by Inez Kelley
She dusted her hands then sat, folding her knees under her and leaning on the massive trunk. She removed her sunglasses, wiped at her eyes, them repositioned them on her face. For a long moment, she simply studied the wooden dowel in her fingers as if some hidden answer could be found. “When will it die completely?”
“Takes a while.” Settling beside her, he stared out into the valley. “As more of the internal wood rots, the tree will hollow out. Animals often make dens on the inside. They can live there for decades as the rest of the tree slowly dies. Eventually the structure weakens and it falls before decomposing.”
The chattering of small animals and soft call of distant birds carried on the wind like music. They sat side by side in complete silence. The nearby grasses swayed with the breeze, and leaves rustled.
“Now what? Your company comes in and turns my abuelo tree into a boring kitchen cabinet?”
“The decay’s too far gone and there’re too many knots to be useful. It’s not good for anything but mulch or chip really.”
“Then leave it alone. Let it stand until time fells it.”
Jonah sighed. “It’s weakening the grove. These other trees took root and adapted to consuming less than they ideally need. They’re slower growing than they should be, and that leaves them vulnerable to pests and disease. By cutting this one, the others will get stronger.”
“So they’ll yield a better profit.” The sarcasm in her words was tinged with pain. “The whole grove will get cut down in a few years, making more money for your company.”
He couldn’t argue and didn’t bother trying. “You make it sound ugly.”
“It is ugly.” Thrusting to her feet, she balled her fists and her jaw went stony. “It’s late. I’m going back to the cabin.”
The trek back down the mountainside was quiet, with no small talk. Her spine was stiff, as if the small bones were fused together, and her gait was determined. Her backpack bounced with every fuming step but there was nothing he could have done to prevent her anger. Her beloved tree was a parasite on the land. Unique and visually captivating, but a parasite nonetheless. Strangely, he was the one who felt lower than an insect.
* * *
Their simple meal of burgers and potatoes was prepared and eaten in near silence. Zury was no longer arguing to keep their supplies separate but Jonah took no joy in sharing his ground beef. The cleanup was completed with little conversation until the rumble of thunder lifted her head.
“Storm’s coming.”
The sound had barely escaped her lips when the pitter-patter began on the roof. Through the screened windows, the fresh scent of rain mingled with foliage filled the small room. Zury leaned on the door frame, looking out through the screen door at the growing puddles near her Jeep, and sighed. “So much for sitting on the stoop tonight.”
Jonah dug a soup kettle from under the counter and commandeered the jar of corn kernels he’d seen in the cabinet earlier.
The oil was almost ready before she looked over her shoulder. “What are you doing?”
“Making popcorn.”
“My popcorn.”
“My oil.” He dumped the kernels in the pan. “I figure we’re about even.”
The pops started slowly and he shook the pan, swirling it on the burner, until the tiny explosions reached a feverish noise. Zury had the saltshaker waiting when he poured the popcorn into a large plastic bowl.
“You start,” he said, carrying the snack to the small couch. “Truth or Dare.”
Zury snagged two of his beers from the fridge. “I don’t think so, Slick.”
“Afraid?”
“Hardly.” She settled at the opposite end of the couch, curling her feet under her legs. She handed him a beer, then put the bowl on the seat between them. “But no dares. Let’s do Pass Three. Every question has to be answered truthfully but you have the option of skipping three answers.”
“I can do that.” He stretched his legs out, crossing his ankles on the coffee table. He tossed a piece of corn in the air and caught it in his mouth. “You go first.”
“How long have you worked for Hawkins?”
The popcorn crunched loudly. “Two and twelve.”
“Two and twelve? That makes no sense.”
“Sure it does. I started on the logging crew when I was seventeen. Worked there for two years, mainly as a climber. Old Deke Hawkins decided I’d make a good salesman and offered me a full-ride scholarship if I’d get my GED and sign an eight-year contract with Hawkins.”
