One Call Away

by Emily Goodwin

  “You picked his pocket?”

  “It’s one of my many talents. He’ll be passed out in a few minutes. Sleeping it off is the best thing for him.”

  “Good thinking.” I readjust the strap of my purse and bend over to pick up the keys.

  “Are you sure you’re all right?” Chase asks again.

  “Yes. I had it handled.”

  A smile plays on his lips like he doesn’t believe me. “Sure.”

  I cock an eyebrow. “You think I can’t handle myself?”

  He holds up his hands innocently. “Oh, I think you can. In fact, I bet you’re great at handling yourself.”

  I purse my lips. Is that supposed to be a sexual innuendo? And more importantly…do I want it to be?

  I do. I think I really do.

  “Sorry then,” he goes on. “But from where I was standing, you looked a little, well, frozen.”

  “I was debating how to take him down without dropping my food,” I tell him and then realize how ridiculous that sounds. We both laugh, and I shake my head. “But thanks. It was very chivalrous of you.”

  He takes a tentative step forward and shrugs. “Dealing with that guy isn’t like slaying a dragon or anything.”

  The soft and haunting hoots of an owl come from the trees surrounding the parking lot. Chase turns, staring into the woods before he moves his gaze to the sky above us.

  “I forgot how much I missed the stars,” he says softly, almost as if it’s a confession instead of a conversation. “Until I saw them again.”

  My heart is beating fast again. “I guess you don’t see them well in the city.”

  “Not at all. The stars over that island in Scotland were the brightest I’ve ever seen. And when the sea is still, you can’t tell where the water ends and the sky begins. You really do feel like you’re the only person left in the world.”

  “Is that a scary feeling?”

  He moves his eyes to me and shakes his head. “I don’t know. I’m used to being alone.” Then he blinks and looks away, almost as if he’s embarrassed by what he just said.

  “It sounds amazing. Were you there with someone?” I cringe at my words. Can I be any more obvious? The fact that I want to flirt with him sends a jolt through me, followed by a heavy crash of guilt. It’s like I’m betraying Jake. Besides, I have nothing to give Chase. My heart is sitting in a shattered heap inside my cold, dark chest. I worked so hard to feel nothing that I’ve permanently broken myself. I don’t think I’m capable of feeling anymore.

  “No. I was there to steal a boat.”

  I blink, unsure if he’s trying to be funny or not. He looks serious and doesn’t offer a smile or a laugh to let me know he’s joking. I tighten my grip on the bag of carry-out, and the paper crunches under my fingers.

  “Thanks again, Chase,” I say. “Have a good night.”

  He looks right into my eyes again, and for a moment, I don’t want to go. “You too, Sierra.”

  “Gran,” I begin, setting my tea down. The delicate cup clinks against the saucer, and I carefully turn it, lining up the flowers on the cup with the matching ones on the saucer. It’s Sunday evening, and I’m sitting on the large covered porch sipping tea with my grandmother until dinner is ready. I don’t like tea, but I like talking with Gran. A true southern woman, my Gran is well-mannered and well-versed in Summer Hill’s latest gossip. “Did you know that Josh Henson has a brother, Chase?”

  “Chase Henson. I haven’t heard that name in years,” she says, adding another sugar cube to her tea before gently stirring it with a porcelain spoon.

  “So you know him?”

  “I know of him,” she says and gracefully lifts her tea. “Why do you ask, dear?”

  “I met him the other night at The Mill House.”

  She tries to hide her smile behind her teacup. “You went to a bar?”

  “Yeah, for Lisa’s birthday.”

  “Good for you, honey.” She lifts an eyebrow. “I take it that’s the reason Lisa is late for dinner.”

  “What do you know about Chase?” I ask, bypassing saying anything about Lisa. She’s not here yet because she and Rob had another fight Friday night, broke up, then got back together this morning. They’re busy making up.

  “If you recall, Josh and Chase’s father was a truck driver.”

  “I remember,” I say, though I can’t remember the last time I saw Mr. Henson. He bordered between the town drunk and the town outsider. He was a big burly man, and Lisa and I always found him scary when we were children.

