Wild Flower

by Abbie Williams

  Justin caught my gaze and asked silently, Should I say something?

  No, let me first, I said back, setting aside my fork and lining my forearms along the edge of the table. Rae appeared fully absorbed in eating her strawberry-banana gelatin, topped with whipped cream, but I sensed she was also paying close attention.

  Clint’s eyes remained downcast as I asked quietly, “Why are you thinking that, honey?”

  A flood of earnest words rushed forth. “I don’t want to leave Landon, for one thing. And I don’t think I necessarily need a degree. I mean, maybe I’ll change my mind but right now I want to get my certification and work for the fire crew. And it seems like a waste of money to pay for school when I don’t even know what I want to do for a career right now. Tish wants to be a lawyer like her dad, and has this whole plan and stuff, but I don’t.” He heaved a sigh and looked to Justin, as though for encouragement, asking plaintively, “Dad, you didn’t go to college, did you?”

  Justin hooked a hand over Clint’s shoulder, patting him. “You know what, I didn’t. I thought about it. I actually got accepted to Stout State in Wisconsin, but then I got married way too young and that was a big mistake.”

  Clint nodded in all seriousness and Justin continued, “I know it’s a hard decision to make, son. We all hate the thought of you moving away, but we don’t want you to miss any opportunities, either.”

  Clint leaned his shoulder into Justin, who curled an arm and squeezed him close, understanding that Clint needed reassurance right now, more than anything else. Clint muttered, “I know.”

  “We won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do, Clinty,” I told him. “There’s still over a month before you have to go. You might decide you want to give dorm life a try, too.”

  Clint shuddered. “I would miss the lake.”

  “Hi, guys!” Tish heralded, plunking down beside me, her plate as full as Clint’s had been; baked beans sloshed onto the tablecloth. She giggled and said, “Oops,” scooping a bite of gelatin into her mouth. It wasn’t until then that she regarded our serious faces; she paused in her exuberant eating and muttered to Clint, “You must have told them.”

  He sat straight again and nodded, blowing out a breath that puffed his cheeks.

  “Make room!” Dodge said, headed our way now, Liz and Wordo just behind him, along with Jeff and the triplets.

  I told Clint, “We’ll talk later, all right, honey?”

  Hours later, Rae had eaten her fill of roasted marshmallows and was snuggled on Aunt Ellen’s lap, near the bonfire. Dodge, Mom (who held Millie Jo and Matthew, one on each knee), Rich, and the Carters were all seated around the fire, too, drinking beer and enjoying the gorgeous mild evening. Eddie and Jim played for hours with no breaks, an impressive feat, and were currently in the midst of a slow song. I was sitting with Jo on the porch steps, telling her about Clint’s latest announcement, when Blythe approached us.

  “Sorry to interrupt, ladies,” he said in his deep voice, with gentlemanly formality. Almost shyly, he explained, “But I was hoping to dance with my wife.”

  Joelle smiled, reaching for him, and his answering grin could have heated the whole state in a midwinter blizzard. I elbowed my sister and muttered, “Remember you’re in public, you two.”

  Blythe drew Jo to her feet and hugged her close. “How did I get lucky enough to become a part of this family, huh?”

  “Well, you are kinda cute,” I teased, squirreling in between them to steal a hug. I adored my brother-in-law.

  He leaned down and kissed the top of my head, then ruffled my hair. “Thanks, Jills.”

  Jo stood on her tiptoes to kiss Bly’s chin, tucking hair behind his right ear. She agreed, “Yeah, kinda cute all right. We’ll talk more, later, Jilly Bean, I promise.”

  I went in search of my husband, determined to haul his ass onto the dance floor for a few songs. I tired too quickly for any serious dancing, but he wasn’t getting out of it altogether. I found Justin sprawled comfortably in a sling chair near the picnic tables, where the non-dancing menfolk gathered, laughing about something with Wordo. I pit-stopped at one of the coolers and fished out a sizeable chunk of ice. Wordo caught sight of me approaching, but I put a finger to my lips to indicate silence and then slipped it straight down the back of Justin’s shirt. He broke off in the middle of a sentence and yelped, leaping to his feet to dislodge the ice cube.

  “Darn you, woman,” he said, catching me close as I laughed and struggled. He pressed a kiss to my cheek and muttered, “If this is your attempt to get me on the dance floor…”

  “You promised,” I nagged, poking his ribs.

