Heat Wave (Riders Up)

by Adriana Kraft

  “So why won’t it work?” she asked in a low, hushed voice. “Anything worthwhile will work if you set your mind to it. And we have love working for us.”

  Ed spun around.

  Maggie took a step backwards.

  “Don’t tell me what I feel. You’ve got it all wrong. Pollyanna doesn’t work in real life. You pick a drunk up out of the gutter and think you can remake him and do whatever you want with him. It won’t work. Even your brother is smart enough to figure that out.”

  “Ed…”

  “Don’t try to color things different than they are. We’ve had a damn good roll in the hay these last several days, but that’s it.” Ed grabbed gloves from his back pocket. “You’ve proven you can still attract a man, of sorts. Now go out and find a decent one who can give you what you need, love ever after.”

  Not waiting for a response, Ed stormed out of the barn toward his truck. He climbed in and twisted the ignition key. The engine sputtered and stopped. “Not now, Mabel.” He slammed a fist against the steering wheel. “Don’t do this to me.” He tried the key. Again the engine sputtered, then seemed to catch new life. Without looking back toward the barn, Ed gunned Mabel and himself out of the driveway and out of Maggie Anderson’s life.

  - o -

  With mouth ajar and tears streaming down her face, Maggie ran to the barn entrance to watch his beat up truck lurch down the dirt road. How could he run away from her like this?

  Brushing away tears with the back of her hand, she screamed, “No!” Her balled fists banged against the unyielding rough boards of the barn wall.

  With her energy drained, she stared down the empty road. Could he be right? Had she merely used him to see if she could still attract a man? Had she misread what she thought were signs of love—his and hers? Ed wasn’t big on talk. She often was left to read between the lines. Well, reading between these lines wasn’t difficult at all—he didn’t want her anymore.

  Squaring her shoulders, Maggie marched toward the house. She’d move on. She’d always been able to pull herself together after a crisis. It was doubtful he’d want to continue working for her. Not that she wanted or needed him. She’d have to find someone else to help with the horses.

  Going through the doorway leading into the kitchen, Maggie sank to the floor, her newly found reservoir of determination seriously sapped. It was here where they had first made love. The kitchen table would never allow her to waltz back to a time before Ed Harrington as if nothing of incredible import hadn’t transpired on that table and this floor. She could sell the table, but what about the floor?

  She cried until there were no more tears. How had she screwed up so badly? Moving on would be extremely difficult. The horses were one thing, but Ed was quite another. She rested her head in her hands. Whether he loved her or not, she had come to love him profoundly. And that was the problem. He was meant for her. Her bones still sang that fact clearly. So how could things get so desperately out of whack so quickly?

  Like a sleepwalker, the next morning Maggie dragged herself though the chores that had to be done. She fed the horses, made sure the water tanks contained fresh water, turned out a couple horses for exercise and rubbed them down afterward. The same routine as usual—but nothing was normal.

  Ed had not come back, not even for his clothes. She expected he’d do that when he thought she’d be away.

  The kids would be home sometime in the afternoon. How was she going to explain to them what had happened when she didn’t really know herself?

  Hank had been by to begin plowing under the parched, stunted corn in the forty acre field bordering the road. There was no hope left for that crop. The best it could offer now was fertilizer for next year’s planting, if there was to be a next year planting and a next year harvest.

  She leaned heavily against the barn door and watched Hank methodically drive the tractor and plow back and forth turning over the dry soil. Would this heat wave, would this drought ever end? Other fields might yet yield some kind of crop, but as each day went by to be followed by yet another parched day, the chances of any harvest became increasingly remote.

  A dry wind blew her hair but brought no relief from the heat. How long would Mr. Fallon of Con-Ex Farms wait before returning with a check in his hand? And what about Prater? He was no doubt praying for the drought to continue. And her brother? Ah, yes, her lovable brother. What had he said to Ed? He’d probably drop by to gloat before long.

