I flushed at this, as she tugged back into her work gloves. She said, “Garth does some contracting work, so he’s been leading operations. Luckily the barn floor is cement, and is intact, so we’ve just been working on getting it framed. Well, the men have, I guess. I’ve been weeding around the yard, if you want to know the truth. You could give me a hand with that, if you’d like.”
“Please, put me to work,” I told her.
“There’s more work gloves on the steps there,” Becky said, indicating.
I took stock of the yard as I made my way to the little green-and-white trailer where Tish now lived. It was pretty rundown, and I had a moment’s trouble envisioning my sister here. But I had seen with my own eyes how happy Tish was; I supposed she would be content to live in a refrigerator box, as long as Case was with her. I peeked across the street, where Marshall and his brothers were unloading their tools, including an aluminum folding ladder; Marshall knew I was looking his way, somehow, as he looked right over at me and used his free hand to tip his hat brim at me, before going straight back to work.
I tore my eyes from him and entered Tish and Case’s trailer, which was stuffy with the scent of leftover smoke. I leaned out the screen door and called to Becky, “I think I’ll clean up in here for a little while, and then I’ll head out to help.”
“Sounds good, sweetie!” she called back, already on her knees, busy making a weed pile in the yard behind her.
First, I opened windows.
Then, hands on hips, I regarded my sister and Case’s space. It wasn’t that it was truly dirty, but Tish had never been a great housekeeper (plus I knew she was busy with her job), and Case was a guy. I reflected that plenty of men I knew helped out around the house; my stepdad, for example, but still. Guys were guys. I found a sponge on the edge of the kitchen sink, and a bottle of spray cleaner, and made myself useful.
Two hours later the interior of the little trailer was sparkling, or as close to sparkling as it could possibly be; I was pretty darn proud of my efforts. There was a radio playing outside as men crawled all over the slowly-growing structure of the barn, tuned to a local classic rock station, and in addition to hammers clanging and buzz saws whining, there had been a great deal of singing along.
I smiled to myself, aware of where Marshall was at all times, aware of the sound of his voice singing, even though I was inside and not even in direct view for the most part; I kept an eye out for that black cowboy hat, those faded jeans. He’d rolled his sleeves up over his shoulders and I bit my bottom lip numerous times as I eyed his lean, sculpted muscles, not an ounce of extra weight on him. He was sweating profusely, just like all the men. From time to time they climbed down ladders and gulped from plastic cups at the water cooler.
At one point, Marshall dumped a cupful over his head, rubbing the cold water briskly over himself before using the bottom edge of his t-shirt to wipe his face, exposing his lean-muscled belly. I just happened to be out on the lawn as he did so, shaking out the little kitchen rug, and he’d paused for a second, letting his t-shirt fall slowly back into place, watching me from across the yard. He grinned and I smiled right back, before ducking my head as scalding heat rushed over my body.
It was going for one when Becky came inside to wash her hands.
“Hey, any chance you want to come clean my house next?” she teased, scrubbing dirt from her wrists.
“Sure thing,” I said, though I was suddenly concerned as she seemed to reel a little, and then bent over the sink. I flew to her side and put my hands on her back.
“It’s all right,” she said, sounding certain even though she remained tipped forward. She added, “I’m pregnant. Just got a little dizzy rush there.”
“You are? Congratulations,” I told her, gently rubbing her back. “That’s wonderful.”
“Yeah, it was a little unexpected,” Becky said, slowly straightening and releasing a slow breath. She assured me, “I’m okay, hon.”
I moved at once to get her a glass of ice water, before getting one for myself. We sat at the kitchen table, which was now adorned with a glass jar of wildflowers that I had picked from the yard on the far side of the trailer.
“Well, baby Tommy isn’t even a year old yet,” Becky continued, fanning her face and then taking a long sip, the ice cubes clinking in her glass. She said, “Told you, that Rawley charm is pretty much impossible to resist.”
“You guys planning to have a bunch of boys in a row, too?” I asked, smiling.