  “Come sit on my lap instead,” he invited in his most husky, sexy voice, the one he knew I could not refuse.

  I caved. “For a minute. But then we’re dancing, you owe me.”

  “Oh, I’ll pay up,” he promised, kissing my jaw, settling me in the sling chair with him; with our combined weight, I was surprised it didn’t instantly collapse. Justin threaded his fingers over the fullest part of my belly.

  “I never knew you were such a bully, Jills,” Wordo teased, draining the last of his beer. “You need one more, J.D.?”

  “That would be great,” Justin said.

  “And a lemonade,” I requested, smiling at my brother-in-law.

  “You got it.” Wordo stood and stretched. There were dozens of adults dancing by now, most of the little kids having found laps to climb upon. I smiled at Jo and Blythe, holding each other close, and at Camille in Mathias’s arms, listening to whatever he was saying with a soft smile on her lips. They were planning to leave for their vacation the day after tomorrow. I was watching my niece when Wordo’s tone suddenly changed. He said, “Uh-oh,” and I followed his gaze; my curiosity morphed instantly to bristling irritation.

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I muttered.

  “She’s loaded,” Justin observed, with a sigh, and I supposed he would be the first to recognize it, as he’d lived with her in the same house for many years. He smoothed his palms over my belly and I was reminded, however ridiculously, of the way a person might soothe a pregnant cow. “Do you want me to tell her to leave?”

  I felt my teeth go on edge, unable to peel my eyes from Aubrey as she leaned rather heavily on her cousin, Jen Lutz. She’d obviously arrived with Jen, whose husband was now playing guitar along with Eddie and Jim. Aubrey wore a very short, very tight jean skirt and a flowy white blouse, and she cast her eyes over the noisy crowd, finally homing in on us like a big, nasty, ugly pigeon. Except that she wasn’t big or ugly. Just nasty.

  “No,” I said, answering Justin’s question. My throat felt raw. “That would just imply that it bothers me.”

  “I’ll tell her,” Wordo offered. “Or Liz will. Liz hates her guts.”

  This was my home turf and Aubrey had the nerve to show up here; grudgingly, I acknowledged that about half of Landon was also in attendance. But it was still an insult of the lowest order, one that a part of me felt I couldn’t let slide; I wanted to march over there and snatch a fistful of her long, shiny hair and tell her to get the fuck out of here. But doing so would only indicate to her that I was needled by her presence. Continuing to eyeball Justin and me, she rested her fingertips on her hips and flicked her auburn hair over one slim shoulder, and it was that familiar arrogant gesture which made my hands curl into fists.

  Justin felt the tension in my body and murmured, “Jills.”

  With that one word I clearly discerned his worry for me and his quiet plea to let this go. I wished it was that easy. Aubrey’s cousin redirected her attention, probably inadvertently, and Dodge headed over from the fire, hunkering down near our chair.

  “You want me to make her leave?” Dodge asked, and I could hear the concern in his voice as he looked between Justin and me.

  I whispered, “No, it’s all right. I don’t care.”

  “Well, I care,” Dodge said, patting my knee. I’d told an obvious lie, but he let it slide. His presence was so r
eassuring; I reflected how much I loved my father-in-law, who’d been like an actual father to me for so long now, since my childhood. After Justin and Liz’s mother left Landon, Dodge had held it together for his kids, and I had always admired him for that love and stability. Justin’s mother had never even seen Rae and barely knew Liz’s triplets, who were in their teens now, and though Justin was matter-of-fact about this I knew it still stung him deeply. Sometimes that was the trade-off, I knew well, as my own father had never been in the picture for Joelle or me. Perhaps having one good, solid parent was worth enough. Though he hardly ever spoke of it, I knew Justin depended a great deal on Dodge.

  Dodge sighed. “All right then, honey. Tell me if you change your mind. I know she’s only here to upset you, and that upsets me.”

  Justin’s arms tightened around me and I understood he felt the same.

  “No, it’s all right,” I said again, heartened by my family’s concern.

  “I’ll get that goddamn car fixed and then I hope she leaves town for good,” Dodge said. He caught Justin’s eye. “You just say the word, boy.”

  “Thanks, Dad.”

  “I’ll be at the fire with the little ones,” Dodge said.