  Maggie rubbed residual tears from her eyes, questioning her own sanity. Had she put too much faith in the land? Would the land be her ultimate downfall? No, her family had survived worse over the decades. She would make it.

  “Damn,” she mumbled, “why couldn’t he stay and work things out?”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Johnny and Carolyn ran toward the house loaded down with sleeping bags and duffels. “We’re home!” Johnny cried, grinning from ear to ear. “Mrs. Murphy didn’t have time to come in.”

  Both children dropped bags and duffels to the floor and ran to hug their mother.

  “It’s great to see you,” Maggie squealed, hugging them. “You look so tan. How was camp? Were your fingers a problem, Johnny? Was it cooler by the lake? Tell me all about it.”

  “Not very,” Johnny said. “Even the water was warm. But it didn’t matter none. My hand didn’t bother me. Camp was great! Wait until you see the rocks I found.”

  “Have you been sick, Mom?” Carolyn asked, squinting at her mother. “You look puffy.”

  “No,” Maggie said heavily. “I’m not sick. So tell me everything.”

  Peering more closely at her daughter, Maggie gasped. Four metal studs adorned Carolyn’s left ear. “My goodness, Carolyn what have you done to your ear?”

  “Don’t have a fit, Mother. All the girls are doing it. Even some of the guys.”

  “But we never talked about it. You could get an infection. This is serious.”

  “Mom. It’s my ear. I can do what I want with it. Besides, the girl who did the piercing knows what she’s doing. She has five studs in each ear.”

  Maggie’s hand flew to her ear. “Good God.”

  “You’re always telling us not to bring God into things like this. I’m almost fifteen, Mom. I can do what I want with my own ears.” Carolyn grabbed her duffle and stalked toward the stairs.

  “Please stay, Carolyn, and tell me about camp. We can discuss this later.

  Carolyn’s lower lip quivered before she dropped her bag and pulled up a chair at the kitchen table.

  Maggie looked at her daughter. How could so much happen in two weeks? Not only did Carolyn have the studs, she wore so much eye shadow that her eyes almost disappeared.

  It took nearly two hours to hear the highlights of two weeks of camp and to see all the crafts and memory books. Johnny was more forthcoming than his sister. Maggie wondered what else her fourteen year old daughter was concealing. They’d never really kept secrets.

  Right. Well, a mother should keep some secrets from her daughter. She wasn’t so sure it should work the same the other way around. But then, she hadn’t told her mom about all her own teenage escapades, either.

  “I’m gonna run tell Ed about camp,” Johnny announced, jumping off his chair. “I’ve missed him, too.”

  Maggie nearly gagged with dread. She reached for her son’s arm as he started to race by. “Ed’s not here,” she managed to mumble.

  “Oh. Did he go to town?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Mom.” Carolyn straightened her posture. “What aren’t you telling us?”

  Maggie shook her head, fighting desperately for control.

  “You two had a fight, didn’t you?”

  Blanching at her daughter’s accusation, Maggie retorted, “That’s none of your business.” Great. Now I’m shutting out my own kids. Get a grip.

  “Will he be back? Mom, will he be back?”

  Johnny’s plea ripped at Maggie’s soul. Tears formed in his eyes. Maggie wished she
had an answer. She desperately wished she could make those tears go away. But she could only say, “I don’t know, son.”

  Carolyn sneered. “What did you do to send him away?”

  The blaming words didn’t surprise Maggie. Even though somewhat prepared for them, she still struggled to stay on top of her temper. Her children were shocked and grieving. She didn’t want them to deny their feelings, but neither did she want to shoulder the entire blame for their loss.

  “I’m sorry, Mom,” Carolyn muttered. “I didn’t mean to be so crappie.”

  “I know, honey. We all came to depend on Ed. And maybe even love him a bit. But sometimes things don’t work out the way we hope they will.”

  “Well, I’m not giving up hope yet,” Johnny declared. “He promised he’d teach me how to ride this winter.”

  “I know. We’ll just have to wait and see what happens.” Maggie stood and gathered her children in a giant hug. She sensed their reluctance. “We’ll be okay,” she whispered.

