The next day I was the one with sleepless shadows beneath my eyes, though I worked like a champ, drafting minor things for Al, reorganizing files; Dad had always joked that a lawyer’s primary work was paperwork. The clock rolled around to noon; Mary and Al went home for lunch, as usual, while I had neglected to bring any food for myself. I sighed and decided I had time to drive home too, not that there was anything to eat there. But I was restless as hell.
Outside under the baking sun I climbed into my car and turned over the engine only to hear a grinding chug.
“Dammit,” I muttered, trying once more; again the Honda didn’t start, instead issuing a pathetic wheezing. I slapped my hands on the steering wheel. “Dammit!”
Back inside the office, I debated what to do about the car. Clark would probably help me, or maybe Al could recommend someone. Just what I needed right now. I plopped ungracefully into my desk chair and reached for my cup of coffee without looking, bumping the edge of a picture of Camille, Ruthie, Clint and me, knocking it to the floor and shattering the glass in the frame.
“Dammit,” I said for the third time, feeling my headache intensify. I wanted to cry.
I knelt down to check out the damage and then looked around for a broom and dustpan. Shit, I knew Al had one somewhere. I sighed and grabbed an empty file folder, intending to create a makeshift one to scoop up the shards. First I collected the biggest pieces and I had a large handful when the bell above the door tingled. I looked up and received what felt like a lightning bolt straight to the heart. Ironically, Case, holding a white cat in his arms, was standing right beside the AED box on the wall.
He lifted his eyebrows at me without saying a word, that half-grin forming on his lips.
“Hi,” I said, and rose awkwardly, and then immediately gasped, “Ouch! Dammit!”
The glass in my hand tinkled back to the floor at the same moment Case dropped the cat and came at once behind the counter. My palm was dripping blood like a gory instance of stigmata, running all down my wrist.
“Here,” he said, calm and reassuring. “Let me see.”
“Ouch,” I breathed again. Case took my forearm into his hands and inspected the damage.
“I think it looks worse than it is,” he said, still holding me in his big hands. He was so very warm, his fingers gentle on my skin. “There’s no glass stuck in there, that I can see.”
“Well it still hurts,” I all but snapped at him, and he met my eyes with amusement.
“Does Al have a first-aid kit?” he asked. He gently released my arm and disappointment stabbed at me.
“I don’t know,” I said miserably, and then couldn’t help but giggle a little. “Some professional lawyer I am.”
“Here, go wash up and I’ll get this glass,” he said.
I left the bathroom door open, just across the office, because I was only washing my hand. Blood spiraled down the sink and the soap stung. I wadded up a bundle of paper towels and pressed them to the wound, then rejoined Case, who had located the dustpan and made short work of the mess. The white cat prowled near and twined around my ankles.
“That’s Peaches,” he said, nodding towards the cat as he dumped the glass shards neatly into the garbage. “She’s a sweetie. Do you think you might want to keep her?”
I bent, gingerly in my skirt, and scooped her up with my free hand, my other fisted around the paper towels. She was medium-sized, glossy white, with clear, translucent green eyes. She began purring at once and I said, “I do.”
He stashed the broom and dustpan and came near; I kept my eyes on the cat, pretending I didn’t feel my heartbeat everywhere in my body, including my injured palm. I couldn’t banish the picture of him cupping his wife’s head and kissing her.
It’s none of your business!
Never mind that I focused on it half the night.
You’re jealous as hell.
You’re totally ridiculous, I raged at myself.
Case cupped a hand around the cat’s head and patted her. He said, “I have all the things that my student left for her, including a bag of litter. You want me to put them in your car? I’ll bring her back to the shop with me until this evening. I just thought you might want to meet her right now.”
I looked up at him then, unable to help myself, and simply drank in the sight of him, observing that his eyes still bore the traces of sleeplessness. He was hatless, his red-gold hair appearing soft, his cinnamon-brown eyes holding fast to mine. He smelled good and I wanted to lean closer, even though he was close enough that I could almost feel his breath on my cheek.
Oh Case…oh God…
I swallowed and then said, “My stupid car isn’t running right now. I’ll probably get a ride home from Al and then try to figure it out. And thank you, that’s sweet of you.”
“I hate to tell you, there’s blood on your skirt,” he said then, nodding that direction.
“Shit!” I muttered.
Peaches squirreled free of my arm and leaped gracefully to the floor.
Case said, “Why don’t I run you home right now? You can change and then we can leave all her things at your place.”
“You don’t mind?” I asked, all a-tremble at the thought of him in my apartment. But of course I kept all of that from my face.
“Not at all,” he said easily, leaning to collect Peaches. “You look like you just committed a murder.”
I giggled a little at this, regarding my sleek gray skirt, now blood-smeared. I said, “Thank you. You don’t have to do this.”
“It’s no problem,” he assured me, maddeningly polite, as though I was his little sister. Or a family friend.
You are a family friend! I yelled at myself, grabbing my purse from the bottom desk drawer and then flipping the sign in the window to CLOSED. That’s exactly what you are. Jesus, Tish.
He held the door for me, which I locked after us, and then he again opened the door for me at his truck, parked across the street. The interior smelled as it had last week when I’d retrieved the fiddle case, herbal and spicy, just like him. His truck was dated, probably early-80s, but well cared for, the bench seat upholstered in sleek beige leather. His cowboy hat was lying on the seat and really quickly I ran my fingertips over it.
I watched him round the hood, sun glinting off his beautiful hair, Peaches prowling all along the floor at my ankles. My heart was jittery. He climbed in beside me and unhooked his sunglasses from the steering wheel where they’d been hanging, settled his hat over his head with an effortlessly graceful motion that reminded me of how he’d saddled Cider the other night.
“It smells so good in here,” I told him as he shifted into first and did a quick u-turn in the road, to head in the right direction.
