by Julie Reece
Under that it reads, Please join us for a parade honoring the former crewmen of both the USS Cowpens CVL 25, and the current USS Cowpens CG 63 with street dances, food vendors, golf tournament, baseball games, reunions, and The Miss Mighty Moo Pageant!
Wow.
Shame, I’ll have to miss that one.
Inside, old wooden floors creak under my feet. Rows of blue mason jars sit on gingham lined shelves, the same type of jars holding the daisies in my room. Lavender, vanilla, jasmine, the smell in here is intoxicating; I don’t care if we never leave. Organic food items line the countertops as well as candy, preserves, and bath and body products. My fingertips linger over monogrammed hand towels, moving on to embroidered aprons and pillowcases. I wonder if they’d let me paint a wall mural in here?
“Jesse?” asks the brunette behind the counter. “Is that you? I didn’t know you were in town.”
“Just got back,” Jesse answers. She inclines her head to me and whispers, “Look around, Aud. This will only take a minute.”
I blink. Aud? When did that happen? There’s only one other person who’s ever called me that, and I haven’t heard from her in about eight years. If I’m not cool with the nickname, now is the time to say so, but I decide the new me is fine with Aud. “Okay. Let me know when you’re ready.”
Jesse almost skips to the counter. “How’s that new foot cream selling?”
I scan the shelves containing eye creams, body scrubs, and bath oils wrapped in colorful paper. Women will buy this stuff based on the clever packaging alone. I squint at the lettering: Bea Mine body spray, Bea Clean soap, Bea Soft lotion. Another shelf holds similar products, except these are made from goats’ milk, all with the Tranquility & Co. labeling.
As I lift a French milled soap in the shape of a little goat, the initials J and Q stand out on the bottom corner. A light goes on in my brain. Jesse and Quinn. This is their company together. Of course! It’s so cute I throw up a little in my mouth.
Wandering back toward the desk, the women are still locked in conversation. “I think you’re right, Jess. I’ll do a window display to promote them next week and see if that helps.”
The woman’s gaze shifts to mine and Jesse’s follows. “Oh, Autumn, this is a dear friend Beatrice Galley. Bea, meet Autumn. She’s an intern helping with test marketing this summer.”
Bea wears a pretty yellow dress and embroidered apron, like the ones for sale in the store. With her teased bouffant hairdo and matte red lipstick, she looks like a nineteen forties pin-up poster girl. Except for the colorful tattoos covering both arms.
“Hey,” she says. “So great to meet you! You’re a lucky one, learning from the Behrs. No one’s better at marketing and design than our Jess.”
I smile, and pretend I’m a nice person. “Nice to meet you, too.” I blow a pink bubble half the size of my face until it pops.
“Er … ” Jesse stumbles, and Bea snorts a laugh.
I don’t get the joke, but feel self-conscious again and feign interest in the key chains near the register.
“Help me out, Aud. In addition to stocking a lot of our products in her lovely store, Bea here is the best cook in Spartanburg County. I need to convince her to rent the space next door and open a sandwich shop. She keeps turning me down.”
“Yes, please notice the word no in this pattern. Food is too much work.”
“I’ll wear you down eventually. I’m a very patient girl.” They both smile. It’s like I’m stuck in a Pleasantville sitcom.
The bell behind us rings, and all three heads turn at once. Silas stands inside the door, a sober expression plastered on his features. His chin jerks up. “Bea.” She gives a little wave and stops. Maybe it’s the muscle twitching in his jaw that keeps her mute, or the way his arms cross his chest. “I’m missing an intern. Have you seen her?”
“Oh, hi,” Jesse says. “She’s been with me. See, what had happened was—”
“It’s okay.” His head lowers my direction and he delivers a wicked smile. “Spa day is over. You’re all mine now.”
12
Caden
Jess and Autumn say their goodbyes to Bea and follow me outside. Cheerleaders across the street call to us and anyone else passing by to hurry and get their cars washed before they shut down for the day.
I face my intern. Breezes carry the scent of honey off her newly washed hair. Her bronzed skin fairly glows in the light. Whatever Jesse did to her; it was worth her missing three hours of work. “Hey, can I talk to Jess for a minute? I’ll be right with you.”
