Fading Rose

by Tamrie Foxtail

  Yesterday she’d worn sweats that covered her figure and made her look heavier. This morning’s jeans were a little loose but still revealed some attractive curves.

  Down boy, he told himself. He’d just ended things with Vicki yesterday and here he was, sniffing around Aubrey. For all he knew she had a fiancé, an ex-husband and a couple of kids.

  “I didn’t know you were a photographer,” she said. “I guess you only date women who look like models.” She tried to add a bright smile to her words, but he heard the truth. She didn’t realize how lovely she was.

  “I know what Vicki said.”

  She looked at him in surprise, her green eyes wide. For the first time he notices the little gold flecks.

  He reached for her free hand. “That’s one of the reasons we ended things. I won’t stay with someone who lies to me or about me.”

  “You split up?” she whispered. “But if she was your model—”

  “Vicki’s not a model. She works at a jewelry store. I met her when my friend asked me to drop off a necklace to be repaired. I take occasional pictures of faces I find interesting, sometimes I shoot landscapes, but mostly—buildings.”

  “Buildings?”

  Vicki had never understood why he took pictures of buildings, especially abandoned ones. “I’m working on two books. My dad’s actually helping with them. He’s a retired English teacher so he takes care of the narrative for me.”

  “What kind of books?”

  “One’s on ghost towns, the other is urban decay.”

  She shook her head the tiniest bit. “I don’t know what that means.”

  “Short explanation—abandoned buildings.”

  “Why?”

  “You go in and look at these places that were once full of life. Places that were once modern. You look at them after they’ve sat empty for years. It’s powerful.”

  She looked doubtful. He wanted the chance to make her see the buildings the way he saw them.

  The phone rang, she reached for it.

  Jim slapped his palm on the counter to get her attention. “Later.”

  She nodded, returning to her conversation: something to do with lead soldiers from the colonial era.

  A cold wind caressed him when he stepped outside. His thoughts returned to Aubrey.

  Chapter Seven

  Aubrey stretched her fingers, drew them in like claws and stretched them again in an attempt to work out the stiffness that resulted from the water retention.

  It was almost closing time, then dialysis, after which she would return home and fall into bed exhausted.

  The frog let out its ribbit. She looked up, not the least bit surprised to see Jim walk in the door. Her heart gave a happy little dance then settled back down.

  “If you don’t have dinner plans,” he said, “I thought you might like to go out to dinner. You like Chinese?”

  She loved Chinese. But even if she didn’t have dialysis tonight she couldn’t risk a dinner so high in sodium.

  “I can’t.” Jim would never know how much it cost her to say that. Just the thought of sitting across the table from him made her want to sing.

  Jim gave a little nod—that tight, polite bob of the chin people gave when they didn’t want you to know they were disappointed.

  “I’ve already made plans for the evening,” she said. “I’m sorry. Believe me, if I could cancel them, I would.”

  “You mean that?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “You busy tomorrow?”

  Nothing she wouldn’t drop in a heartbeat if it meant spending a little more time with him.

  “Not busy at all.”

  “You ever been to Jefferson?”

  “Where’s that?”

  “Grant County. I plan to go there tomorrow and take some pictures. I thought maybe you’d like to go along.”

  “Sure.” The morning after dialysis, when she would be at her thinnest. She could wear her favorite jeans and the long sleeved, dark green sweater that set off her eyes and played her figure to an advantage.

  “Whoa! Nice hooters!” For a moment she thought the parrot had read her mind.

  Jim’s lips were compressed into a thin line as he tried to keep from laughing.

  “Roast parrot is sounding better and better,” she said.

  This time Jim let the laughter out.

  ****

  Aubrey had never been to Jefferson and had no idea where it was or why Jim wanted to go there to take pictures. All she cared about was spending the day with him.

  He picked her up promptly at eight, walking up the outside stairs to her apartment over the store.

  Aubrey was sitting at the kitchen table, ready to go. As soon as she heard the knock on the door she grabbed her purse and jacket and stepped out onto the tiny landing.

  “Where exactly is Jefferson?” she asked, pulling the door closed behind her.

  “North. Hundred and seventy-five, hundred and eighty miles from here.”

  “Oh.” It was certainly farther than she had expected.

  “Don’t worry,” he said when they reached the bottom of the stairs. “If you need a potty break, we’ll stop.”

  “I can hold my bladder forever,” she muttered.

  They stopped for lunch in Enid, the last place he knew of before they reached Jefferson.

  Aubrey had dealt with End Stage Renal Disease for years. She took care to watch her fluid and sodium intake, something that was always a little more difficult when she ate out.

  She ordered a cup of coffee and a chicken sandwich with a small side salad. No dressing. Jim ordered coffee, a double cheeseburger and fries.

  “You sure you don’t want any dressing?” he asked. “Believe me, you don’t have to worry about your figure. It’s just fine.”

  Her cheeks grew warm. She hadn’t skipped the dressing because of calories, she’d skipped it because of the sodium.

