A slow smile worked over his lips and he brushed his fingers across my cheek. “I hope no one ever really hurts you because it’ll make you as cynical as me.” A line sank between his brow. “So…Paris, huh?” He leaned back against the side of his truck.
“Yeah, Paris.”
“You want to go because of the Eiffel Tower, because it’s the City of Romance?”
“No, I want to go for the food.”
He laughed, ducking his chin to his chest. “The food.”
“Heck yeah, I’ve heard they have the best food.” Another plane engine fired up, whirring and buzzing as it started down the runway.
“And here I thought I had you figured out.”
“What, you expected me to want to go for the lovey-dovey aspect of it?” I shook my head. “Please, I just want the baguettes and the chocolate.”
“Fair enough. Fair enough.”
“So… you know, maybe if you moved to Australia like you said you wanted to do, far away and all that jazz, then you could dive with the Great Whites—no cage of course— and get picked up by the Discovery Channel, in turn making millions of dollars and yadda yadda yadda. Kill three birds with one stone.”
The rumble of the plane lifting off whooshed over us, the wake blowing my hair across my face. I watched the plane climb with its passengers clearly visible through the tiny bubble windows, and I wondered where they were going, what they were doing.
“I don’t know that Australia sounds like such a good idea anymore,” Noah said.
“Oh, and why’s that?”
He grabbed my face, pulled me toward him, and pressed his lips over mine. “Because I’ve not had near enough of this yet, and I most certainly can’t find this in Australia.” He kissed me again, sweetly. Softly.
Hot air swirled around us when another plane passed overhead. That kiss felt like a promise, one that said I’d never find anyone like him ever again even if I searched the entire world.
It was a little after midnight when he dropped me off with a kiss goodnight. That blissful euphoria of the what might bes, the what could bes buzzed through me like an electric current, but that sense of happiness went out like a match in a thunderstorm the second I stepped inside and found Daddy sitting on the couch with a picture album opened on his lap and his eyes swollen from tears. Reality quickly set in and it made watching planes take off and stolen kisses seem so unimportant.
“Daddy,” I whispered before sitting on the sofa next to him. I put an arm around him and rested my head on his shoulder, breathing in the scent of Polo aftershave that always reminded me of him.
“I’m sorry,” he exhaled. “I just…” He swallowed, staring down at the page with a picture of me, Momma, and Bo putting cookies out for Santa. “I just don’t know how you lose someone that means so much.” His breath hitched. It’s a terrible feeling when someone you love hurts, when you know there’s nothing you can do to make things better. So instead of lying and telling him it would be okay, I said nothing.
“She’s just such a good person, and I don’t…” He took a breath. “I don’t understand why.”
“There is no why, Daddy.”
He shook his head. “Go on to bed, baby girl.”
“I’m fine.” And I sat next to him as he flipped through the album and cried. Sometimes the worst part of losing someone is feeling alone. I didn’t want him to feel alone.
21
Hannah
The next morning, we were on our way to Birmingham to see Dr. Nabors. I sat in the stiff clinic room chair, listening to the statistics, digesting the small likelihood that she may live, while Daddy clutched her hand. Ten percent survival. That didn’t sound like a lot, but it was more than what she’d been given a few weeks before. So, we signed the consent form and she was scheduled to start treatment in two weeks.
The ride home was quiet. Somber. I guess we were all thinking, or maybe trying to forget.
Noah’s truck was still there when Daddy pulled into the drive, but I didn’t look for him. There was too much chaos swimming in my head. The tightness growing in my chest made it hard to catch a full breath. Everything felt like it was pressing in on me. Daddy cut the engine, talking about what we’d have for dinner. Momma added something about sweet potatoes.