  “Apparently he couldn’t handle the long trips away from his wife, if you know what I mean.”

  “I don’t—oh. He had an affair.”

  Gran nods and takes another drink of tea.

  “So Chase…he’s Josh’s half-brother. That explains why I’d never seen him before. I wonder why he’s here now.”

  “His father passed last week. I assume he came for the funeral.”

  “Oh my God.” My eyes go wide and I suck in a quick breath. “I had no idea. Josh and Chase both seemed so…so…normal.”

  “I don’t think either boy was particularly close with their father, and he’d been sick for years, not that it makes it any easier.”

  “Right.” I reach for my teacup, feeling horrible. If I see Chase again, I’ll tell him I’m sorry for his loss. That I know how losing a loved one feels like you’ve been ripped in two and stitched up with a rusty needle, pieces hanging together by weak threads, ready to rip apart and tear open at any second.

  If I see him again.

  6

  Chase

  I sit on the edge of a large rock, dew soaking the bottom of my jeans. I squint and look at the river, watching the sunlight dance off the rushing water. The Mill House is closed on Sundays, and the lot is empty except for me.

  I can pretend I’m the only one in the world again.

  Except I can’t get her out of my head. I reach into my pocket and pull out my phone. I haven’t listened to a message since Friday, and the want to hear her poetic words and the harrowing emotion in her voice weighs on me. I unlock the screen and bring up the messages.

  The next message was left just hours after the previous one. I bite my lip, look out at the water again and then press play.

  “I can’t sleep,” she starts, and her voice sends a jolt of familiarity through me. I’m a visual person. I remember faces, can pick up on the slightest mannerisms and expressions, but when it comes to matching voices to faces, I lack.

  “Which isn’t unusual,” she goes on. “But tonight, it’s worse. Tonight, I feel like the waves are too much to take, that I’m struggling to keep my head above the surface. Sometimes I let myself sink under and think about how easy it would be if I just slipped down to the bottom. No more struggling, no more fighting the current. I go under and then it’s even harder to push back up. It’s just darkness. Above me. Under me. Around me. And it hurts.”

  Again, her words are too close for comfort. Yet that’s exactly what they bring: comfort. Because I feel it too. The darkness closing in on me, threatening the life inside of me. I haven’t suffered a great loss like my mystery woman has. Her darkness comes from the outside.

  Mine resides within.

  I focus on the space ahead of me, feet pounding on dry earth. It’s weird to be running without music, and since all my songs were stored on the phone Dakota accidentally broke, I’ll be without them for a while. I could put music on the new phone, but that would take up precious memory, and I need every bit I can get to keep the messages.

  My pace slows as the trail thins. I’ve been following a deer path in the untamed woods and assume I’ve gone three or four miles away from the bar. The path has stayed near the river for most of my run, but a few paces ago it took a sharp turn away from the water. The trees grew sparse and the bright sun is now beating down on me. It’s not as humid today as it has been, which helps make running in the afternoon bearable.

  Staying in shape is important to me
, mostly because a fast getaway was crucial to my survival before. And when I couldn’t make a fast escape, then I needed to fight my way to freedom. I’ve never lost a fight.

  The overgrown weeds make way to a neatly planted field, and my mind flashes back to Josh’s words about the Belmonts owning most of the farmland in this town. I stop and take a few minutes to stretch, looking at the acres of crops. Something crashes through the woods several yards behind me, and I whirl around, fists clenched.

  A deer stops, staring at me with wide, black eyes. I let out a breath and unfurl my fists. Going on the defense, ready to fight, is second nature to me. This—the peaceful small-town setting—is so fucking weird to me.

  I stand still and watch the deer, having a bit of a staring contest. The thing doesn’t move an inch. The sound of a tractor starting up makes me turn, and when I look back, the deer is gone. I take a deep breath, wipe away the sweat that’s dripping into my eyes, and continue my run, going along the outside of the field until I find what I assume is another deer path, though this one is much wider than before. Thankfully, it veers away from the field and the sun and into the woods again. It goes along the straight edge of the field, continuing for what has to be miles. I can’t hear the river anymore, and the sounds of birds become almost deafening.