  Wordo followed Dodge to collect fresh drinks for us, leaving Justin and I relatively alone, and I tried hard to keep my eyes from darting back to Aubrey, but she might as well have been flashing with Vegas-style neon colors, sequins and feathers and the whole cheap bit.

  “I never would have guessed she’d pull this shit,” Justin said, his chest vibrating against my spine as he spoke. “I’m sorry, baby. Don’t let her upset you. It’s what she wants.”

  “Who’s upset?” I demanded, clearly upset.

  Aubrey eased away from her cousin and waltzed through the semi-rowdy crowd, heading for the picnic tables. No one really seemed to be paying attention to her progress, except for me, and my heart crackled with electric anger as she skirted a few lawn chairs, stopping no more than three paces from our knees. I caught the familiar scents of both cigarettes and schnapps emanating from her. For a half-second I felt sixteen again.

  “I saw you guys at the parade today,” Aubrey said, her voice just on the border of slurry.

  Good for you, I thought, exactly as Justin said, “Well, good for you.”

  “So cute,” she mocked. “What a cute little family.”

  Neither of us replied to this comment but she was undeterred, telling Justin, “You owe me.”

  I sat straighter, my blood in a hot riot, prepping me to battle for my husband. Behind me, Justin remained calm and silent; he patted my belly again and though it was not his intent, I felt more like a mama cow than ever, big and fat and awkward, while Aubrey stood there all thin and leggy in her tiny skirt, reeking of booze.

  When she failed to succeed in coercing a reply, she ratcheted up the whine in her voice and again addressed Justin, insisting, “I need to talk to you.” Her eyes snapped to me, as I had inhaled an angry breath, more than ready to let her have it. She lashed, “It’s none of your business, Jillian Davis.”

  Justin finally spoke up. “Anything you say to me is my wife’s business.”

  “I’m your wife,” Aubrey said, clearly without thinking, and then affected a horrible little laugh. She corrected herself, “Maybe not anymore. But you still owe me.”

  “What in the fuck are you talking about?” I demanded, and my voice was so loaded with hostility that I hardly recognized it.

  “Wouldn’t you like to know?” Aubrey all but purred.

  I wanted to deck her in the mouth. I couldn’t help but wonder how Justin would be reacting if this situation was reversed; if somehow my ex-husband was behaving this way in front of us. As though there was any chance in hell of that, but still. Justin would have dealt him a fist to the face by this point. Or at least seriously considered it.

  “An…explanation,” Aubrey finally said, stumbling over the word. “That’s what he owes me.” She looked back at Justin. “So you’re Clint’s dad now, too?”

  “I sure am,” Justin said, without missing a beat. I could tell he was not about to get pulled into her icky little ploy. I hated hearing Aubrey speak my son’s name.

  “You are not,” she challenged, and then repeated, “You owe me.”

  “He doesn’t owe you shit!” I raged, losing all cool. Despite the music and the noise of the crowd, a few heads turned our way.

  Aubrey bent closer to me and I saw that her eyes were unfocused. Her breath was heavy and stale, ripe with peach schnapps. She actually dared to tap my nose with the tip of her index finger, whispering, “Fuck you.”

  “Okay, that’s it,” Justin muttered, acid in his tone. He set me gently to the side before standing and indicating the parking lot with an outstretched arm. “No way do you talk to Jillian that way. Get Jen to take you home. Now.”

  Moving swiftly for being so drunk, Aubrey lifted both hands and caught Justin’s t-shirt in her fists. I thought I might bite through my own tongue as she pleaded, “I’m sorry, Justin. I need you. Don’t you remember how it used to be with us? You just need to listen…”

  Justin took her wrists in his hands and forcibly removed her grip. She stumbled and he lowered her to a lawn chair; I could hardly see through the buzzing red rage in my skull. Justin was furious; she’d finally succeeded at that. He bent forward, firing his words like bullets. “You are the world’s best liar, you know that? Jesus Christ, what a great performance. What is wrong with you? You can’t handle that I’m happy without you? Are you fucking kidding me?”

  I hated most that someone could make him so angry, to speak such things aloud. Aubrey retained that power over him and I hated her all the more for it, and for ruining our evening in this way. Joelle was suddenly there, and Jen Lutz, and things seemed to happen very quickly, and in a blur. Aubrey left with her cousin, tearful, making as much of a scene as possible. Justin’s jaw was rigid with tension. Jo said, “Come on, Jills, let’s go,” and led me inside Shore Leave.