They were discussing dinner like everything was normal, and even though I’d been trying to pretend everything was normal for the past month, I couldn’t do it any longer. Most of the time when reality hits, it hits like a devastating tsunami. Hard and swift, pulling you under and not letting go until nothing in your world is recognizable. And it hit me just like that. Ten percent. Panic wound through me, stinging like a shot of lidocaine. I climbed out of the car and subtly rubbed over my chest to try to ease the tension. I let Momma and Daddy get out and walk inside. When the door closed, I slowly started toward the field. The situation was hopeless. I walked faster. I was going to lose her. Faster. And by the time I reached the wooden fence, I was in a full sprint with my heart banging against my ribs. The sudden breeze rustled the long grass as my feet pounded on the ground. I ran faster in an attempt to outrace my thoughts, and I didn’t stop until I was staring into the thick bamboo that surrounded the property. My chest heaved, my lungs begged for air. I knew I was far enough away that they wouldn’t hear me, so I screamed. I screamed so loud my throat burned; so long that my voice grew hoarse. When I couldn’t scream anymore, I braced my hands on my knees. “I’m angry,” I said to myself, or maybe to God. “It’s not fair to do this to me.” I was on the brink of tears when someone’s hand landed on my back, and I jumped.
“Hey,” Noah said, rubbing small circles over my shirt.
“I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not.” He walked around me and crouched down, scooping away the curtain of hair covering my face. “You’re not, and it’s okay to not be.”
The last thing I wanted was to fall apart in front of him but to be honest, he was the only person I didn’t have to be strong for, and it’s better to break in someone’s arms than alone. A small sob caught in my throat when I fell into his arms, clinging to him like he was something that would save me. I buried my face in the crook of his neck and breathed in the scent of redwood and spice while I cried. I broke into a million, tiny pieces and Noah was the only thing holding me together.
“You can’t keep it all in,” he whispered, stroking his hand over my hair. “I’ve got you, lady. I got you.”
And he did.
He let me cry in his arms, and every so often, he pressed gentle kisses to my cheek. His presence made me feel grounded, and I clung to that small piece of stability floating in a tumultuous sea. When I managed to pull myself together, I took a step back before wiping the tears from my face. “I’m sorry,” I said.
He shook his head. “Nothing to be sorry for.”
The sky had faded to the deep navy blue of desk. Bullfrogs croaked in the creak, crickets chirped. “They’re probably wondering what on earth I’m doing.” I thumbed toward the house before wiping my face once again.
“Probably.”
We started across the field, and halfway to the house, he grabbed my hand and stopped me. “Look,” he said, “I may not have any idea about what you’re going through, but I’m here. I mean that.”
“Thanks.”
He nodded, still holding my hand in a silent “I’m here.”
Bo was out back playing tug of war with Sampson, and he looked up when we rounded the side of the house and headed to his truck. I thought about kissing Noah when he opened his door, then felt guilty for wanting something so inconsequential given the circumstances.
He glanced back at my house, and the second he turned around, I cupped his cheek and kissed him, savoring his taste. When I pulled away, he smiled and brushed a finger over my cheek. “You need me, you just call me. No matter what time, alright?”
Closing my eyes for a second, I smiled. “Okay.”
“I’ll see you later, pretty girl.”
22
Noah
All That She Wants” by Ace of Base played over the speakers in the Piggly Wiggly, and I hummed along. As much as I wished it wasn’t, it was catchy. Grandma stopped in the middle of the aisle, I guess when she realized what the song was about. “I never…” she huffed, snatching a pack of Little Debbie Zebra Cakes from the shelf and throwing them in the buggy. “Songs used to be about not talking back and dancing shoes and now it’s all about sex and hooties.”
“Hooties?” I snagged a bag of Cheetos and opened them, shoving a handful in my mouth.
“Hooties, ain’t that what’cha call ladies of the night?”
“Hoochies, Grandma. Hoochies.”
“Well, anyhow. It’s all about sinnin’ these days.” She pushed the buggy a few feet, then glanced over at me, arching that damn eyebrow. “Speakin’ of sinnin’, you better not be a sinnin’ with the preacher’s daughter.”
