by Monica James
Thunder chases after me as we walk outside and down the back steps. Stopping, I take a moment to breathe in the fresh air and bask in the sunlight, warming my chilled skin. The rays are exactly what I need and I can’t wait to feel the earth beneath my fingers, reminding me that I’m alive.
To my left, I see Samuel brushing Luna, appearing to be at home with the white beauty as she relishes in the grooming. She is a striking horse, and although Sam doesn’t remember her, I know she remembers him. Seeing him tend to her reminds me of the time we purchased her, both falling in love with her elegance and spirited nature.
I’m lost in the past, a place I revisit often, and fail to notice Saxon working on the fence to my right until Thunder tears over to him, barking ecstatically. He jumps up on him, licking his face adoringly while Saxon pats him, grinning.
Looking from left to right, I can’t help but feel exceptionally blessed to have these two remarkable men in my life. Although it took tragedy to bring us together, we’re together nonetheless.
With that thought in mind, I go to work, excited to slip into normality—even just for a day.
* * * * *
As I’m raking out the stables, Cullen, our Alpine goat, bleats, hinting that she’s hungry. Looking over at her enclosure, I see she’s eaten all the freshly laid out hay and grain I put out for her this morning.
“I have no idea why the saying is as hungry as a horse. It should be goat,” I mutter under my breath as Cullen begins gnawing on my pant leg.
Chuckling, I gently brush her away and go in search of more food. All of our supplies are low, which means I’ll have to take the pickup and stock up soon. This actually may be a good idea for Sam to engage in simple, normal activities such as this one.
Throughout the day, it’s taken every ounce of willpower to stop myself from helping Sam. His frustration could be clearly seen when he attempted to do something, but couldn’t remember how or where the tools or supplies were kept to get the job done. Saxon made it clear he wasn’t helping, which I knew was in Sam’s best interests. But it still was hard to watch.
I guess we both have to be cruel to be kind. But judging by the satisfied smile on Saxon’s face when his brother was cursing under his breath, I dare say he’s not minding the hard love approach one bit. I know Saxon and Sam’s relationship will most likely always be strained, but I think this time together will mend some of their broken bridges. Even if it means they can tolerate being in the same room with one another for five minutes, I’ll consider that a win.
I’m unsure if Sam remembers what transpired between them because the love-hate relationship applies to both Saxon and I. I wish I could ask Sam what he does or doesn’t remember, but I know that’ll just end in tears.
Cullen’s feed is just out of reach, so I climb onto the first wooden railing and lean over the fence to pull it over. However, just as I bend forward to pick up the bag, the fence shakes with an almighty, unexpected force. I yelp, cursing Cullen for ramming the fence and before I can stop myself, I propel forward and brace myself for a painful fall. But the tumble doesn’t happen. A pair of strong hands lock around my middle, stopping me from face planting into several bales of hay.
“I’ve got you.” My body sags in relief when I feel Saxon at my back.
Bent over at an odd and not to mention unflattering angle, I’m grateful when Saxon effortlessly scoops me up into his arms and sets me to my feet. However, when I turn to face him, he doesn’t remove his hands from my waist. Even through my overalls, the heat from his touch burns my flesh. My heart begins a steady climb and I’m suddenly breathless.
He peers down at me from under the peak of his cap, his eyes swimming in something I can’t name. I’m unexpectedly lost for words and I lick my dry lips. The air is humming with an electrical charge which zaps me, and shoots a shiver down my spine.
Am I running a fever? As I draw my palm to my brow, Saxon smirks, a slow, confident swagger.
My palms get sweaty, my mouth gets dry, and I feel hot all over. I tingle. What is happening?
“Are you all right?” Saxon asks, sliding both hands to the small of my back.
No, I’m not all right. I’m quite certain I’m a second away from combusting, and I don’t know why. But when the tip of Saxon’s pink tongue darts out to wet his top lip, I know why. It’s him. I’m breathless, on the verge of hyperventilating, and fairly certain my cheeks are seconds away from bursting into flames because Saxon’s hands are on me. His touch is stoking a fire within me. And…I like it.
