Sitting at the table, staring outside, Laura sensed more than saw Molly walk back to the couch after fetching another glass of water from the pump and plop down on the tattered cushions. She felt the girl looking at her but kept her eyes on Boots, relaxed on the front porch.
Her thoughts were on Jack, wherever he might be. The heat from outside was unbearable, hotter than any day so far. He was an indoor creature, she knew, and the temperature would make short work of him.
After a while Laura walked out to Boots and stood next to him, looking at the old-timer like a parent silently scolding a child for something they didn’t know they’d done. Boots appeared unaffected and sat motionless in his weathered chair.
“I can’t believe you’re not doing anything.”
“I think you’re mistaken . . . I’m doing something. Sitting here enjoying the view.”
“You know what I mean, Boots. Jack could be hurt out there. Or worse, he could be . . .”
“He’s fine. Like I say, a little time getting beat down may be all he needs.”
“He’s not that type of guy. He can’t survive out there.”
“I guess we’ll find out, huh?”
She was incredulous. Frustrated at the old man’s inaction. He sat there with the power to go after Jack, to bring him back, but did nothing. Boots read her mind.
“No fun, is it, waiting for someone to move?”
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“You know.”
She did. She thought of herself, wasting so much time as her life seeped away. Relinquishing her own strength, her own happiness. Sitting idly by as her years rolled on. The accusation lacerated her and awakened her at the same time. She looked at Boots and nodded her head.
Boots’s stern eyes softened as he looked back.
“Why you want him back so much? Huh? He seemed like he didn’t know how to treat you.”
“He’s my husband. Why wouldn’t I want him back?”
“Just figured you’d like it this way . . . maybe not?”
Laura thought about the stinging words. Stinging because they had passed through her mind before.
“What . . . what is it? Duty? You want him back because you think you have to?”
“No, that’s not it.”
“Aww . . . I get it. You’re a romantic.”
She stood motionless, hurt, defensive. “He’s a good man.”
“You say so.”
“I know so.”
“Then let me tell you something, Laura. If that be the case . . . then maybe he needs this. To get broken. To see that there is more than him to think about.”
“He’ll die out there, Boots!”
“You don’t know that. Ain’t going to happen if you would just listen.”
Laura was a mess. Her frantic mind going haywire. She searched for normalcy, for understanding. This calmer-of-the-storms just sat there spitting chew without a care in the world while chaos was forming all around him. She wished she could will him to action, but he just kept the impish grin on his face.
“Tell you what,” he started, his eyes reflecting a twinge of sympathy at her anguish, “when it cools down, I’ll go get him. Bring him back, and we can start this all over again. I don’t know what you expect to find when he’s back, but I’ll bring him back.”
She paused.
“Thank you,” she said with a whisper.
“What are you hoping to get back? That’s the question you need to ask.”
“What do you mean?”
“You holding out for him? Think he’ll come back fixed? That he’ll look at you and mend his ways?”
“I don’t know.”
“But that is what you want, ain’t it? Deep down, that is what this is all about? You don’t want the Jack back that was just here, you want the Jack back that walked out a long time ago.”
She rubbed her hands together slowly. A nervous tick. She knew Boots was right. That was what this whole vacation-turned-survivor-camp had been about. She wished to find the one she lost years ago. In her heart, she always wished the person coming back to her every day, whether it was from work or a trip, was the man she remembered, who cared about her. Laura eyed Boots. For his rugged and brutish exterior, he could lay bare the soul and spread it out before a person like a potluck dinner.
Boots came up to her and put his dirty hand on her shoulder. She could feel his pulse in his hand, a slow, faint drumming reminiscent of a thumping grandfather clock.
“Let me ask you something, Laura,” Boots said, his voice soft as a whisper. “Are you willing to do what it takes to get what you want? You willing to put yourself out there to help get back what’s been lost?”
A tear fell down her cheek. She nodded her head while staring at the ground beneath her feet.
“Okay, then you need to trust me. I got it all worked out. Jack will be all right. When all is said and done, you’ll get what you’ve been hoping on.”
Boots removed his hand and returned to his chair.
Laura walked back inside and sat down at the table, resuming her gaze out the front window for any sign of a lonesome wanderer in the distance. Molly sat quietly sipping her water.
“What he say?” she asked.
“That he’ll go after him.”
“When, now?”
“Later, when it cools down. I think Boots wants Jack to suffer. I don’t know why.”
“He’s got a bit of a sick streak in him, doesn’t he?”
“I think so.”
“I’m sure Jack will be okay.”
“I hope so.”
They sat in silence.
“It would be fun to be there when Boots finds him, huh?”
Laura managed a shallow smile. “Yeah, it would be.”