  “You still haven’t told me what’s in Jefferson.” They’d spent the drive up talking about the scrimshaw doll, Mount Scott where he’d found the doll, the four years he’d spent in New York and the six years he’d lived in California.

  “Nothing,” he said.

  “We’re driving to Jefferson because there’s nothing there?” And then she understood. “It’s one of the ghost towns you’re photographing for your book?”

  “That’s right. The town was once on the Chisholm Trail. There are supposed to be some cowboy graves and a few other relics related to the days of the cattle drive. I’ll take pictures of them to use in my book on ghost towns, but Jefferson should do double duty for me.”

  She took a sip of coffee, warm and sweet, just the way she liked it.

  “There’s supposed to be an old town park. I’ve been told there are remnants of bridges and old picnic benches. There are two cemeteries. A friend of mine who went through the town about ten years ago said there were still a handful of people living there. I thought, if they’re still there, I might be able to talk to a few of them. I brought a recorder along.”

  They finished their lunch and drove the rest of the way to Jefferson.

  Jim drove slowly through the town, stopping now and then to take pictures. They found the spot that had once been the town park. It gave Aubrey an eerie feeling.

  “What do you think?” Jim asked, amid a series of soft clicks. Had he just taken her picture?

  “I don’t know what to think. How does a town just die?”

  “Happens all the time, babe. I think the death knell for Jefferson was when they started shipping cattle by railroad. That killed a lot of little towns that depended on the cattle drives and cattle auctions and everything associated with them. Boomtowns collapsed when the boom ended. Then you have places like Centralia, Pennsylvania where the town’s been evacuated because there’s a coal fire burning underneath. The place is slowly collapsing. Back when I lived in New York, a friend and I went there. It was amazing. I’ll have to show you the pictures.

  “That�
��s how I got into ghost towns and urban decay. Mike wanted to go because he was into genealogy and his family was originally from Centralia. We went to the Ignatius cemetery.”

  He lowered the camera and stared into the distance.

  “When we wandered through the town, on foot, there were stairs that led to nowhere. I remember thinking each set of stairs represented something: a home, a business. Places that had been, but weren’t anymore. Lives that had been lived. It was humbling somehow. Eerie.

  “Mike was the kind of guy who liked to talk. He wasn’t loud or boisterous, just very animated. When we drove there he talked the whole way, telling me stories his father had told about the town. When we left—he was silent.”

  He looked at her then, his blue eyes solemn. “That feeling I had when we were there? I’ve been trying to show it to others ever since that day.”

  “I never thought of photographs that way,” she said. “They were always something you took so you’d remember that place, or that day, or that person, ten years later.”

  He stroked a hand over her hair. “But isn’t that what you really remember, the emotions? You want to remember how overwhelmed you felt when you stood at the foot of the Lincoln Memorial. You want to feel the joy you felt when you held your newborn baby for the first time, or how loved and sheltered you felt when your mother was near.”

  She nodded. “I have a picture that my dad took of my mom and me. We were at Frontier City. My mom had her arm around me and we were laughing. She kissed me on the cheek just a second after my dad took that picture.”

  Aubrey pressed the palm of her hand against her cheek and closed her eyes. “My parents died a week later.” Her voice was a pained whisper, escaping from a throat that threatened to close. “Every time I look at that picture I can feel her arm around me and her kiss on my cheek.”

  She hadn’t realized there were tears on her face until Jim brushed them away. The dampness left behind absorbed the chill of the wind and stung her cheeks.

  It seemed a natural thing to go into his arms. She rested her head against his chest, comforted by the thump…thump…thump of his heart. She closed her eyes, her cheek pressed against the smooth, cold material of his jacket. He smelled of cold air and dryer sheets.

  “I didn’t know your parents had died,” he said, his voice a smooth rumble in his chest.

  “I was sixteen. They were going out on a date. I asked them to drop me off at my friend’s house.”

  She pulled away just far enough to look into his eyes, willing him to understand. “They planned to leave for dinner at six o’clock. I asked them to take me to her house at the last minute.”

  “No, Aubrey.” His voice was sharp as his fingers dug into her shoulders. “I know where you’re going with this and don’t you dare. You did not cause their deaths.”

  “I didn’t cause their deaths,” she repeated, “but if it hadn’t been for me they wouldn’t have been there at that exact moment Derrick Cleemont tried to pass a tractor trailer on a stretch of road that was no-pass.” She forced the words through her pain. “And if they hadn’t been there at that moment—”

  He gave her a quick, hard shake. “Put the blame on Derrick Cleemont if you need a villain, but don’t think that you are somehow responsible for their deaths because you asked for a ride to a friend’s house.”

  “He died.”

  “Your friend?”

  She shook her head. “Derrick Cleemont. He hit my parents head-on. He was dead at the scene. There wasn’t even anyone left to hate.”

  He held her chin between his thumb and index finger, tilting her face up.

  Aubrey stared into his eyes, unable to break the contact. What was he thinking?

  He lowered his head slowly, giving her plenty of time to avoid the kiss if she wanted to; at the same time he maintained his light hold on her chin as if making sure she didn’t go anywhere.

