d dug. Hadn’t she vowed a couple days ago not to shed another tear for Luke? So much for that.

  She tugged her shirt up to blot her eyes, and everything came back into focus. There were two holes at the tip of her trowel blade, the one she’d dug, and another smaller opening in the ground—something she should’ve noticed before. The hairs on the back of June’s neck stood on end as a sudden movement caught her eye. She instinctively jerked her hand back, but the snake was much faster. Before June had time to gasp, a pair of tiny, white fangs plunged into her forearm and clamped firmly in place beneath a pair of black, expressionless eyes. She unleashed a raw, savage scream and shook her arm wildly, but it wouldn’t release her. The tiny jaws compressed her flesh, biting again and again and again. Then fire. She was on fire, skin and muscle burning her up from the inside out, caustic acid melting her veins. Pounding, rushing blood roared inside June’s ears as she flailed and smacked her fist against the dirt. And then, as abruptly as the snake had struck, its fangs retracted and it disappeared into the hole in a brilliant flash of colors.

  Clenching her eyes shut, June released a sob and rocked forward, clutching her arm to her chest. The bite throbbed like a thunderbolt with each of her rapid heartbeats. Then someone was there, tugging at her wrist and tilting her face up.

  “…hear me?” Luke pulled her arm free, revealing two small currents of blood that streamed from the wound. “Shit!” he said. “Did you see what bit you?”

  Shock tied her tongue for a moment, and then June could only recite the warning rhyme Grammy had taught her years ago: “Red on yellow, kill a fellow.”

  “God damn!” With one fluid motion, Luke reached behind his head and tugged off his T-shirt. He ripped it into uneven strips and began wrapping her arm as if she’d sprained it. “Try to calm down,” he said. “Your pulse is racing. It’s spreading the venom faster.”

  Unable to speak, she clamped her jaw shut and tried to pull deep breaths through her nose, but damn it, the pain. She still couldn’t remember what this s
nake was called, but she’d once heard its bite wasn’t supposed to hurt. What bullshit!

  “Calm down!” he shouted, hands trembling as he tied off the makeshift bandage. “I’m sorry.” Luke cupped her face, and his green eyes darkened. “Listen. The nearest hospital is half an hour away. It’ll take forever for an ambulance to get here, so I’m gonna drive you myself. You keep your arm right here”—he pressed her elbow against her ribs—“and don’t move. Not even a muscle, you hear me?”

  She nodded, and Luke gathered her into his arms. Someone made a whimpering noise. Was that her? She wanted to relax and slow her sprinting heart, maybe rest her cheek against Luke’s chest, but the next thing she knew, her head bobbed and thumped against the back of a hot leather seat. There were noises—an engine roaring, rubber tires whirring over rough asphalt, Luke’s repeated, frantic commands to calm down. Then a new pain. “My stomach hurts,” she said, bringing her free hand to her belly.

  “Don’t move!” Quick as the snake that bit her, Luke’s fingers gripped her wrist and held it against her side. “Please, Junebug. You gotta be still.” He released her and tapped his cell phone screen. “This is Luke Gallagher,” he said, enunciating each word loudly as if speaking to a foreigner. “I’m on my way to the Sultry Memorial emergency room with June Gallagher. She’s just been bitten by a coral snake. I’m twenty minutes out. Tell the ER staff to be ready for her when I get there. She’s disoriented and in a lot of pain. Make sure they’re ready! You hear me?”

  “Augustine,” she whispered to herself. “My name’s June Augustine.” Then an unexpected set of giggles shook her chest. “I’m Mae-June July Augustine.” What a horrible name. If she died, she’d give her parents a piece of her mind for that. “Oh, coral snake.” Instantly, her mind switched gears. The hateful thing that’d bitten her was a coral snake. She remembered reading something in the paper recently. What was it? “Antivenin shortage,” she said to Luke. “They stopped making the antivenin.”

  Luke tossed his cell phone aside and cupped his large, warm hand over hers. He stroked her skin, muttering vile curses under his breath. “It’s okay,” he said, more to himself than to her. “It’s gonna be okay.”

  A large pair of hands squeezed June’s temple, as if juicing an orange. Closing her eyes, she leaned back against the headrest and groaned. Everything seemed to throb—arm, forehead, belly—until June’s body felt like one large, pulpy open wound. She tried to say Luke’s name, but her words slipped out in a lazy slur. It wasn’t supposed to happen this fast. “I love you,” she said, using tremendous effort to pronounce each word. “I’m sorry I couldn’t teach you how. I really tried.”

  “Stop that.” He gripped her fingers so tightly it hurt. “Don’t quit. We’re almost there. I swear to God, Junebug, you better not quit. You promised, remember?”

  “I’m sorry.” Saliva pooled inside her mouth, and she swallowed down bile. Oh, God, please don’t let her get sick inside Luke’s truck. “I need some air.” It came out in half a whisper. “Pull over.”

  But instead, Luke swore loudly and gunned the engine. Soon, swallowing became more difficult, and each breath took forever to suck into her lungs. June let her heavy eyelids sink, allowed her head to flop and thud against the window. The next thing she knew, her body lurched forward against the seat belt, and then she was in Luke’s powerful arms.

  There were bright lights and frenzied voices, and June opened her eyes just in time to see Luke’s form retreat into the distance. For some reason, he wasn’t wearing a shirt, and his eyes were red, his expression so twisted and pained that she tried to reach out one arm and comfort him. But then something scraped inside her throat, gagging her, forcing down deeper into her chest, and the room went dark, the voices faded to silence.

  Chapter 17

  “Sir? I need you to fill out some paperwork.” The woman’s voice pressed. “Sir?”

