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Jarret
Leaves swayed in a warm breeze. Sunlight pulsated through them. Jarret lay on his back with his eyes closed, his shoulder blade digging into the gritty surface of the boulder he’d climbed onto for refuge. He turned his head to avoid the light, but it followed him anyway, not allowing him to sulk in darkness. Somewhere high above, a falcon made a shrill cry.
Then a shadow fell over him and something scraped the boulder. He was not alone.
Irritated at the intrusion, Jarret popped up and leaned back on his elbows.
Keefe stood a yard away with his hands at his sides and leaning his weight on one leg. Sunlight framed his short, curly hair.
“What’re you doing here? Why are you standing over me?” It annoyed him that he hadn’t heard Keefe approach. He should’ve heard a few twigs snap, or something, as Keefe came down the path from the house.
“I didn’t mean to scare—” He gave a quick headshake. “I mean, startle you. The sun was on your face. Seemed like it bothered you.”
“What do you care? The sun wasn’t bothering me as much as you are now.”
The rock formation he’d climbed to be alone had a wide surface, big enough for a whole group of people, but it offered only a few ways up and down. Keefe blocked the easiest way, and it was too high to jump down comfortably.
“You think I don’t care about you?” Keefe sat down and wrapped his arms around his knees.
Jarret avoided meeting his brother’s gaze.
“You don’t talk to anyone in the house, you’ve come out here every day for the past few days, and you stay out here for hours.”
He gave his brother a sulky look. “You know I don’t like you anymore.”
Keefe smiled. “Yeah, I know.”
“I ain’t got nothing to say to you.”
With a sigh, Keefe turned to the canopy of leaves. The falcon shrieked again and Keefe’s head swiveled as if he’d caught sight of it.
Jarret peered off in the opposite direction, and they sat in silence for a long moment, until he could take it no more. “Look. I know why you’re out here. You think I need to talk to someone.”
Keefe hadn’t bothered to face him, so Jarret lay back on the cool rock again and flung his arm over his eyes. “I don’t need you. I don’t need anyone. I can get along fine all by myself.”
Keefe didn’t respond, didn’t make a sound. Maybe he had snuck down and gone away as quietly as he had come.
Pretending that Keefe had gone, Jarret sought the darkness again and enjoyed the whisper of the leaves as a breeze blew. How could nature remain so calm while his heart whirled in turmoil?
Suddenly words erupted from him. “She dumped me. I stuck by her through all this, then—” His eyes watered, so he pressed his arm hard against them. “She made me sign our baby girl away. Two days later, she dumped me.”
Emotion bled out in his tone, but he needed to say more. “She said she wasn’t sure if she loved me, if she even knew what love was. She has things she needs to sort out, and she can’t do it with me. Said she doesn’t like the person she’s been, and she wants to start over. But not with me.”
Pressing his arm to his eyelids, he rolled onto his side, facing away from Keefe. “I need her. I really love her. And I want my little girl. I see her . . . when I close my eyes. Her little face. Her little fingers. She had black hair like Zoe’s . . . Did you see her?”
“I saw her. She was beautiful.”
Jarret curled up on his side. Within nine months, he’d lost everything, all starting with the trip to Italy. He should’ve gone to Italy. If he had gone, none of this would’ve happened. He wouldn’t have met Zoe camping, gotten her pregnant, and gone on that emotional rollercoaster with her. He wouldn’t be lying here feeling like his heart had been ripped out and trampled by a herd of wild mustangs. He wouldn’t have a little girl out there somewhere in the world, a little girl he’d never know.
“I’m here for you, Jarret.”
“Yeah, you’re here unless I really need you. You used to be on my side, no matter the side I took.”
“No, I’m here for you. I won’t go along with everything you do, but it doesn’t mean I’m not here for you. What good does it do you if I go along with things that are wrong?”
Jarret pushed himself up and wiped his face with his wet arm. “What’s that supposed to mean? What happened to you? You’re so different. You’re like a stranger to me. If you wouldn’t have gotten all righteous on me, maybe none of this would’ve happened. I don’t like you, Keefe. I don’t like you at all.”
“I know, Jarret, but I’m here for you anyway. I hope you’ll understand someday. Your day will come. God has a plan for you.”
Jarret shook his head, staring at his twin with disgust. “Until then, I’ve got no one and nothing.”
“You’ve got more than you know. You just can’t see it right now.”
“Yeah. I’ve got my deep cherry red Chrysler 300, still in show-room condition.” He grinned.
“That you do.”
A silent but companionable moment passed then his cell phone rang. Zoe? He snatched it and glanced at the number. Not Zoe. Papa. He tossed the phone onto the rock, to a spot between him and Keefe. Before his conversion, Keefe would’ve taken the gesture as a sign that he should—
Keefe snatched the phone and answered it. “Hey, Papa . . . Yeah, he can’t talk right now.”
Appreciating Keefe’s response, Jarret took a deep breath, scanned the surrounding woods, and relaxed somewhat.
With the phone to his ear, Keefe mumbled, “Uh-huh,” a few times and, “Ohh,” a few more times. He ended with, “I’ll tell him. We’ll let you know.”
“Papa said he’s taking a vacation.” Keefe set the phone down and picked up a stray twig.
Jarret looked. “Vacation?”
“Yeah. He’s going back to the place where he grew up, somewhere in southern Arizona. He said it was a vacation, but I get the feeling there’s more. I think there’s something Papa has to do there.” Keefe drew patterns on the rock using the twig like a pencil. “Anyway, he wants to know if we want to come along.”
“I ain’t going on another trip with him. I’m still trying to recover from the psychological damage I got from the last one.”
“You never talked about that trip. What happened? Where’d you go?”
“Uh . . . I’m not ready to talk about that one. That one’s getting filed in the deep recesses of my mind, and hopefully it’ll stay there.” He grinned.
Keefe laughed. “It must’ve been bad.”
“Bad ain’t the word. I think Papa was trying his hardest to cast the devil outta me.”
Keefe shook his head, still laughing. “Well, as much as I’d like to see where Papa grew up, I’m not going either. Do you remember visiting when we were little?”
Jarret shook his head, not really trying to recall any memories. Mama would’ve been alive then, another person he had lost.
“We stayed with Papa’s rich Mexican friends. They have a huge house, like a mansion, way bigger than our house. I mostly remember the chandelier in the foyer, for some reason, and the swimming pool.”
“They have a pool? I thought Papa grew up in a trailer-sized ranch house.”
“Well, Papa did. But his neighbors were rich. They come from a long respectable line of landholders from the time that Arizona was part of Mexico.”
“I guess I do have some memories of that place.” He remembered dust and heat and a squirrelly man Papa’s age who cared for the horses. “Do they have horses?”
“Yeah. I remember the horses, too.”
“Maybe I’ll go. It’s a hot time of year to be vacationing in Arizona. But I guess I got nothing better to do. You’re not going?”
“No. I um . . . I have something I need to sort out.”
“Girl trouble?”
Keefe smiled. “No.”
“Roland going?”
Keefe shrugged.
“You gonna let that hair grow out?” Jarret smirked. “We ain’t got the face for short hair.”
“Speak for yourself.” Keefe threw a twig at him.
Jarret stretched out on the rock again. It would be a long hot way to end the summer, but maybe he’d go. There was nothing for him here. Maybe there was something for him there . . . in the desert.
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