Horrified, I jerk out of his hold, ignoring the stabbing in my heart when we separate. This situation is completely unacceptable and I need to leave now. So why do I stand firmly rooted to the ground, unable to tear my gaze from Saxon?
Remembering him in the shower, I recall how commanding and consuming his naked form was. He radiated strength, protection, and control, and I realize I want to be wrapped in that sanctuary because it’s the only place I feel safe.
I feel like I’m drowning. I need to leave. Now.
Just as I turn on my heel, a car’s tires crunch over the pebbles in our drive. Cursing, I storm towards the door as I know whose car it is. Kellie waves to Samuel, who is moving some boulders that have fallen into the shallow stream which runs through our property.
Saxon is at my back, sighing when he sees his parents park their Audi Q7 near his bike. This isn’t really the distraction I wanted, but I’ll take anything I can get.
“Well, today just turned to shit,” he says. “I think I’ll hide in here until they leave.”
I still haven’t said a word, as I’m afraid of what I’ll say if I do. I need a moment to catch my breath.
We both watch as Kellie bounces out of the car, waving Samuel over. Greg appears to be checking out Saxon’s motorcycle, nodding in approval as he looks at the black, shiny beast. Samuel wipes his hands on his jeans before Kellie throws her arms around him, holding on tight.
Has she always been this clingy?
She never made it a secret that she loved Sam, but I’m now curious to see just how she greets Saxon. Will he get the same warm reception? Something tells me no.
“I don’t think they’re going anywhere.” I observe Greg pulling out grocery bags from the trunk. “The sooner we get this over with, the sooner they leave.” I’m surprised that I actually mean it.
Saxon turns his baseball cap around and nods.
Kellie’s curious eyes swing our way as she zeroes in on us walking up the hill towards her. I suddenly feel guilty. I feel like she knows that moments ago, I was freaking out over Saxon touching me, which is ridiculous on all accounts.
“Thank you,” I whisper, afraid Kellie might hear.
“For what?” Saxon questions.
Turning to look at him, I smile, thankful when he returns the gesture. “For saving me,” I reply, meaning that in every sense of the word.
He appears taken aback, but composes himself a second later. “Always.” Why do I feel like that word bears the weight of so many different meanings?
And just like that, those overwhelming feelings return.
“Lucy, you look well,” Kellie says, indicating she wants a hug. Her warm welcome has me snapping back to reality and I embrace her loosely.
“Thanks, Kellie.”
When we pull apart, Kellie doesn’t hide her distaste at seeing Saxon all sweaty and dirty. And he doesn’t conceal the fact that he enjoys seeing her squirm.
“Kellie,” he gushes, opening his arms wide. “What a surprise.” Before she has time to protest, he throws his arms around her, rubbing his sticky, filthy body all up against her white pantsuit. His smug face is priceless and I stifle a laugh behind my hand.
She subtly breaks out of his hold, but the damage is done. Her outfit is now smeared with flecks of dirt and grime. She appears as if she wants to yell but stops when Greg walks over, beaming. He’s no doubt happy Saxon initiated contact, even though that contact was premeditated to make a mess.
Saxon’s broad shoulders raise, but drop when I inhale a deep, panicky breath through my nose. I can’t take any hostility. My head isn’t in a good place. I want to play happy families for just one night.
“What’s on the menu?” Saxon asks, reaching for a paper bag from Greg’s hands.
Greg reads the derailment loud and clear, but doesn’t make a fuss. “Your mother wanted to make all of your favorites.”
“Of course she does,” he replies sarcastically, curling his lip when he glances over at Kellie, who is dabbing at her lapels with a wet wipe.
If Greg picks up on his sarcasm, he doesn’t show it.
“Right.” I clap my hands. “Who wants coffee?”
Both Saxon and Samuel surprise me when their lips tip up into that same mischievous smile. This was going to be one long night.
