The next afternoon, after spending the morning worried sick about my lost earring which I was sure Case was going to find in his bed, I met Al at the law office, where he was already busy going through stacks of files, papers sprawled everywhere. The window fan was cranked high and the radio was playing a country station, the same one that I routinely listened to in my apartment.
“Hi,” I said, lifting my sunglasses to the top of my head. My desk was untouched, other than the usual stacks that I had put there.
“Hi, Tish,” Al said, nodding towards Mary’s desk. “There’s the pie I promised.”
“Yum,” I said, gravitating to a paper plate and fork. “Thanks.”
“Thank you for coming in today,” he said back. “I hate this sort of thing, going through supplies and cleaning out old files and all of that. Mary would help, but I feel guilty.”
“It’s no problem,” I said. “Besides, I won’t be here after tomorrow, for a couple of days.”
Al looked up; he was sitting on the floor. He said, “Oh that’s right. Bar exam. You’ll hit it out of the park, don’t you worry.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I told him. “Just tell me what to do, boss man, and I’ll do it.”
Al put me to work on a stack of files in a cardboard box about as big as a refrigerator. I was glad I was wearing cut-off jean shorts and an old cream-colored t-shirt, my hair in a ponytail. I reflected as we worked, occasionally chatting, sometimes in companionable silence with only the radio in the background, that I truly enjoyed working for Al. He was a kind man, especially for a lawyer. It troubled me, perhaps unduly, that he had mentioned disliking Ron Turnbull. ‘Fairly despicable,’ he’d said, and that worried me. Al was fond of understating, as I had learned. What ‘fairly despicable’ would translate to if he were to speak forthrightly made my stomach cramp even worse.
It was getting to be after five, the sun angling over the building as it began its languid summertime descent, and my neck was aching, when I spied something that caught my eye. A file which contained copies of motions drafted by Al, from this past Christmas when Highland Power closed its door. I thumbed through these, not sure what I was searching for, when the words Redd Co. caught my eye; printed above their business logo was a red bull that I only remembered because it vaguely resembled the much better-known Merrill Lynch symbol.
Where have I seen this before?
“Hey, Al,” I called over to him. “Who or what exactly is Redd Co.?”
“I believe that’s the company that purchased Highland Power,” Al replied. “Last December. Little bull logo, right?”
“That’s the one,” I said. “I don’t know why that seems familiar to me.”
At that exact moment from the corner of my eye I saw Case’s big maroon truck glide unexpectedly into view, just outside the front window. Heart already throbbing, I watched him park just at the curb and everything within me sprang to instant, delighted life. Staring dumbly, I observed Case round the hood, hop up the curb and then push through the doors to the tingle of the bell. I was already standing up, restraining the urge to jump straight into his arms. I hadn’t seen him since last night when I’d left him standing at the base of the wizard rock.
“Hey there,” he said, removing his sunglasses and tapping them against his thigh, cowboy hat in place.
“Hey,” I said back, all of the longing for him that I was not supposed to feel emerging just a little too overtly in my voice. The song “Just a Kiss” was playing on the radio; for an instant I imagined Case singing it just for me.
“You left before I got back,” he said, low, no trace of a smile.
I didn’t know how to respond, my eyes moving between his lips and his beautiful eyes.
We continued to stare wordlessly at each other until Al teased, from his side of the office, “Hello to you too, Spicer.”
At this, Case seemed to come back to himself, turning to Al, lifting a hand and saying, “Hi, Al. How goes it?”
“All right,” Al said, coming around to shake Case’s hand. Al continued, “What are your plans this evening, young fellow?”
I listened fervently, trying to appear as though it didn’t matter a whit to me what he was doing tonight. Case turned back to me and said, as though speaking to Al, but staring right into my eyes, “I wondered if Tish wanted to come with me this evening. We have a gig over in a bar in Miles City in about two hours.” My heart responded like a bomb detonating as Case thumbed casually over his shoulder, towards his truck. “I have Wy out there. He’s hitching a ride with me.” And then, softly, to me, “What do you say?”
“I would love to,” I said calmly, pretending that I didn’t feel as though all of heaven had opened up to me.
Tish, for fuck’s sake. Wy is right out there in the truck.
But Case is here! He’s here to pick me up! He came to see if I wanted to come with him!
Is this a date?! It’s not a date!
I put a lid on my exuberant thought-flow and said, “What time…”
“Pretty quick here,” Case said. “Sorry, I should have called…”
I was all quivery and warm, but I kept a calm face as I said, “Just give me one second.”
