by Dylann Crush
“It’s not like I drove to the store and got ’em myself.”
That was for sure. He hadn’t left the house for the past three months unless I’d driven him into town for an appointment. The doc had given him another six months before the cancer and cirrhosis finished him off for good. I wasn’t going to be responsible for helping him along, no matter how much easier things might be without him around.
“Dewey stopped by, said the Macon girl is back.” The words left his mouth in a growl as he rubbed a bony hand over his sparse beard.
“She’s not a Macon. That was her mom’s maiden name.”
“She’s got that Macon blood. Once a Macon, always a Macon.” He spat the words and leaned over to lower the footrest, grunting with the effort.
I grabbed onto the handle and flipped it down for him. “Let me help you with that.”
“I can still do some things myself, y’know.” He swatted at my hands.
Yeah, like drink and smoke yourself to death. As much as I’d like to see him try to rally, it was too late for that.
“So you seen her yet?”
“Who?” I didn’t want to talk about Cassie with my dad. Not until I figured out what I wanted to do about her being back in town.
“The Macon girl.”
I shook my head. No sense arguing with him about a name. “Yeah, I saw her on her way in.”
“That girl was trouble when she was younger and she’s still trouble now.” He grabbed a can of Tab off the table and took a long sip. “I hear she’s sellin’ the place. Dewey’s gonna take a look.”
“Cassie’s not trouble.” I was the one who’d always gotten into trouble. She’d just usually been standing next to me.
He tried to focus on me over the rim of his bifocals. “You stay away from her. She’s bad news, just like her mama was. You got a good thing going with that Caroline. Don’t you go and fuck it up.”
“I told you, Dad. Caroline and I are taking some space. I’m not screwing anything up. Besides, I don’t think Cassie will be here very long.”
Something bad had gone down between my dad and Cassie’s mom, but it had happened years before I ever came along, and no one had ever been willing to talk about it.
“Caroline Hayes is the best damn thing to ever happen to you.” He pointed a shaky finger at me. “God only knows what the hell she sees in you.”
That was the one and only thing my dad and I could agree on. I had no idea what Caroline saw in me either. She was practically Swallow Springs royalty. Not only was her mom the most successful realtor in the county, her dad owned what was left of the downtown. She’d also been the Homecoming Queen, Dairy Duchess, Pork Producers Princess, and for the past several months, most folks considered her my girlfriend. At the ripe old age of twenty-seven, all of her friends had already tied the knot with their high school sweethearts. Caroline had given me the summer while she was teaching English in South America to figure out what I wanted from our relationship. Come August I’d either be sliding a ring on her finger or be shut out of any construction jobs within a fifty-mile radius. Her dad had been perfectly clear about that.
“I can use the work. I’m gonna offer to help Cassie fix the place up.”
Dad hadn’t earned a real paycheck in over two years since he’d been forced into early retirement from the sheriff’s department. When I moved back to town to take care of him, he told me they’d shut him out of his pension because he was getting sick. I’d heard rumors that twenty years of drinking on the job had finally caught up with him, and he’d officially been fired. Didn’t matter now.
Growing up as Sheriff Jordan’s kid hadn’t been easy. He’d ruled the county with an iron fist and lorded over his household with a leather belt. Hell, that’s part of the reason I’d spent so much time at the Macon place. John and Doris Macon always had a friendly smile and something fresh out of the oven waiting for me. They also had Cassie every summer from June until August. The cookies were good, but she was the real reason I spent the majority of my summers crossing the back pasture between us.
“I gotta go. Baseball practice at the high school tonight. Leftovers are in the fridge for dinner.”
Dad scowled. “Can’t believe they pay you to coach that game. You don’t know shit about baseball. Couldn’t even keep your scholarship.”
“Those times are gone, Pops.” I moved into the bedroom and changed into a pair of loose shorts and my sneakers.
He mumbled to himself. “If your brother was still alive…he’d of made something out of his life.”
