by Ashlee Price
She continued to stare at me. I thought I would see some relief, some kind of anger... something other than tears and stares.
"Where is that son-of-a-bitch, anyway? I'm going to bash his head in."
Her face became blank and she said, "A tree already beat you to it, Michael. I just called his phone and his mother answered. Clayton got drunk and hit a tree last night. He's dead."
I couldn't move. All I could do was stare. Callie took a deep breath and said again, "I said, he's dead, Michael."
"I heard you! What the fuck!!! Jesus, for the love of God, how can this be happening? Oh my God! He was my best friend. I've known him almost all my life. He can't be dead! No, it's not true!"
Callie frowned. "I'm trying very hard to be sensitive here, but a few minutes ago you wanted to kill him and now he's the best friend you ever had? Do you hear yourself, Michael? He kidnapped me! Drugged me! Married me, for God's sake! Where do I fit in all this? He's now the hallowed one? We can't speak ill of the dead? Legally speaking, Michael, I'm his widow! Is this getting through to you?"
"He... is... dead, Callie. Is that enough justice for you?"
"What? Now it's my fault that he drank himself into a tree? Wait just a minute here. You came here when I called, all ready to defend my honor. You picked me up and held me, told me everything would be okay and that you'd see to it I was okay. Now I've somehow become the bad guy in all this? What the hell? Get out, Michael. Take your women and your football and your law career and your dead best friend and get out of here! I'll find another ride home, thank you."
I couldn't believe what she was saying. This wasn't the soft, loving girl I knew. She'd turned along the way, and I no longer recognized her.
But I did as she said. I stood up and walked out of the room and drove back to my dorm. The next morning, I got up and went to practice and then to class. I forgot about Clayton, his funeral, and everything else. I forgot about Callie.
I had to. It was the only way I could remain sane.
Chapter 9
Callie
Josiah Tucker Pierce was born in mid-April, his head covered with dark brown hair, his eyes a matching color and his temperament geared to get him whatever he wanted. He may have had my eyes, but his hair and temperament were definitely from his father.
Dad and I sat on either side of the bassinette, taking turns at letting him fold his chubby fingers around ours. He was kicking and actively looking from side to side, taking in the world that now belonged to him.
Josiah began to cry, and Dad left the room so I could nurse him. As the baby fed, I leaned back in the rocker and thought about the months that had led me to this moment.
My marriage to Clayton had been legal in the eyes of the law. I didn't think Clayton and I had had sex, as I'd been completely dressed when I woke up that next morning. Even the braided coronet on my head was intact, along with one little rosebud. If we'd had sex, most likely I would have been naked and my hair undone or messed up. The technicality of consummation was not something I mentioned.
Although it had never been his intent, Clayton had done me some favors. Naturally, everyone who knew us assumed that Josiah was Clayton's son, and neither Dad nor I were likely to say otherwise. Clayton owed me that much. As his widow, I inherited a small sum of money - enough to pay for his funeral and have enough left over to pay my medical expenses. Other than that, I was on my own.
Dad and I had agreed not to mention the circumstances to Josiah until he was old enough that it was unavoidable. Hopefully, by then, it wouldn't matter to him.
Clayton's family wanted nothing to do with me. They blamed me for his having gotten so drunk. I was given the title of widow by friends and other people in the community. That brought with it respectability for Josiah and for myself, although only in the minds of others.
I hadn't seen Michael at the funeral and hadn't heard from him since the motel. Buddy made a point of telling me the context of his conversation with Michael and urged me to contact him and straighten things out. I wanted it left alone for the time being. Michael hadn't earned the right to be a father; he was only intent on taking care of himself. I didn't want him that way, by force or the pressure of what others deemed right. I had Josiah's interests at heart, and having a dead father was more respectable than being a bastard.