“That’s Garth’s hope,” she said. “Mine too, really, but he doesn’t have to carry each baby for nine months, so it’s a little easier for him to say he wants seven or eight kids.” She looked over her shoulder and said, “Speaking of the devil.”
Garth climbed up the steps and stuck his head in the trailer, grinning to see his wife. He was still shirtless, his bandana dark red in a sweat line all along his forehead. He was as good-looking as ever (he looked a lot like Marshall, I couldn’t help but notice), and Becky was already smiling adoringly back at him.
“Hi, honeybunch,” he said softly to her, and then to both of us, “You guys ready for lunch? I’m pretty hungry, myself…”
“When aren’t you?” Becky returned, pretending to sound annoyed, and he raised his dark eyebrows at her with so much suggestion that I saw her shiver.
“Food’s here,” Garth said, nodding back outside, and I looked out the front windows to see a van rolling into the yard, with the words Trudy’s Diner painted on the side.
“Oh yum,” Becky said. “Trudy brought lunch yesterday too. C’mon, Ruthie, ladies first, I say.”
I followed them, but not before fishing two big ice cubes from my water glass, hiding them behind my curled fingers. Outside, the sun was a hammer straight overhead. There were two collapsible tables set up beneath the lone cottonwood on the property, covered with plastic tablecloths; a woman who I assumed was Trudy was unloading food from the van as a bunch of hungry men descended on the tables. Clark and Becky were helping carry food containers, and I supposed I should offer my services. The ice cubes in my hand were melting swiftly, but then my heart sprang joyously to life as Marshall found his way to me in the bustle, just as I’d been hoping.
“You’ve been working hard all morning,” I greeted, unable to keep from smiling at him, trying not to appear as though I was eating him right up with my eyes, even though that was exactly what I was doing.
There were sweat rings decorating his shirt at the neck and armpits, sweat trickling down his temples to his jaws as he grinned right back at me from beneath the brim of his black hat.
“You, too,” he said.
“Hey, what’s that?” I asked, pointing behind him. He turned at once, and I was already laughing as I reached up and slipped both of the ice cubes straight down the neck of his shirt.
He sucked in a sharp breath as he whirled back around, and then yelped a little, informing me, “Damn, one went right down my jeans.”
“Ha, ha!” I said gleefully. “Serves you right!”
He curved his shoulders at me with clear menace, and I shrieked and giggled as he advanced, asking me, “You want a really, really sweaty hug? Is that what you want?”
Wy saved me, coming to jump and get his arm around Marshall’s neck, whooping, “Double chicken-wing!”
Marshall shifted and caught Wy in a loose stranglehold, informing him, “Not exactly, buddy.”
I took advantage and darted away, going to help Becky unload food, and that was when Al caught me by extreme surprise by offering me a job. I stood in the hot sun, holding two containers of potato salad, as he clearly saw that he’d rendered me speechless.
“I’m serious, Ruthann,” he said. “I’ve been pondering all morning what to do about the fact that Mary, my dear secretary, who’s been with the firm for decades, just told me that she is planning to retire to help watch her great-grandkids. Threw me for a loop until I realized the answer to that dilemma is right here under my nose. Now, I know from Tish t
hat you’re planning to head back to Minnesota, but she also hinted that you might be interested in a change. Is that so?”
I studied his serious face and asked, just as seriously, “Can I let you know later?”
“Absolutely,” he said, before adding, with a hint of good humor, “But let me know that you’ve agreed.”
I followed Al to the tables, thinking of my mother, who would surely be coming to pick me up by tomorrow at the latest, ready to drive home. Back to Minnesota and the life I had never truly questioned, certainly never considered changing, at least not this drastically. Not until this past week.
What is happening to me?
The radio was still playing classic rock from the direction of the barn; the song was “The Power of Love” by Huey Lewis. I saw right away that Marshall had saved me a seat at one of the tables, which he indicated as I approached.
“Thanks,” I murmured. The side of my hip inadvertently bumped his left shoulder as I slipped beside him, and my heart responded by stuttering and then surging against my ribs.