  The path becomes more defined, with large rocks and fallen logs moved to the side. I jump over a pile of manure and notice the horseshoe imprints. I keep going, wondering how much farther the trail will lead before I come to an opening in the woods and then someone’s barn.

  Not knowing what lies ahead has never bothered me. People like to plan, to be prepared. But you never know what’s going to happen. So why bother? I live my life day to day because hoping for anything more becomes an expectation. And disappointment goes hand in hand with expectations.

  I continue running, feeling the burn in my legs from the changes in terrain. I go up a hill and pause to catch my breath. Then I hear it.

  Music.

  Softly drifting through the thick of trees and weeds.

  Going slow, hardly making a sound, I move forward until I see the large barn through the forest. A white fence runs alongside it, stretching for miles. Lush green grass fills the pasture, and a small herd of horses stand close to each other in the middle, tails swishing away flies as they graze.

  The music is coming from the barn and someone leads a tall gray horse into the pasture. The large animal hides her face. They stop as she opens the gate, gives the horse a hug, and then turns him out. With a kick of his heels, he takes off, running toward the others. They look up, and one whinnies a greeting. Another pins his ears back and lets out a sharp whine.

  My experience with horses is limited, but I’ve always found them fascinating. I move my eyes away from the horses and back to the woman who let the gray horse out. My breath hitches in my chest.

  Sierra.

  She’s walking back into the barn, stopping when a black cat crosses the pasture. Sierra sits on the ground, petting the cat. It steps right into her lap, pressing its face into her hand. Another comes running, and the two barn cats fight for her attention. The wind blows Sierra’s hair around, and I can’t help but find her beautiful.

  Then I feel like a creep for just standing here, watching from the woods. That was never my intention on this run. I tear my eyes away and head home.

  “I should have done this sooner,” Josh says, parking his pickup along the street. “Better late than never, right?”

  “It’s fine,” I tell him. “I’ve only been here a week.”

  “True.”

  I get out and stand on the sidewalk, looking at the two-story courthouse in the center of the town. Josh is giving me my official tour of the town today, which includes introducing me to some of the locals. People talk, he warned me, and are probably wondering about me. We start at a hardware store since I need to pick up a few things to continue fixing and improving the apartment above the bar.

  A children’s boutique is next to the hardware store, and we go so I can pick something out for Dakota, who’s only four but loves fashion. Since I don’t know the girl well, I have Josh grab an outfit she’d like and I buy it. Marissa, the owner, smiles and bats her lashes at me the whole time she wraps the overpriced dress in purple tissue paper.

  “It’s so nice to meet you, Chase. This town needs more handsome young men in it,” she tells me, leaning over the counter to hand me the hot pink shopping bag. Freckled-covered cleavage threatens to spill out of her blouse, and Josh is dying next to me as he tries to contain his laughter.

  “Uh, yeah.” I take the bag and offer a small smile.

  “Don’t be a stranger,” she coos. “It’s so nice you want to shop for your niece. I can help you pick something out next time.”

  “Thanks.” I give her a nod and take a step back, then quickly turn and follow Josh outside.

  “You’ve made quite the impression on her,” he laughs when the door closes. “She’s single, you know.”

  I shudder and shake my head. “She reminds me of my grandma. My mom’s mom,” I add since Josh and I have different grandparents. “Which is weird, since I’ve only seen her like half a dozen times and she was always drunk.”

  Josh’s pace slows and I wish I could eat my words. I know he feels bad for not standing up for me in the past. We were kids. I didn’t expect him to. I don’t reveal much about my past to anyone, and I’m careful not to let Josh know how shitty it was. He’s a good person. There’s no reason to upset him or further his guilt.

  “Melissa works at the bank, right?” I ask, changing the subject.

  “Yeah, she’s a manager.”

  “Is she still working?”