That sounded all right. It was a highly sanitized version of the truth but hit all the important points. A single drop of condensation slid down his beer bottle and he followed it, watching it zig and zag, picking up speed the closer it got to the bottom of the bottle. It was an apt metaphor.
After the stark rigidity of his childhood, he’d grabbed life by the balls and gorged, too much. He’d been on a fast track to break as many Commandments as he could. Ignoring all the sermons pounded into his head and lessons beaten into his ass, he’d had his ear pierced, gotten a tattoo, learned to cuss and drink and smoke and raise more than a little hell. His life was a meaningless stretch of screwing a different girl every night, drinking more than eating, experimenting with drugs and generally pissing his life away.
Then he’d gotten nailed for public intoxication. Old Deke had bailed him out and scared the shit out of him. He’d been Jonah’s salvation, and it was a debt he could never repay. “I took a break to go to WVU, got my bachelor’s, then came back and joined the sales team while I got my MBA. Moved to PR three years later.”
“What’s a climber do?”
“Nope. It’s my turn.” He shook his finger. “Do you still see the Reynolds family?”
“I talk to them every week and we get together as often as we can. Now, what’s a climber do?”
“Climbs trees.” He ducked the popcorn that sailed in his direction with a laugh. Her mood was lightening and he took full credit for that. “Serious, they use a safety rope and spurs to climb the trees and cut the larger branches so that the tree isn’t unevenly weighted when it’s felled. It’s not easy and a little dangerous so usually they use younger guys for that.” His lip curled in self-mockery. “Young and stupid, that was me. I didn’t know a chainsaw from a bicycle chain when I started. But I caught on fast.”
“Quit hogging the bowl.” Zury scooted closer to dip her hand into the popcorn. “Why’d you need a GED? Did you drop out of school?”
She’d skipped out of turn and he opened his mouth to say so when her tongue flicked out to lick salt from her lips. He forgot his protest. A long swallow of cold beer gave him time to formulate his answer. “Not really. I was homeschooled but never took the final exams. It worked out.” He angled into the couch corner and fixed a wicked look on his face. “Let’s get down to the good shit. What’s your favorite part of sex?”
“Joni!” She laughed and swung the throw pillow before he could duck. “Pass.”
“Don’t call me Joni. It’s a girl’s name.”
She stuck her tongue out. “Is not. It’s a diminutive. Cubans shorten names all the time.”
“Then use Joe, not Joni.”
“Get over it, Joni. Your ego can handle a little deflating.” She grabbed his blanket from the side of the couch and tucked under it. “You were probably born a flirt. I bet you were luring innocent little girls into the cloakroom—oh wait, you were homeschooled. I hope you weren’t luring your sisters in there.”
He pulled the popcorn out of her reach. “You make an inbred West Virginia joke and I’m throwing you out in the rain. I don’t have any sisters. I was deflowered by an older woman on my eighteenth birthday.”
“Deflowered,” she snorted. “Qué clase de comemierda eres.”
“Was that an insult?”
“Close enough. Whose turn is it?”
“Mine. Why haven’t you ever gotten married?”
“Never found the time.” She carefully selected a kernel, focusing on the task completely.
He narrowed his eyes. “Can’t tell me you haven’t been asked. You’re too beautiful for that.”
That earned him a smile that drove into his chest like an axe blade. “Thank you, but no, I haven’t. I’ve dated but...” A shrug lifted her shoulder. “Haven’t found the right guy, I guess. Mami said I’d know when I found him because I’d want him more than my next breath. Frankly, I like breathing too much. What about you? Why aren’t you married?”
“I like women too much.”
She nodded, a sage expression pursing her lips. “In other words, you can’t keep it in your pants.”
“Hey!” Indignation raised his voice. “I don’t cheat. If I’m seeing someone, I’m only with her. I just don’t do long-term. A woman mentions the L-word and I’m gone.”
“Chicken?”