I had a new life to mold. I had a son to care for, and Dad's salary couldn't stretch far enough to cover us all. I took a government loan and enrolled in community college as I'd planned. Dad helped by watching Josiah while I was in class, and then I took on a part-time job as a companion to an elderly woman, Mrs. Ida Tarrington.
Mrs. Tarrington owned what was once one of the largest horse farms in the Bluegrass. Childless, when her husband died, she'd inherited the farm and it was, naturally, too much for one person to run. She'd sold off all but the best breeding stock and allowed much of the grazing lands to revert to hay. I'd heard through the local grapevine that she was looking for a personal assistant and sent her a note, along with an introduction from the Smithfields.
I'd had enough money left over from Clayton's inheritance to sign up for a cell phone. It was a safety precaution in case Dad needed me quickly if something happened with Josiah. I'd only just sent the note a few days earlier when the phone rang.
"Hello?"
"Is this Callie Pierce?"
"Yes."
"This is Ida Tarrington." That was explanation enough. Everyone for three counties knew who she was.
"Yes, ma'am. How may I help you?"
"I'm calling about the note you sent. I'd like to see you this afternoon at the farm. Three o'clock."
I had class that afternoon, but I hesitated only a moment before I decided to skip it. Getting a job with Mrs. Tarrington was just too important to let go.
"Yes, ma'am, I'll be there."
The line went dead, and I ran to tell Dad about the interview. He frowned. "Proud of you, Callie girl, but that woman ain't easy to deal with, you know. I've met her a couple of times at the Keeneland sales, and she pretty much just orders people around. Doesn't lift a finger herself. You think you can handle being treated like that?"
"I can learn, Dad. You know things are tight and I have to contribute more. Josiah isn't going to get less expensive as he grows older," I pointed out.
"Well, if you think you can take care of him, go to school and deal with Ida Tarrington, you're stronger than you look. Go on ahead and I'll watch Josiah like I always do."
I was at Mrs. Tarrington's door at three o'clock on the nose. She was a stout woman with gray hair that was cut severely short and wasn't the least bit flattering. She had light blue eyes that stared right through you, and I admit, she treated me as though she suspected I was about to steal the family silver.
"You married?"
"I'm a widow, Mrs. Tarrington."
"Oh, yes, that's right. I'd forgotten. Heard your husband drank himself into a tree. When will you young folk learn that drinking should be confined to one's home and in the company of others. Never, never drink alone. You drink?"
"No, ma'am. Never have."
"Well, that's good. Don't want a drunk around here. Don't want any drunks, druggies, thieves, liars, sloths or bums. Those who work for me must be personally clean, alert and ready to work at all times. Think you can do that?"
I bit my tongue to stop the flow of defensive arrows I wanted to throw back at her. "Yes, ma'am, I can."
We talked a few more minutes and she hired me. She stated that she just wanted someone to clean her house, do her errands and give her another hand at gin rummy occasionally. She was an unpleasant woman who tended to look down on most people. The good thing was that she paid me well for my time and was flexible enough that I could attend my classes and still have time to look after Dad and Josiah. Sometimes she'd ask me to bring Josiah with me. He was the only one who could make her smile, even if it only lasted a second before she remembered herself. It certainly wasn't the ideal situation, but it was tolerable.
My days became very routine. During the week, I rose early in the morning and tended to Josiah. He was a happy child who looked more and more like Michael every day. I bathed him and put him in his playpen while Dad finished the early morning chores in the barn. When Dad came in, I left for college, where I had scheduled all my classes for the mornings. That gave me afternoons off to do my studying and to work at Mrs. Tarrington's. After she'd had her dinner, I'd scoot home and cook for Dad and Josiah and then play with my son for a while before putting him to bed. On weekends, I had a little more time to devote to Josiah, but otherwise my days were the same.
