by Tawna Fenske
She nudged Gordy with her elbow, bumping him so hard he moved a couple inches down the bench. Gordy just kept on eating, not looking too put out by the whole thing.
Janelle blinked, taken aback less by Laverne’s enthusiasm than by the words she’d uttered. In love? She hadn’t figured her acting skills were all that great, and Schwartz’s certainly left something to be desired. What had Laverne picked up on?
“Love,” Janelle repeated, turning the word over in her brain like a shiny rock. Obviously, she’d thought the word in the truck just a few minutes ago, but it was different to have someone else make the observation.
“Absolutely,” Laverne agreed, taking another swig of moonshine. Not wanting to be rude, Janelle followed suit, careful to take a smaller sip this time. “Land sakes, anyone with eyes can see the two of you were made for each other. It’s inspiring, isn’t it, Gordy?”
“Inspiring,” Gordy agreed, forking up another piece of meat loaf.
“’Course I’m not saying it’s easy,” Laverne continued. “So many young couples these days, they think they can just prance on down the aisle and live happily ever after without a care in the world. But the rest of us”—she gave Janelle a knowing look— “practical folks like you and me and most of us who choose to live out here in God’s country, well, we know the value of hard work.”
“Sure do,” Gordy agreed, taking interest in the conversation. He set down his fork for real this time and picked up his water glass, clinking it against his wife’s before reaching across the table to toast Janelle.
She touched her glass to his, started to realize how much moonshine she’d already consumed. She should probably take a cue from Gordy and pick up her water glass instead, but she took another cautious swig and let the moonshine sizzle its way down into her belly.
“You and Triple M there,” Laverne said. “The two of you look like you understand what it means to work hard at something. To really put your whole self into it and make the effort.”
“I—yes, I guess we do.” She hesitated, not sure if she should press for more information. She glanced toward the door, wondering what was taking Schwartz so long. Maybe the store was out of milk? Or condoms.
Seeing no sign of Triple M, Janelle turned back to Laverne. “How do you know?”
“Know what, fruit loop?”
“Know that Schwartz and I—that, uh—that we know what it means to work at something? At a relationship or—well, at anything? You only met us that one time.”
Gordy looked up from his meat loaf, eyes more alert than Janelle had seen them since she sat down, and it occurred to her he’d been following the conversation more closely than she realized. “He’s a veteran, right?”
She blinked. “How’d you know that?” She probably shouldn’t have admitted anything, but she was too dumbfounded to come up with another response.
Gordy swiped his napkin over his mouth and picked up his glass of moonshine. “He’s got that look about him. Army, right? I can spot a fellow soldier a mile away.”
Janelle said nothing, not sure how much Schwartz would want her to reveal. What on earth was taking him so long? Maybe the store was closed and he had to find a way to break in and get to the condoms. Hell, the sex had been good enough to risk a felony record.
Across the table, Gordy was on a roll. “A man who’s seen the kinda things we have—well, he’s got his demons. But he’s also got character. Work ethic. Dedication. He knows things don’t come easy, and he knows what matters in life, too.”
Laverne nodded, reaching across the table to pat Janelle’s hand. “And the way he looks at you, gumdrop—well, it’s pretty clear you’re what matters in his life.”
Janelle opened her mouth to reply, then closed it. She wasn’t sure what to say, and she sure as hell didn’t want to give away any important secrets. But she was dying to ask how they knew this. What had they seen in the way she and Schwartz connected that she hadn’t seen herself?
She picked up her water and took a big gulp before remembering it was moonshine and that she was starting to get a little tipsy. She set her glass down and pressed her lips together, hoping she hadn’t already revealed too much. Gordy and Laverne seemed kind, but Janelle knew she had to be careful. She brushed her fingers over her wig, hoping the disguise was good enough.
Laverne leaned across the table again, switching back to her conspiratorial whisper, which was now tinged with a thick haze of moonshine. “The two of you aren’t really cousins now, are you? I figured we were all just joking the other day. Not that there’s anything wrong with it if you are.”
“Or anything wrong with having a few secrets,” Gordy added. “Folks out here—well, a lot of us keep to ourselves for a reason. We might seem like busybodies, but we respect each other’s privacy when we need it.”
“That’s why everyone left your man alone all these years,” Laverne added. “Figured he’d come around when he was good and ready.”
“I’m not sure if he’s ready,” Janelle said, not sure they were talking about the same thing.
“Oh, he’s ready, chipmunk. He’s got that look about him.”
“What about me?” Janelle asked. She had no idea what had gotten into her, or why she was suddenly consulting these people like they were oracles or psychics or her own private therapists. All she knew is that they seemed surprisingly astute, and she craved that fiercely right now.
“You?” Laverne leaned back a little and smiled. “You’ve been around the block yourself, angel face. I’ve seen you touching that finger on your left hand. Both times you’ve been in here—then and now. It’s like you’re reaching out to twist a ring around, and then you realize it’s not there. You’ve been married before?”
Janelle bit her lip, nodding before she could ask herself if it was a good idea.
“I thought so. And you’re ready to get married again? To Triple M, I mean?”