“No. I just...” Popcorn crunched loudly between his teeth. This shit was getting too personal, too close to dark things he’d always shied from examining. “I guess I’m always wondering if there’s something else out there. I’d rather be free to find out. No one gets hurt that way. I like to keep it fun.”
She frowned at him. “Somebody break your heart?”
“Nope, just never felt the need to give it away. My body, however, is available for any beautiful woman.”
“You’re such a man.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
Wide-eyed and innocent, she smiled. “If the shoe fits...”
It was his turn to chuck a piece of popcorn at her. “This line of questioning is boring and it’s my turn so I’m changing the subject. Your tattoo? What is it?”
“Pass.”
“Pass? Why? Is it a secret?”
“It’s just private.”
Wiggling his eyebrows, he dropped his voice to a seductive tone. “Show me yours and I’ll show you mine.”
“Keep dreaming, Slick.” Moving closer, she grabbed more popcorn. A few kernels fell into the blanket and she fished for them, tiny lines forming as she narrowed her eyes. “My turn. The older woman who deflowered you, what was her name?”
He chuckled. “Pass. I don’t kiss and tell.”
The back and forth was filled with laughs and gibes, discoveries and revelations. Questions lapsed into sharing stories and swapping tales about their lives. In unspoken agreement they avoided the topic of Black Cherry Canyon. Outside, the rain played an accompanying bass. The dampness in the air increased and he tucked his chilled feet beneath the blanket she’d grabbed as well. She gave him one arched look but then offered a larger bit of the blanket corner.
“Want me to close the windows or start a fire?”
“No, it’s not really cold, just damp.” She tugged the blanket higher. “This is fine. I like the smell of the rain.”
“Me, too.” One short curl refused to follow the rest and lay against her cheek. Without thinking, he wrapped it around his fingertip. The back of his hand touched her cheek. Her breath stilled, her pupils dilating wide.
He couldn’t stop from skimming the pad of his thumb across her mouth. Those lush lips parted and his eyes fell there, imagining the flavor of her mouth. Tracing his fingers along her jaw made her eyelids close and her head tilt, not away from his touch but back, giving him access to the slender column of her neck.
Drawn by unspoken permission, his head bowed. His nose grazed the delicate shell of her ear. Her golden skin begged for firelight, and he cursed the July heat and the primitive cabin. If this place had more modern amenities, he’d have absolutely no qualms about jacking the air conditioner to its highest setting if it let him lay her naked before a blazing fire.
She tilted her head away. “It’s my turn, right?”
He nodded, although he had no idea.
“What’s your middle name?” Zury sat a little straighter, cooling the mood without pushing him away.
“Emery. It’s my mother’s maiden name. What’s yours?”
“Don’t have one. Mami figured Zureyden was enough of a mouthful.”
“You talk about your Mami but never your father. Why?”
She reached for more popcorn. “Papi died when I was baby. I don’t remember anything about him. All Mami would ever tell me was he was a good man, a proud one, who brought her here from Matanzas and wanted a better life for us all. He was a mechanic who worked very hard to make her happy. She missed him every day, lit candles for him every Sunday, and kept his picture by her bed until she passed.”
That kind of love sounded amazing but he could barely comprehend it. His mother had been completely devoted to her husband but, in his opinion, it was more out of obligation and fear than love. Though he could maybe see his best friend’s fiancée loving Matt that much.
He shoved popcorn in his mouth and looked away. That kind of love was for other people, not him, and he was just fine with that. He was a lover, not a keeper.
“What about your parents?”
Her question fell in line with his train of thought and his shoulders tensed. “Not much to tell. He was a preacher and she was a homemaker. End of story.”
She scoffed. “The end? Nothing else?”
“Nope.”
“Are they both still living?”
“Far as I know.”
Curiosity flashed in her dark eyes but she gave him a small nod, acknowledging his reluctance to elaborate. Her next question was superficial and perfect. It allowed him to shore up those defensive walls he never let completely fall. “So, Captain Kirk or Picard?”