  While no one challenged her words, Maggie expected that three doubters stood in that small circle clinging to each other, and maybe to unrealized dreams.

  A half an hour later, Maggie continued to sniffle while berating herself. She hadn’t handled the kids’ homecoming and telling them about Ed leaving well at all. But then she wasn’t handling his running out on them very well, either.

  At least the house sounded normal again. Carolyn was watching music videos on MTV while Johnny played with a noisy electronic game. Maggie looked down at the larger and dirtier than usual piles of camp clothes she had readied for the laundry. Yeah, some things were back to normal.

  Maggie glared at her brother sitting uncomfortably on the chair across from her. She’d had difficulty not confronting him about Ed all evening, and he knew it. Even now Brad wouldn’t meet her eyes directly.

  He’d come out to the farm to spend some time with the kids. Both Johnny and Carolyn enjoyed seeing their uncle. Maggie often marveled at how easy going and humorous her brother could be with them.

  Looking away from Brad, Maggie traced the upholstery pattern of the davenport with her index finger. It had been a good evening for the kids. At least for a moment, Johnny and Carolyn had been able to forget the man who had left without ever saying goodbye.

  Now with the kids upstairs, Maggie and her brother sat in the living room sparring over the past, present and future. That was one thing that never changed.

  “What did you say to Harrington that made him leave?”

  Brad looked sharply at her. “What makes you think I did anything to make him go?”

  “Because guilt is written all over your face. And you were shocked to hear how much Carolyn and Johnny miss Ed.”

  A red glow worked its way up Brad’s neck. When it reached his ears, he cleared his throat. “Well, I may have said something about him not measuring up to my sister’s standards. And that you would wake up someday and send him packing. I don’t remember exactly, but something like that. I guess.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “But I don’t assume for a moment that I made him leave. He had to be leaning that way anyhow. Maybe I just nudged him a bit. At first, you know, I thought he was trying to take advantage of you. A lot of men would do that.”

  “Yeah, thanks a lot. That’s all I need is one more man trying to protect me,” Maggie said softly, tucking her feet under her. She let out a deep sigh. “No, you didn’t make him go all by yourself. Ed’s a man who is struggling with his own sense of self-worth. You just tapped his sorest spot. But he’d been digging at that ache for days.”

  “For what it’s worth, after hearing from the kids, I’m sorry Harrington left. He must have been good for them…and for you.” Brad frowned. “You know, sometimes Sis, I wish you lived on the moon so we wouldn’t have to cross paths at all, and then there are moments when I wish you lived closer so we all could be more of a family. That’s what Mom longed for, you know.”

  Maggie’s eyes widened. Had she heard correctly? Was her brother seeking some kind of reconciliation after all these years? Or was this one more scam to get her to sell?

  “I don’t know how many computer jobs there are in the area, but there must be a lot in Des Moines, or Chicago, or the Twin Cities.” She smiled, hoping he was genuinely concerned for her and her children. “Who knows, you might like the Midwest, as long as you didn’t have to live on a farm.”

  “Maybe. Don’t worry. I wasn’t expecting you to move to California.”

  He looked like he wanted to say more, but he didn’t. Maggie had never seen her brother look so tired. Maybe he was looking for some kind of change.

  “Did you ever stop in and see Templeton?” Maggie didn’t want another fight over money, but they had to talk about the insurance proceeds.

  Brad nodded. “Not to worry. I think Templeton’s plan of splitting the money evenly between us is fair and equitable.” He grinned at her knowingly. “You may be surprised to learn that my rage about the will had much less to do with you than with Dad. We were compensated equally. They saw to that. But I still resent him, and I’m sure Mom just went along so as not to make him angry, trying to govern our lives from the grave.”

  Maggie’s eyes widened as she listened to her brother. “Dad could be quite demanding,” she acknowledged. “But he was a good man in his own way.”

  “Well, I’ve got to catch an early plane in the morning,” Brad rose to his feet. “The boss seems to think I’ve been away long enough.”