He tapped a bundle hanging from the rearview mirror, which I hadn’t noticed. He said, “Sagebrush. It grows all over in the foothills.”
“Case,” I said in rush, before I completely lost my nerve, startling him a little, as he looked over at me and I could tell his eyebrows were raised, even though his eyes were covered in sunglasses. I gathered myself with effort and said, “Last night I ran into Derrick Yancy at the fair. On the way home. He was in the parking lot. He tried to feed me a bunch of shit about how he wanted to hire me and that I was too pretty to be a lawyer —”
“He said that?” Case asked, low and quiet. “He spoke to you that way?”
“He was being an asshole,” I said honestly. “Asserting his power.”
“He’s a bully,” Case said then. “No better than a fucking junkyard bully. He might dress well and have money, but that’s all he is. He didn’t try anything else, did he?” His voice was carefully neutral as he asked, but his shoulders and jaw were tense.
“No,” I said, though I thought of how Derrick had taken my arm. I added, “But he drives an SUV with Colorado plates.”
Case looked my way again and said, “I’m missing something here.”
“I have to backtrack,” I said, feeling all hot and squirmy again. I looked out the windshield at the sunny day before I composed myself enough to say, “Last Friday, after dinner at the Rawleys’ I drove out past your house, since I wanted to see it,” I sensed his surprise like a third person in the truck, but I plowed ahead, “Anyway, I drove a ways past your place and then…I felt like I was going to get lost, and I climbed out of the car and kind-of paced for a while…”
Case was staring at me rather than the road, but I couldn’t look at him. I interrupted myself to say, “You missed the turn to Stone Creek…”
“Shit,” he said, pulling over to the curb and then remaining motionless, his hands hanging from the top of the steering wheel as he regarded me. Slowly, he lifted the sunglasses from his face and I braved a look at him. He was utterly stone-faced, an expression I had already learned that he’d perfected.
I actually stuttered as I said, “P…pacing helps me collect my thoughts.” Peaches jumped onto the seat between us and I startled a little. I drew a breath before I continued, “I’m sure I was still on your property and I heard voices, from way out in the foothills. So I waited a little longer and then I realized at least two men were walking out there. They got into a car and drove back to Jalesville, and so I followed them. And I realized just last night that it was Derrick Yancy’s SUV I was following. I don’t know if he was driving that night, or not. But they were trespassing on your property.”
Case opened his mouth to say something but then seemed to think better of it, as he chewed his bottom lip for a second. He knitted his eyebrows at me, as though trying to process what the hell I’d just said, while I felt sweat pool between my breasts. At last he said, ignoring for the moment just why I had been, for lack of a better term, trespassing on his property too, “That was probably dangerous of you.”
“They had no idea,” I said, with more assurance than I felt. “What do you think they were doing out there?”
I could almost see his thoughts whirling; he looked out the windshield and said, “I knew there was something more to this. I knew it. There’s something they’re not letting on.”
“What can we do? Should we tell Clark? Hank Ryan?” I asked. Peaches stuck her nose in Case’s side and purred, rubbing her head against him. He stroked her absently with one hand.
“Not just yet. I have an idea, though.”
“What’s that?” I asked, excited despite everything.
“How do you feel, professionally, about a stakeout?” he asked.
“You mean out on your property?”
“Where else?” he said, but his lips curved into a half-grin as he continued to watch me.
“I better dig out my hiking boots,” I said, feeling a grin nudge at my mouth too.
He smiled then, a wide, genuine smile, and I swallowed hard at the sight, heart thumping almost painfully, my hands curling into tight fists because I wanted to touch him really terribly and I knew I could not do that. The clenching motion hurt my injured palm.
“We better get you home and then back to work,” he said then, growing very businesslike all of a sudden, driving around the block to get back to the right street.
“What could be out there worth prowling around in the dark for?” I pressed, trying to forget about how much I craved another sight of his smile.
“There’s a local legend, about gold that was buried back in the 1800s somewhere around here. It’s been a tall tale in our area for over a century, so it’s plausible that Yancy may know the legend. My pa —” he paused only fractionally, but I knew enough thanks to Clark to have at least a context for understanding this hesitation. Case went on, quietly, “My pa believed in it. When I was a boy he used to spend nights out there in the foothills, searching for it.”
“He did?”
Case’s jaw tightened just a little, almost unconsciously, and again I restrained the desire to touch him, his hand or his shoulder…his face…
“He was a drunk,” he said, softly and without rancor. But I could hear pain in his voice, no matter how deeply buried. He added, “But he believed in that gold. After my mom died, he gave it up though.”
I wanted to ask why; especially I wanted to ask him about his mother, Melinda, but he had driven into Stone Creek’s gravel parking lot just then, so I shelved this urge for now. I said, “You can pull into my parking spot, right there.”
Case did so and I collected Peaches with my left hand, tucking her against my side as he jogged around the hood to open the door for me. He didn’t so much as touch me. Instead he said, “Here, let me take her,” and so I passed Peaches into his arms. He collected her close as I climbed down, and then he leaned back into the truck to grab a few things from behind the front seats.
“I can take something,” I said, as I had nothing but my purse and he was juggling an armload, but he shook his head at me, hat and sunglasses in place. I readjusted the purse strap on my shoulder and dug around for my keys as we walked into the cool interior of the apartment building, where all of the residents’ mailboxes were lined up in a row.
“Second floor,” I said, leading the way up the carpeted steps. We were silent on the way to 206, just down the hall, third door on the left. I unlocked it, very heatedly aware of him close behind me. Inside my apartment, I said, “You can put that stuff anyplace. I’ll be right out.”
I retreated to my room, all hopped up, as though I’d popped an upper, or a handful of caffeine pills, which I had done exactly one time, second-year at Northwestern. I leaned against the closed door and pressed both hands to my blazing cheeks, hearing him out in my kitchen.
