One Reckless Summer

by Toni Blake

  Shit, I must be going soft. The whole damn summer had him feeling too much. He should slam the door in the kid’s face once and for all. Instead, he said, “Does it come with the box?”

  “Huh?”

  “I don’t have anyplace to keep a cat. Does it come with the box?”

  “Mister, you don’t keep a cat in a box. You let it walk around your apartment.”

  “Maybe you do,” Mick said. “If I take the cat, I want the box.”

  “Okay,” the kid replied with another shrug, handing the box over to Mick. Then he said, “Five dollars.”

  “What?”

  “For the cat,” the boy claimed.

  Mick rolled his eyes and said, “You oughta be paying me five dollars—now get outta here.” He shooed the kid away with his free hand and watched him go skidding down the hall on worn gym shoes, disappearing down the steps at the end.

  Then Mick looked down into the box at the little yellow cat and thought, What the hell did I just do?

  By the next morning, Mick wanted to do bodily harm to the cat. The damn thing had been meowing all damn night. He’d given it some milk and some chicken salad he’d had in the fridge—what the hell else did it want?

  Pushing back a sheet and getting up from the air mattress in his underwear, he padded across the floor to where he’d left the box. “If you don’t shut up soon, I’m gonna wring your little neck,” he muttered—then glanced down to see that the bottom of the box was soaking wet. The cat had peed in it.

  Not that Mick knew where else he’d expected the cat to pee—he hadn’t thought about it. “Thing should’ve come with an owner’s manual,” he growled, peering down.

  “Meow!” it said. “Meow!”

  Mick just nodded at it in annoyance. “Yeah, I know, you’re sitting in your own pee. Good enough reason to be pissed, I guess.” Where did an inside cat pee anyway?

  A litter box. Shit. This meant he actually had to get a damn litter box?

  He really didn’t want a cat. He’d never had one before—so why start now? Why the hell had he taken the damn thing? He just shook his head at the yellow kitten. “You’re nothing but trouble.”

  Meandering back toward his mattress, he found a half-empty box of CDs he’d taken out of storage. He emptied the rest on the floor and carried the box over to where the cat’s rested, near the front door, then reached inside, picking it up by the scruff of the neck. “Come on, trouble. Into your shiny new box.”

  “Meow! Meow! Meow!” the damn cat said.

  “Aw, relax. It’s bigger than your last place, and a hell of a lot dryer. For now, anyway. And at least I saved your little yellow ass from getting dumped. You oughta be thanking me.”

  But the kitten just kept on mewing like he was being severely mistreated.

  “Never happy, are ya?” Mick groused. “Now I guess you want breakfast.” Then he looked toward the kitchen. “Now I guess I gotta figure out what that’s gonna be.”

  Just then, the phone rang, and Mick jumped. He’d clearly spent too long out in the woods without a phone of any kind. “Hello?”

  “Hey there, Mr. Brody. This is Don from Winwood Monuments—your gravestone is ready whenever you want to come pick it up.” The call surprised him—he’d thought it would take longer.

  “You open today?” he asked.

  “Yes, sir. Until five.”

  Almost as soon as he’d departed from Destiny, Mick had decided he couldn’t leave Wayne’s grave without a marker. It had started eating at him, the idea that—even with Jenny’s flowers—sooner or later there would be nothing to show that a body rested in that spot, a human being, his brother. And he’d decided that Cincinnati was far enough away that he could buy it here and take it out there himself. To avoid any suspicion, he’d explained it was for an old family cemetery out in the woods, and he’d had only W. BRODY, BELOVED BROTHER engraved on it, no years.

  It was Saturday—so despite his plans to haul some more stuff out of storage today, he guessed this meant he was making a trip to Destiny instead.

  After hanging up the phone, he glanced down at the cat, thinking.

  Hmm, maybe there was more than just one reason to go. He didn’t hate Jenny—he’d gotten over the rest of his anger after her father’s visit. And he still knew their lives, worlds, were too far apart to fit together. But…maybe he had some unfinished business to take care of in Destiny besides just the gravestone.