  Luke shook his head and stared blankly at the solid, white double doors that had just closed in his face, shutting him out from June. His last image of her had burned into his retinas, and each time he blinked, he saw those doe eyes brimming with terror, her outstretched arm, still bandaged in the ragged, blood-speckled strips of his old, gray T-shirt. Then a team of medics had shoved June’s shoulders down against the gurney and forced a gleaming steel device down her throat. He remembered enough from basic training to understand what that meant. If June needed artificial respiration, her lungs were shutting down. She couldn’t breathe. Damn it, she couldn’t breathe!

  “She needs me.” Luke pushed against the immovable doors. “I have to get back there. She needs me!”

  A pair of strong arms appeared from nowhere, clutching his bare shoulders and chest, and dragging him back as he pounded his fists against the barrier that separated him from June.

  “Whoa, mister, hold on a minute,” a voice rougher than three-grit sandpaper said over the top of Luke’s head. If the voice belonged to the same arms holding him from behind, this was one powerful son of a bitch. “You gotta stay out here, just like the rest of us.”

  “Get off me, asshole.” Luke struggled in vain, twisting his torso wildly in the stranger’s iron grip. “You don’t get it—”

  “Like hell I don’t.” The faceless giant dragged him backward, and Luke kicked out helplessly, watching the double doors disappear as blinding sunlight replaced flickering fluorescent bulbs. “Just hold on—stop kicking, you stupid bastard, I’m tryin’ to help you. We’re only goin’ outside a second,” the man assured him. “If they call security, they’ll ban you from the whole damn place. That what you want?”

  “No.” The guy was right. He couldn’t help June if he got himself handcuffed and booted off Sultry Memorial property. Luke quit fighting, shut his eyes, and tried to slow the adrenaline rush, sucking in deep breaths, and then pushing them out so slowly they burned his lungs. His brain settled down enough to understand that if they’d intubated June, she was still breathing—maybe aided by a machine, but alive. Safe, for now. As the seconds passed, his senses began to return, slowly alerting him to the sun’s warming rays on his skin, the distant belch of a car’s busted muffler, and the rank, pungent odor of sweat, gasoline, and old cigarettes from the huge guy still wrapped around him.

  “Sorry, man,” Luke said. “I’m okay now.”

  The guy’s arms dropped. Finally free, Luke turned and craned his neck skyward, where a pair of bloodshot eyes regarded him from beneath the bill of a grubby John Deere cap.

  “Chuck,” the stranger said with a tight nod.

  “Luke,” came the equally terse reply. He took a step back to put a little personal space between them and sized up the guy. Judging from Chuck’s mud-stained, sleeveless shirt, jean cutoffs, and the grass clippings pasted to his meaty calves, he’d spent the day doing lawn work. Luke wondered if a mowing accident had brought him to the ER.

  Chuck seemed to follow Luke’s train of thought—or at least the path of his gaze—because he glanced down and swept bits of dried leaves and dirt from the front of his shorts. “Uh, yeah. I was…uh…cuttin’ grass when my wife—” He paused, clearing his throat a few times before continuing. “She went into labor and started bleedin’ real bad.”

  “Aw, shit.” Luke reached up and gave Chuck an awkward pat on the shoulder. He didn’t know the guy, but Luke couldn’t imagine anything worse than the threat of losing a wife and a baby in the same day. Heat rose into Luke’s face, but not from the fierce Texas sun. He felt like a selfish prick for the scene he’d just caused. “I’m sorry, man. Is she okay?”

  Chuck shrugged. “The nurse came out an hour ago to tell me the baby made it.” His breath caught and he flashed half a smile. “It’s a girl. Our first.”

  “Congratulations.”

  “Yeah.” His half-smile faded into a thin line. “And probably our last. The nurse said Cindy’s still bleedin’—that’s my wife—and they wanted to do one of those hysterectomies. Said they needed consent from her next of kin…and that’s me.”<
br />
  “So, she’ll be all right?”

  “I think so.” Chuck heaved a sigh and tugged off his cap, then raked a hand through his dampened hair. “Till she wakes up, and I have to tell her she can’t have any more babies. And that I’m the one who told the doctors to do it to her.” Pulling his cap low over his forehead, he stared off into the parking lot. “She wanted a whole house full of babies, you know?”

  They both stood in silence, until Chuck added, “They’re real good here. Try not to worry about your wife.”

  “She’s, um…” June’s voice echoed in his head. I love you. I’m sorry I couldn’t teach you how. I really tried. “…not my wife.”

  “Well, don’t say that, or they won’t tell you anything. Privacy laws and all. Hey,” he said, pointing to something behind Luke, “that your truck?”

  “Oh, damn.” Luke spun around. He’d forgotten all about the F-250 he’d left idling in front of the emergency room doors. “I’m gonna move it.” Backing away, he added, “Thanks for your help back there.”

  “Sure, bud. Good luck.” With a wave, Chuck returned to the waiting room.

  Luke fished through his front and back pockets for his keys before realizing they were in the ignition, and then he climbed into the cab and pulled the truck into a space in the visitors’ lot. When he cut the engine, a smudge of dried blood on the passenger seat caught his eye, and all the panic he’d just overcome rose again into his throat. His heartbeat quickened as he skimmed his fingertips over the burgundy stain. I love you. I’m sorry I couldn’t teach you how. I really tried.

  God damn it, this was all his fault. If he hadn’t accepted June’s help—if he’d just done the job himself—she’d be at Pru’s right now, probably working one of those math puzzles with the funny name. Or picking vegetables in the garden with her grandma—“Oh, shit!” Luke had forgotten about Pru! She needed to know what happened, but he didn’t want to tell her over the phone. And there was no way in hell he’d leave the hospital, not until he knew June was all right. He grabbed his cell phone and dialed the only person he trusted with something this important.