There was no one else in the store except for one lady who was looking at a gaudy earring display at the far end of the counter. Olivia shook herself out of my grip and headed to the display case containing the engagement rings. I needed to take another two strides to cut her off.
“So now we have to actually get married in order to settle this thing? That seems a little extreme. Don’t you think?”
Over her shoulder, I noticed a salesman who seemed to appear out of nowhere. The scent of a newly engaged couple must have been strong on us. He was moving towards us, much to the dismay of gaudy earring lady on the other side of the store.
“Jesus Jonathon, you just don’t get it, do you? We don’t need to actually get married. We just need to make them think we’re going to get married. You heard the deputy. We’re not expected to be back in court for another two weeks. We only need to make them think we’re going to get married long enough to get them to sign off on splitting the property, and then we’re home free.”
It made sense in a ridiculous, fantasyland kind of way. Especially coming off the sweet lips of my gorgeous fake fiancée.
“Can I show you two something?”
The sales guy was already sliding the little door open on the other side of the case before waiting for an answer. Olivia was already surveying the wide assortment of finger candy in the case. I watched as she raised her finger and pointed at the ring in the center. The sales guy did a poor job of hiding his enthusiasm.
His hand was already moving towards the ring. I didn’t know shit about jewelry but I was pretty sure that the big stone in the case shaped like a teardrop was going to be out of my price range. By several thousand dollars. He just got his nimble fingers on the edge of the ring box and I stopped him.
“I had something a little cheaper in mind.”
“Sir, if you don’t mind my saying so, the rule of thumb is generally three months’ salary…”
“Yeah—you know what, can you just give me and my bride-to-be here a second alone please?”
He stood back up and straightened his tie and went to help earring lady on the other side of the store. She looked a little less annoyed now because she was enjoying our exchange. I saw him reaching for some God awful big feather-looking thing under the counter for her and I looked back at Olivia.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing? You need to have the most expensive ring in the store on top of everything else?”
“It won’t cost you anything. Finance it through them, put down a deposit, and then return it within their thirty-day grace period.”
She pointed to a policy that was hanging on the wall behind me. She was pointing with the same finger that she used to point at the big rock just a few minutes before. She smiled at me as she pointed and I kind of wanted to do anything for her at that moment.
But then common sense kicked in…
“Look, we’re not playing a game here, Olivia. I’m not rolling the dice on a huge engagement ring on top of everything else. God knows what will be coming out of your mouth next.”
“Fine. We’ll get something smaller. You suck as a fake fiancé.”
I looked at the other side of the store. Earring lady had something with a feather on it in one hand and something with beads on it in the other hand. She was trying to decide how to spend her twenty dollars and the salesman was still carefully watching us.
“How the hell are you going to get them to sign off on an agreement in the next two weeks? We’re kind of running out of time here.”
Olivia was on tip toes looking at a ring that had captured her interest in the back of the case. I was trying to ignore the curve of her body over the clear glass. And her ass. Her ass looked perfect in that pair of jeans she was wearing. I couldn’t stop thinking about how I had my hands on that naked ass…
“I’ll think of something. I’ve got a couple of ideas. Don’t worry, I’ve got this.”
I heard the ring of a cash register and earring lady was walking out of the store a moment later. I never got to see which pair she had picked. Maybe she bought them both.
“Have you decided which one you’d like to see?”
He appeared out of nowhere again. He was like a ninja in a three-piece suit.
“We’ve decided to look for something a little more reasonable.”
My sweet wife’s voice. Maybe we were meant to be together.
“What’s your return policy?”
The guy looked at me, a little shocked. I guessed it was a question most love-struck engaged couples didn’t ask.
“Thirty days, no questions asked. Although we charge ten percent for any sizing or customization that needs to be done to the setting.”
“Great. We’ll take the cheapest one in the case that fits on her finger.”
The guy couldn’t help but wrinkle his nose at me.
“How about that one, honey?”
She was pointing at something in the corner that looked reasonable. I agreed that it looked nice, but I was really reconciling the way it had sounded when she called me honey. I liked the sound of her voice, and I liked it even more when she called me that word. And I had to admit the ring didn’t even look bad on her finger.
“It’s a little loose,” Mr. WrinkleNose said, “But I can put something temporary on that band that will make it fit better.”
He paused before walking away.
“Until you decide you want to keep it and get it sized properly.”
He didn’t shake his head when he walked away, but I knew he wanted to.
I know pal, it’s confusing. I’m stuck in the middle and I’m still confused, trust me…
“Jonathon.”
She was leaning in closer to me, like she wanted to tell me something out of earshot of the salesman. And it was just close enough that I could smell her hair.
“I’ve got a couple of ideas, I’ll figure something out. We leave here and I’ll drop you back off at your father’s. We can meet up later in the week and talk about it.”
“Not Huddy’s,” I reminded her.
“Right.”