I walked with admirable poise to the employee bathroom; once behind the closed door I leaned towards the mirror over the sink and tried to draw a full breath. My cheeks were bright, my eyes even brighter. I looked a little drunk, actually. My clothes were not exactly the sexiest things I owned; I smoothed the t-shirt over my belly and tugged at my shorts. At least I could take my hair down.
Critically I perused my make-up (basically nonexistent), and ran a fingertip over my eyelashes on either side, then hurried to unclasp my hair, tipping at the waist to shake it out. When I straightened, I finger-combed it over my shoulders, my heart crashing all over the place inside my chest, feeling like I was taking too much time in here; I could hear Al and Case talking. Stilling the trembling in my knees with a great deal of effort, I reentered the main office.
I couldn’t make myself meet Case’s eyes, although he had fallen utterly still and was looking at me steadily. But the moment my gaze flashed to his, unable to help myself, he made sure he was glancing back out the window, away from me.
“Someone might slap a suit on you for looking so pretty, counselor,” Al teased me. “You have a fun night. You deserve it. Working on a Saturday.”
“I will, and thank you,” I said. To Case, I added, “Just let me grab my purse.”
He held the door for me; I passed close by him on the way out, inhaling as unobtrusively as I could when I was near. Outside, in the still, hot evening air, I couldn’t help but say, “I’m so glad you came to get me.”
I loved how a smile could touch his eyes first, before reaching his mouth, and how I could see this. He replied easily, “I thought you might like a night out. Here, let me get that.”
At the passenger door of the truck, I paused and turned to look at him, really look at him, clutching my purse to my waist. He was only about two feet away, but it was too far from me. His eyes, his beautiful auburn eyes, held mine and he grinned at me, sweetly and effortlessly. I felt as buoyant as a dandelion seed and smiled right back. His forearm was very near my waist as he held the door handle, poised to open it for me.
“Come on, you guys!” Wy called from in the truck, leaning forward from the backseat. “I’m starved! Tish, you get the front seat, Case said.”
“Thank you,” I murmured, as Case opened the door and I climbed in; I turned at once to Wy and said, “Hey there, buddy. You have a fake ID, or what?”
Wy laughed. He looked cute, his shaggy hair combed into something resembling order, wearing an old black Grateful Dead t-shirt. Case climbed in the driver’s side and happiness absolutely punched me in the gut. Hard, almost doubling me over with the force of it. I stowed my purse on the floor at my feet so that there was nothing between Case and me. He tipped his chin to the right, my direction, for just a second as he shifted into first, still smiling.
“So, where exactly are we going?” I asked as Case took the truck straight out of town, hooking east onto I94.
“We have a show at a bar in Miles City, called the Coyote’s Den.” At my laughter, he hurried to explain, “It’s a great place, not as bad as the name implies. Garth and Marsh are on the way. Becky actually let Garth out of the house for the evening, to join us. I haven’t played with Garth for a long time. I’m pretty excited, actually.”
I could tell, though I tried to downplay as I said, “Well thanks for letting me tag along.”
“Tag along?” Wy scoffed, leaning so far forward that he came close to obscuring my view of Case. Wy added, “You aren’t tagging along. That’s what little sisters do. You shoulda heard Case, he said like twenty times that we had to stop and get you.”
Case suddenly cleared his throat at Wy’s words, while pure joy spread upward from the bottom of my stomach. I hadn’t felt this way in so long that I was almost dizzy; I looked away, out the window, to hide my smile. The foothills were gorgeous in the sunset, the scrubby brush sparking with splashes of orange light and intermittent shadows, mysterious and secretive. I wondered just what secrets were harbored out there that no one would ever discover, the original secret-keepers long dead. I leaned my right arm on edge of the window, pondering that thought.
“It’s weird,” said Wy, and I looked back at the boy. “I feel like you’ve been here a lot longer than these two weeks, you know? Almost like you’ve always been here.”
It was strange to hear him speak these words, when this notion had been circling me for days now, whispering to be acknowledged. I liked it here. I liked it a lot. It had to do with the very feeling of the air itself, a sense of being in the right place at the right time. Being near the right people. I moved my eyes back out the window, with sincere determination.
I thought, These will be good memories when you’re back in Chicago. When the city gets to be too much…
Oh God…
I said to Wy (but really to Case), “I’ve been feeling that way since I got here too, to be honest.”
Wy asked, sounding more like a little boy than ever, “Can we get elk steak before the show, huh, Case?”
Case laughed. I loved the sound of his laugh, which I had heard far too few times. I was already looking over at him, unable to help myself, watching his smile, the way the sunset light pouring in the back window lit his shoulders, clad in a black t-shirt. I wanted to reach and take off his hat so that I could see his hair in the sunlight. Without realizing, I had angled my knees much closer to his side of the truck.