Oh God, the computer!
I recalled slamming it shut last night without closing out the screen. The screen with the dozens of images of him that I had been scrolling through before I went to bed.
Calm down! There’s no reason on earth for him to look at your computer.
I was very aware of my nearly-nude body as I slipped from my bloody work clothes and stood in my nylons just at the edge of the closet. My heart would not slow its pace. Fuck, I hadn’t done laundry in days. At last, growing desperate, I grabbed a casual, creamy cotton sundress that I would never have dreamed of wearing into a law office in Chicago and slipped it over my head, knowing Al wouldn’t care or probably even notice, one way or the other. I had a little trouble with tie that wrapped around the waist, one-handed as I was at present, and fantasized for no more than a lightning flash about calling Case to come in here and help me.
“Shit,” I muttered to myself. I would go out into the living room and ask for his help; that would be all right.
Family friend, I reminded myself, almost gritting my teeth. Case hadn’t so much as mentioned a word of the things that he had said to me at Camille’s wedding, leading me to believe that probably he had been drunk enough that they had faded, if not fully evaporated, from his memory of that night. Or, more likely, had utterly reconsidered his youthful position on those matters.
You’re the one who can’t forget what he said that night.
You’re the one who reads too much into things.
Right?
I rounded the corner of the hallway; he was nowhere in sight and neither was Peaches. But then I saw them out on the little balcony and I slipped silently across the carpet in my stocking feet.
“Hey,” I said, sticking my head out the door.
Case said, without looking back at me, “It’s a great view out here. This is a nice little place.”
“Would you mind helping me for a second?” I asked, my heart cart-wheeling as he turned at this request. He was still wearing his cowboy hat and sunglasses, so I couldn’t tell what he was really thinking at all; his mouth was unsmiling.
“Sure,” he said. Peaches darted around my ankles, back inside.
I stepped out onto the balcony and asked, now feeling about ten years old, “Can you maybe help me tie this? I’m sorry…my hand…”
“Sure,” he said again, and I was undoubtedly imagining that he sounded just the slightest bit hoarse.
I turned and felt his hands take up the ties, just at my waist, and a sharp-edged breath lodged in my chest. I was instantly so aware of my breathing that it became absurd; Case was perhaps a foot away and he asked, “Knot or bowtie?”
I tipped my chin to my left shoulder and my heart jolted, hard; he was so tall and immediate behind me. To cover my nerves, I asked, trying to tease, “A knot? Are you kidding me?”
“Bowtie it is then,” he responded easily. His fingers inadvertently brushed my waist, no more than a few seconds’ worth, but it took everything in me to repress a shiver.
“Thank you,” I said the second he was done, hurrying back inside and to the bathroom to inspect my palm.
The cut wasn’t terrible; I washed it again and slapped a couple of band-aids over it, then inspected myself in the mirror. My face was so flushed I appeared sunburned, my hair windblown from its clip. I refastened it quickly, wincing at the pain in my palm. Out in the living room I heard Case call, “You want to leave Peaches here, see how she likes it?”
I rejoined him, all fluttery and butterflies-in-the-stomach at the sight of his eyes; he’d removed his sunglasses in the apartment and he looked steadily at me as I came near.
“Sure, that’s a good idea,” I said. “Thank you again.”
“Anytime,” he returned. He said, “We better get going…”
I bent to speak to my new cat, telling her, “Be good until I get back, all right?”
Outside the sun was edging past towards afternoon, hot on our heads. Well, at least hot on mine.
“I need a hat,” I reflected as Case opened the door for me. I felt compelled to tell him, “You’re such a gentleman.”
“That’s all my mom’s doing,” he said, as he backed the truck from my parking space. “She was insistent. Gus was too little when she died, he doesn’t remember her at all, but the one thing she wanted was for us to be polite. To treat ladies well, she said.”
Probably because she was married to such a lowlife, I thought, watching Case’s profile as he took us back downtown. I said, “That’s no small thing. And I’d say you learned well.”
A flash of his grin. He said, “So today is Thursday. And the fair is in town two more nights. What are the odds —”
“Good, they’re good,” I interrupted, understanding where he was going. Part of me was fearful that he would suddenly reconsider asking me to join him on a stakeout. I was not about to let that happen and so I added quickly, “What better time to sneak onto someone’s land, when the whole town is preoccupied?”
“True,” he mused. I was watching his forearm as he shifted gear, the way the muscles along its length tightened, the red-gold hair, surely bleached from the summer sun, the freckles that were scattered all along his darkly-tanned skin. He asked, “You want to try tomorrow night, after dinner at Clark’s?”
I wanted to be near him. I understood this. I further understood that I could not let on that I felt this way; no matter that now he apparently regarded me as a sort of buddy, maybe a kid sister…
It wouldn’t be right.
Tish, it wouldn’t be right.
Do you want him?
Yes, I fucking want him, but he’s not the sort that you can have a fling with.
This I understood with sterling clarity. I asked, half-kidding, “Do you have night vision goggles and all that?”
He angled me a smile and said, “No, but that would probably be a good idea.”
“They were probably about a half mile from your front yard, on the east side of the road.”
He said, “You’ll have to show me where you saw them. Do you remember well enough?”
“I do,” I said, thinking of the T-shaped wizard rock, my heart skipping along at his words.
“How about if I pick you up after work today and we’ll drive out there? While it’s daylight, I mean. You said your car wasn’t working…”
I would not acknowledge the bursting bloom of undiluted joy as he suggested this. I would not. I said offhandedly, “I can be done by three, I’m sure Al wouldn’t mind. How about you?”
“I have one last lesson at two, then I’m free,” he said. “I’ll take a look at your car when I’m done.”