Obviously, this didn't leave much time for a life of my own. Like most single mothers, I realized that was not a luxury I would enjoy until Josiah was considerably older. I could deal with it, but I admit I was lonely. I thought of Michael often. Some days I hurt from missing him and cried myself to sleep. Josiah was my only comfort because he looked so much like his dad. Other days, I was still angry with him over his behavior at the motel. I hadn't realized how self-centered he could be, and that tempered my feelings of needing him. I realized that in many ways, I was more mature than he was. Maybe that was because he had been raised with everything he needed. I'd had a harder life, especially after Mom died. I kept up with Michael's life through our friends. Now that I had a cell phone, I had discovered the magic of texting. Buddy made it his business to keep me informed about all of Michael's accomplishments. I couldn't help wanting to know, even though it made me feel sad and left out. I won't lie; there was a part of me that resented Michael enjoying his freedom while I was raising our son. Of course, he knew nothing about Josiah being his, so I really couldn't blame him.
But Buddy kept working at me and finally convinced me that I should stay in touch with Michael, if only by text. "You can reach him at the same number he always had. Just drop him a line once in a while to see how he's doing, why don't you?"
"I suppose I could." Buddy and I were talking on the phone as I was driving from class to Mrs. Tarrington's house. "Has he told you we got in an argument the day that Clayton died?"
"Sort of. He didn't go into any details, but I knew something had happened when he didn't show up at Clayton's funeral. I have to tell you the truth, Callie. I don't know everything that happened between you and Clayton, but it couldn't have been too much. You were together just a couple of days in that mess."
"You're right, Buddy. There wasn't much. Clayton and I knew each other in high school, same as you and me. That didn't change just because he got me drunk, drugged me and dragged me to Tennessee. Well, it doesn't matter now, but you probably figured out that Clayton was the reason Michael and I argued. I saw a side of Michael I'd never known about before. He can be very callous and self-centered."
"Can't we all?"
Buddy and I disconnected a few minutes later, but his insightful question stuck with me for days. Was I being selfish by not letting Michael know about Josiah? After all, he was missing all the young firsts, the little things that children do for the first time in their early years, like sitting up, rolling over, crawling, walking. I asked myself once again why I was doing that. Did I truly care enough for Michael that I wanted his life to be free of the responsibilities of being a father? Did he deserve that? Or was I afraid that his family would get overly involved in Josiah's life? Maybe they'd try to take him over, or even worse yet, ignore him entirely. Under all the scenarios, Josiah had to be considered. I wouldn't allow my son to be snubbed. He was going to have every benefit in life that I could afford to provide. Then it came down to me. Was I trying to protect myself? Was I trying to hide the fact that I had let myself get pregnant without the benefit of being married? After all, this was my world; all the people I'd ever known would judge me. One thing was clear. Everything was governed by fear.
Chapter 10
Michael
I was well into my sophomore year, although it seemed like it had been longer. I was still throwing the football and still getting the star treatment. Some things, however, had changed.
I could tell I was growing up. There were no more tutors. I studied the books on my own, stayed up all night doing the homework, and did well on the exams. I wasn't going to be the product of what my dad could buy any more. I wanted to earn what I had.
While football earned me popularity and pats on the back, it wasn't going to be my career. I wanted that to be law. I looked at law as the ability to change wrongs to rights. Maybe that was a little naive, but you had to start off ambitious before you let the system drag you down.
Most of all, I was feeling guilty. Callie had always been my girl. She had depended on me to look after her, and I'd done it - until the day I left. The fact that we'd made love really had nothing to do with anything. Of course I'd wanted her; that was no surprise. Anyone would. I'd wanted her from the first moment I laid eyes on her. What had happened that night under the tree had been a total surprise for me. I didn't think she would submit until she was married, and I had always respected her for that. In fact, I think it came as a surprise to the both of us when it happened.
