by Brea Viragh
“How wonderful. Did he get down on one knee and recite the vows from Lord of the Rings? You always loved it and rehearsed the words from memory.”
“Oh, ha-ha. No, he did not recite Lord of the Rings. I put those nerdy passions behind me the day I joined the cheerleading squad.”
“Congratulations on the engagement, in any case.” August tipped his sunglasses down to grin at me. “I noticed your diamond last night but I didn’t think it was the right time to say anything.”
I glanced down at the engagement ring and nearly blinded myself when a stray beam of light reflected off the multi-faceted surface. “Yeah, thanks. That’s kind of you to say.”
“When is the wedding?”
My mouth tightened. “We haven’t set a date yet, but I was thinking sometime next year.”
“Wow, next year is a long way down the road. Why are you waiting?”
I opened my jaw and snapped it shut without a satisfactory rejoinder. Why wait? Because life happened. Things came up and situations arose until I pushed the date back again and again and forgot about the big celebration. Nerves were one thing I was entitled to, and if it meant delaying my wedding then I was prepared for the consequences.
“What happened to the woman you were seeing?” I asked instead, making my hand float along in the open air. “What was her name?”
“Charlene, and it didn’t work out. We split a few months after you left.”
“I’m sorry. What happened?”
August took his time responding, searching for the right words. He always tried to speak without misplaced blame. “It…wasn’t right. She wasn’t the person I thought she was. Not the one I pictured myself with in the long run.”
“Yeah, it helps if you can see yourself growing old with them,” I commented, trying to picture Duncan with a cane. My mind presented an image of a gnarled tree bent at the waist, kind, smiling brown eyes, and no hair except those springing from his ears. My luck, with his large frame, I’d be helping him along when his hips went. More support than the cane, at any rate. The picture disappeared as quickly as it was conjured.
“Exactly.” That was it, end of story.
August hit the brakes and took a sharp right, slowing until we reached a pull off. Nothing more than a spot of gravel on the side of the road leading into trees, the remnants of an out-of-use driveway complete with a sagging mailbox rusted shut and tilting into the brush line.
A crinkled plastic bag knocked against the back of my ankles, an insistent pet in need of attention. I took the handles in my palms and grimaced. “Shit. I forgot to put the ice cream away. Why did I let you help carry bags?”
August responded with a large smile. “Good. We can share it.”
“I should have guessed you had designs on my treat. Now I know the real reason you asked me out to lunch.”
“As usual, you see right through me.”
I glanced around, stunned at the silence when he cut the engine. “Not to alarm you, but I don’t see a restaurant anywhere.” My stomach grumbled at the thought of food. “Looks more like the type of place where you take someone to murder them.”
August chuckled. “You’re safe with me, but you already knew that.”
Yes, I did. Wrinkles may deepen, but who he was would be the same underneath.
“I was expecting something a little different.” I let the car door slam shut behind me, the only way to keep it latched. I wished I’d remembered sunglasses after a time, when the cloudless sky demolished any hope of reprieve from the glare.
“Come on, it’s just over here,” August said, pointing up the hill.
“You sure you won’t murder or take advantage of me?” I teased, the bag swinging on my wrist.
“Only if you’re rude, so try to remember your manners.”
The afternoon sun had burned off the last of the moisture from the ground so each step across the grass was dry. August led the way, his hand reaching back to steady me as my sandal slipped and stuck between two rocks.
“Son of a bitch!” I gave birth to the expletive before I thought better of it.
“Watch your step; the terrain is a little rocky. And don’t you worry,” he said. “I took care of lunch. I can hear your stomach protesting. I’m happy you agreed to come out with me.”
“Under false pretenses,” I grumbled.
“Not at all. I promised you a meal and you’re going to get one. You used to have a sense of adventure.”
The jab stung. Determined not to be the wet blanket, though I’d been practicing for years, I followed August up a short incline amidst budding wild azaleas. Deep green reflected the forest light and tucked away between leaves were petals of white and pink.
“I didn’t dress for this, you stupid man,” I muttered loud enough for him to take note. “If I’d known we were hiking, then I would have worn boots.”
August snickered and slowed his pace to accommodate my shorter strides. “It’s just a bit farther.”
I did my best to make it those last hundred feet and not let on how winded I felt. Lungs heaved and I remembered my age. Long ago I used to hike these mountains with a steady heart and strong legs. Now I struggled, slipping over loose dirt and trapped limbs before coming to rest beside August.
“Well, damn.”
Fields of green unfolded before us. Acres of grass divided here and there by rusted fences threw me right back to that day—the fence rail drooping under our combined weight and a wad of gum demolished under our hungry jaws.
“Isn’t it something?” He surveyed the land with pride. “It’s mine. I bought it.”
I held my sides against the sudden stitch and drew in a heaving breath. “You bought it?”
“I did. Fifty acres.”
Yes, his gratification was evident. The sort of self-satisfaction arising from the toils of hard work coming to fruition at long last. August worked by his father’s side creating hand-hewn stringed instruments with quality surpassed by none. When the elder Mr. McKenney’s hands grew tight with arthritis it seemed only right his son continue the legacy.