“You don’t have to do that,” I told him at once.
He shrugged. “No big deal.”
We had reached the front of the law office. Case drew the truck to the shoulder and put it into park. Not wanting him to go to the trouble, knowing he would take the time to climb out and open my door, I hurried to say, “I got it this time.” Over my shoulder I added sincerely, “Thank you.”
“See you later,” he said, and I resisted the urge to look back as I stepped to the sidewalk and entered the little office, under the tingle of the bell. I was all shaky; as he drove away, I turned and all but pressed my nose to the glass to watch his maroon truck roll down Main Street.
“See you later,” I whispered in response.
At quarter to three I was in the back storage room when I heard Mary say brightly, “Well if it isn’t Charles Spicer. What a nice surprise!”
“Afternoon, Mrs. Stapleton,” he said, deep voice with the sound of a smile. I pressed the knuckles of my left hand to my lips, my bloodstream surging. I drew a full breath, not without difficulty, and then stepped back around the corner into the main room. Case’s eyes moved directly to me, though there was nothing on his face but utter politeness. His eyes didn’t flash a pulse of heat into mine.
Not one bit…
He was wearing his hat, sunglasses hooked on the collar of his t-shirt, creating a little gap that exposed the line of his collarbones along the top of his chest. I wondered if he had red-gold hair there too, and if his freckles continued over his chest…
“Is young Mr. Spicer your beau, Patty?” Mary asked, clearly delighted at the prospect, clasping her be-ringed hands and smiling between the two of us.
Case, angled away from her to look at me, asked without sound, Patty?
I hid a giggle by biting my lip. I said to Mary, “He’s helping me out with my car, actually.” And then I couldn’t resist adding, “Charles and I are just friends.”
Yes, friends, we’re friends.
Nothing more.
“Ha ha,” he muttered, narrowing his eyes at me even as he couldn’t quite contain a smile. He explained, “I came to get your keys.”
“They’re in my purse,” I said, moving to grab them. “And thank you again.”
Al came through the door just then, saying merrily, “Afternoon, everyone! Tish, my dear, I just had three separate people tell me that they think it’s wonderful that you’re going to take over Howe and James when I retire.”
I giggled at this, digging through my purse. I said, “Could it be you who started that rumor?”
“Oh, it was me,” Mary declared, unashamed. “I’ve been telling everyone that very thing.”
“Mary,” I complained, but half-heartedly. I could just picture her, like a woman who operated one of those old switchboard telephones, the kind where you could listen to any conversation in town, fueling the rumor mill. I found my keys and Case collected them from my hands, seeming to study me with extra speculation before he tipped his hat once more to Mary and headed outside.
“Well, you tell me the minute you decide that very thing,” Al said, winking as he shed his sport coat and headed for his desk.
I shook my head at the idea of them hoping for this, something that could never actually be, and went back to work. I was, however, so terribly conscious of Case right out in the parking lot and working over my car that I was nearly useless. No more than a couple of minutes ticked by before I said to Al, “Do you mind if I take off a little early?”
He was on the phone and nodded distractedly. Covering the mouthpiece, he told me, “That’s fine.”
Out in the lowering sun, I rounded the building to see Case bent over the open hood. I barely curbed the fierce urge to race to his side and slide my arms around his waist, bury my face against him.
“So, do I need a new car?” I asked as I came up on his right side.
“It’s just your battery,” he said, straightening to his full height and leaning one thigh against the side of my car, his hands slightly stained, probably from checking the oil. “You left the headlights on. Don’t worry. The battery is an easy fix.”
The sun cut across my eyes as I looked at him. I said, “Thank you. Apparently I’m a moron. I really appreciate the help.”
He didn’t look back at me as he shrugged and said, his tone implying that he didn’t have anything better to do with a little downtime, “Sure thing.” He wiped his hands on the sides of his jeans and said, “Besides, you could very well be saving my property and that’s no small thing,” echoing my words from earlier today.
I shaded my eyes to see him better. Still he wasn’t looking exactly at me. I wanted to grab his face in my hands and make him. I whispered, “It’s my job.”
“Here, I’ll close the hood,” he said, which forced me to step back. He did so and then said, “Let’s get you a battery, first thing, and then we’ll drive out and you can show me the spot.”
We walked across the street to the hardware and auto parts store, where I recognized the clerk, Ken Nelson, from The Spoke, where he’d been chatting with Clark, and last Tuesday’s meeting.
“Fine afternoon, ain’t it?” he asked us. “Patricia, how’re you enjoying Jalesville?”
“Wonderfully,” I said, quite honestly.
“We need a battery for that little white Honda across the street, the ’97 Accord,” Case said, leaning his hip against the counter. He looked all lanky and sexy, his jeans dirty with motor oil.
“I’ll see what I have,” Ken said, and went to look.
Case leaned a little closer to me, which made my heart all the more erratic and said, low, “His daughter is Katie.”
I giggled, whispering back, “Of the bleacher kissing?”
Case sent me his half-grin and nodded, and my eyes detoured straight to his lips; with no more than a few inches I could have been hardware-store-counter kissing him.
“Here we go!” Ken heralded, and I snapped my eyes to safer terrain.
Back outside, Case carrying my new battery, which I’d had to insist on paying for, as Ken wanted to make it a gift (a welcome-to-town sort of thing), he said, “I don’t have my tools here. I’ll get them from my place when we head over there.”
I felt incomprehensibly happy at this gift of extra, unexpected time with him, and did not want to waste even one millisecond. But I felt like I had to say, “You really don’t have to do that. I mean, I feel guilty…can I at least pay you?”
We had reached his truck, parked in front of the law office, and he said, “That’s just plain insulting.”