Autumn steps a few feet away and leans against the nearby telephone pole. Her head rests against a Mighty Moo poster stapled to the wood. She leans aside, spitting clear across the sidewalk and into the grass as efficiently as any cowhand. I nearly choke. She looks like a goddess until she does shit like that.
How the hell will I ever make her ready for the festival? Across the street, the cheerleaders continue shouting and Jesse waves, assuring them they’ll have one more customer.
“What’s up?” Jesse asks, her gaze flitting everywhere but my eyes.
“I think you know. Don’t steal my intern and waste my training time. I’ve got a schedule to keep, and a CEO breathing down my neck. Tomorrow, Autumn’s going to organize the gear in storage, then she can weed and shovel manure in the vegetable garden.”
“What is wrong with you?”
“Too much? There’s the ten-mile hike up to Devil’s Crotch, instead. We could try out the new backpacks and water bottles.”
“Will you stop?” Jesse’s hands find her hips signaling full-on lecture mode. “She was with me one afternoon. That girl worked really hard and needed a break. Did you know she milked every one of those goats by herself? You should have seen … ”
“Did she?” I peer at my intern again over Jesse’s shoulder. The sunlight hits her caramel waves turning them gold.
“Earth to Silas?” Jesse snaps her fingers in my face. “I’m over here.”
I blink. “What? I know.”
She gives me the weirdest look. ‘I said she did an incredible job for her first time.”
“Probably due to my incredible training.” I should have checked on her myself, but I thought she’d come to me. She didn’t, and I’m not sure how to feel about that.
“Pfft, as if.” Jesse nods at the store. “Autumn sampled half a dozen products at home, and then I brought her here for a glimpse of sales and marketing ideas. The day was far from wasted.”
“Not bad, sis. Now go wash your car with the blond brigade over there. I’ve got an intern to torture.” Jesse smacks my arm, and I laugh. “Train, I meant train.”
“Uh huh.” She smiles. “I don’t believe Caden Behr would miss an opportunity to get his car washed by a squad of pretty girls primed to flirt and inflate his already insufferable ego. What’s up with you today?”
“My ego is intact. Golden, actually. And contrary to what everybody thinks around here, I am taking Autumn’s education seriously.”
“You mean you’re finally taking Mom’s threats seriously. Did it ever occur to you that our intern might respond better to kindness? The goats were payback enough for the job fair debacle. Try southern charm instead of making her suffer. She might surprise you, so, be nice.”
My gaze seeks Autumn out again. She’s actually chewing on a lock of her hair. “Nice, huh?”
Jesse tosses her head. “You know the saying about catching more flies with honey. You’re not a jerk. Not really.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“Stop trying to be something you’re not. Be yourself, and let her see how sweet you are. You’ll have her eating out of your hand.”
Quinn would love to see me turn pansy-ass over some girl, even fake, to-win-a-bet, pansy-ass. Since he got married, I’ve done nothing but dog him about being whipped by Jesse. “I’ll think about it,” I say.
“Think hard. Everything will be fine if you’ll take my advice and ease up on Aud. She’s not what you think.”
/> A laugh breaks free. “Aud? You like her!”
Jesse flaps her hand. “Shhh! Lower your voice. And yes, I like her.”
“You would.” Cats stick together like a pride—a big, dangerous, man-eating cat pride. “She’s awful. You don’t even know her.”
The weird look is back on her face. “Little brother, I know a hell of a lot more than you think I do.”
13
Caden
The next two weeks pass with Autumn and I at a tentative truce. Archery lessons, mountain biking, running, hiking, and kayaking, my big plan to challenge and humble Autumn is kicking my ass. The girl can more than keep up, and a strange sort of pride emerges in me that she does.
We only argue half the time now. I don’t think she will ever eat meat, and my attempt to teach her how to use a rifle almost cost me my right leg. Jesse’s advice to be myself and try some “niceness” weighs on me, and I’m trying. A long awaited UPS delivery this morning gave me an idea, so I’ve invited Autumn to the big house.