“And not the boathouse again. I’ve already picked two splinters out of my ass since we met there.”
That at least got a giggle from her.
“OK, fine. I’ll find another place we can meet and talk about it. We’ve got another two weeks. By this time in two weeks, we’ll have it all sorted out. Trust me. And then we can both get on with our lives.”
The sales guy returned with the ring and I hated him all over again because she leaned back away from me. He held out the ring and she snatched it from his fingers and immediately had it on her ring finger. She held it up at me smiling, and she could have been a model.
“How’s it look?”
And I told her the truth.
“It looks beautiful.”
Chapter 13
Jonathon
I was watching the tail lights of her Jetta as she braked at the end of our street. A left turn signal and she was gone, leaving me standing in front of my house. I turned to make the walk to my front door and could see my father watching me from the window. And suddenly the walk to the front door had just turned into the dreaded walk of shame.
It was one of the oldest homes in Clark County, but it was also arguably one of the nicest. It was the home I grew up in, and I relished the squeaking of the hinges as I pushed the big front door opened. I felt like I was fifteen years old again and I was coming home late from a date. Only I knew the grilling I was about to get was going to be a whole hell of a lot worse than that.
“Hi Pop.”
He was silent as he stood there watching me from his spot at the window. I was just as quiet as I headed towards the kitchen to grab myself a drink. I wasn’t thirsty. Olivia and I had stopped at Huddy’s on the way back from the jewelry store for a quick drink. But I was looking for any excuse to stall the interrogation I knew was coming my way.
I grabbed a soda from the fridge and swing the door cl
osed, and my father was all of a sudden there—an angry wheat farmer standing where there had been nothing only a moment before. I knew he was pissed because the tips of his ears got red when he was angry, and they were a special shade of scarlet right now. He pushed his John Lennon style glasses up his nose and I was ready for the beginnings of a well-anticipated argument.
“Do you mind telling me just what in the fuck is going on here?”
Wow. I had never heard him drop the F-bomb before, but I supposed now was as good a time as any. That also told me that Grandma was probably nowhere to be seen. She was probably off shopping for wedding invitations somewhere already.
“What is there to tell, Pop? We love each other and we’re going to be married.”
I had been worried about my acting skills but the words rolled off my lips far easier than I expected. That fact alone made me a little uncomfortable.
“When did all this happen? I thought you two were just dating? Isn’t this a little sudden, son?”
“It’s been brewing for a while, Pop. I don’t know what to tell you. There’s no explaining love.”
That was cheesy but I wasn’t even sure he heard it. He was walking to the dining room window and looking out at the family farm. Acres and acres of wheat, staring back at him with no more explanation than he was getting from his only son. And when he spoke again it seemed like he was talking to the fields.
“Just don’t understand it, is all. And the Hawthornes too, for crying out loud. You could have picked any other family in the county, son. You could have chosen any other girl and you needed to choose her.”
I knew exactly where he was going, but I still tried cutting him off.
“Pop…”
“Any other family in the county would have been better, son. Why did you have to choose her? Why couldn’t you just have stayed with Carla Jean?”
“Pop, enough with Carla Jean already. We’ve been over this a thousand times. You don’t want me dating Carla Jean.”
Still not listening to me.
“I can understand you wanted to sow your oats, boy, believe me I do. I can understand you wanting to have your fun. But the Hawthorne girl son, really? Why did you have to go and fuck around with her?”
The F-bomb again, twice in the space of about five minutes. Only this time he went too far. This time he hit a nerve I didn’t even know I had exposed.
“Enough already Pop! Just stop with your Carla Jean shit!”
The fact that I raised my voice and cussed at my father in the same sentence shocked us both. But I at least had his attention as he started to turn his back to the wheat field.
“This has nothing to do with Carla Jean. She and I are finished already, I’ve been over this with you a thousand times. And for what it’s worth, Olivia Hawthorne has more class in her little pinky than Carla Jean has in her whole damn body. So what the hell is your problem anyway, Pop? Why are you being such a prick about this?”
He didn’t answer right away and he didn’t back down, so I decided to go all in.
“If Mom was still alive, she would understand.”
I regretted it as soon as the words left my lips. I had stooped to his level and traded insults in an effort to hurt him. Only he didn’t look hurt. He sighed and his shoulders sagged and he turned to look at the wheat fields again before turning back to me.
“There’s something I need to tell you, son, and now’s as good a time as any. Your mother never passed away. At least not when you were a baby like you’ve been told all these years. Your mother left on her own. Your mother left both of us on this farm. I have no idea where she is now, and to be honest, I don’t really care.”
Not what I was expecting. I had already had my next argument queued up in my head and I suddenly couldn’t recall my last name. My father couldn’t even look at me as he said it and he was suddenly back with the wheat field. I didn’t even have the energy to stand any longer as I slowly sat myself at the kitchen table.