  “You’re shaking,” Jo said, clicking on the overhead lights. She wrapped me in her arms and smoothed one hand over my loose hair. “I’m so sorry I didn’t notice Aubrey was here. What a dumb bitch. Jills, are you okay?”

  “I want to go home,” I managed to say, clinging to my sister, my voice muffled against her familiar scent; she was right, my teeth were practically chattering.

  The screen door banged open behind us and Justin said, “Baby, I’m so sorry. Come here.”

  He brooked no argument and Jo surrendered me to his arms. I wanted to cry but the heated emotions raging through me would not allow for tears. Justin bent his face to my loose hair. “You’re shaking. Christ, I’m so sorry, sweetheart. That was so ridiculous.”

  “It’s all right,” I whispered. “I just want…to go home.”

  He nodded agreement, rubbing his hands over my shoulder blades as Clint was the next to barge into the cafe.

  Clint cried, “Mom, are you all right? Holy shit, what happened? Did you almost get in a fight?”

  I drew away from Justin and gathered myself together. “No, of course I didn’t almost get in a fight.”

  “Then what happened?” Clint demanded.

  “Will you please walk me home?” I asked my son, who nodded at once. “I’ll walk you home,” Justin said. Immediately he throttled down his single-minded tone and amended softly, “Let me, please.”

  I looked up at him and my eyes sparked with a hot burst of fire, surprising me; I hadn’t realized I was also angry at Justin.

  “I’ll be at home,” I said, looking away as I ordered, “Come on, Clint.”

  Justin said, “I’ll get Rae and be right there,” and in my current mood I felt like he was attempting to do nothing but get in the last word.

  Clint was uncharacteristically silent as we walked the short distance to our cabin, keeping my hand tucked in the curve of his right elbow. On the porch, I realized I didn’t have my house key and fumbled for the one hidden in the planter to
the right of the door. Clint finally asked, “So what happened? Grandma said Dad’s ex-wife was being mean to you.”

  My dear son, always worried for me. I tugged on him so that he would bend down, and then kissed his cheek. I smoothed my hands over his close-cropped dark hair. “I’m so glad you want to stay around here. I couldn’t bear it if you moved too far away from me.”

  “Aw, Mom.” His voice cracked and he cleared his throat. But he wouldn’t let me change the subject so easily. “Are you sure you’re all right? Dad said he was coming right home.”

  “I’m fine,” I said, unlocking the door. “You go back to the party and have fun. Tell Aunt Jo that I’m all right, or she’ll be worried.”

  The trees seemed to be whispering as Clint loped back toward the cafe. The breeze had increased, shifting the air, and I could no longer hear Eddie’s guitar tinkling through the night like a distant music box; its absence struck me as ominous. I wanted to sit on the porch swing and relax but as Clint disappeared into the woods a bolt of fear caught me unaware. A shiver seized the bones in my spine and sent the hairs on my nape prickling. It was such a terrible sensation that I froze, a mouse before a hawk, perceiving danger the split second before it presented itself. My gaze flew to the pines on the edge of our lot, their individual needles sharply accentuated in the moonlight.

  Someone’s there, I recognized, and the key fell from my wooden fingers. Oh, my God. Someone’s out there.

  I stared, riveted by certainty, heart thrashing, certain that a shadowed figure was about to emerge from the pines only yards away—a slow walk at first, gaze fixed on me, then bounding forward—

  “Stop!” I cried, rasping over the word, lifting my palms to ward off the attack happening nowhere but within my head.

  Jillian, open the door and get inside.

  The reprimand, delivered straight to my panicking brain in the tone of Great-Aunt Minnie, served to center my focus. I scrabbled for the knob, rocketing into my house and slamming the door with enough force to rattle the dishes in the cupboard. Breathing hard, wild-eyed, I jammed the deadbolt into place and rushed to the window, peering immediately outside, only to see nothing. Not one damn thing. No stranger in my yard, no intruder striding across the grass. Only the pines. I closed my eyes, fingertips pressed to the cold glass, stretching out with the full force of my awareness, to be met by a maddening emptiness. The presence I’d sensed had vanished—or, I realized, my imagination had just played a mean trick. My fingers were unsteady as I slid back the deadbolt so that Justin and the kids wouldn’t be locked out.