A familiar wave of shame washed over me. Yeah, Jeffy would’ve shown us all. If he were still alive, maybe I wouldn’t be stuck here in the middle of nowhere, trying to grow a business while playing nursemaid to my dad. I still held out hope that something good could come out of my brother’s death. I’d been working on a way to honor his memory. A few more jobs and I might finally have enough to break ground on the community baseball field I’d been planning since I got back to town.
“See ya later tonight.” I grabbed an apple from a bowl on the counter and charged toward the front door.
At least Cassie was in town. That was something to look forward to, even if she didn’t seem thrilled to see me. It was time to clear the air between us over things that had happened long ago. Looked like fate was on my side with this one. She was back.
2
Cassie
I woke up drenched in sweat and kicked off the sheets. It wasn’t hot outside, but I’d forgotten to open the window in the front room to create a cross breeze like my grandma had always done. The air in the bedroom wrapped around me like one of her prize-winning quilts on a hot summer day. It didn’t help that visions of a half-naked Robbie had paraded through my dreams.
My clock showed 2:28 a.m. I’d always had a hard time sleeping the first night away from home. I moved from the bedroom, across the kitchen and to the window in the front room in twelve steps. The window groaned as it separated from the sill. I closed my eyes as the smell of honeysuckle floated in on the night breeze and took me back to years ago.
“Just pick one off and taste it.” Robbie nabbed another white flower from where it nestled against a net of emerald green leaves and sucked the single drop of juice from its center.
A whole pile of discarded blooms crushed under his bare feet as he eyed his next victim.
“Stop, Robbie. You’re ruining them.”
“Come on, Cassie. Just try one then we’ll go look for frogs at the pond.” His teasing eyes dared me to pick a bud from my grandmother’s beloved honeysuckle vine. She’d shooed us out to play in the yard while she canned strawberry jam.
I looked over the choices. Settling on a large bloom, I reached out with a tentative hand.
“Oooh, that’s a good one. Go on, try it.”
I snapped the flower off the vine and raised it toward my face, separating the stamen from the base. As I opened my mouth to suck the drop of sweet nectar into my mouth, a yellow jacket emerged from the flower.
“Watch out!” Robbie tried to swat it away, but it was too late.
Pain like a thousand needles pierced my tongue. I dropped the flower on the ground and ran screaming into the kitchen. “Gla-ma, gla-ma. I gob slung.”
My grandma gathered me against her red and blue checkered apron and leaned down. Wiping the tears off my swelling cheeks, she turned to Robbie. “What happened, Robert?”
He sold me out in a heartbeat…didn’t even think twice about it. “She was messin’ with the honeysuckle, Mrs. Macon. I told her not to. One of them yellow jackets flew right into her mouth and musta stung her on the tongue.”
Grandma waggled a wooden spoon in Robbie’s face. “Now I told y’all not to bother those vines this time a year. Robbie, go get some ice from the icebox. Cassie, come here, darlin’. Sit down a spell and lemme take a look.”
I shot Robbie a look of death, and he smiled as he left the kitchen for the back porch where the old refrigerator whirred. I spent
the rest of the day propped up on the couch with an ice cube on my tongue, watching Grandma putter around the kitchen. She sent Robbie back across the pasture to his house, but he snuck over later that night to bring me an orange push-pop. He’d smuggled it out of the freezer and ran all the way across the tall grass to get it to me. When I pushed up the plastic handle, sticky orange liquid ran over my thumb. Most of it had melted, but it still tasted good.
I leaned my head against a pane of the cool glass and inhaled a deep breath of the honeysuckle as the memory faded. Grandma used to make me warm milk when I couldn’t sleep. Maybe that would help. I passed through the kitchen and grabbed the half gallon of milk out of the fridge.