I guess I was good at that, though he politely refrained from saying so; I was thinking of exactly what I had once said to him, at my sister’s wedding, and even though his eyes were hidden by his sunglasses, I was somehow certain he had the same evening in mind. I wondered if he would ever mention any of that while I was here; I was far, far too chicken.
“I didn’t mean…” I faltered, and then jumped ahead to get the driver’s side door for him. Smiling over my shoulder, I said, “Here, it’s the least I can do.”
He was wearing his impassable face again, but he did say, “Thanks,” as he deposited his armload behind the front seat and I hurried around the hood to let myself into his truck. Already I felt much too at home, at ease, settling onto the leather of the seat.
Case started the engine and I asked, “What do you think about Yancy’s claim that he had an ancestor who was cheated out of land?”
“I was hoping to talk to you about that,” he said. “I had all these things I wanted your opinion on the other night.”
You did? I marveled. I said honestly, “Me too, with you.”
“I’m curious just what he’s using to make that claim. Documents, letters, family stories, what?”
“That’s a good question,” I agreed. “I admit I wasn’t expecting that. But Case,” and I loved saying his name so much I nearly said it again (and I was sure I was not imagining that he liked it too), “I know there’s a connection between the timing of the plant closing and the company sweeping in here.”
“I agree with you, but it may just be that they caught wind and saw an opportunity,” he said. “It could be nothing more than a sharp business sense.”
I said, “But I know it’s not. I promised Al I wouldn’t rest until I found out.”
Case angled a look my way. He said, “You’re dedicated. I respect that very much.”
Pleasure that he would say so rippled all through me, warm and sweet as melted chocolate. I replied, my voice far softer than normal, “Thank you. I appreciate that.”
There was a beat of something between us, the awareness of a powerful, thrumming connection. I felt tight in the chest and thought I might die, and there was no exaggeration in that notion, if I didn’t touch him at once.
I knew he felt the same, I knew it to my bones, as his hands tightened on the steering wheel. I let myself study him from the corner of my eye and yearning clamped my body into an immediate and intense stranglehold.
And so it was that I found myself asking something totally ridiculous, to cover the intensity of my emotions, “So, how long is the winter out here?”
He answered in the same tone, quietly, “The old-timers have a saying: when summer heads back up the mountains, it meets winter coming down.”
“Sounds like northern Minnesota,” I said. I swallowed and then asked, “Do you ski and snowmobile, all that stuff?”
“Some,” he said. “The worst part is that I can’t get out to ride as much as I’d like. It gets a little claustrophobic.”
“I remember that from Landon,” I said, as we cleared the town and the landscape stretched to the horizon on all sides, gorgeous, giving away no secrets at all. “That’s when it’s great to have the café, especially. Everyone gathers there and hangs out and passes the time.”
“It sounds like you have a close family,” he said. “That’s such an important thing. Gus and I are pretty far apart in age. Sometimes I feel like he thinks of me as a second dad.”
“But you always took care of him, so that makes sense,” I said, without thinking, and could have bitten through my tongue. Case didn’t know that Clark had told me so very much about his past.
I sensed his gaze upon me for a second, though I kept mine nervously out the windshield. He said, “Yeah, I suppose that’s pretty obvious. Our own father was not the world’s best role model. And Faye Rawley was more like a mother to him than anyone. I loved her too, but she couldn’t replace my mom.”
“How did she die?” I asked him quietly.
“Faye, or my mother?” he asked.
“Yours,” I said.
“She was sick. To be quite honest, I don’t know all the details. I know she had some kind of genetic abnormality that her own mother has passed to her, a defect in her heart valves. It was how Grandma Dalton died, too. Even though we didn’t go much to the doctor, she made sure Gus and me were checked for it.”
“And?” I could hardly speak the word.
“They said we checked out all right at the time,” he said.
His heart. Oh God…
He had once tried to give his heart to me, and I had not only handed it right back to him, I had thrown it across the ballroom at White Oaks Lodge. My own seemed as tiny and shriveled as a raisin, at just the thought of my own behavior.
But you didn’t know him then.
And besides, he doesn’t feel the same way anymore…
“Well that’s a very good thing,” I told him, my voice low.
“Aw shit! Look at that!” he said then, in a completely different tone of voice. To my surprise, he braked and pulled to the left side of the road, taking the truck well onto the scrubby edge. He shouldered open his door and called, “C’mon!”
I scooted after him at once; he was already headed down into the ditch as though drawn by a tractor beam. I hesitated at the edge of the road, in my dress and nylons, heeled sandals. My goddamn ridiculous shoes. Case was standing about twenty feet away, fingers linked together and braced on the top of his hat, looking out towards the distance. I looked that way too and saw a herd of horses, running along fast enough to kick up dust.
“Oh wow,” I breathed, and forgot all about the inappropriateness of my footwear, hurrying right after him. I was a little winded as I reached his side; he looked to the left, down at me, the lowering sun refracting from his sunglasses, painting his face in amber. He appeared reverent.
“You don’t see them too often,” he explained. “Isn’t that a sight?”
“Are they wild?” I asked, shading my eyes from the glare.
“They are. God, it makes me happy that something still is, you know what I mean? That not every wild creature is locked up in a goddamn zoo.”
I thought of the Lincoln Park Zoo, back in Chicago, and understood what he meant. Though I had never thought of it that way, it made sense to me.
“No one tries to round them up? Control them?”
“No…occasionally a rancher’s horse gets mixed in, and that calls for saddling up, if you want your horse back. Usually the mares, during mating season,” he said, so very matter-of-fact, still studying the horses as they receded into the distance, dust clouding them nearly from view.
I felt a hot pulse all along my center at his words, peeking over at him as he remained in the same position, his hands braced over his hat. His biceps were amber-tinted in the sunbeams, solid and strong and sharply defined. I felt my jaw bulge as I gritted my teeth, determinedly knocking aside all feelings of raging attraction.
No use.