He was sitting with his forearms surrounding his plate, which was piled with food. He’d taken off his hat at the table, like all the men, his dark hair flattened to his temples with sweat. He seemed to sweat more than any man I’d ever known; still, I found myself longing so much it almost hurt to tuck myself against his side and hug him close. To feel the way his body so perfectly meshed with mine, as it had this morning.
“You got it,” he responded easily, watching me as I sat.
“I just thought some ice would help you cool off,” I informed him sweetly. I added, “You look like you might need it.”
Marshall regarded me with a smile on his lips. He said, low, “You have no idea.”
“Is this for me?” I asked, attempting to act as though my heart wasn’t about to explode at his words, nodding at the paper plate, napkin and fork placed at my spot.
He nodded, his mouth full.
I was starving, and loaded my plate accordingly.
“Isn’t this great?” Marshall asked, passing me another bowl, this one with Snicker salad. I knew he meant how everyone was pulling together here.
“It is,” I agreed, scooping myself a big helping, as he held the bowl for me. I added, “It would be like this back in Landon, too, if someone needed a hand. Small towns, you know, everyone helps each other.”
Marshall nodded. He said, “And it’s great to be outside like this on such a gorgeous day. Sean and I are building stalls right now, that’s what we’ve been doing all morning.” He peered upwards between the cottonwood leaves, at the expanse of true-blue sky arching above, and reflected, “I’d hate to be trapped in an office all day. How do people do it?”
“That would be all wrong for you,” I agreed, looking over at him again. I couldn’t seem to keep my gaze from him. He seemed to be having a similar difficulty, with me, and it was so intoxicating. I had never felt this way, and I both marveled at and reveled in these feelings.
What about Liam?
Huh? What about him?
So conveniently forgetting him, aren’t you?
Guilt had long since settled low in my gut, but I refused to acknowledge it right now.
Instead, I said, “Tish told me that you do construction jobs all summer.”
“I do, with my brothers. Garth does a lot of contracting work these days, with Becky’s dad. I make some money doing construction, and I try to get a music gig now and then. Case and I have had quite a few this summer. I miss it when we don’t play on a regular basis.”
“When’s the next time you play?” I wanted badly to see him on stage, after hearing so much about it from my sister.
“Around the fire this Friday, I expect, now that things are getting back to normal with Case,” he said. “I won’t be on my drums, but I’ll have my guitar. Case has always been the best on the fiddle, but I know a few songs on it, too.”
I wanted to be there, at the fire with him, so much that it was an ache in my chest. I said softly, “I’d like to hear that.”
Marshall said, as though reading my mind, “I’ve been trying not to think about this, but I suppose your family is planning to head back to Minnesota now.”
A bite of food seemed to lodge in my throat.
“Camille is in a hurry to get home to her kids, she was saying earlier this week,” Marshall went on, and gone was any teasing from his voice.
My heart seemed to fall, striking individual ribs on the way down.
“You’re right,” I said, and my throat hurt. “It’s been over a week now.”
He studied me silently, almost completely motionless.
I said, “Al just offered me a job in the law office,” and Marshall’s eyebrows lifted. There was something in his eyes that made my heart even more agitated, sent blood pumping even more furiously through my body. There was, no mistaking it, a glimmer of hope.
“What did you tell him?” he asked.
“I told him I’d let him know,” I said, and I could not have looked away from those intent gray eyes, not for anything. I said honestly, “I’d like to tell him that I’ll take it.”
“Then that’s what you should do,” he said, his voice still quietly serious.
“It’s not that easy,” I said.
“What’s stopping you?” he asked. Neither of us was eating, too wrapped up in staring at each other.
“Plenty of things,” I said, though I struggled to recall exactly what these things were.
“If you didn’t have to worry about what anyone else wanted, what would you do?” he pressed.
“It’s not that easy,” I repeated, hedging.
“Just try,” he insisted.