I’d stopped at the little corner store before turning off the paved, two-lane road and onto the three miles of gravel to get to the house. Old Man Morris had owned the tiny shop for forever. He had two ancient, rusty gas pumps and sold necessities like milk, chewing tobacco, and twelve kinds of live bait. I’d picked up a loaf of bread, half gallon of milk, and a dozen farm-fresh eggs. That would last me until I could get to the real supermarket in town.
As I waited for the microwave to heat my mug, I looked around the kitchen. Nothing had changed except the thick layer of dust covering the old Formica table. Big Bertha, the cast iron, wood-burning stove squatted in the corner, the linoleum blackened around the base from daily cooking fires. Faded, ruffled, yellow curtains still hung in the window over the chipped porcelain sink.
When Dad and I came to move my grandma to the assisted living facility in Kansas City three years ago, we’d only been able to take the essentials. Since then, he’d been too busy with his new wife and family to come back and worry about packing up the life of the woman who, once upon a time, had been his mother-in-law. Oh sure, I’d meant to get back and take care of things myself. But between moving into a new apartment, switching jobs to work with one of the “chefs to be watched” in downtown Dallas, and making time to visit Grandma five hundred miles away, I’d let it go.
The microwave dinged, and I grabbed the mug and took it into the front room. I pulled the sheet off the sofa, sending a million dust particles into the air. Nestling into the corner of the giant red velvet settee, I drew my feet up underneath me and took a sip of warm milk. The tension drained from my body as I relaxed deeper into the couch. Grandma had always been right.
After we’d moved her, it seemed less and less important to come back and deal with someone else’s life full of things. When she died three months ago and I found out she’d left me the old farmstead, I’d meant to come then. But it wasn’t until an opportunity came up to partner in a new restaurant that I managed to make it a priority.
I’d given myself two months to get this place in tip-top shape and raise the funds I needed to buy into the new restaurant. From what I’d seen so far, it would take every bit of time, and a whole lot of elbow grease, to make my deadline. I was up for the challenge, as long as I could stay on track and keep Robbie as far away as possible. He’d almost derailed me once, and I wasn’t about to let him get close enough to do it again.
3
Robbie
“Oh, no you don’t.” Cassie stood on the front porch, hands on her hips, watching me pull into the gravel drive.
I eased the truck to a stop and climbed out the driver’s side. My feet sank into the dew-covered grass. “How’s it going?”
“You get right back in your truck and turn around. I don’t need your help.”
A streak of dirt smudged her cheek and her hair piled into a crazy knot on top of her head. Did she still wear it long? My fingers itched to wrench it down and find out.
“So you survived last night? Just wanted to check in and see if you need anything.” I squinted up at her from under the brim of my cap. “It’s a big job, fixing this place up. Thought maybe you could use some help. I’ve got a construction company now.”
“Construction?” She laughed. “The Robbie I used to know was better at tearing things apart than putting them back together.” She relaxed her arms and grabbed onto the railing of the porch. “So that’s what you’re doing now?”
“Yeah, Swallow Springs’s number one custom construction foreman at your service.” I tipped the brim of my cap at her.
“Number one, huh? You must have a lot of tools.”
My heart flopped around in my chest as her big, brown eyes peeked up at me from under long, dark lashes. She’d always been able to turn on her flirty side.
“You got that right, Cassie girl. I’ve got all the right tools, and I know how to use them.” I gave her my best seductive smile.
She tapped her lip as if deep in thought. “So how many other construction companies are there in Swallow Springs, exactly?”
Damn. She knew me too well.
“Well, I suppose there aren’t too many other options if you want to support a local business. I guess I’ve got that going for me.” I stepped onto the porch next to her and pushed on the railing. It cracked then separated from the post.
“Hey, watch it!” A flash of anger blazed in her eyes, and she took a step back, crossing her arms over her mid-section “You’re tearing the place apart.”
I raised my eyebrows as her breasts pushed up against the neckline of her low-cut tank top. Her face took on a tint of pink when she realized what had caught my attention and she wheeled around. The screen door squealed on its hinges then crashed closed behind her.