“That makes my whole day,” he said, turning back for the truck.
“Mine, too,” I muttered, picking my way carefully along the uneven ground. Just behind me, Case stooped to break a twig from a nearby plant.
“Here, for your car,” he said, offering it to me. “It’s sage.”
“Thanks,” I said, still terribly unsettled, desire skimming along my skin like the tips of knife blades, just as keen, demanding my attention. I took the sprig from him, oddly as charmed as though he’d offered two dozen red roses. I held it under my nose and inhaled. “Oh, that smells so good.”
At the truck, I clambered in the driver’s side ahead of him and he took us back out on the road. A minute later we drove past the Rawleys’ place, and then Case took the left on Ridge Road, out towards his own home. I could tell he wasn’t going to question exactly why I had been out here the other night, letting that sleeping dog lie; I was glad, as I couldn’t exactly explain why either, even to myself. I recognized the mailbox, the barn cast now in sunlight, the trailer as rundown as ever.
Why are you so judgmental? I demanded of myself. Jesus, Tish.
He parked near the barn and Buck and Cider immediately came loping from its depths. I could tell that the barn was in far better repair than the trailer, appearing to have new shingles. It was constructed of stained wood, unpainted, a split-rail corral circling outward from the west side. A pair of medium-sized black and white dogs, fluffy and with tails wagging madly, came bolting from behind the barn.
“Get down, guys,” he said, as the dogs leaped up on their hind legs against the truck. He climbed out and bent immediately to one knee to knuckle their heads. The second my feet touched the ground, the dogs raced around the truck and leaped at me, tongues lolling, their bodies wiggling excitedly to displace each other for full attention.
I leaned to rub their heads with affection; I knew I looked like a snobby city girl, and actually, embarrassingly, cultivated that image, but I truly loved animals. These two reminded me of Grandma’s old labs, Chief and Chester.
“Guys, come on. Down!” Case ordered, though he was smiling, pulling off his sunglasses and then his hat, swiping the back of one wrist over his forehead before resettling it into place. The dogs obeyed, though they crowded my knees, their brown eyes bright with excitement at this new body in their yard.
“So, who are these two?” I asked.
Case indicated with his sunglasses, pointing to one and then the other as he said, “Mutt and Tiny. They’re border collies. Poor guys need sheep to herd.”
A sleek orange cat leaped atop the highest rail of the corral and walked precisely along, while Cider and Buck stuck their noses out and Cider made a neighing sound, a clear call for attention.
“What are you talking about? You have a zoo right here,” I teased him, moving to cup Cider’s nose. She blew a breath at me, and I laughed, patting her neck, one hand on either side of her face.
Case joined me near the corral, scooping the cat into his arms and rubbing a thumb over its head; it began purring as though equipped with a motor. He said, “You know, as a kid I wanted to be a vet more than about anything.”
“That’s funny, I wanted to be one too, for a long time,” I told him. I nodded at the cat. “Is this everybody?”
I swore a flush stole over his cheeks, but it was difficult to tell, as he was already so tan and still wearing his hat. He used his free hand to pat Buck’s neck as he said, “No…”
“Who else?” I asked, rapt with curiosity.
“I have a rabbit in the barn,” he said. “And a few chickens…”
“You do?” I giggled at his expression. He looked like a kid, sweet and endearing. I couldn’t resist teasing him, “Do you have a shoebox with a turtle, too?”
“No, thank you very much,” he said, his tone teasing me back a little. “I like animals, what can I say?”
“So that wasn’t just an excuse to leave last night,” I said. “You really did have to feed all the animals.”
He looked at me in complete silence for a moment; my heart hammered hard against my ribs. Only Cider swinging her head in annoyance broke our absorption with one another. Case said, “Whoa there, girl, I’ll get you fed.”
“Can I use your bathroom quick?” I asked. I felt intrusive, asking this way, but it was that or go find a place to squat out amongst the sagebrush.
“Of course,” he said, tucking the orange cat under his arm. “Just to warn you…I wasn’t exactly expecting company…”
I rolled my eyes at him.
He smiled a little and clarified, “Your place was so clean today…”
“I just don’t have a lot to do in the evenings,” I said. “Normally I live in complete squalor.”
He laughed a little at my words. His yard was in shade at this point in the afternoon, only the top half of the barn bisected by the bright, slowly-sinking sun. Case led the way to his trailer, a green and white double-wide; the chili-pepper lights were strung in two rows above the screen door, which sang on its hinges as he opened it for me, taking me instantly back to the porch at Shore Leave, where the door always made the same sound.
Inside, my eyes roved all over his home. There was an undoubted intimacy to seeing someone’s space in this fashion. I might as well have peered into closets and underwear drawers while I was at it.
Case said, not following me inside, “On the right, down that hall.”
He retreated to feed the animals; I watched him out the window before moving in the direction he’d indicated. The windows were all open a good six inches, allowing the scent of sage into the interior. The walls were paneled in wood, the carpet in the living room a burnt-orange. There was a small television, an old leather couch with a bed pillow at one end; did he sleep out here?
The small kitchen had one table, three chairs, dishes stacked in the sink, probably a week’s worth. I trailed my fingers along the counter as I moved slowly through his house, picturing him leaning against it drinking coffee in the mornings, as the sun spilled through the east-facing windows. Blinds, but no curtains. Pictures on a lone shelf; I was drawn to these as though they were magnetized.
A couple of shots of him performing with the Rawleys, one from a long time ago, as he looked the way I remembered him from Camille’s wedding. And then, my heart seizing up, I spied a small wallet-sized photo, tucked like an afterthought into the edge of a larger frame, of him and Lynnette. Before I could question the wisdom (I had less than no right, it was so not my business) I lifted it from the shelf and studied the image.