Business must be good.
“I bet your folks are proud,” I commented, shielding my eyes from the sun. “It’s stunning.”
“I’ve had my eye on it for years. It took some coaxing to get the old couple’s children to sell. An estate thing, you know,” August confessed. He gave my hand a tug and gestured toward a soft spot of clover. “I wanted to show you the beautiful view.”
“It is stunning, August. Congratulations.”
“I made a little picnic to celebrate your homecoming.”
I scoffed. “Like it’s a cause for celebration.”
Yet I enjoyed the idea of being out in the open, of surrounding myself with the rural nature I’d fought so hard against, like a riptide dragging me places I did not want to go.
Here we were, with the circle starting over again.
“I expected you to take me to one of our old spots,” I told him. “To butter me up and make me remember what it used to be like between us.”
“I thought about it. Then I realized how badly I wanted you to see this property.” August moved to my side and pointed. “Do you see the rusting metal roof over there?”
I did, barely, if I squinted. “Yes.”
“That’s the house. I’ve been working on it in my free time, converting part of the lower level into a music studio. Maybe I’ll even reprise my old single and sell it to a recording company.”
“You mean the silly tune you and Ewan Thompson made up about bouncing boobs? I’m sure it would be a hit,” I joked.
I watched August set his jacket on the ground for me to sit. He fished a small bundle from his jacket pocket, the package wrapped in brown paper and baling twine in the sort of earthy chic fashion city folks drooled over. He unraveled the package to reveal two sandwiches.
“Tell me these are your mother’s,” I said, my mouth watering. “Tell me it’s her homemade pimiento cheese and turkey.”
I’d never been able to resist the woman’s cooking. Good homey cuisine made the way Grandma taught, with the rich spice of history in every bite.
August shot me a grin over his shoulder and nodded. “Nothing but the best, I assure you. And a perfect prelude to your ice cream.”
I sank to sit with a moan and let the bag roll. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve dreamed about this when I was out West.” Digging in without hesitation, those first bites attacked my taste buds with tangy cheesy goodness. If I were a weaker woman I may have swooned.
“I can imagine. With all those health food stores and sprouted bean burgers, I bet you’ve been in a bad way. Although you look beautiful, nicely tanned.”
“The burgers weren’t bad, but I missed this.” Yes, this was my past come back to haunt me.
August watched me eat with an unreadable expression. “I’m glad you like it. Do you still think I brought you out here to commit murder or take advantage of you?”
I swallowed, though my words still caught. “No. This is good. Nothing like a sandwich to get you in the mood.”
He wiggled his brows. “In the mood for what?”
Nope, wrong direction. I covered my mistake with a cough. “What a beautiful day,” I said, hoping he would let the word choice slide.
His laughter wound its way through my blood as August mimed tipping his hat to me. “Another subtle redirect. That’s fine by me. It’s not like we’ve ever wanted for conversation.”
His hand landed on my thigh and a tingle of energy shot through me. I hurriedly pushed away from the contact.
“True. Until you told me about Brett.” I played with the ends of my wrapper.
His face soured. “Brett was an asshole. I pushed him out of my mind long ago.”
“I haven’t.”
“He was the worst kind of asshole—the lucky kind. He never deserved you.”
I drew back, stunned at the honesty. “No matter how true that may or may not be, it wasn’t your decision to make.”
August carefully set down his sandwich and stared at me. “I was looking out for you, Isabel. I deserved thanks instead of half a decade’s worth of silence.”
Only half a decade? It seemed like more, should have been more, would have been more if I hadn’t failed at my dreams. I suppose five years was a lot for someone I used to speak with every day.
“A thank you? You meddled in my life! How does your interference deserve gratitude? More like a solid kick in the ass, which is not off the table as far as I’m concerned.”
“So you would have rather me let you throw your life away on a pig with an IQ lower than dirt? Because you were getting up in years and felt socially pressured to marry? I couldn’t back away, sorry.” August shook his head. “Besides, you got out and made something of yourself from it, which is all I ever wanted for you.”
“Made something of myself?” I stood up with shocking abruptness and knocked the rest of my sandwich to the ground, food for insects. “Now you’re being insulting.”
He didn’t have the decency to rise. “How do you figure?”
My hands flapped uselessly as I tried to put into words the feelings of inadequacy I’d dealt with my whole life. “I crashed and burned, August. Do you understand? I didn’t make it out there, so I had to move back home. Live in my parents’ old house and skulk around in embarrassment.”
“That’s not—”
“And what’s more, I’m thirty-four, not married, no kids, and no career. I don’t even own my house. None of the above equals success outside your tiny man-brain.”
“I thought we were talking about Brett,” he put in.
“Brett was another disaster in a long line of them. Do you know I’ve never been able to keep a boyfriend for any length of time until Duncan?” I pointed a finger at August and continued to rant when he tried to interrupt. “Not a single one. In my whole life. They either leave me or I find out they’re scum because—” Laughing, I raised my hand to the sky. “—I’m a bad luck magnet. I should get down on my knees and thank my lucky stars for finding a good, solid man who actually wants to be with me. And now I’m home again in bum-fuck Virginia, something I swore I would never do, and I have nothing to show for it.”