  “Don’t stay away so long this time,” she said. Their family never had been big on hugs. She wasn’t about to go that far, though she wished she could discern the emotion registering in her brother’s eyes. Something had just transpired between them, spoken or unspoken, that had made a difference. She decided to take a next step. “You’re always welcome at Thanksgiving or Christmas. The kids would love to see you.”

  “My company has a contract that brings me to Chicago a fair amount. Maybe I will stop by more often. I’ll think about it. Sorry if I screwed things up for you and the kids. I didn’t intend to do that, you know. I just wanted you to get out from under this albatross,” he said, gesturing at the house. “Just wanted you to sell.”

  “I know. But I won’t sell.” Maggie pursed her lips and laced her fingers at her waist. “You should know that by now.”

  Brad smiled self-consciously. “Maybe I’m a slow learner. Anyway, good luck, Sis. I think you’re going to need it.”

  “I don’t doubt that.”

  She watched him step down the porch stairs and walk toward his car. Why hadn’t she asked more about how he was doing? She had just assumed that he had come to hassle her like he always had in the past. Contrite was a word she’d never used to describe her brother. Was he just softening her up?

  In any case, Brad hadn’t chased Ed away. Her brother might have pushed him over the edge, but Ed had been more than halfway out the door anyway.

  She was alone again. Maggie’s stomach knotted and her heart shrank, but there wasn’t anything she could do about Ed Harrington if he was bound and determined to leave. She wouldn’t beg for anyone.

  - o -

  Ed didn’t blink, staring at the single shot-glass of whiskey and a stein of beer sitting on a tiny, circular table. He gripped its pedestal between his knees. The darkened corner of Mel’s Tavern in Beaverhill provided a welcome hiding place. Almost as good as a cave.

  He’d driven for hours after leaving the farm—after running as quickly as he possibly could from that menacing woman. That night was spent in his car. The next morning he’d poked around Clarion, his hometown.

  Apparently, not only didn’t he have much of a future, he didn’t have much of a past, either. The building in which he’d grown up no longer existed, long since succumbing to progress and growth. An elementary school sprawled across half a block where several mom-and-pop stores and an apartment building had stood. It wasn’t much of a loss. The town had grown a fair amount, but it still was a small mid
-western town.

  Sadly, the train station was pretty much gone. When he was a kid, he’d sit by the railroad tracks and count train cars numbering well over a hundred. There’d been a roundhouse for turning and repairing engines. Both the Rock Island and the Great Northwestern ran over those tracks. Trains still ran through Clarion, but probably not nearly as many as in his youth, and it was doubtful that any stopped. Such was progress. It made him feel like a dinosaur—maybe he should be in a museum.

  What the hell did she want with a broken down dinosaur?

  Kind of like the way a horse would return to its stable when given its head, his truck had led him back to Beaverhill. He’d have to find a way to slip back into the loft and pick up his personal items.

  He frowned. The head on the beer had nearly disappeared. Likely it would be warm to the taste by now. Didn’t really matter; it was beer. It was juice for the despairing. He knew it well, could savor its taste without even tasting.

  Thoughts tumbled across his brain. He wondered how many hours his dad had spent in bars and taverns across the Midwest either raising hell or drowning sorrows. How many hours had he, himself, frittered away in similar places seeking release from pain? He’d always thought of himself as a hard fisted social drinker, until the rug was pulled out from under him in Chicago.

  Then the booze had become a bosom pal, not easily ignored or set aside. He hadn’t liked how it ran his life when time was measured from one drink to the next and fun was a twenty-four hour happy hour, when work was something to survive until he could leave for the nearest bar.

  He’d tried to quit, or at least back off, dozens of times. He was no fool. But the brew was seductive, more seductive than any woman he’d encountered, with the exception of one. There were days when he would have done most anything to get the next drink. That scared him when he was sober, so he drank to avoid the fear.

  What would she think if she could see him now? Would serve her right—putting her faith in a drunk. What did she really expect of him?