  “She wants to work as close to her due date as possible. Well, if she can make it that long. She’s pretty uncomfortable already and still has several weeks to go.”

  “I can imagine.”

  “We can stop in and say hi, if you don’t mind. She told me her co-workers keep asking about you.”

  I shake my head. “This town is weird.”

  We cross the street and enter the bank. A big plaque next to the door informs me of the historic significance of the building and was home to a standoff between an infamous outlaw and the sheriff over a hundred years ago.

  “Hi, Josh,” the security guard says to my brother. He’s leaning against the wall, cell phone in hand, and looking bored.

  “Hey, Wyatt. How are you doing today?”

  Wyatt shrugs. “Same old, same old. You?”

  “I’m good. Have you met my brother? This is Chase, Chase, this is Wyatt.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Wyatt says and holds out his hand. He’s tall and thin, with sandy blonde hair and sunburned cheeks. He looks at me then diverts his eyes, which has been common today. Seems everyone in this town knows me as the product of my father’s affair and they’ve clearly sided with Team Judy Henson, though I can’t really blame them. My father was a selfish asshole who got another woman pregnant while he was married to Judy, the kind-hearted schoolteacher.

  “Y’all here to see Melissa?” Wyatt asks.

  “Yeah,” Josh says. “We were in town anyway so I thought I’d check on her. Her back was hurting bad this morning.”

  Feeling eyes on me, I turn and see the friend Sierra was with Friday night looking out at me from behind the counter. She has shoulder-length dark hair and has her brown eyes heavily rimmed in black liner.

  “Hey, Josh,” she calls. “Want me to get Melissa?”

  “Only if she’s not busy,” Josh says and takes a step over to her.

  “She’s not. It’s been slow today.” She looks past Josh at me. “So this is the brother I keep hearing about?”

  “Yeah, this is Chase.”

  “Hi, I’m Lisa. Sierra told me what you did,” she starts. “Thanks for watching out for her.”

  I shrug. “It was nothing.”

  “Well, I appreciate it. And she does too.” She gives me a smile. “I’ll go ge
t Melissa.”

  “What the hell happened?” Josh asks as soon as Lisa goes into the back.

  “Some guy was bothering her. I made sure she got to her car all right. Really, it was nothing.”

  “Thanks,” he says heavily. “I’d probably be forced to close if something bad happened to a Belmont at my bar.”

  “She seems pretty capable.” My mind flashes to her face, set with determination as she told me she could handle herself. “I think she would have been fine.”

  “Either way, I’m glad you made sure it didn’t get to that point.”

  Melissa waddles out of the backroom, and I swear she’s bigger than the last time I saw her. I’m impressed she’s still up and on her feet at this point. The doors open and close behind me, and out of habit I turn.

  A cop walks in, going right up to the counter. I recognize him as Lisa’s boyfriend, who she was hanging all over at the bar Friday night. Lisa says something to him, and he gives me a smile and a wave.

  Josh and I get lunch after that, and he orders a to-go box to take to Melissa, who was craving a burger and fries. Having spotted a bookstore on the way to the café, I tell him I’m going in while he runs the food to the bank. I stop before I cross the street, needing to get my fix. I look around, making sure there is no one around to interrupt me and pull my phone from my back pocket. That alone should be enough to make me delete all the messages. The mystery woman won’t stop occupying my brain.

  I need to delete and move on. But I can’t. Not until I hear the last message.

  “I’m not okay,” she says and starts to cry, voice tight and hard to understand from all the emotion. Her sobbing is soft and almost beautiful. “Everyone keeps telling me that I’ll be okay. They want me to be because they don’t want to deal with me not being okay. I wish they knew that sometimes it’s okay to not be okay.”

  I listen to the message again and move onto the next.

  Wind blows through the speaker, masking her voice. I press the phone to my ear to hear better. “I keep thinking about the garden. I even sketched up a plan. But then I looked out back and realized how much work it’s gonna be. I’m standing there now, looking at all the weeds that I don’t want to deal with. Maybe next year.”