“Picard. Kirk is the ultimate space slut but Jean-Luc makes bald and bad-ass look debonair.”
The answer sparked a new conversation but his mind reeled with the realization it had been eighteen years since he’d walked away from his family. That meant he’d been alone longer than he’d been with them. He snorted and downed the rest of his beer.
The popcorn bowl was empty except for a few lingering kernels but they kept talking as night fell and stretched. She told him about the Reynolds and their grandchildren, who she called her nieces and nephews. He told her of his friends, Bob and Molly and Webb and Matt.
Zury cradled her head on her arm curled against the couch back. Her face was soft, tinged with sleep and contentment. “Did Matt finally propose?”
“Yeah. Wedding’s set for October. I’m his best man which means I’ve got to plan a bachelor party that won’t make Kayla want to scalp me.”
“Ah, no strippers then.”
“Right, which sucks. Want another beer?”
A drowsy smile curled her lips and she shook her head. “It’s late. We should get some sleep.”
When had she moved closer? He didn’t recall, but the scent of her skin tingled his nose. They shared the double blanket, hips pressing and shoulders brushing. Warmth cocooned them and he was more than reluctant to move, unless it was closer to her.
Her eyes were dark, like rich mahogany, and he got lost in their depths. From the time he was seventeen, Jonah had refused to let anything hold him back. He went after everything he wanted and usually succeeded. Now he wanted nothing more than to taste her sleepy mouth. He angled closer and bent his head.
Soft sweet breath brushed his mouth. “Pass.”
It could have been a rejection but enough desire simmered in her eyes to burn that thought away. She wanted his kiss as much as he wanted hers but something held her back. He’d give her space for now but wouldn’t let her deny what had sprouted between them. “That’s your last pass.”
Promise husked in his tone that he hadn’t intended but couldn’t refute. Judging by the hitch in her breath, she heard
it loud and clear. Her nod was slow. “I call dibs on the shower.”
She escaped into the bathroom and gooseflesh erupted on his arms. It wasn’t from cold air, but simply from his skin missing hers. He put the empty bowl in the sink, inflated and dressed his mattress, then turned the lights off. Rain poured in a gentle rhythm, dripping off the porch roof with splats and splatters. The bathroom door opened and she paused, framed in wood and haloed in light. Her sleep shorts and T-shirt were not the least bit suggestive but her legs were long and bare. He pushed away the image of them wrapped around him and gathered his toiletries.
When he came out of the bathroom, Zury was once more gazing out the screen door. Warm wind blew in with a fine mist of rain. They’d have to close the heavy door to sleep but for now, the moist air filled the room.
His bare feet made no sound on the wood floor as he stepped behind her and cupped her hips, bending his head to rest his chin along her hair. Her spine stiffened but she didn’t shy away. When he made no move to take the light embrace to a different level, she relaxed. And that was okay. This moment, this quiet, restful moment of staring into the rain begged for closeness, not sex. He just wanted to feel her warmth.
“I love summer rain.” Soft hair brushed his jaw as she tilted her head back, resting it on his shoulder. He let himself believe she too craved his touch. “It makes everything smell so fresh and clean. I used to dream about it when I was in the city and the rains just made the garbage stink more.”
He said nothing, unwilling to let any bad memories intrude in this very fragile moment.
“You’re going to cut down my abuelo tree, aren’t you?”
A soft tremor in her voice carved an ache in his gut. “Not me, but the loggers will.”
“When?”
“I don’t know. I’d have to check the cutting schedule. Do you want me to?”
“No.” She moved away, walking from his hold without looking back. “I’m going to bed.”
He waited until he heard the creak of her bed before he closed and latched the door. The lack of moonlight thrust the cabin into deeper shadows than before, and he couldn’t see into the sleeping alcove. He slid beneath his blanket. It held the fragrance of her and tightened his balls. The flannel sheets whispered against each other as he shifted, rolling his pillow into a ball under his head and staring into the open rafters.