“Why? How come you never told me, Pop?”
“How is a man supposed to tell his son his mother no longer wanted him, son? How was I supposed to tell you she didn’t want me either? She walked out on both of us, son. You were only ten months old and she decided she didn’t want this life. And she didn’t want the two of us either.”
I was quiet because I needed to be. I felt like I just got punched in the stomach with a steel fist. It was a lie I had been living with my entire life.
“It was just easier to tell you she passed away when you were old enough to understand, son. Children understand death a lot quicker than they understand some of the decisions that adults make. I always told myself I would tell you when you were old enough to understand. The only excuse I have for waiting this long is I still don’t understand it myself.”
“You don’t know where she is, Pop?”
“Don’t know, don’t care. She never once called to find out about you. No letters, no cards on birthdays, nothing. It’s been you and I since you were ten months old, boy. The only thing we had were each other. I always wanted what was best for you. And believe it or not, it’s one of the reasons this whole Olivia Hawthorne business bothers me.”
“What the hell does Mom walking out on this have to do with Olivia?”
“Because your mother was my Olivia Hawthorne, boy. I saw the way you looked at her in that arbitration room. And I see the way she carries herself. She’s a spitfire. I know how attractive that can look to a man from Clark County. I know because I fell for the same thing almost forty years ago.”
“Pop, I…”
“I’m just afraid for you, son. I see a woman like that and it reminds me of your mother. I see her taking you away from here. Or leaving you altogether and breaking your heart. And either way I don’t want to see it happen. I guess I just promised myself all those years ago I would protect you, and in a way, that’s what I’m trying to do now.”
My father had spoken his piece, and it had worn him out. He stopped looking at the wheat and he stopped looking at me. He walked into his living room and sat down on his worn living room couch. And it occurred to me that it was the same couch that I had probably climbed on as a baby all those years ago.
I took a moment to swallow what he had just fed me. The only thing that hurt more than learning the truth was the knowledge of knowing that I needed to feed him a big fat lie in order to get it. I went into the living room and sat down beside him and tried my best to make sure that everything I told him right then was true.
“Olivia isn’t like that, Pop. She’s a good girl. She doesn’t live up to all the evil you’ve thrown on the Hawthornes all these years. And I certainly don’t think she lives up to the worst things about Mom.”
Tired eyes looked at me from behind round glasses. He wasn’t convinced but he was too worn out to argue with me about it.
“And Carla Jean is not the answer, Pop. You don’t know Carla Jean as well as you think you do. If you want the best thing for me then the last thing you should want is for me to be settling down with her.”
“You really think Olivia Hawthorne would be a better wife for you than Carla Jean, son?”
It was a fantasy question that required a fantasy answer. I knew I wasn’t going to be marrying her, but I could still picture Olivia Hawthorne as my wife. I could picture myself holding her in the morning when it was still too cold to get out of bed. I could see myself rushing home to her on nights when I got out of work ten minutes too late.
I thought about the first night I had seen her in that bar, sitting in the booth talking to that friend of hers. I could still see the way she tossed her hair over her shoulder as she spoke, and the way she twisted her dark hair around her finger when she was laughing with her friend. I could picture her entertaining guests in our home, laughing and twisting her hair over that finger of hers. And all the while I would be waiting for our guests to leave so I could have her to myself.
I wasn’t a jealous man, but with her I could be.
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My father was still looking at me—eyes that were tired but suddenly inquisitive, waiting for an answer. And I gave him the most truthful answer I could think to give him.
“Yeah, Pop. I think Olivia Hawthorne would make a wonderful wife.”
Chapter 14
Olivia
I steered my Jetta into the open spot in front and killed the ignition. I had heard him sigh when I turned into the parking lot and I could certainly feel his eyes on me now. I turned to look at him and he had that expression on his face.
“Seriously?”
“You know you’re not giving me many choices here, Jonathon. You didn’t want to go back to the boathouse and you didn’t want to go to Huddy’s. I’m almost all out of secret meeting places. Besides, this place is easily explainable to anyone that happens to see us.”
“Uh huh.”
We both got out of the car and walked up the steps and I stopped to look at their porch swing. The place really was cute. Under any other circumstances…
He held the door open for me because he was a gentleman and we walked into the Quail Feather Inn together. It made perfect sense for us to be there, because it was the only place in the twin-county area that actually had a honeymoon suite. And the proprietor was beaming at me from behind his registration desk.
“Ms. Hawthorne! I’m so glad you’ve chosen to consider us for your wedding night!”
He stepped around the registration desk and came out to greet us personally. And he paused after shaking my hand.
“Or should I say, the soon-to-be Mrs. McCallister?”
He elbowed Jonathon playfully and it was obvious that Jonathon was not in the mood for being playful. But Mr. Spencer was nothing if not a savvy proprietor so he shook it off and shook Jonathon’s hand. I spoke up and saved them both.
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