Clayton had never cared about Callie. He knew she was hands off as long as she was mine. I left her exposed when I went to school, and when I pissed Clayton off, he went for my vulnerable side. Naturally, that was her. In my arrogance, not to mention stupidity, I guess I thought she'd always be there waiting for me. That was the young buck in me, the idiot who listened to Dad when he said I had the world in my hands. I was the big fish in the little pond. The more that I came to realize my responsibility in all of it, the worse I felt. In many ways, I was responsible for Clayton's death. Sure, he drank the liquor and he drove the car, but I'd always known he was a little jealous of me. I guess I drove his brain to the point where he became careless, trying to hold onto my coattails.
As for Callie, that was definitely my fault. I had protected her, and that night when she called me for help, when Clayton had just died, who did I think of? Myself. She was sitting next to me, her life in shambles, and all I could think of was how it affected me. I really was an ass. But as I got older, I was recognizing that, and I hoped I would be a better person for it.
In the meantime, I still had a responsibility toward Callie. Buddy had consistently kept me in the loop, as did a few others of the old gang. When I heard about Callie being pregnant, I felt like I couldn't breathe. It just wasn't fair that a sweet person like her would be deprived of a decent life due to my lack of character. She'd never done anything but been there for me, and she'd always had my back. What did I do for her? Not shit. I deserved to be horse-whipped, but how was I going to let her know? She would never trust me again, that much was certain.
I heard she had a baby boy, although she kept him away from all our old friends. I sort of understood. Even though she had never loved Clayton, she was technically in mourning, and that was a time-honored tradition in our part of the world. Buddy had gone to the trouble of giving me her cell phone number, bringing her up in every conversation and trying to force me into calling, or at least texting her. "You can't let these things go on too long," he told me. The truth was, I didn't feel I was worthy of her. But then, maybe I was just giving myself the easy way out.
My cell vibrated and I saw that it was Buddy calling.
"How are you doing?" I answered.
"Pretty much the same. Got a new job tending bar at a little club downtown. The money's not much, but the scenery is pretty good," he laughed.
"Same old Buddy. Any gossip to pass along?"
He knew what I was asking. We didn't need to beat around the bush. "I hear she's got a job now, on top of going to school and taking care of her dad and the baby. She's working for old lady Tarrington."
"That bitch?"
"Call it what you like, but Callie's choices are limited, don't forget."
"Point well taken. I wish there was some way I could help her out, but I don't think she would take money from me."
"She won't take a dime from you
, you know better than that. She earns her way." I heard Buddy's words and wondered if that was a backhanded slap at me, who'd never earned what I had, but had it given to me. Another life lesson, another slap in the face with reality. "I'll tell you what you can do, though. You can text her. You don't have to do any more than that, and maybe she won't even answer. But at least you've reached out. She's got to get pretty scared sometimes, and she always relied on you to keep her level-headed. I heard she's been trying to ride her horse, but those spells keep happening. Her dad isn't doing too well. He looks older than he should. I guess between losing Callie's mom and taking care of the baby when Callie's at school or work, it's a little much to ask of him."
"Damn! I feel like such a shithead!"
"Why the hell do you think I keep calling you?"
"Okay, Buddy, you've made your point. You're absolutely right, and you're a standup guy, my friend. She'll hear from me today, one way or another."
"Good deal, that's what I wanted to hear. Well, you keep throwing that ball, and you let me know what she says, okay?"
"Deal."
"One more thing, Michael. Remember that it's not what you did in the past that counts, it's what you're doing now that makes the difference."
"Good advice, my friend. Not to mention, particularly timely. Talk to you later."
Chapter 11
Callie
I was on my way back from Mrs. Tarrington's, headed home to make dinner and study, when my phone beeped that a text had come through. I had a rule about texting while driving - I simply wouldn't do it.
So I didn't pick up the phone until I got home and was ready to pull the key from the ignition in the old truck.
MICHAEL: Callie, it's Michael. Can we text?
I dropped the phone onto the seat in surprise. My heart began pounding and I felt a panic similar to what horses triggered beginning to surface. Why was Michael suddenly contacting me? Did he suspect something about Josiah?