Janelle started to ask why on earth she thought that, but then remembered their cover story. Right. They were supposed to be engaged.
“Yes,” she said. “I want to marry Schwartz.”
The words tumbled from her lips so convincingly that Janelle had to stop and replay them in her mind. They didn’t sound as crazy as she thought they should.
“I thought so,” Laverne said. “Did you know married people live longer than unmarried people? They also have higher rates of overall happiness and financial well-being. I read all about it in a book.”
Janelle sat there absorbing the information, not sure what to make of it. She knew she should push aside her moonshine and call it quits. Maybe she could find another table, or find Bill so she could place her order, or find Schwartz so she could have someone to tell her when to shut the hell up.
Where on earth was everyone?
Before she could say anything, Bill came swooping out of the kitchen with two massive white plates piled high with meat loaf and mashed potatoes and a side of steamed vegetables. Janelle watched as he made his way across the dining area, delivering the plates with a dramatic flourish. He set one in front of her, and the other in the empty spot beside her.
“How did you—”
“I heard your voice out here,” he said, giving her a friendly wink. “I knew what that man of yours likes, and I remembered how much you liked it last time, too. Look, I even got the side of veggies you wanted. Added some for him, too. Gotta keep that fella healthy and strong, right?”
“Right,” she said as the door chimed behind her.
She turned to look over her shoulder, feeling a warm current move down her spine and into her limbs as Schwartz stepped into the dining area. His eyes met hers, and everything around her seemed to freeze. She hardly heard the voices or the clatter of silverware. She barely smelled the scent of buttered potatoes or felt the cool handle of the fork in her palm. All of her senses were trained on him.
Maybe it was the moonshine, but she didn’t think so.
It was Schwartz.
He ste
pped toward her, not looking annoyed or disappointed or even surprised to see her sitting here at this table with a bunch of strangers. His eyes held hers, and he smiled. In that instant, it was like they were the only two people in the room. In the world.
“Hey there,” he said, and something inside her broke apart, dissolving into a million little hot, sparkling bits. She felt alive. She felt safe.
She felt in love.
She opened her mouth to offer a benign greeting, maybe a teasing pet name or a joke about what on earth took him so long.
Instead, what came out was, “I love you.”
Chapter Thirteen
Schwartz blinked, not sure he’d heard her right. It sounded like Janelle had just said, “I love you,” but that couldn’t be it. What else sounded like that?
High shove through?
Buy glove glue?
Try dove poo?
None of that made any sense, but neither did Janelle telling him she loved him in a voice that made it sound like she honest-to-God meant it. He had to give her credit. She was going above and beyond with their little charade. He was going to miss it.
The way everyone was staring at him was starting to make him nervous, so Schwartz sat down beside Janelle on the bench. He picked up his fork, feeling like the biggest idiot in the world for all the ways he’d screwed up the mission in the span of one day. He stabbed into the mashed potatoes and took a bite, not tasting anything at all.
Across the table, Laverne and Gordy shifted uncomfortably, while Janelle’s cheeks went pink behind the fringes of her dark wig.
What?
She cleared her throat and looked down at her food. “You’re just in time,” she said in a voice that sounded brittle and cheerful. “Food’s nice and hot. I’m starving!”
She gave him a smile that seemed a little too wide, then speared a piece of meat loaf with enough force to kill it if it weren’t already dead. Schwartz hesitated a moment, not sure what was going on here, but pretty sure he’d done something wrong.
Had she really told him she loved him? Surely it was part of the act. Were they still playing the love-struck incestuous cousins, or was something else happening here?
“You were gone a long time,” she said. “Did you have trouble finding something?”
He frowned, not wanting to admit he’d been pacing around the damn store avoiding the inevitable moment he’d have to go back and face her and accept the fact that he’d probably never touch her again. “Not everything,” he said, poking the meat loaf with his fork but not taking a bite. “I got the milk.”
“No cond—coffee filters?”
“They were all out of cond—coffee filters.”
“All out?” She frowned. “I swear I saw a box when we were there the other day. They were right up by the register.”
He shifted on the bench, not wanting to admit he’d stared at the same damn box and thought about having her again. Maybe just one more time before she walked out of his life forever. Instead, he’d forced himself to walk away. “The box was damaged. Can’t risk having holes in coffee filters.”
Across the table, Gordy wiped his chin with a napkin. “You like the kind with the pointy tip, or the big wide ones?”
Schwartz blinked. “Uh— ”
Laverne beamed. “Oooh, I like the new ones they’re making now with the flavor-enhancing micro-perforations.”
Schwartz dared a glance at Janelle and saw that her face had gone from pink to bright red. She opened her mouth to say something, but Laverne cut her off.
“You know, I just love the ones with the extra-large base. The box says it makes for a deeper, bolder experience.”
Janelle choked on her drink, and Schwartz turned to see her sputtering into a glass that looked suspiciously full of moonshine.
“How much of that have you had?” he asked.
“Not enough,” she said, setting the glass down and looking at him. “Don’t you like your food?”
