by Mysti Parker
Jesse turned around in the next driveway and headed back toward town, where he picked up Sylvester’s meds at the pharmacy drive-through. Then he drove the two and a half miles out of town and turned left onto the gravel road that led to his house. Why would Leigh want to come out here with him? Was she wanting to see where the crazy in his family came from? Or did she simply need a distraction? Whatever the case, he didn’t know whether this was a good idea or not. Once she met his grandpa, she might be like all the nurses who'd run screaming for the hills over the past year.
Jesse pulled onto the dusty drive and up to the double wide he’d shared with Sylvester for what seemed like forever. It wasn’t much to look at, but he kept the place cleaned up, the yard mowed, bushes trimmed. Then he second-guessed his decision to bring Leigh along. She would probably think they were nothing but sorry white trash.
She didn’t say anything, but he caught her sympathetic expression in the rearview mirror as he pulled up to the house. He shut off the car and got out with the medication, then came around and opened the back door for Leigh. She followed him up the porch steps, glancing up at some buzzards flying over the house. Sylvester was there asleep in one of the rocking chairs.
He nudged the old man’s slippered foot. “Wake up, Pa. The buzzards are circling again.”
Sylvester snorted himself awake, grabbing the hand rests with wild eyes and wilder hair. “Who’s circlin’?”
“Never mind.” Jesse handed him the pills. “Here’s your medicine. Want me to get you some water for these? Then I have to go.”
The old man blinked and rubbed his eyes, honing his nearsighted vision on Leigh. His glasses sat catawampus on top of his head. “Whoa there. Who’s the stripper?”
Leigh put a hand on her hip. Great—Sylvester had already offended her in less than ten seconds. Record time.
“She’s not a stripper, Pa. She’s my…uh…doctor.”
“Doctor, eh? How about a lap dance?” Sylvester shook with laughter and winked at Leigh.
The old fart acted like he was still a lady-killer, but at seventy-five and riddled with arthritis, most people thought he was all talk and no action. Unless a woman got within his reach, that is. He’d slapped more than a few nurses’ asses.
Jesse was about to tell him to put a sock in it when Leigh came back with, “You couldn’t afford me, old man. Now how about I get you some water so you can take these pills and keep the buzzards off you?”
Sylvester stopped laughing and squinted up at Jesse. “You got a wildcat there, boy. Better keep her around.”
Jesse grinned at Leigh. She winked back. Maybe she could tolerate the old coot after all.
“Come on in.” Jesse opened the screen door and let her step inside first.
Insistent meows greeted them from the kitty corral Jesse had set up in the living room. Five fuzzy bodies with little tails sticking straight up bounced around excitedly. They all had some combination of white and black and never stopped moving unless they were sleeping.
"I'll play with you later, promise."
Leigh knelt and scratched their chins through the bars. "They're adorable. I bet it's hard to give them up when you're done fostering them."
"Yeah." He didn't tell her that he had come close to tears a few times when he had to let them go.
"Why do you want to foster kittens?" She flicked a jingle ball across the corral, much to the delight of the one girl in the litter, who chased and caught it like a mighty little hunter.
He shrugged. "They're small and helpless and don't have anyone to show them what it's like to have a home before they're adopted. I know what that feels like."
She stood up again. Her gaze held his for a moment, her eyes warm with sympathy.
Finally, she blinked and looked around. The trailer seemed bigger inside than it was thanks to a vaulted ceiling and open floor plan with the kitchen and living area in one big space. But like they say, you can put lipstick on a pig, and it's still a pig. Jesse went to the kitchen, got a glass from the cabinet, and filled it with tap water.
Curiosity nudged him to find out. “You like it?”
“It’s not bad for a bachelor pad.” She smiled as though she were truly impressed. Or embarrassed for him.
“Yeah, we keep it clean. We may be white trash, but we don’t have to live in trash.”
She chuckled. “I’ll have to remember that one. When did your grandpa move in?”
“He didn’t. It’s his place. I’ve lived here with him ever since…” He stopped short, not wanting to delve too far into the past. “I’d put him in a home, but they’d kick him out.”