  And maybe he could unload this damn cat while he was at it. “Pack your bags, Trouble,” he said. “You’re taking a trip.”

  * * *

  For small creatures such as we, the vastness is bearable only through love.

  Carl Sagan

  * * *

  Nineteen

  To Mick’s surprise, the weatherman had been right—the air outside felt better than it had in months. He even put his window down as he drove. Trouble meowed his head off for most of the trip, and Mick wondered if there was such a thing as kitty tranquilizers. As he headed toward Destiny, Eddie Vedder sang “Hard Sun” on the radio, and Mick thought about turning it off since the last thing he really wanted to think about was the hot, hard summer just past, but he ended up turning it louder instead in an attempt to drown out the racket from the box in the floor of the passenger seat.

  First stop—he made the long, winding drive out to the cabin. Even with cool breezes sifting through the trees, he found he didn’t like coming back here—too many bad memories, old and new—but he had to.

  It felt both grim and…right to haul the weighty headstone from the back of his truck to Wayne’s grave. Fortunately, the flowers looked to be thriving—one good thing about all the tree cover, he supposed. Jenny had said the flowers would do well in the shade, but he guessed the trees must have somehow protected them from the heat, too, since they looked healthy as could be.

  He yanked the wooden cross he’d built out of the ground and tossed it aside. Then, taking up the same shovel he’d used to dig the grave itself, he cleared a rectangular spot just beyond the top edge of the plot so the stone wouldn’t shift as the soft soil settled. After that, he lowered the headstone into place, filled in and packed the dirt around the edges, and stood back to look.

  And the sight—of his brother’s grave being properly marked—left him feeling…well, much less grim than when he’d arrived. This is better than it was before. This is a lot better. Even having picked out one of the least expensive stones, it hadn’t been cheap, especially at a time when his checking account was almost on “E,” but Mick had known it would be a worthwhile investment.

  Next, he made the long drive back out the rutted road to the highway, that damn kitten yapping all the way, and circled through town to the other side of the lake. As he reached the stretch of road that lined the water’s edge, it felt odd—he hadn’t driven on this road since he was a boy. He’d seldom had a reason to then, and more recently, well, he’d always taken the shorter water route to Jenny.

  Now he was going to see her again, for the last time. Walter Tolliver had been a big enough man to correct his mistake; maybe that had inspired Mick to correct his own. Or maybe this just meant enough time had passed that he could see things more clearly now. He owed her an apology before he left her life for good.

  And it was going to be pure hell to see her again, to see her again and then turn around and drive away—but that’s what you have to do.

  It occurred to him as he rounded a bend in the road that, from the very beginning of their relationship, neither one of them had been very good at keeping themselves in control when they were around each other. And for the first time, he wondered if he would see her today and just…fall on her, out of gut need. That’s always how it was—he saw her and had to have her.

  But that couldn’t happen here. For so many reasons. No matter how good it sounded to him to be back inside her warm body, to move with her that way. Aw, damn—he was getting hard just thinking about it, remembering. It felt like it had been forever since
he’d been with her.

  He drew in a heavy breath, let it back out. You can do this.

  This is just goodbye, just I’m sorry and goodbye.

  He had to let her get on with her life, get back to living it with people who were more like her—and less like him.

  He thought he was ready for this, ready for her, when he rounded another bend and the little yellow house came into view. Only—holy shit—it was surrounded by cars. Cars in the driveway, and more cars lining one side of the road.

  Then he took in the people all standing around in the big side yard where they’d had sex in the rain—women in flowy dresses and guys in crisp-looking khaki shorts and polo shirts. A group of little kids, dressed the same way, ran around chasing each other and he could hear their laughter as he neared. Everyone smiled and held paper cups and plates, and a couple of guys were hammering horseshoe stakes into the ground with a mallet.

  Taking it all in made him feel cold inside. Cold and stupidly lonely. “Shit,” he muttered.