August scratched his chin. “I don’t see why you’re mad at me,” he maintained. “I told you Brett was cheating. You would have seen it too if you weren’t so focused on the end game.”
“You’re missing the point. The cheating doesn’t matter. It was your meddling. It’s why I haven’t talked to you since that night!” I exploded.
I recalled the pretty yard with blooming dogwoods and redbuds. The kind of place where white picket fences were scarce and this one stood out because of it. Mr. McKenney’s Ford pickup sat parked in the drive and I’d pulled up next to it, bursting with good news.
Our ten-year class reunion had just passed by and at last I’d found someone to love. I didn’t need to knock on his father’s door to gain entry. Never needed to knock because August and his parents would always welcome me inside. The comfort and ease alone meant more than gold.
Brett wants to marry me, I’d told August with a shiver of excitement. Wasn’t it good news? It meant staying in the county, yes, but I would be there with my husband, building a home together. Until then I’d only entertained dreams of leaving, nothing substantial or concrete. Every year I told myself it was time to go, yet there was never enough money. Never a good enough job. And then my twenties were half over.
Life was passing me by.
It had surprised me to find August sullen, his perpetually smiling mouth turned down in a scowl and his eyes sad as he invited me to have a seat on the couch. He told me of his findings in a monotone and waited for me to react, keeping one hand on my lap and the other ready to soothe the pain away.
No matter how hard I begged, August would not relent in his accusations. And no matter how hard I tried to forgive him for the intrusion, in my mind, he and Brett were linked by the same thread: the betrayal of my trust.
“I understand now,” August said on a slow exhale. “It was never about me. You’ve been mad at yourself.” It seemed he pointed it out for the sheer pleasure of hearing me growl.
“Excuse me?”
“You didn’t stop talking to me because of something I did. You stopped talking to me because it humiliated you. I know enough to say you wanted to get married in the worst way. Having the impending nuptials taken away, as it were, stung your ego and you blamed it on me.”
I struggled to find the right words as my mouth opened and closed, a fish out of water. “You are out of your mind.”
August had the audacity to smile. “It’s true. I finally figured it out.” He laughed and slapped his hands on his thighs. “To think I beat myself up for years when it wasn’t even my fault.”
“You have some nerve,” I sputtered and pushed his revelation aside.
“You’re mad because I’m saying it to your face.” August smirked. “I bet your pretty boy fiancé doesn’t put things as bluntly as me. He undoubtedly wipes your ass and tells you it’s gold.”
My ego squealed in agony because, deep down, I knew he was right. “You’re cruising for a bruising, August McKenney. I don’t care if you did drive. And you’re certainly not getting any of my ice cream now, melted or not.”
I couldn’t erase the past any more than I could change it. Cheating boyfriends and culpable friends were memories I wanted to bury or will out of existence and yet, no matter how much I desired it, or wished on a star, they were there. A part of me.
No one escapes the endless cycles of time and now I found myself spiraling down again. The hurts of many yesterdays were strong enough to pull me back under until I once more felt the pain, the disloyalty.
“You aren’t going to do anything,” he drawled.
I felt like I was ten years old again. “Just watch me.” I prepared to rip him a new one when a crash sounded in the woods, limbs snapping and branches rustling li
ke a portent of doom.
Whirling, my heart leaping into my throat, I turned to August when he rose. “What was that?” I asked in a harsh whisper. Fear, something I’d become quite accustomed to, burned my throat.
He held an arm out to keep me contained and placed his body in front of mine, his gaze trained on the trees. “Stay here. This is private property.”
“Not if it’s a bear! They don’t care about property lines.”
A sound came from the left and I retreated a step. I tried to remember how playing dead only helped so much, and if it came down to running, there was no way I’d be able to outstrip August on his own acreage. Knowledge of the land gave August an advantage if it came down to survival of the fittest.
Through narrowed eyes and with a mouth as dry as any of my Aunt Freda’s fruitcakes, I watched the bushes part as someone wearing khakis barreled through.
Footsteps pounded fast as the man knocked into August, colliding with the force of a runaway vehicle and slamming him to the ground. A shout rang out.
A tangle of arms and legs knocked me aside, air rushing from my lungs, and I fell hard. Hissing, I kept a single hand on my bruised ankle and rolled out of the way before the two brutes could injure me again.
I yelled when I recognized the figure fighting August for supremacy.
“Duncan, stop!”
CHAPTER SIX
“Act your age!” I bellowed at the men as they grappled, August gaining the upper hand through sheer luck while he rolled out from under Duncan’s arms. The split second of disorientation was enough and gave August time to leap up and slam the entire weight of his body down on his opponent.
August was slender and rangy with a hint of tough beneath his t-shirt. I would have never placed money betting against Duncan, whose shoulders were wide enough to blot out the sun. Tall as a redwood and with a chest twice the size.
Good thing I hadn’t bet. I couldn’t spare the change.
“Stop!” I hollered again when no one paid attention. “Why are you doing this?”
Duncan strained to rise when August jumped back, shuffling from foot to foot and shaking his arms.
