Spring Forward

by Catherine Anderson

  “I can’t rightly recall how I ended up in Idaho, but I’d been savin’ my money as I drifted, and I found a piece of land I could afford. After buying it, I spent every dime I had left on cows and a horse. Had to live in a shack with no plumbin’ for about two years before I could start buildin’ a house. Along about then I met Marge. I knew I’d found the woman of my dreams when she didn’t turn up her nose at my livin’ conditions. Instead she rolled up her sleeves and worked beside me.

  “After we got hitched, we expected to have babies, but she didn’t get pregnant. Right about the time we gave up on havin’ kids, we found out our daughter, Lisa, was on the way. That little girl was the center of our world, and there wasn’t nothin’ she wanted that she didn’t get if we could afford it. She grew up spoilt. I see that now, but you can’t go back and fix your mistakes.”

  “No, you can’t.” Her expression turned wistful. “If only.”

  “Yep, if only. Lisa hated the ranch. She hated that we was poor. We wasn’t really. Poor, I mean. We just wasn’t rich enough to afford all the stuff she wanted. Fancy clothes. A new car, not a used one. One time she harped at me for months to buy her a sixty-thousand-dollar racehorse. Hello? She never rode the horses we already had.”

  Essie laughed.

  “Long story short, when she left for college she was gone for good. She came home to visit only once, to show off her new boyfriend, Randall Jenkins. He’d just graduated from college and was a computer programmer. He asked me to take him huntin’. Then he almost pissed himself when I handed him a rifle. I wasn’t impressed. But it was Lisa’s choice to make, and she made it.

  “They got married real fast. To this day I think Lisa thought he was her ticket to the good life. They got a nice enough house on a small acreage in Washington. Gave me and Marge two beautiful granddaughters, Crystal, the older one, and Mary Ann three years later. Crystal was about nine when Marge up and died on me. Near killed me to lose her. Heart attack, just like your Jake. Lookin’ back I realized she’d had symptoms, but I didn’t pick up on ’em. I wished I had.”

  “We all do that, Tuck. Want to kick ourselves, blame ourselves.”

  “I reckon so. I mourned hard, but life went on. Two years later I took Crystal away from her parents, and from then on she lived with me. Havin’ to look after her helped me get over losin’ Marge. In a way, it saved my life.”

  “Were Crystal’s parents abusive to her?”

  “Yep.” Tuck felt as if his engine had just stalled. “I wanna tell you everything about me, Essie, but I don’t feel right tellin’ you everything about Crystal. Those things are for her to tell, and she may never do that.”

  “I’m satisfied with hearing your story. I don’t need to know hers.”

  “They’re kinda tied together, but thank you for understandin’. She has a painful past, and if I told you about it, she’d feel like I betrayed her.”

  “Does she ever see her parents now—or her younger sister?”

  “No. After I took her to Idaho with me, her folks never even called to check on her. When I filed for custody, they were notified, but they didn’t contest it. When Crystal turned eighteen, she changed her last name to Malloy. Maybe she’ll get in touch with her parents someday, but I doubt it. And I definitely won’t. My daughter didn’t just burn her bridges with me; she blew them to smithereens.”

  “It’s heartbreaking to cut ties with our children.” Essie had tears in her eyes when she looked up at him. “But it hurts even worse when they do it for us.”

  Silence fell between them.

  Finally, Essie asked, “So, tell me, Tuck. Have you been with any other women since Marge died?”

  He shook his head. “By the time I’d healed enough to even think about it, I had Crystal. Raisin’ her by myself took most of my time, and I didn’t feel right about addin’ a woman into the mix. After Crystal grew up and came here to start her own business, I just never met a gal who caught my eye. Ranchin’ is a lonely life. You don’t meet a lot of new folks. How about you? Been with anybody since Jake?”

  “No. I didn’t think I’d ever meet another man who’d interest me.”

  Tuck couldn’t help but smile. “Until you met me?”

  She nodded. “It’s funny how life goes sometimes. You think it’s over, only it isn’t.” She glanced at her watch again. “Oh! Dinner should ready.”