“For flirting with the nurses?”
“If he wasn’t a little”—Jesse circled his finger around his temple—“they’d have called it sexual harassment.”
“He sounds like he’s a handful. Do you take care of him all by yourself?”
“Apart from the nurses that come and go, yep, just me. My brother Jack pays some of Pa's medical bills, but other than that...” He shrugged. No sense badmouthing his brother for keeping his distance.
“You’re a really good grandson.”
“He did all he could to take care of Jack and me. I owe him that.”
“What happened to your parents?”
“Are we in your office?”
“No…”
“Then let’s not dig up bones that need to be left alone.”
"Sorry." Leigh lowered her gaze, turning her attention to the stack of cookbooks on the counter. She’d probably had a great childhood, full of candy and ponies and family beach vacations. He envied her a little, but what else was new? He’d envied a lot of people over the years.
“I’ll go take this to Pa.” Then he thought of something. “Do you know anything about feng shui?”
“A little, why?”
“I’ll show you when I get back.” He hurried out the door with the water.
Sylvester looked up at him, grinning. “It’s about time you brought a girl home.”
“She’s not my girl,” Jesse said, surprisingly sad about that proclamation. He handed Sylvester the water and opened his pills for him, pouring out the required two a day, then handed them over as well.
Sylvester tossed the pills in his mouth, washed them down with the water, and wiped his chin on his shirt sleeve. “She ain’t your type anyway.”
“Why do you say that? Because she's half black?”
"No, it's 'cause she's a lot prettier than you."
“Well, it doesn’t matter, because she’s not my girl.” Loneliness pinched at his heart as he reiterated the fact that he was single and likely to remain that way. “Go on inside and take a nap.”
Jesse returned to the kitchen, where Leigh stood patiently at the counter, flipping through his mamaw’s cookbook. Her smile brought on the pinch again.
“Good stuff in here,” she said, scanning his mamaw's famous meatloaf recipe.
“Yeah. Wish I could cook half of it. We used to have some great Sunday suppers. Now it’s mostly frozen pizzas and bologna.”
“Reminds me of my grandmother’s cookbooks when I last visited her in Cambridge several years ago. They were splattered with grease and batter. Signs of good use, she said.” Leigh closed the cookbook, keeping her hand on it for a moment as though savoring that fond memory. “So, what’s this feng shui question?”
“Follow me.” He led her through the living area to the patio doors. If there was anything that might impress her about the property, it was the backyard. The mini shades were closed, hiding the view. He opened both doors and stepped outside.
Leigh followed.
“So, according to Better Homes & Gardens, your outdoor spaces need some feng shui, too,” he said.
“Wait. You read Better Homes & Gardens?”
“Just the April issue in the waiting room of Dr. Kushman’s office. That was the manliest magazine I could find.”
She laughed. He liked it. It sounded genuine, almost musical.
“Anyway, I got new furniture for my deck, and I don’t know if it’s feng shui-ed properly.”
“Wow.” She walked across the newly stained deck and stood at the rail where pots of geraniums and gerbera daisies hung, and looked across the sloping backyard to the fishing pond. “I don’t think you need to worry about feng shui. It’s so spacious and tranquil.”
On the pond, a pair of ducks and their six ducklings swam from behind a stand of cattails. Perfect timing. Leigh’s smile widened even more. This place had been lacking in happiness since his mamaw died. It was nice to see such joy and awe again.
He joined her at the railing, leaning over to prop his elbows on it. He had to say, he’d done a decent job with it all. The gazebo and fire pit by the pond were brand new. A circle of concrete blocks, the beginnings of an outdoor wood-fired pizza oven, were near that.
“It’s all right, I guess,” he said with a shrug.
“All right? It’s more than all right. You should be proud of all this. I grew up in a suburb with maybe a half acre, surrounded by a fence, and saw the outdoors mostly through a window.”
“Didn’t play outside much?”
“No.” She glanced at him, then stared back out at the pond, her expression somber.
“Surely you went fishing a few times.”
She shook her head.
“Not even once?”