  As he kept driving, he glanced down to the cat. “Maybe we should just keep on going.” Then he sighed. “But then you’d have to live with me. And I don’t see that going well for either one of us. Damn it.” He banged his hand on the steering wheel as the truck moved slowly past her house, past the row of cars taking up part of the road.

  It was as the other side of the house came into view that he saw her—and his chest constricted as he heard that old Tommy Tutone song in his mind. Can I still turn to you, Jenny? Like all the other women at the party, she wore a pretty dress and stood with her dad and…damn, some woman who was built like a brick shithouse. Who the hell was that? The woman looked like she belonged here about as much as he did—and that gave him some unexpected courage.

  So without letting himself weigh it very much, when he reached the end of the row of cars, he pulled over and parked. Like he was any other guest at her party. The idea of walking into the yard with all those people made his skin crawl, but since it was only her and her dad and that woman on this side of the house, he was just going to do it, get it the hell over with.

  And…maybe it was good she was having a party. It reminded him how much he didn’t fit in her life. And it made it pretty much impossible for him to put the moves on her, too.

  As he reached down for the box, he realized the cat had finally gone quiet for a while. Maybe he’d lost his voice. But just in case that wasn’t the reason, Mick said, “Listen, Trouble, act like you’ve got some sense here. Don’t go meowing like you’re dying or starving to death, and try to act quiet and likable or you might blow it. Got it?”

  Trouble meowed in reply, but only once, so Mick said, “Good. But quit looking so needy, would ya?”

  Then he got out, box in hand, and slammed the door. And as he started up through the yard toward her, he thought of the stars. The universe is huge and your troubles are small. Five minutes and this will be over—for good.

  “Jenny, this is my friend, Anita. And Anita, here’s my Jennygirl.”

  Jenny had to struggle to keep her eyes from popping out of her head. Holy crap. Anita was not what she’d expected—even with the warning her dad had given her—sporting long red, bouncing hair and poured into a summery dress that was perhaps a little young for her but fit her like a glove and made Jenny wish for such a body. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said, and Anita reached around a covered Tupperware container with her free hand to clasp Jenny’s.

  “Well, you’re just as pretty as your dad told me. Thanks so much for having me,” Anita said with a smile, then glanced down to the Tupperware. “I hope deviled eggs are all right.”

  “Deviled eggs are perfect,” Jenny said, not bothering to mention that Lettie Gale and at least two other people had already brought some.

  “Walter,” Betty called just then, peeking around the corner of the house, “can you come help Ed with the grill? He’s not used to this newfangled kind, and I’m afraid he’s gonna cause an explosion.”

  It was as Jenny’s dad scurried off around the corner that Anita squarely met her gaze, in a way that surprised her, because it seemed filled with instant trust. “Just between you and me, Jenny, I’m a little nervous. I don’t know anyone here but your dad, and I’m not too sure I’ll fit in.”

  That fast, Jenny respected her genuine honesty and felt honored by how quickly Anita had confided in her, despite that they probably had little in common. So she made Anita the same promise she’d made Mick. “You will. I’ll make sure of it.”

  Anita squeezed her hand again, her own accessorized with very long, red nails, and looked a little more at ease. “You’re just as sweet as Walter said, too.” Then she pointed toward the back of the house. “I’ll go find a place for these eggs.”

  “I’ll be right behind you as soon as I grab some lawn chairs from under the front porch,” Jenny said with a smile. “In the meantime, just smile a lot, and say nice things about the weather and the town and everyone’s food.”

  Anita gave a short nod, along with a conspiratorial wink. “Got it. Thanks.” And they set off in opposite directions.

  Jenny had decided to have a Labor Day Weekend picnic as her way of saying, I’m back to stay, Destiny—at least for a while. School had started and was going well—she’d been right, the older students took her classes because they wanted to and they enjoyed learning. She’d already planned a field trip to the rocks on the other side of the lake for one night next month, and she liked having a productive purpose in life again.