An engagement picture, maybe. She was facing him, hands on his shoulders, and they were both smiling into the camera, outside somewhere, sunlight dusting their hair. She was pretty. Really pretty, with soft brown eyes and full pink lips, and I hated that I cared. Under the sunlight in the picture Case’s hair appeared afire, sparking with reds and golds. He seemed to be smiling genuinely; he appeared happy.
God, you are a selfish, selfish little bitch, I told myself harshly, tucking the picture back into place, feeling as though images of my fingerprints covered it visibly, incriminating, my rudeness on display. Of course he didn’t spend all these years longing for you.
But he wrote a song for me once.
I bet he wrote plenty of songs for her too.
Grow up, Tish, Jesus Christ.
I found the bathroom and could hardly meet my own gaze in the mirror. The space was tiny and cramped, tiled in greens that spoke of the 70s. It wasn’t really messy, just full of the evidence of the man who lived here. I imagined that woman, Lynnette, living here too, but pushed the nauseating thought away. The shower curtain was drawn aside, a lone bottle of shampoo on its side on a shelf built into the tiles. I flushed the toilet and then found myself lifting the bottle to my nose to inhale; it smelled spicy and just like him, and I closed my eyes.
A straight-blade razor on the counter, a large dark-blue towel hanging from a single towel rack, curled-up bottle of toothpaste, and to my chagrin, a pair of black boxers scrunched into the corner behind the door, as though carelessly tossed aside. Near these was the t-shirt he’d been wearing last night, at the fair. I bit my lip, hard, and carefully washed my hands, in a hurry now, feeling more like a trespasser than ever.
But then, after I used his towel to dry my hands, I bent, scooped up his soft old t-shirt, and pressed it directly to my face. Again I was inundated with the scent of him and I kept my face there, my heart quaking. It was only as I heard the screen door sing on its hinges for a second time that I snapped to motion, letting the shirt fall back to the floor, almost tripping over myself to scurry back out to the living room.
Case barely looked at me as he stepped inside, moving to the fridge and extracting a can of mineral water, which he held to the side of his neck. He was even more disheveled than he’d been checking my oil, bits of hay clinging to his jeans and t-shirt, his hat on the kitchen table. Sweat trickled along his temples as he cracked open the can and drank about half of it, then backhanded his lips. I had never wanted to throw myself into someone’s arms more desperately in my entire life. Sweat snaked down my spine in a hot, wet line.
Still without a glance my direction, he asked, “Are you thirsty? I’ve got my tools in the truck, so we can head out anytime.”
So casual, so polite. Of course he had no idea what I had just done in his bathroom, taking ridiculous liberties. He had no idea that I was vibrating with desire, just a few yards from him, and he would not know these things, as I had no right to act upon them. Less than no right to feel them, really. I told myself that it was because he had once flattered my vanity, that no one before or since had said such things to me – that I was meant for them, that they had written a song for me.
You don’t deserve him, I realized. He’s way too good for you. You have casual sex with men you hardly care about, men you’ve never considered loving, just for the orgasm. Just because. And he’s someone who loves with his whole heart.
I was beginning to understand that fully.
And I had lost my chance with him, long ago.
And it was clear he no longer felt the same way about me that he once had.
Besides, he belongs here. And you belong in Chicago.
“Thanks,” I said, around a slight husk in my throat. Case handed me a can of the water and it was all I could do not to hold it to my own neck. He collected his hat from the table and let the orange cat inside as he went out; there was nothing I could do but follow, looking over my shoulder at his kitchen, one last time, before the door creaked closed behind me.
Rumbling along in his truck a minute later, I sipped the can of bubbly water and watched the foothills in the distance. I said, “The other night, standing out here, I felt like Montana doesn’t know what year it actually is.”
He angled me a glance and said, “I know just what you mean. When I ride, it could be a hundred years ago, more than that. Sometimes I even imagine that it is, for whatever reason.”
“Mathias said he felt like you guys had known each other forever,” I said. “I know he wishes you could hang out more often.”
“Yeah, that very first night we all met, when he sang with us at The Spoke, I had that feeling. Like he’d been my friend before I even knew him. Garth felt the same. I don’t know how to explain it. I guess some things you can’t explain.”
My heart pounded hard at these words but I realized we were approaching the wizard rock. I said, “There, out by that big rock formation shaped like a T,” and he braked instantly, drawing the truck to the shoulder. I indicated with my can. “Out that way, that’s where the SUV was parked last Friday.”
“There’s the old access road out there,” he said, peering out the passenger window. “Garth and Marsh and I used to play out there, by that rock, all the time. It was kind-of like our clubhouse.”
“So this is still your property.”
“Yes, for another mile or so,” he affirmed. “What the fuck were they doing out there?”
“Something low down and dirty,” I guessed. “That would be my first assumption, given what I think about Derrick Yancy.”
“Let’s drive out there,” he said. “Hold on.”
He turned the tires onto the shoulder and then we were bumping over the uneven ground, Case avoiding the larger clumps of brush. I braced one hand on the seat between us, not daring to sip from my water for fear of inundating myself with liquid. We came to a gravel road and he turned onto this, both of us looking for any clue.
Case said, with a touch of self-deprecation, “Am I stupid enough to think that Yancy would have left a sign? He’s careful. Whatever he’s looking for, it won’t be obvious.”
I sighed a little, agreeing. “I’d bet he wasn’t even out here the other night. He seems like the kind who’d have others do his dirty work.”
“You’re a good sport,” he told me then, sitting with his left forearm braced over the top of the steering wheel. “Now I’m feeling silly for asking you to stake out my property. Like you don’t have better things to do on a Friday.”
I stared at him, just this side of outright horrified; if he thought I was about to give up any amount of time to hang out with him, he was dead wrong. Though I kept my voice very neutral as I replied, “This is the kind of thing I will never, ever get a chance to do, back in Chicago. So please, don’t feel that way. I’m actually kind-of excited.”