Sighing, I grabbed the grocery list laying on top of her wicker purse. “Green beans. Bananas. Aqua Net.”
She grabbed the list. “Don’t distract me.”
“Grandma, I’m a grown ass man—”
She whacked me on the back of the head so hard I saw stars for a second. “Boy, how many times I gotta tell you not to swear in front of me.”
“Jesus…”
“That’s right, you better call on him!” She turned the aisle too sharp, knocking over the pyramid of BOGO paper towels. She just kept going, running over most of the paper towel rolls and getting one stuck under the wheel. She kicked it out of the way. “Dagnabit.”
“I’m glad you don’t drive.”
“I’m just giving those teenage boys that work here something to do. Now let’s see, how about some fried chicken and mashed taters on Sunday?”
“You know I love your fried chicken.”
“Mmhmm, and I bet she will too.”
“She?”
“Yep, you’re gonna bring that girl over for Sunday dinner like a right gentleman should. You ain’t gonna be a floozy with the preacher’s daughter. I’ve worked too hard on my good deeds to have you make God angry at me.”
I wanted to groan, but I loved her, so I just smiled and said I’d see what I could do.
______
Benji threw a pair of Jacks on the card table, his red eyebrows waggling. “Beat that, shithead.”
I burst out laughing. “You went with a pair of Jacks?” He was an idiot, what can I say?
His brow wrinkled. “What you got, Greyson?”
I laid my cards on the table, making a slow show of fanning them out with a grin. “Three Aces and a pair of Queens.”
Trevor hooted.
“Bullshit!” Benji yanked his ball cap off and tossed it on the table. “You’re cheatin’!”
“Like hell I am!” I raked the quarters across the table, piling them in front of me.
“You’ve had five hands like that tonight!”
“I’m lucky.”
“You’re a dick,” Benji grunted, then pushed his chair back and headed to the old fridge in the corner of the room. The beer bottles inside the door rattled when he yanked it open.
“Oh, come on now, Benji, it’s just five bucks.” Trevor laughed.
“It’s a pack of Camel Red cigarettes is what it is.”
I shook my head.
Benji sat back down at the table with a beer, then snatched the deck of cards and began to shuffle them. “What do you want to play next? I Got It? Five-card Stud?”
My phone rang. When I pulled it from my pocket Hannah’s name flashed over the screen. “Hey,” I said, pulling it to my ear. “What’s up?”
“You busy?”
“No.”
“Hey,” Benji said. “Thatta girl?”
Glaring, I waved my hand at him.
“Tell her to come over and bring some girls with some big ole’ titties.” He pretended to palm a set of boobs while rolling his eyes back in his head like a perv. “We can play some strip poker.”
Trevor laughed. Scowling, I pushed up from the table and headed through the back door. “You okay?” I asked when the screen door banged shut behind me.
“Yeah, I’m just…” She fell silent and I felt a frown pull at my face. “I just…” She was thinking too much. I could tell. She’d probably been sitting in her room, dwelling on shit and falling down that tunnel of panic and dread.
“I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
“I’m fine, I just wanted to talk.”
“And we can. In person.”
There was a brief pause. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“Just wear something you don’t mind getting dirty.”
“What?”
“No questions, just trust me.”
“Okay.”
I hung up, and went straight inside to the table to grab my money.
“You leaving?” Trevor asked before tipping his beer back.
“Yeah.”
Benji’s lips curled around his big teeth. “Who’s the girl?”
I shoved the quarters in my pocket.
“Hannah Blake,” Trevor said, clapping his hand over my shoulder.
“Get outta here, shithead! Max Summer’s old flame. The brunette?” Benji nodded. “She’s got a nice rack. What you gonna do? Take her to the Catfish Cabin before you poke her?”
“What the…” I dropped my chin to my chest. “The damn Catfish Cabin? Really, Benji? You’ll get food poisoning from that shithole.”