She sits on the couch in our great room with Gus curled up next to her. Her hand quietly rubs his giant head, putting the big dope to sleep. Guess she’s past her fear of dogs. The leather seats dwarf her. The girl looks about twelve years old with her feet dangling down. When she pulls her skirt up mid-thigh and scratches a bug bite, I pull the box cutter from my pocket, anything to keep from staring at her legs.
Pull it together, Caden. Think nice thoughts.
I kneel in front of a huge cardboard box in the center of the floor. “Remember when I told you I had a surprise?”
“Don’t expect excitement.” She eyes the box warily. “You said that right before you had me fertilize your tomatoes with goat crap.”
“This is different.”
“Different as in whitewashing the fence, or different like scouring the grill?”
“Will you just listen? When we asked for your measurements, it’s because we needed to order all the products we wanted tested in your size.”
“And here I thought you were a bunch of pervs.” Autumn leans forward, trying to peek in the box. I snap the lid shut with a smirk. She always acts so aloof, but I can tell by her body language the anticipation is killing her. Also, her wiggling is pretty damn cute. She stops her incessant gum chewing long enough to blow a bubble the size of a light bulb. When it bursts over her nose, she peels it off her skin and pops the wad back in her mouth. Charming. “Okay, intern, can you catch?”
She nods, shifting her weight on the cushion.
To tease her, I lift the box lid a few inches and peer inside. “Hm … go!” I toss two items out as fast as I can. Her foot plants with her lunge as she deftly nabs first one hiking boot, then snags the other right out of the air. I grin. “Hey! Nice reflexes, Teslow.”
“You have no idea.” Her smile flashes like a challenge, and I skip a beat. She’s never smiled at me before. I’m surprised by how much I like it when she does.
“We’ll see about that.” I throw more stuff. Her laugh is loud and sure. She keeps it up, jumping for socks, getting underneath a water bottle, diving for three pairs of shorts and running shoes—those earn me a Woot! of delight.
My chest feels strangely tight watching Autumn hug her new shoes. I admit I’m impressed. Not a single item hits the floor.
I realize I’m gawking, and sit back from the empty box. “I hope they fit.”
“Me too,” she answers. I risk another look, but her eyes are on the bright purple cross trainers. She scoops a pair of socks from the couch, grinning, but I’m confused. The Teslow’s might not be wealthy, but I doubt they’re poor. Yet, Autumn acts like she won the tristate lottery. Her face is open. I imagine the kid she might have been at Christmas or a birthday party. “Can I keep the shoes?”
I clear the nonexistent thing blocking my throat. “Yeah, it’s all yours. Ready for round two?”
“There’s more?” Her surprise punches a hole in my chest.
“Yep.” Enthusiasm is catching. I’d like to buy her a tennis racket, or veggie pizza, or a whole damn car if it will keep her laughing. Instead, I move on to box two and lob her a bright red pocket knife, flashlight, several moisture wicking T-shirts, a jacket, sunglasses, a canteen, and a pair of fishing waders, along with sandals and a vest. The more products I launch at her, the bigger she smiles. Finally, box two is empty. She drops to the sofa in a heap, surrounded by prizes.
“I can’t believe this. It’s like, so generous and just … Wow. Thank you.” She doesn’t seem to know what to do with herself, so she kisses Gus on the head.
Is it wrong I want to be the dog right now? Happiness creates a complete transformation in her face. She’s incredibly beautiful. “You’re welcome,” I murmur. Her eyes glitter, and it occurs to me she’s getting choked up. Her gratitude seems sincere, but it’s also unexpected.
Unsure what to say, I rise and walk to the couch. Fun time’s over. Because the truth is playing catch-the-stuff-from-the-box game with Autumn caught me off guard, and I need to keep our relationship, well, not impersonal, exactly, but professional. Rooting through the items on the cushions, I make a sub-pile. “Okay, Teslow, go put this stuff on. We’re going fishing. I’ll meet you in ten.”