His eyes held something, deep within, but he was so damn good at hiding things. Even if Clark hadn’t told me this, I would have known. But damned if I could tell what he was really feeling. He studied me silently and then his gaze lowered just a hair, to my lips, but only for the length of a breath. I felt punched in the gut, even as his eyes moved instantly back out the window.
Damn, damn, damn you, I thought, not certain if I was talking to myself or to him.
“Well, your car isn’t getting fixed with me sitting here,” he said, all business again.
“You’re right,” I muttered, and this time really did hold the cold can to my neck.
***
Case swapped out the battery as the sun sank behind the law office and sunset decorated the sky. I leaned against the hood on the far side and took great pleasure in covertly observing him. My cotton dress was grimy, but I didn’t care. I handed him tools; I knew what was what in a toolbox, thanks to Uncle Justin. He had made all of us learn how to change oil, change a tire, drive a stick shift. Clint and Ruthie had been eager, while I was a grudging student at best; I liked it much better when Uncle Justin took us out in the motor boat, letting Clint, Ruthie and I take turns driving.
“You know, I was just wishing we were close enough to Flickertail Lake to jump in,” I said.
Case said, without looking up, “That’s the lake by your family’s café, right?”
“Yes. God, it’s perfect this time of night.”
“You sound homesick,” he observed.
“Maybe a little,” I admitted.
“But that’s not where you plan to live?”
I shook my head, then, realizing he wasn’t looking directly at me, said, “No.” My voice was soft. “I hope to have a good job offer at Ron Turnbull’s firm. And I’ve put in my time at his firm already, the past two summers. It won’t be easy, but I’m a fast learner. And I know how to work hard.” Case was listening silently. I went on, not sounding particularly convincing, “I really do love Chicago. I’m flying back next week to take the bar exam, actually. Shit, that came fast.”
Bent over my open hood, Case did look at me then, his eyes searching my face. He said, quietly, “Can you hand me the smaller pliers?”
“Sure,” I said.
“But you’ll be back out, after that? Through August, you said?”
My throat felt tight. Our fingers brushed as I passed him the tool and I said faintly, “Through Labor Day weekend.”
He nodded silently at this information.
I babbled on, “I don’t have a place to live there yet, so I’ll probably stay with my dad and his wife, Lanny, for a while anyway. You should see her, she’s like a caricature. Everything false. Fake lips, fake breasts, fake nails, hair extensions, but classy ones, not the dime-store kind.” I didn’t know why I was going on in this fashion. I didn’t know why all I could think about was how fucking much I was going to miss this place. And how much I wanted Case to stand up and curl me against his chest.
Case said, “Your dad must be into appearances.”
“Yeah,” I reflected. “He’s materialistic. But he’s not a bad guy. I mean, there are worse things than that.”
“That’s for sure,” Case agreed, and I thought of Owen Spicer and knew that this was utterly true. My father may be shallow, but at least I knew he loved me, in his own way. Watched out for me.
“There’s Derrick,” I said then, suddenly spying the black 4x4 rolling down Main Street. Case straightened up and together we watched as the big vehicle, with its tinted windows, halted at the stoplight.
“He’s a weasel,” Case said. “He’s a weasel and a bully, both, and damned if I’m going to let him fuck us over around here.”
I shivered a little at the tone in his voice; he was so reassuring, confident of his position, and I loved that. No one would push him around. I was glad I could help him, at least for this summer.
This one summer…
The 4x4 was headed our way now, on the opposite side of the street, and the driver’s side window lowered smoothly at the touch of a button inside the vehicle. Slowing down, Derrick leaned to call over to us, “Lovely evening, isn’t it?”
When neither of us responded, Derrick grinned, flashing white teeth, and accelerated away.
“What a prick,” I said.
“You can say that again,” Case muttered, before changing the subject and saying, “You want to fire her up? You should let it run for a good half hour, let the new battery charge.”
I imagined him leaving me here, now that there was no logical excuse to stick around, driving back out to his place and caring for his animals, making supper for himself, eating as he maybe watched TV. Would he take Cider out for a ride? Would he sleep on that lonely pillow on the couch? Or would he prowl his yard, restless in the dark, waiting for a sight of the black 4x4 with Colorado plates?
Let me come back with you. Oh God, I can’t stand the thought of you going there without me, too. I want to wrap your towel around my naked body, after you make love to me in your shower. And on all fours on your bed. And then on the kitchen table…the living room rug…
Oh my God.
I felt just this side of outright insane. A large, hot, and tightly-gripping fist seemed to be squeezing all sense from my brain; my nipples were nearly jutting through the material of my dress. I realized I was staring at him with all of these thoughts rioting through me, and almost jumped in my haste to move to the driver’s side, to break the intensity of my imagination.
Tish.
Get a fucking hold on yourself.
I leaned in the window and turned over the key; the engine sputtered a little and then caught, and the Honda sprang to life.
“That’s a good little four-cylinder in there,” Case said, closing the hood gently. “Once you get home, let her run for another fifteen minutes.”
I nodded inanely.
He said, “I’ll see you tomorrow night, at Clark’s.”
The time between this moment and that one was more than an eternity. I found my voice and said, “Thank you again, for everything. You’re a lifesaver.”
He shrugged as though it was nothing; was that a pleased expression in his eyes? I hoped so. I squelched the fierce urge to touch him and instead curled my hands around the top edge of the open window.
I asked, “Do you play again, tonight?”
“Not until Saturday,” he said, collecting his tools. He regarded me for just a second longer, then slipped his sunglasses into place, toolbox in hand.
“See you tomorrow,” I said, not quite able to offer a smile.
He tipped his hat brim at me and then left me standing there beside my car, alone.