“Sure thing,” Case told Wy. To me, he said, “It’s a Montana specialty.”
“I’ll try it,” I said. “Camille really liked it, when they were out here.”
Wy piped up (and I liked the kid tremendously, but I so wished he had hitched a ride with his brothers instead), asking, “What are you guys playing tonight?”
“The Den wants classic rock, that’s what they told Garth,” Case replied, shifting into fifth gear as we cruised along the interstate, the wind ruffling my hair.
“What’s your favorite to play? Country, right?” I asked, though I was picturing him sleeping in his bed last night, in the sheets I had touched, with the pillow I had kissed. My stomach went hot and weightless at the very thought. Oh God, what if he had found my earring there?
“Country, old-time country,” he affirmed. “It’s what I was raised playing. But we have a pretty damn good range of material, so it’ll be fun to play something different tonight. What’s your favorite to hear?”
“I’ve always liked country music,” I said. “But it’s been a long time since I’ve listened to it like I have since moving here. In school these past three years old-time blues relaxed me as much as anything could. When I’d be studying late, or writing a new petition, I would listen to a lot of Bessie Smith and Jimmy Rogers. Thank goodness for my Pandora station. It introduced me to a lot of new music.”
“Jimmy Rogers on the harmonica is something else,” Case said. “That’s one instrument I have not mastered. But we can play you some Muddy Waters music, next time we’re around the fire.”
I couldn’t look away from him, studying his crisp profile against the blue of the evening sky out the driver’s side window.
“I can play the harmonica!” Wy piped up; I had almost forgotten he was with, so absorbed with Case.
Case laughed again, saying, “Yeah, you can. I’ll give you that. Can’t sing worth a shit though.”
We all laughed then, and Wy boxed at Case’s shoulder.
“It’s okay, I can’t sing worth a shit either,” I said. “Camille can sing, and Ruthie, but those talents skipped me, I guess.”
“You got other talents, like kicking butt,” Wy said, and I rolled my eyes at him, though I couldn’t help but smile at these words.
“Thanks,” I said.
“You worked yourself pretty hard in school, didn’t you?” Case asked then, looking back at me, but only for a second.
“I would have failed, if not,” I acknowledged.
“But I mean you worked harder than you probably had to, pushing yourself. I can still see you doing that,” he said.
“It’s my job now,” I said, my heart catching at the tone in his voice; he sounded concerned, I could tell, even if it was subtle. I thought of the sleepless smudges that still decorated the skin beneath his eyes, matching my own. Apparently neither of us was sleeping very well, alone.
“Al is right, you deserve a night out,” Case said. “Will you let us treat you to dinner? Wy and me, I mean?” How cagey of him, disguising his buying me dinner in this way. I felt myself smile hugely and he smiled back.
“I will,” I said. I addressed Wy as I went on, “I usually pick the most expensive thing on the menu, champagne, maybe lobster or a filet…”
“Or elk steak!” Wy said, reaching to rough up my hair.
I was so used to my cousin Clint doing this sort of thing that I evaded Wy and hooked him in a headlock, saying, “Ha!”
He struggled and I held, all of us laughing, Case making fun of the boy. I knuckled his scalp before letting him free.
“That’ll learn you,” I said, echoing Clint with those words, a little smug as Wy frantically inspected his reflection in the rearview mirror, smoothing his hair.
Case took the exit into Miles City and drove us to a bar on the outskirts of the little town; though in comparison to Jalesville, this town was huge. We pulled into a bumping bar and grill with a gigantic howling wolf’s head appearing to break through the roof.
“Oh, wow,” I said, marveling. “Look at that wolf.”
Case gently nudged my arm and noted, “Coyote. That’s a coyote, lawyer lady.”
I giggled, loving how at ease he seemed, like the way he’d been around the campfire roasting marshmallows. Wy jumped out of the back door and into the parking lot; I could smell steak and grease already and my stomach rumbled. I allowed, “Right. I stand corrected.” I noticed a smudge of dust on the bottom of my t-shirt and swiped at it, saying, “I hope I’m not too underdressed…”
Case was already grinning again. He said, “Are you kidding? For a place called the Coyote’s Den?” His tone changed just subtly and I knew he was clearly teasing me, but my heart threw itself against my ribs as he spoke my name, saying, “Tish, you’re way overdressed for this place.” And then he added quietly, “Besides, you couldn’t look more beautiful.”
My eyes flew to his to find him calmly studying me, a half-smile on his lips. I thought of how I’d touched his chin last night. How I wanted to touch every part of him. I wanted to tell him that I had never been so drawn to someone in my life, that I dreamed about him nearly every night, but all I could whisper was, “Thank you.”