“Then I’d stay,” I said softly, and right then I knew that I could. Though reality flooded directly on the heels of this knowledge; not returning to Minnesota meant a great deal more than I was letting myself consider right now.
Marshall smiled radiantly at me and my heart beat wildly. His smile. He said, “Well, then.”
Because I was much too caught up in the sight of his face, I reached and flicked his arm. He nudged my thigh and indicated beyond my opposite shoulder, murmuring, “Would you look at that…”
I turned to look and just that fast an ice cube went down the front collar of my shirt. He couldn’t have aimed better, as it slipped directly into my right bra cup, and even I had to laugh at my own gullibility.
“Darn you,” I said. The ice cube was melting rapidly against my breast. And I was wearing his threadbare white t-shirt. I added, “You are in so much trouble.”
“Sorry, I couldn’t resist,” Marshall said, still grinning, his eyes alight with the joy of teasing me. Flirting with me, really, as I had finally recognized it for what it truly was. He added, “I can’t believe you just fell for that. I have to teach you a few lessons.”
We’d caught Sean’s attention, from across the table, and he leaned over and told me, “I’ll hold him and you can have a free shot.”
I hunched my shoulders in attempt to dislodge the ice cube, even though it was mostly in vain at this point. I used the outside edge of my fist to thump Marshall’s upper arm. He continued laughing and ducked his shoulder to avoid further blows, his eyes detouring to my chest. He added, “Oh God, I am an evil man. I own it, I admit it.”
My nipple was round and very evident against the t-shirt, chilled from the ice and also damp. I leaned my elbows on the table so that it wasn’t so obvious, even though I was still giggling. I muttered, “Just you wait. When you least expect it…”
Garth came behind his younger brother at that moment, affectionately knuckling the top of Marshall’s head. He said, “C’mon, you little shit, quit pestering Ruthie. Free time’s all through.”
“Just you wait,” I warned Marshall again, as he was almost literally dragged away from my side. Lunch was ending and I helped clean up as the men got back to work. Becky, Trudy and I packaged up leftovers and loaded the van; I folded the tablecloths.
“Ruthie, I’m heading to pick up Tommy at my sister’s,” Becky said after Trudy had driven away. “Will I see you later this week? What’s your plan?”
“I don’t know,” I told her honestly.
“Well it would be great if you stuck around for a while, I mean that,” she said, and then looked towards the men. She said, “Marshall is smitten with you, like nobody’s business. But I suppose that’s pretty obvious.” She caught me into a hug before I could reply, patting my back. She said, “Just in case I don’t see you before you go.”
After she left, I remained standing in the same place in the yard, beneath the cottonwood. I confessed to the tree, in a whisper, “I’m pretty smitten with him, too.”
I spent the afternoon doing laundry. Tish’s machines were stacked on top of one another, and there had been a nearly waist-high pile of clothing in the cramped little laundry room. I was folding t-shirts, humming along with the song on the radio outside, “Run to You” by Bryan Adams, when I caught sight of Marshall jogging across the yard towards the trailer.
Magnet-like, I was drawn instantly to the screen door, which I held open against my forearm. He stopped at the base of the steps leading up to the door, standing with his right boot on the bottom one, using his knuckles to knock back his hat brim. He said, “Hi there.”
“There’s an entire tray of ice cubes in here, with your name on them,” I informed him. The trailer was in the shade now, as well as the lower half of the emerging barn structure.
“I’m sorry I got your shirt all wet,” he said, sounding mostly contrite. But there was still a hint of a smile hovering about his lips.
“What do you want?” I pretended to nag, but the tone of my voice was more inviting than the sight of the crystalline surface of Flickertail Lake on a humid day.
Marshall seemed to be considering the appropriateness of several different responses as our eyes held fast, but he finally said, “I want to show you what we’ve done today. Will you come and see?”
“Of course,” I said, and together we walked over to the barn, our arms only a few inches apart. I thought of how he’d collected me against his side this morning, and wished fervently that it was cold enough to justify that excuse right now.
Until Tomorrow Page 12