I chuckled as I followed her into the house. “It’s dry rot, Cass. Whole porch probably needs to be replaced.”
“I’ve got it all under control.” She slammed a kitchen cabinet and poured a mug of steaming coffee from the pot. “Tom Schmitt is coming out later on today.”
She cupped the mug between her hands and took a sip. Her throat moved as she swallowed, drawing my gaze to the soft hollow at the base of her neck. My mouth had spent many a warm summer night exploring that exact spot. My lips twitched in remembrance.
She eyed me from across the room. “Tom’s done work around here before. I’m sure he’ll be able to help me with anything I need.”
I snickered. “Ol’ Schmitty? Hell, he’s got one foot in the grave. Probably can’t even see far enough to tell you what work needs to be done.”
Her chin tipped up, her jaw set in familiar defiance. “He’s a friend of the family and my granddad trusted him. I’m sure he’ll do a fine job.”
I whipped my cap off to run a hand through my hair. “Hell, I’m a friend of the family, too. And you wouldn’t have to worry about my pacemaker giving out.”
She leaned up against the counter. “You were a friend of the family. Tom still is.”
“Jesus, Cass.” I shook my head. “What’d I ever do to you?”
“I’m not even going to go there. Tom’s coming over this afternoon.” She nodded, as if trying to convince herself. “He’ll take care of the construction. Plus, he’s willing to wait for payment until I make the sale.”
One thing hadn’t changed. Cassie Belmont was still the most stubborn woman I’d ever had the pleasure to know. I wanted to talk, to try to mend fences that had been torn through years ago. But now didn’t seem the time.
“Suit yourself.” I made my way back to the front door. “Just don’t call me when ol’ Tom takes a tumble off your rotting roof and sues your ass.”
The screen door slammed behind me, and her footsteps followed me out onto the porch.
As I wrenched open the door to the truck, she yelled out. “Go ahead. Get on out of here. That’s one thing you were always good at…leaving.”
I gunned the gas. The tires spun then gained traction as I hightailed it away from Ms. Pissypants and her “holier than thou” attitude. What was with her anyway? If anyone had a reason to be pissed off, it was me. She was the one who’d ended it. Hadn’t even had the balls to tell me face to face. Left a note with my mom while I was on a college visit. I hadn’t thought about that day for a long time.
I’d returned from visiting Sout
heast Missouri State. They were offering me a baseball scholarship and I’d gone for the weekend to check it out. I was looking forward to spending my last high-school spring break with Cassie—snuggling up in the front cab of my pickup and making out under the stars.
Instead Ma said Cassie had stopped by with a note. Some bullshit about how she’d been thinking since we’d be at different colleges in the fall that it would be better to go ahead and end things before it got harder.
That note was the last time I’d heard a word from Cassie Belmont. I’d tried calling, emailing, texting, even sent her flowers. After a couple of weeks with no response I gave up, signed my letter of intent to Southeast Missouri State, and hightailed it out of town as fast as my old truck would carry me. Cassie had moved on all right. Left Swallow Springs, Missouri and didn’t look back. She’d taken a piece of me with her. But now she’d moved back. Back to my neck of the woods.
I’d spent the past nine years with a hole in my heart the size of Texas. Whether she liked it or not, I was going to find out what the hell had driven her away in the first place.
4
Cassie
Not much had changed in downtown Swallow Springs since the last time I cruised through the square, pressed tight up against Robbie on the front bench seat of his daddy’s battered-up truck.
The sounds of early summer floated through the open windows on the warm breeze as I pulled into the small lot at the Country Fresh. A brand new Starbucks drive-thru sat in the far corner. I guess even Swallow Springs had to catch up to the times eventually. Steeling myself for the shopping trip ahead, I made my way through the automatic doors and into the cool air of the grocery section as my cell phone rang.