“Nah, man, girls love the ole’ Catfish Cabin. What you gotta do is get ‘em some of those oysters, it’s like giving some of that horny goat weed shit. Makes ‘em hard up as all get out.”
“Jesus… you’re a redneck.” I shook my head on my way to the door.
“Like you ain’t?”
I waved him off. “I’ll see you guys later.” The door banged closed behind me. I had to figure out something to take Hannah’s mind off things, only problem was, there wasn’t much to do in Rockford. No movie theatres. Tipsy’s was the only bar… I glanced around, my eyes landing smack dab on Benji’s plastic patio table. “Perfect,” I muttered. I grabbed the umbrella and chucked it across the yard before snatching the table and tossing it into the bed of my truck.
The best thing to do when your life is shit: distract yourself any way you can. If there’s one thing I was good at, it was distractions. That was for damn sure. I spent two summers in summer school due to it.
Hannah was sitting on the front porch swing wearing a pair of jean shorts and a Pearl Jam t-shirt when I pulled into the drive. Before I’d even gotten out of the car, she was already halfway to my truck. Fireflies lit up all around her like some Disney film, and all I could think about was how beautiful she was. Hannah didn’t have to try to be pretty, she breathed beauty, and that was half of her appeal.
I hopped out and went to open the passenger side door. The interior light shined on her face when she stopped beside me. Her eyes were bloodshot and swollen, her cheeks still splotchy. “Thank you,” she whispered, pushing up on her tiptoes to kiss my cheek.
“My pleasure.”
“I tried to call Meg, but she’d picked up a shift and…”
I pressed my finger over her warm lips. “Don’t you ever try to give me an excuse of why you called me. Besides, I’d like to think I’m the first person you called.” She climbed in with the faintest of smiles on her face.
I went around to the driver’s side, turning the radio down a little when I backed out of the drive. “So, you ever been sledding?” I asked.
“Sledding?”
“Yeah?” The truck bumped over the pothole at the end of the drive before I turned onto the dark county highway.
“I mean, I went sledding when it snowed when I was a kid—the one time it snowed.”
“Alright, well, we’re about to go sledding.”
“Sledding? In Alabama? In the middle of summer?”
“Yep.” I smiled when I glanced over and saw amusement flicker in her
eyes.
Ten minutes later, we drove past the huge Alabama ‘A’ on Mr. Turner’s front lawn and turned down the dirt road that ran in front of my house, passing right by without a word and onto the old covered bridge.
Hannah grabbed onto the Oh Shit Bar as the tires clunked over the old planks.
“You don’t like bridges?”
“Not ones that are falling apart.” Her eyes squeezed shut. Her teeth doing a number on her pretty bottom lip.
“Ah, you know this thing’s haunted,” I said, slowing down a little.
“Give me a break.”
“It is.” I grinned. “Don’t tell me you never came out to Cry Baby Bridge and did the old baby powder trick?”
“Nope.” She took a breath and swallowed.
“You have to do it right at midnight—”
“Of course you do.”
“Put some baby powder on your windshield”—I mimicked dusting powder on my hand—“and sit in the middle of the bridge…”
“What? So you can fall right through the bridge and into the river? That sounds like a great idea!”
“No, you wait until the little baby footprints show up on the glass.”
I could feel her staring at me, so I turned to look at her. There was the most unamused look on her face. “That is the most unoriginal story I’ve ever heard.”
“It’s true.”
She laughed. “It’s a load of crap.”
“Sure hope the ghost didn’t hear you say that…” The tires bumped over the end of the bridge and I turned into an open space. “You know, it’s not fun if you don’t get a little freaked out.”
“Well, you have to try a little harder, you know, since I’m not twelve.”
“Okay, okay.” I laughed and drove into the middle of the old pasture that backed up to Old Man’s property. I put the truck in park before I threw the door open.
Whiskey Lullaby Page 12