  Of course, as recently as yesterday, she’d worried about the weather for the party, but this morning she’d woken up to a beautiful day filled with fresh air, cool breezes, and white fluffy clouds—a perfect end-of-summer day.

  But then, of course, that wasn’t true—it wasn’t a totally perfect day. To be totally perfect, Mick would have to be here.

  As weeks passed, she was beginning to adapt back to life without him—she just wished she hadn’t so quickly latched onto life with him. She came home from school each day with things she wished she could tell him. She often caught herself staring into the swirls of the Van Gogh print and wondering what he was doing. She felt lonely and achy in bed at night and tried to remember what it had felt like to sleep in his arms.

  As Jenny knelt to pull away the lattice covering one side of the porch and dragged out extra lawn chairs, Lettie peeked around from the front. “Sue Ann wants to know if you want her baked beans in the house or on the picnic table.”

  “Picnic table if they’re already warm—microwave if they’re not,” she said, then held out the sturdiest of the chairs to Lettie, who never minded lending a hand. “And could you take this to Miss Ellie and help Mary Katherine find her a nice spot in the shade?”

  As Lettie disappeared, Jenny put the lattice back in place and gathered the remaining chairs in her arms. Then she looked up—and her heart nearly stopped. “Oh my God,” she murmured, and let the chairs drop to the ground. The hottest, most rugged man she’d ever seen was walking toward her across the lawn—and it was Mick. Mick was here.

  She sucked in her breath and tried to look normal, and confident, even though her womb contracted at the sight of him and she’d just dropped her chairs with a clatter and she realized instantly how very deeply in love with him she remained.

  “Pussycat,” he said, voice low, as his dark eyes found hers. The sun suddenly felt much hotter shining down on them and she began to sweat.

  She struggled to find her voice. “Hello, Mick.”

  He looked uncertain, and maybe a little tired—but still good enough to eat. “I won’t keep you long—I see you’re having some kind of party.”

  “A Labor Day picnic. Even though it’s only Saturday. I’m”—she swallowed—“surprised to see you.”

  He nodded in understanding, then pointed with his free hand across the lake—in the other hand he held a cardboard box, but she was so fixated on his face that she didn’t even bother to wonder why. “I was just o
ver at the cabin. I…bought a headstone. Figured it would be okay now.”

  She drew in her breath, thinking what a good brother he’d been to Wayne. “That’s nice. I’m glad.”

  “You should see the flowers we planted. I figured they’d be withered by now, but they look great.”

  “I’ve been over to water them,” she admitted.

  And his eyes softened further, reminding her of times when he’d been…so surprisingly tender. “Damn, honey—that’s sweet. Thank you.”

  She just shook her head and tried to stand up a little straighter and feel a little less emotional. “It’s nothing.”

  “It’s something,” he insisted. “But to get to the reason why I’m here, I came to apologize.”

  Again, she sucked in her breath. “Oh.”

  “For leaving the way I did.”

  She wasn’t gonna sugarcoat it. “Yeah, that was…pretty awful.”

  His gaze dropped, and she couldn’t help feeling a charge of satisfaction to know the words wounded him. “I never wanted to hurt you, Jenny. You were the best thing that ever happened to me.”

  Oh. God. She was? Really? “Then why’d you go?”

  He lifted his eyes back to hers. “Your dad kinda threatened me.”

  “Yeah, I heard. And that sucks.” She narrowed her gaze on him, feeling bolder now. “But you never struck me as the kind of guy to run from a threat. And…you didn’t even say goodbye. If that was the reason, you would’ve said goodbye.”

  He let out a heavy breath, stuffed his free hand in the front pocket of his blue jeans. “You’re right. I left because I was mad at you. Because you told your dad I was here. And why. And I was pretty damn upset about that. I mean, I trusted you. But…” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Now I get why you told him. And I know it was wrong to just leave like that, but…I guess I was at the end of my rope. I wasn’t thinking straight anymore. It was a hellish summer. In some ways, I mean.”