“Not even once.”
“I’ve seen your dad’s picture in the ‘What a Catch’ section of the paper. He caught a record-breaking bass and catfish, I think. But he never took you fishing? I bet you hated the worms.”
She chuckled. “No, it wasn’t that.” She still wouldn’t look at him. Maybe life hadn’t been all fun and games for her as a kid.
“You know, I could teach you how to fish,” he said. “It’s not hard.”
She pushed herself away from the rail and crossed her arms. “Look, I appreciate the gesture, but we have to keep things professional. Could you take me home now?”
“I’m sorry, I just thought—”
“It’s fine. Really. I’m not on your list. There’s no reason to apologize.”
He nodded. “Okay, then. Let’s go.”
Leigh barely spoke two words as he drove her back home. Whatever he’d said or done, he’d gone too far, and he wished he could make it up to her somehow. But like she said, she wasn’t on his list, and from the sounds of it, she didn’t want anything to do with him outside the office. He should have known better. Was he destined to be a screwup his whole life?
Chapter Eight
Someone knocked on Leigh’s bedroom door. Her eyes fluttered open. She had meant to lie down and rest for a bit. Instead, she’d ended up on her stomach, fully clothed, stretched across the bed. When had she dozed off? Must have been somewhere between kicking herself for letting Jesse take her to the doctor in the first place and feeling guilty from that look on his face when she told him she had to keep it professional.
“Leigh, you awake?” Jo called softly.
“Yeah, I’m up.” She sat up and stretched. A drool spot darkened her bedspread. Lovely. Grabbing a tissue from the nightstand, she wiped her mouth. Her toes felt cramped. She hadn’t even taken off her flats.
The door opened, and Jo came in, holding a Burger King bag. She rarely bought fast food, which was a true guilty pleasure for Leigh. She must have thought her poor daughter could use a pick-me-up.
“I hope you’re hungry.” Jo held up the bag and a drink carrier with two large sodas.
“I could eat.”
“Good.”
She brought the food to the small round table under Leigh’s window and unpacked it. Leigh kicked off her flats, and padded barefoot across the hardwood. That heavenly, greasy, salty smell made her drool again. What was she, part bulldog? She plopped down ungracefully on the cushioned chair.
Jo set a box of fries and a soda in front of her before taking the other seat across the table. She still wore her scrubs from working in the animal clinic, but of course she had removed as much pet hair as she could before entering the house. “You’ve had quite the morning, haven’t you?”
“You could say that. Has Dad got the car running?”
“I don’t know. But I can take you to work tomorrow if needed.”
Leigh sighed and bit into her Whopper, savoring the beefy, picklely, oniony goodness. She just wished her car was working. It wasn’t a bragworthy vehicle, but it meant at least some independence. At this rate, she was destined to be an old maid living with her parents. Then she chuckled. Old maid. Old in itself would be a miracle.
“That was very kind of Jesse to pick you up and bring you home.” Jo squeezed some ketchup from a packet onto her burger wrapper. “I hope you thanked him.”
“I did.” Or did she? She couldn’t recall everything she’d said, but she’d hung on to his every word, had seen how proud he was of his home, and how much he loved his grandpa. But this was the guy who had caused mental anguish for several of her clients. From their point of view, he was still a spawn of Satan. Hopefully, he would prove them wrong.
“Leigh?”
She snapped out of her reverie and looked up at Jo. Her happy face had sunk into her worried mother expression. “I asked you what the doctor said.”
“Oh, sorry. He said he couldn’t find anything obvious. He wants to do an MRI just in case, but he thinks it’s normal.”
“Normal? The headaches, light and noise sensitivity? What’s normal about that?”
“Migraines, for one. Lots of people have them.”
“We should get a second opinion.”
Leigh set down her burger and picked up her soda. “No. Not yet. Don’t go hypochondriac on me.”
“But aren’t you concerned?” Jo’s lips pinched together as though she wanted to say more.
“Sure, but I’m more worried about you being worried. That’s always been worse than me being sick.”