* * * * *
October 1st 2004
Dear diary,
Tonight, I met Sam’s parents. They invited me over for dinner and no matter how nervous I was, I knew I had to go.
The Stones are one of Montana’s richest families, as they own one of the biggest wheat and barley farms in the West. I wanted to dress nice, as the few times I’ve been over there, I’ve always felt underdressed. Mom said my floral baby doll dress was pretty and appropriate, so I wore that with my black flats.
When Sam picked me up, I was so nervous. But the moment I met Gregory and Kellie, I instantly felt at home.
We sat down to a feast of every vegetarian dish I could ever wish for. Samuel didn’t appear too pleased by the no meat menu, claiming he’d convert me one day soon. Just as we were about to begin, Saxon, Samuel’s twin brother came home, not hiding his disgust at seeing me in his home.
I should be used to this reaction, as Saxon hardly hides the fact that he hates my guts. The thing is, I don’t know why. I’ve tried on more than one occasion to talk to him, to try to find some common ground, but he doesn’t want anything to do with me.
It upsets me that he feels that way because being Samuel’s twin, I really want to try and get along. But he doesn’t feel the same.
Dinner was pleasant and comfortable, apart from Saxon sitting through the entire evening with his ear buds in. If it weren’t for Sam holding my hand underneath the table, encouraging me to answer his parents’ questions, I think I may have been mute.
The night was fun, even with Saxon scowling at me. Although, when I pulled a funny face at him from across the table in secret and I saw a ghost of a smile touch his lips, I knew underneath his animosity lies something…more.
I don’t know why he hates me, but I’ll make it my mission to find out.
Thirteen
I’ve procrastinated long enough.
Hugging the tattered journal to my chest, I smile when thinking about the last entry I read. I certainly wasn’t smiling when writing it, but now, it highlights how mine and Saxon’s relationship has changed. Grown. It also confirms that what Sam and I had was real. And I’m certain we’ll get it back.
Placing the journal onto my nightstand, I kick off the bed and slip into my flats. I smell a lot better than I did a couple of hours ago, as I took a nice long soak in the claw foot tub, and thanks to the journal entry, I’ve donned a floral babydoll dress. My hair is down and slightly wavy, framing my face.
Let’s hope tonight’s dinner will be just as fun as the first time we broke bread.
As I leave my bedroom, I look down the hall, towards Saxon’s room. For some unexplained reason, I go left instead of right. I don’t question it. Just how I don’t question my strange reaction to him earlier. As I reach the closed door, a soft country song can be heard sounding from within. I can’t help but smile. No matter how much of a badass he is, Saxon’s still a country boy at heart.
Knocking softly, I wait, hoping he doesn’t tell me to go away.
He doesn’t. “Come in.”
When I open the door, a small breath catches in my throat, as Saxon is sitting on the bed, topless. An open journal sits in his lap, while Thunder sleeps at the foot of the bed.
“Hey,” he says, while I stand, admiring the picture perfect moment.
Clearing my throat and brain, I reply, “Hey yourself. How’d you know I wasn’t your mom knocking?”
“She wouldn’t knock,” he playfully counters without missing a beat.
Walking into the bedroom, I appreciate the way the sunlight streaming in from the opened window kisses his bronzed skin. “You keep a journal?” I ask, jutting my chin out towards the book in his lap.
He grins, running his left hand though his hair, pen entwined in his fingers. “I could pretend I was doing Sudoku, but you got me.”
I laugh. “I keep a journal, too. I have since I learned how to read and write.”
He whistles. “That’s a lot of words.” Closing the black leather book, he places it on the side dresser. “Do you still write in it?”
Stepping forward, I run my fingers through Thunder’s fur. “Not lately,” I confess. “Those entries are ones I don’t wish to remember.”
I sound completely pathetic, but it’s the truth.
Saxon weighs up my response. “No matter how bad your memories, it’s still your history. It’s your legacy. You should write it down. This way, you can always look back and remember that you survived. You lived.” He sits up tall. “Life isn’t all about happiness and good fortune. In most circumstances, it’s the shitty memories that emphasize the good. Makes you appreciate what you have, and stops you from taking anything for granted.”