He looked down at his abandoned potatoes, then back at her. Her eyes were bright and wild, but he wasn’t sure whether to blame the moonshine or the awkwardness of the conversation from the moment he’d walked through the door. He gave up trying to figure it out and focused on his food instead. The meat loaf was hot and juicy, and he lost himself for a moment in the simple pleasure of a good meal, a beautiful woman beside him, the pleasant chatter of the couple across the table.
How had he never noticed this was missing from his life? He’d been perfectly happy all these years just keeping to himself, stopping in for the occasional meal, but never bothering to connect with anyone. It was better that way, or at least that’s what he’d always thought.
He wasn’t so sure anymore.
You don’t get to decide what’s good for you, his subconscious told him. Those men in your unit didn’t get to decide. Why the hell would you think you have the right to be happy?
The potatoes tasted like wallpaper paste all of a sudden, and Schwartz looked up to realize Gordy was watching him.
“We’ve got a son stationed at Fort Lewis over in Washington,” Gordy said conversationally, though Schwartz caught a tone of something else in his voice.
“Huh,” Schwartz said, gripping his fork a little tighter as he tried to decide whether it was worth mentioning his own brother was there. “Nice area.”
“So where’d you serve?”
Schwartz blinked, not sure what to say. There was something in Gordy’s eyes that made it clear he wasn’t talking about serving dinner or jail time. Schwartz knew exactly what he was asking, and something about the sincerity in the man’s eyes made him want to answer honestly.
“Iraq,” he said. “Anbar Province.”
Gordy nodded. “Lotta marines there.”
“Yep.”
“But you’re army.”
“I was army,” Schwartz replied, not bothering to ask how he knew.
“Pretty dangerous territory. You pick up a Purple Heart for that limp you brought back?”
Schwartz nodded tightly, trying to figure out what was going on here. Gordy didn’t look judgmental. He didn’t look meddlesome. He actually looked a little reverent.
“Tough place to be,” Gordy said. “Lotta guys didn’t make it back. I had a brother over there. Said it was one of the worst places he’s ever seen in his life.”
Beside him, Janelle had stopped eating. Schwartz set his fork down, wishing for his own glass of moonshine. Perhaps sensing he needed it, Janelle shoved her glass toward him. Schwartz didn’t drink any of it, though. Instead, he answered Gordy.
“It was. It was a terrible place to be. A lot of good men and women lost their lives over there. Good soldiers who should have come home to their families.”
Gordy nodded. “A lot of good men came home, too. Problem was, some of ’em just stopped believing they were good men.”
Schwartz stared at him, a faint buzzing in the back of his brain. He half expected someone to jump out from behind the woodstove and tell him he was on Candid Camera.
But there was no film crew. It was just Laverne and Janelle and a surprisingly perceptive Gordy, who was digging at his back molar with a toothpick.
“How do you know?” Schwartz asked.
He wasn’t sure what he was asking, exactly, but Gordy seemed to.
“I know because my brother made it out, but he thought he didn’t deserve to. Donny thought he should have died there with the buddy he tried to save.”
“So awful,” Laverne murmured, dabbing the corner of her eye with a tissue.
“Three years after Donny came home, he shot himself in the head.”
Schwartz felt like someone had just slugged him in the gut.
Janelle gave a startled cry and put her hand to her mouth. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “So, so sorry.”
“Thank you,” Gordy answered, his eyes not leaving Schwartz. “The thing is, I always wished I got the chance to tell him it wasn’t his fault. What happened over there, he did the best he co
uld. That’s pretty much all anyone could do. Those men and women—they knew what they were getting into when they chose to go. Some soldiers come home and some don’t, but every single one of ’em is strong and courageous and honorable just for going in the first place.”
Schwartz opened his mouth to say something, but realized he didn’t have any words at all. He closed his mouth and looked at Janelle. Her eyes were shimmering with unshed tears, and she was looking at him with an expression that was somewhere between love and a fear he was going to get up and walk out and never come back.
He slid his hand to her knee, not squeezing, not tickling, just resting it there. Then he picked up her glass and drained it in one gulp.
…
As Schwartz walked back to the truck after dinner, it occurred to him that one upside of his size was the fact that it took a whole lot of liquor to get him drunk.
He was nowhere near drunk—not even a little tipsy, really—but he still had one hard and fast rule when it came to alcohol.
“I don’t drive if I’ve had more than one drink,” he said, turning to look at Janelle.
She’d been walking close beside him, but the distance between them seemed like miles and miles. She stopped walking to look up at him. “Okay.”
He started moving again, wishing he could reach out and take her arm. Maybe he could pretend it was an effort to help with balance, but she didn’t seem wobbly at all. She just seemed quiet. He wanted ask what she was thinking. He also wanted to run far, far away from Janelle and from every other good thing in his life that he damn well didn’t deserve.
Unfortunately, they’d reached the truck.
Stopping beside the passenger door, he pulled the keys from his pocket. “I also don’t ride in a vehicle with anyone behind the wheel who’s been drinking, so that pretty much rules out the possibility of us getting home tonight.”
Janelle bit her lip. “You mentioned a B and B? The place you were staying when you found Sherman?”
“Yeah. Good thing we have him with us.”