“Don’t say that. I can’t help but worry. I’m your mother. You know, when you have kids…” Mom stopped short and grabbed her soda cup, drowning the rest of that statement with a slurp of Diet Coke.
“We both know how likely that is.” Leigh’s burger lost its appeal and sat heavy in her throat, thanks to the emotion clogging it. She wiped her mouth and left her room, grabbing her cell phone from the charging cable on the way.
“Honey, I’m sorry!” Jo called after her. “Don’t you want your lunch?”
“I’ll finish it later. I just need to be alone for a bit. Is that okay with you?” Leigh yelled as she stormed down the hall.
As soon as she stepped out the front door, onto their tiny porch, her eyes welled with guilty tears. She plopped down on the hard, sun-warmed concrete and pushed her hair from her forehead. There was only one person she could air her dirty laundry with. She dialed her up.
Two rings later, Avery answered with a curt, “Yeah?”
“Girl, can we talk?”
“Hon, it’s a bad time now. I’ve got a lady stuck in a bridesmaid dress and another arguing that her shoes are ecru and not eggshell. How about you come over here? They might need counseling by the time they’re done.”
Leigh laughed. “Okay, maybe I can get Mum to drop me off on her way back to work. My car is down for the count at the moment.”
“Great. See ya!”
When Leigh came back inside, Jo was in the kitchen, wrapping up their food. She glanced at Leigh but said nothing, her jaw set in a tight line.
“I’m sorry, Mum. I was just tired and stressed today. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”
Jo’s shoulders relaxed. Then she smiled and hugged Leigh tight. “It’s okay, love. I have to remember you’re a grown lady now. But you’ll always be my little girl.”
“I know. Hey, can you drop me off at Bride Pride?”
“Yes. Do you want me to pick you up?”
“No, Avery can probably bring me home, but I think I’ll eat that burger on the way.”
Mom smiled, grabbed
the bag, and her car keys. “That’s my girl.”
Chapter Nine
“Where’d she go?” Sylvester asked when Jesse got home from work. The old man was still sitting in his rocker on the porch. Hopefully he'd moved so he wouldn't be too stiff. It wouldn’t be long before Jesse would have to stop leaving him there alone, what with his heart failure and gout.
Jesse took the rocking chair beside Sylvester. “She wanted to go home, so I took her home.”
“You bring a girl home finally, and then just take her home? Could have got her a little whiskey, and I bet she’d have warmed right up.”
“Yeah, well, maybe you scared her off. And I told you she’s not my girl.”
“Who is she, then?”
“My therapist, I mean, counselor, all right? I can’t sleep because I was an asshole as a kid, so I’m seeing a counselor.”
Sylvester stilled his chair and looked out across the front yard. He was quiet for a long time before slowly resuming his rocking. Jesse followed Sylvester's line of sight across the yard to the multi-level birdhouse he’d built back when his joints still allowed him to. Purple martins flew in and around it, carrying nesting materials and flying insects for their fledglings.
“You know, son,” he finally said, “You can’t stay stuck in the past, or you’ll never have a future.”
“That’s why I’m seeing her. I don’t want to be stuck, so she told me to make a list of people I’ve hurt, apologize, and offer to do something nice for them.”
“Sounds like a sensible girl. You should bring her back here. I like her.”
“She’s not your girl, either.”
Sylvester grinned. “Yeah, I know that. I may be ornery, but I know a tough woman when I see one. You need a tough woman to smack some sense into you. Your mamaw was that for me. Probably why I’m so ornery now, she’s not here to straighten me out.”
He was right about that, at least. Jesse's mamaw, Lorraine, didn’t put up with Sylvester’s shit. She made him, Jesse, and Jack dress up and go to church on Sundays. She made Jesse and Jack mind, too. In a lot of ways, she sheltered them from the hell they'd grown up in, giving them some semblance of a normal life. Then she died suddenly of a stroke when Jesse was only ten, leaving him with Sylvester, who didn’t make the boys mind. He still took them to church, but slept through most of it, while Jesse got up to mischief. Even after Reverend Simpson retired and Reverend Donner moved in, Jesse wreaked havoc.