  While she took the food out of the oven, Tuck set up two TV trays and put place settings on each of them. She poured them each a glass of white wine, and then they filled their plates.

  After they sat down to eat, Tuck took a sip of the wine and moaned. “Oh, lawsy, that tastes good.” He moaned again when he tasted the chicken. “Before I leave, write down where you get this food. I’m gonna order some.”

  After eating and tidying up the kitchen, Tuck kissed her good night at the door, a deep, slow exploration of her mouth that tantalized him and made her slender body tremble. He wanted to take her to the bedroom and do far more, but he held his need of her in check. They’d met only last night. He didn’t want to rush her.

  * * *

  Rip didn’t come home until three in the morning, and he was staggering again. Crystal laid it down to exhaustion. It had been his second run of the day. After letting him in the house, she lay awake in bed unable to sleep, her thoughts on Tanner. When they were together, did he feel the same level of attraction she did? Wondering whether a man was as interested in her as she was in him was a new experience for her. In the past, she had been more inclined to just go with the flow.

  The kitten jumped on Crystal’s bed. Determined not to let herself love him, she turned over. Not taking the hint, he curled up on her pillow and snuggled against the back of her head. The sound of his purring finally lulled her to sleep.

  * * *

  Crystal’s alarm jerked her awake at five. She got up, feeling exhausted and decidedly unenthusiastic about the workday ahead. The strong coffee she poured into a travel mug and drank as she drove to the salon didn’t help much. Nadine was the only tech there when Crystal entered the building.

  “I hope you got more rest than I did,” Crystal said as she grabbed a salon jacket.

  “Nope. I went on a date and didn’t get much sleep. He took me to Peck’s Red Rooster. Fabulous dinner! Then we took in a movie at Mystic Players. Afterward we went barhopping. Landed last at the Witch’s Brew over on Dew Drop Lane. You been there?”

  “No.” Crystal rarely went to drinking establishments. “I’ll have drinks at home sometimes, but I try not to drive if I’ve had more than one. That kind of ruins barhopping for me.”

  “We have some nice bars in town, but the Witch’s Brew isn’t one of them. I’m not sure I’ll go there again. JJ, the old guy who owns the place, isn’t big on cleaning. People throw peanut shells on the floor. I swear he sweeps them up only once a week, if that often. And the crowd is kind of seedy.”

  “I’ll be sure never to go there, then.”

  “There was one notable thing. Some stupid man had his dog sitting at the bar. On a stool, as if he were human. And he bought the poor thing a beer. Then someone else did.”

  “That’s terrible!” Crystal cried. “Did you call the sheriff’s department? That’s animal abuse!”

  Nadine shrugged. “I almost did. But a night in jail can’t cure stupid. He’d just get out of the clink and take his dog back there again. The other men thought it was funny to get the poor thing drunk.”

  Crystal shuddered. “If I had been there, I would have called the law.”

  “I won’t be going back,” Nadine said. “Not my kind of place. But if it happens that I ever do, and that jerk is in there again, I’ll call the sheriff for you.”

  Crystal’s seven o’clock walked in just then. As Crystal got the woman settled in the chair, Nadine began organizing her station and setting up for her first appointment. “I really liked
the guy I went out with. He’s tall, dark, and gorgeous. Name’s John. He owns Beer, Wine, and Smokes. I didn’t think he’d be my type, maybe because he sells cigarettes. But he’s really awesome. Not so sure he felt the same way about me, though.”

  Crystal fastened a cape around her client’s neck. “I’ve met a guy who makes the air feel electrified around me. Have you ever felt that way?”

  “Oh, yeah, but only once, more’s the pity. Apparently, I wasn’t wired to give him the same charge.”

  Crystal’s client interjected, “Don’t settle for only zing. After a couple years, the excitement wears off.”

  Crystal nodded in agreement, but the advice would go unheeded. She always ended relationships long before boredom set in.

  * * *

  Now that Tuck knew Essie truly did work all morning, he decided to leave her alone until afternoon. Only now that he’d gotten a taste of socializing, he missed talking to someone over breakfast. He saw an old fellow sitting alone at a table and asked if he’d mind company. His name was Burt, and he welcomed the opportunity to chat. Tuck learned he’d been a farmer and had now taken up fishing. After breakfast Tuck grabbed a lawn chair and followed him out to his fishing spot along the creek.