  It took forever for him to span the few inches that separated their mouths. She kept her eyes on his until his face blurred.

  His lips were cold from the January air, the contact feather soft. He pulled back, looking into her eyes. He must have found the answer he was looking for because his mouth returned to hers.

  While the first kiss had been hesitant, almost seeking permission, the second kiss was demanding. He claimed her mouth with his own, nipping at her lips, penetrating with his tongue, tasting and exploring and leaving her breathless.

  Chapter Eight

  Aubrey pulled into the parking lot of Tess’s church. The little plaza had once been home to nearly a dozen small businesses, now it held three: a payday loan type business, a liquor store and a little church.

  She opened the door to be greeted by gospel music and plenty of voices. Tables had been set up at the back of the room. Church members worked the tables, collecting money they hoped to use one day as a down payment on a church building.

  She spotted Tess and walked over to her table.

  “Where are these raspberry and cream cheese brownies you keep talking about?”

  “They’re blackberry and cream cheese and I have one baggie left.”

  She held up a clear plastic bag by one corner. “Six delicious brownies. And they freeze well.”

  “Sold.” She started to pull out her wallet, then paused. “I’ll take the pineapple upside cake, too.”

  Tess’s brown eyes widened. “I’ve never known you to have much of a sweet tooth.”

  “I was going to give it to Jim and his dad.”

  “Oh?” One dark eyebrow raised in question.

  Aubrey knew she was blushing. Her cheeks were on fire. “I went with him yesterday when he was taking some pictures. It was nice. I just wanted to thank him.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “It was.”

  Tess glanced around before motioning Aubrey closer. “Did he ask for a little something else as a thank you?”

  “Tess. You’re in a church.”

  Her friend shook her head. “Go to the table at the end,” she whispered, “and see if she has any pineapple upside down cake left. I have no idea what Becky puts in them but they are incredible. The boys and I already bought one.”

  Aubrey was thrown by the sudden change in topics. Apparently it showed on her face because Tess laughed. “I plan on getting all the details, girlfriend, I just want to make sure you get the right cake to impress him. Get it and get back here.”

  Feeling somewhat bemused, she headed to the other table.

  She waited in line at the last table, hoping one of Becky’s cakes would still be there. When they’d stopped to eat on the way home Jim had told her his mother’s specialty had been pineapple upside down cake.

  After buying the last cake—must be save the last one for Aubrey day—she returned to Tess’s table.

  “Give me the details, girlfriend.”

  Aubrey shrugged, trying for nonchalance. “We have a date tonight.”

  Tess frowned, crossing her arms over her chest. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

  “It’s a date, not a lifetime commitment.” Why couldn’t Tess just be happy for her?

  Tess’s face softened. “Are you looking forward to this date? You’re not feeling pressured or guilty?”

  “Why would Jim pressure me to go on a date? He’s a good looking man. He was dating a woman who looked like a model. I don’t think he’d have any trouble finding another date if I’d said ‘no.’”

  After glancing around to make sure no one was listening, Tess said “You are pretty and you’re sweet and smart. Of course he wants to spend time with you. I want you to be happy, Aubrey, but let’s face it, he split up with his girlfriend on Wednesday and now he’s asking you out. I don’t want to see you get hurt by someone who’s on the rebound.”

  ****

  Aubrey opened the door. Jim let out a whistle. “You look even more beautiful than usual.”

  She pressed her lips together to contain her joy and looked at the floor to hide her blush. The nav
y blue dress was one of the ‘fat dresses’ she used to accommodate the extra fluid before dialysis.

  He ran his fingers over her hair. “This is the first time I’ve seen it loose. It’s lovely.”

  “I got something for you and your dad. I thought you’d want to wait until you dropped me back off to pick it up.”

  His hand reached the end of her hair and rested at her waist. “You’ve got me curious.”

  “Oh, it’s just a pineapple upside cake. I was at a church bake sale and I remembered you saying your mother used to make them and I just thought…” she shrugged.

  He pressed his palm against the small of her back, bringing her closer. The fingers of his free hand caressed her cheek. “Beautiful and sweet.”

  His lips brushed her temple, then her cheek. He straightened abruptly. “If I keep this up we’ll never get to dinner.”

  He took her to Cracker Barrel, one of her favorite restaurants. She tried to keep the fluids to a minimum, but the waitress kept topping off the water glass making it easy to lose track of how much she’d had.

  She squirmed a little at first, nervous. But as the evening went on she relaxed.

  “My mother passed away six months ago,” Jim said, as their waitress placed the main course on the table. “My folks were married for forty-three years. I knew my dad would be lost without her.”

  “And so you moved back home?”

  “It wasn’t intended to be permanent. I was tired of the West Coast and ready to come back here for a while. I thought I’d help him pack up Mom’s clothes and donate them. Help him get through those first weeks without her.”

  “And now?” she asked. She could fall in love with him, she knew that from the way her heart flew around in her chest whenever he was near. Please stay, she wanted to beg.

  “Apparently my dad thinks it’s permanent. He keeps suggesting places where I can put in for a ‘real’ job.”

  “But I thought photography was how you made your living.”