“Wow.” I smile, standing on tippy toes to look at the journal. “Are you sure that’s not a philosophy book?”
He grins.
Jokes aside, he’s right. I’ve been frightened to write in my diary because I don’t want to document this time in my life. But Saxon has a point. Sometimes, you’ve got to experience the bad in order to appreciate the good. Like right now.
“So, am I in your diary?” I tease. When his face falls, I know the answer is yes. Just how he’s in mine.
Reaching for a discarded t-shirt which lays by his side, he slips it over his head. “We better go. We wouldn’t want to ruin Kellie’s spectacular dinner plans.”
Although he’s being sarcastic, he’s right.
I’ve been holed up in my room for the afternoon as Kellie insisted she cooked, hinting she didn’t need any help. Sam seemed content talking to his father, catching up on lost time and memories. I only seemed to be the third wheel as he sat with his back to me, asking his father questions which he could have asked me. Once it was made more than obvious that Saxon and I weren’t welcome to join the Stone family reunion, we crept off to our rooms like outcasts, booted off Happiness Island. I now understand how Saxon felt all these years. No wonder he left.
We stroll down the hallway, in no hurry to get there fast.
“I’m sorry, Saxon.”
“You’re sorry?” He curls his lip, confused.
I nod.
“Why?”
“Because I didn’t realize how much of an outsider you were within your own home. I was so…” I pause, searching for the right word. “Infatuated with Sam, I didn’t see it. But now, things are becoming clearer.”
Just as we round the corner and enter the kitchen, my point is highlighted. Kellie is doting on Samuel, who is sitting at the counter, sipping ice tea.
“You look so well, Sammy. Before long, you’ll be back on the farm with your father and things can go back to the way they were. The way they’re meant to be.” Her eyes flick up, landing on Saxon. She doesn’t mask her direct tone, suggesting that Saxon isn’t part of those plans.
“Smells good.” I gently touch Saxon’s forearm, encouraging him to move, as he’s rooted to the spot.
He thankfully does.
The dining table is set out li
ke its Thanksgiving, as the table is covered with every food imaginable.
“Wow. You’ve gone to a lot of effort,” I say, avoiding using the term ‘overkill’ to describe her feast.
Kellie places a huge bowl of mac and cheese in the center of the table, beaming when Samuel expresses his delight. “Nothing but the best for my sons.”
Saxon looks at the table before walking over to the fridge. I watch as he pulls out three bottles of beer.
Once Kellie is done dishing up the final plates of food, she takes a seat near Greg, who sits at the head of the table, unfolding his napkin and placing it into his lap. She pats the seat next to her, smiling at Sam. But he surprises me when he takes the seat opposite her. He looks at me, hinting that he wants me to sit beside him. I have no idea why, but I don’t question it.
We all watch as Saxon slouches into the seat next to Kellie, not at all impressed to be sitting beside her. I give him a gentle smile across the table, but all I’m returned with is a stiff upper lip.
“Sam, I’ve made all of your favorites,” Kellie says, standing and indicating she wants his plate.
“I can see that, Mom,” he replies happily, passing her his dish.
As she begins piling mac and cheese, fried chicken, mini sliders, coleslaw, and fries onto his plate, I reach for the bottle of wine, feeling uneasy that she’s treating Sam like a child. I understand she’s happy he’s home, but this is ridiculous. He’s not an invalid. And he’s not sixteen years old. If she wants him to remember who he is, she needs to start treating him like a grown man.
I throw back my Riesling, Saxon’s grinning face distorted through the bottom of my wine glass. He reads my annoyance clearly.
“How’s work, Lucy?” Greg asks, trying to make conversation.
“I haven’t been there for a little while, but I hope to get back soon.”
When Kellie attempts to serve Saxon, he shifts his plate away from her. She doesn’t hide her scowl.
“This ongoing war in Syria is just devastating. All those millions of people affected. Will your organization be lending a hand?”