  Burt was a talker. “Farming is a lonely job,” he said over his shoulder as he cast his line. “I seldom had anybody to talk to unless I talked to myself.”

  Tuck understood Burt in a way other men might not. “I was a cattle rancher. Not many people to talk to in that profession, either. But cows make good listeners.”

  Burt guffawed. “Yep. I had a few. Also had goats, sheep, and chickens.”

  “No horse?”

  “No need. Only had a small chunk of land. Got around on a quad.”

  “Married?”

  “For fifty-five years. Her name was Sarah. Loved her to pieces, but she up and died on me. Diabetes got her. Developed a sore on her foot that wouldn’t heal. It turned to an ulcer and became infected. They wanted to take the foot off. She refused. Then they wanted to take the leg off at the knee. She refused. At some point, the infection got into her bloodstream. She died within twenty-four hours.”

  Tuck was glad Marge had just keeled over. At least she hadn’t died inch by inch. “I’m sorry, Burt. That was a hard way for her to go.”

  “I’d like to die in my sleep, given my druthers. But most of us don’t get off that easy.”

  “No, I guess not.” Tuck recalled how Marge had been riding a horse beside him, talking and laughing until suddenly her face had twisted and she’d grabbed her left shoulder. The next instant, she pitched sideways off her mount and was dead before she hit the ground. “A heart attack ain’t so bad.” He remembered the grimace of pain on Marge’s face. “Might hurt like no tomorrow for a second, but at least it’s quick for most people. That’s how my wife went. Fine one second and gone the next.”

  “God bless her.” Burt reeled in and cast his line again. “Had to be awful for you. No time to prepare yourself.”

  Tuck would never forget how he’d felt when he gathered Marge into his arms and realized she was gone. “It was like someone turned off the light switch. Didn’t seem fair to me at the time, but I’m glad she didn’t linger like your Sarah.”

  Burt glanced over his shoulder. “Did you just spit?”

  Tuck wiped the corner of his mouth. “You object to a man chewin’?”

  “Hell, no. I’d love to have a pinch. But it’s against the rules. Flintlock will kick your ass to the curb if she catches you.”

  Tuck reached into his pocket and handed his new friend the can. “Help yourself. I won’t rat you out. Hell, just keep it if you want. My granddaughter will buy me more.”

  Burt reeled in, laid his pole on the grass, and sat beside Tuck on the ground. He stared at the silver lid of the snuff can as if it were a wonder of the world. “Holy shit. I haven’t had a chew in two years. It might make me sick.”

  Tuck laughed. “Trust me. I went without it for a year once, and when I started up again, it tasted like an old friend.”

  Burt opened the round and bent his head to pull in the scent. “Oh, man,” he said. “I love that smell.”

  “Are you gonna stick a wad in your cheek or just admire it all day?” Tuck asked.

  “If I do, I’ll be right back where I started, wanting more. Hard habit to give up. It about killed me when I came here and had to go without.”

  Tuck knew how that felt. “My granddaughter can keep you supplied. Just be careful and don’t spit in front of the staff.”

  Burt started to get a pinch. Then his shoulders slumped. “This is the only place I have to live. Kids all left. Farming wasn’t for them. They’re married. Have jobs and children. No extra bedrooms. If I get kicked out, they’ll have to move me to another facility, and they’ll be pissed at me. They have their own lives to live. That’s what they say, that they have their own lives.”

  Tuck stared off at the opposite side of the creek. The forest looked so beautiful and peaceful. But in reality, he and Burt were in jail. “Do they come to see you often?”

  “Hell, no. At first they tried. But they live in big cities. It’s a long drive. The first year my son came to get me for Christmas. But last year he didn’t. I’m like an old pair of shoes sitting at the back of a closet, Tuck. I’m cared for here. I get my three squares a day. When I start messing my pants, my kids won’t have to deal with me. I can’t say I blame them for wanting it that way.”