She’s looking at me. Just looking, nothing more, but there’s something different in her expression and our great room suddenly feels much too small. I’m too warm, the air too close. I can’t get outside fast enough, and the dogs follow me to the porch. I take a seat in a rocking chair and breathe in the sultry summer air. Across the yard, Quinn heads for the woods holding a helmet, veil, and gloves. The bee paraphernalia means he’s checking the hives, which gives me another field trip idea for my intern. Then there’s the farmer’s market, target shooting, camping, boating, scat and plant recognition and survival skills. It’s going to be a busy summer. Optimism that was missing a few days ago surges through my veins. I’m almost looking forward to the next few weeks.
The screen door slams, and Autumn steps out clad in her new gear. The vest swallows her whole. I can’t help my smile.
“I look like an idiot.”
Aw. There’s my angry pigmy. “Sorry about the fit, but the fish don’t care how you look. Let’s go.”
Autumn follows as I head for the dock. Her feet swish behind me through the too tall grass, as do twelve paw pads. It’s all I can do not to sneak a glimpse of her over my shoulder.
She skips to keep pace. “You know I don’t eat meat, right? Right?”
A pansy-ass would let her catch up. I slow, but only a little. I still need to maintain some authority here. “You don’t have to eat the fish. The point is to test the merchandise and give feedback. I’ve got a couple of new rods and my tackle box is full of untried lures.” As we pound down the dock, the noise bounces off the water underneath in amplified echoes. I love the thudding sound our boots make against the wooden boards. As I pass the larger ski boat on my left, the dogs race ahead to the smaller, aluminum fishing boat on my right and pile in.
“I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ll probably hook my eye, or yours.”
She’s still arguing? “No you won’t. I’ll show you how.”
“Okay. Just … I’m not killing anything. I don’t want to hurt a fish.”
Seriously? I spin to face her. “Look, Autumn … ” Frustrated words all die on my tongue as I focus on her wide, amber eyes. She has a bunch of weeds and flowers tightly fisted in her hand that she must have hurriedly picked on the way down here. The fact she’s torn up about fishing is evident by her quick breathing, and the way her worried gaze slides to the poles in the boat. Impulse has my hand running down her shoulder to her elbow, the contact muddling my brain. “It’s okay. I won’t leave you on your own for this one.”
After a moment’s hesitation, she nods. I help her into the rocking skiff. There’s hardly room for us with my mutts in the boat. “Sorry guys, not this time. Out!” Deets and Call obey immediately, but Gus won’t budge. I yell, bribe, and beg. After five minut
es of failure, I’m done. “All right, stupid dog, have it your own way.”
He settles in the bottom of the boat, head covering Autumn’s shoes. I notice how she strokes his glossy back. Doesn’t do dogs, my ass.
The motor hums as we troll toward my favorite fishing hole, about fifteen minutes down the south end of the lake. Old pines and oak trees line the shoreline all the way around. Their mirrored images fade and blur in the gray-green color of the fresh water. I slow the motor as we near a group of trees that fell in a storm a few years back. The tangle of black roots and limbs makes the perfect nursery for bass.
When we’re close enough to shore, I drop anchor. Next, I ready a pole for Autumn, taking my time, trying to decide what I’m going to say. The gold loops in her ears glint in the sunlight, giving me inspiration.
“Here’s the thing about fishing,” I say. She winces, focused on the silver hook attached to the end of her line. “Fish don’t feel the same way people do.” Her mouth opens, and I raise my palm. “I’m not saying it doesn’t hurt, but the skin of a fish’s mouth is thin and heals quickly. We won’t hurt them more than it does to get a piercing. Okay?”
I can’t vouch for the scientific evidence of my explanation. In fact, I’m pretty sure it’s a load of manure, but my dad reserved that story for squeamish guests, and it worked for him.
Autumn’s shoulders relax. She inches her floppy hat back off her forehead and exhales. Score! “And then we’ll let them go?”
Now it’s my turn to wince. “Yes.” I breathe through my nose. “I promise to let the fish go.” The girl is killing me. I might as well buy a pink toothbrush, sign up for an emasculation class, and get it over with.
Heat from the fading sun soaks into my back and shoulders. A fish jumps. Leaves rustle in the treetops. I lift my chin, letting my lids slide shut and breathe in. The breeze carries the scents of honeysuckle, peat moss, gas, and oil from our motor. Some of my best memories of Dad happened on this lake.