  Tuck nodded. “Didn’t used to be this way. The oldsters stayed on the land. The youngsters took over the work while Mom and Dad sat on the porch. Shucked the corn. Snapped the peas. Helped with household chores as best they could. They got to die at home.”

  Burt sighed. “Those days are gone, I’m afraid.”

  Tuck studied the water, flecked with froth as it moved downstream. He watched one white spot, following it with his gaze until it collided with a large rock and broke apart, becoming nothing. He guessed that was how life went. The current pushed forward, and the old people separated off and drifted, doing nothing much until they struck something that obliterated them.

  “Don’t give up the things that make you happy, Burt. My granddaughter hired me a lawyer. He represents old people and fights for their rights. Have a chew. You know you want one. And I’ll get you the lawyer’s name and phone number. We may be old, but that don’t mean we have to do without our simple pleasures.”

  “I can’t afford a lawyer.”

  The way Tuck saw it, Burt couldn’t afford not to have one. “Just havin’ him on retainer might be all that it’ll take. Once Flintlock knows you’ve got an attorney, she may ignore it if you break her silly rules.”

  “How much is a retainer fee?”

  “Not sure. But they leave you over a hundred a month from your social security check for incidentals. If you ain’t chewin’ or drinkin’, what the hell have you spent it on?”

  “Haven’t. Well, I’ve spent some of it on incidentals. But mostly I just write a check to cash and stuff the money in a sock. I’m afraid to let my checking account get over a certain amount. Patricia might spend me down again. She has a lot of ways to do that. All of a sudden she says you need this or that, and she charges a fortune. Pretty soon, you’re broke again. A sock is safer than a bank. She can’t see how much you got.”

  “How much do you got?”

  “I stopped counting. A couple grand, maybe.”

  “That should be enough for a retainer.”

  Burt nodded and put a pinch of tobacco in his cheek. Tuck told him to keep the can. “Let me know when you’re runnin’ low, and my granddaughter’ll get you more. You’ll have to pay her back, of course.”

  “Of course.”

  “How long’s it been since you had a drink?” Tuck asked.

  “Ever since I came here.”

  “You want one?” />
  Burt turned at the waist to fix Tuck with a questioning look. “Does a monkey want a banana?”

  “You got any health problems makin’ it unsafe for you?”

  “I have a heart condition, but before I moved here, my doctor said a glass of red wine a day might actually help, not hurt.”

  Tuck grinned. “Stop by my apartment. I got a jug.”

  “Of what?”

  “Bourbon.”

  “Holy shit.” Burt struggled to his feet, collected his fishing pole, and said, “Lead the way.”

  As Tuck walked up the bank, he realized he’d just made another friend. Maybe living here could be interesting after all.

  Chapter Eight

  The kitten, whom Crystal had still resisted naming, was waiting by the door when she got home Saturday evening. He didn’t seem to know he was a temporary guest, because he tried to climb up her pant leg and purred madly when she detached him. She opened a can of cat food and laughed as he attacked it, giving forth miniature growls as he wolfed it down.

  Rip was gone again. She tried not to grow angry. She kept his bowl filled with food and made sure he always had fresh water. When he was home, she even talked to him and tried her best to pet him. Sometimes he let her; other times he didn’t. But the way she saw it, she offered him all that most dogs wanted or needed. So why did he constantly run away? Last night before going to bed, she had ordered a waterproof collar. Not one for a huge dog, as Tanner had suggested. She couldn’t bring herself to do anything that might hurt him. But at least Rip wouldn’t be able to drown it.

  So, he’s gone again. Fine. The new collar will arrive on Monday. I’ll charge it that night, and Rip won’t be able to destroy the battery when I put it on him Tuesday morning. His days of running away are over. Feeling determined and justified, she changed out of her work slacks, threw on a brightly patterned sundress, and slipped her feet into red sandals. She couldn’t survive even five more minutes wearing heels. She found the kitten sleeping off his dinner on Tuck’s faux suede love seat. He appeared to be sound asleep, but she felt it would be unkind to leave again without telling him goodbye. He might wake up and wonder where she was.