“C’mon, you two!” Wy yelled from out in the parking lot, and then he whooped and ran, yelling, “Hey guys!”
“There’s Garth and Marsh,” Case said, nodding that direction and it was only with the greatest reluctance that I dragged my eyes from him to see the guys toting their guitars. Case went on, “We’re plugged in tonight, so it’s a completely different sound.”
“What can I carry?” I asked, following him right out the driver’s side door, not wanting to be away from him for even a second.
“You don’t have to carry a thing,” he said, and then yelled, “Wy! Get over here!”
Wy bounded back, taking the gear that Case handed him, including a huge black backpack.
“No fiddle tonight?” I asked, disappointed.
“Not tonight,” Case said, effortlessly shouldering another enormous pack. He was so strong. He said, “Maybe you could get the tailgate though…”
I did, slamming it carefully shut, smiling at the Gotta Ride, Gotta Play emblem, while Case waited for me. Wy had already started across the blacktop towards the front door, which was framed by a pair of smaller howling coyotes. Music poured from the place, along with the scent of greasy food. Together, our hips less than a foot apart, Case and I walked across the parking lot. I fantasized again that I was his girlfriend and that he would dedicate songs to me all evening, and then afterwards…
Afterwards…
Oh God…
I stooped to pat one of the stone coyotes on the nose on the way past, something I would have done as a kid.
“Ranger,” he said and I looked up to find Case holding the door with one shoulder. He grinned and added, “I named them when I was a kid. This place has been here forever.”
“Then what’s this guy’s name?” I asked, patting the other one.
“Dancer,” he said, shaking his head, cringing a little. “It’s so original, I know…”
“I love it,” I said delightedly. “Ranger and Dancer. They go together. Who’s the big guy on the roof then?”
Case was still smiling as he answered, “You’ll have to name him. I never came up with one.”
Loaded down as he was with gear, he still held the door for me. Inside the Den it was dim and crowded, neon signs lighting up the space, strings of bare-bulb lights in oranges and yellows glowing cheerfully. We had entered through the bar, where the stage was located, but there was another dining room through a double arch on the far side of the bar. A fire roared in a stone fireplace in there.
“We’ll stash the gear and then go get a table,” Case said, leaning towards me to deliver these words, and I curbed the urge to pull him right back as he straightened.
Marsh and Garth had already collected Wy and after Case unloaded his gear, the five of us went to eat. I stuck near Case, determined to make sure that we were sitting across from each other.
“Not too close to the fire, it’s too hot,” Marsh complained as we all followed the server to a table. He said, “Tish, there’s something on your shirt,” and indicated with an extended index finger, not touching me, just pointing near the middle of my breasts. When I looked down, he flipped up his finger and flicked the end of my nose, then laughed.
I shoved at him, though I was laughing too, at having been so stupid as to fall for that old joke. Wy thought it was hysterical and Case flicked Marshall’s ear none too gently and said, “Jesus, you want a broken arm?”
Marsh lifted his hands and pretended to tremble, defending himself, “Tish, you fell for it!”
Garth said with all sincerity, “God, I miss hanging out with you guys.”
Case pulled out a chair for me and then claimed the one across, just as I’d been hoping. Marsh sat on my left and Wy across from him, Garth at what amounted to the head of the table.
“This would be perfect if Carter and Camille were here too,” Garth reflected. “What would it take to get them out here for good?”
“They love it back home,” I said. “So no chance there. Plus they have twenty children, so it’s not exactly easy for them to do anything.”
“I know, I was just wishing,” Garth said.
“I just talked to them last night,” Case said. He was leaning on his forearms over the table, menu caught loosely in his hands, and I was leaning towards him, in the same position. I couldn’t keep my eyes from his face; his hat kept his eyes in partial shadow, but accentuated the contrast of his soft lips and firm chin, the angles of his jaw and cheekbones. He looked so damn good, and so natural in his cowboy hat, even though it covered his hair.
“You did?” I asked. “I haven’t talked to Camille since I’ve been here, which is terrible.”
“She was a little upset,” Case acknowledged. “She said to tell you to call her.”
“I will tonight,” I said, though I couldn’t consider much beyond this moment, looking into his eyes.
His eyes smiled again, just before his lips, and I felt all weak and hot through my limbs, all along my center. He said, “Thanks for bringing Gus and Lacy back last night. They ended up sleeping on the pullout couch instead of heading to their place.”
“Did you go back out to the rock?” Somehow I was sure he had. The Rawleys were busy ordering appetizers and drinks, so I felt safe asking, as they weren’t directly listening.
“I took Buck out for a long time actually. No one else showed up,” he said. “I can’t sleep when the moon is like that, waxing to full.”
Is there any other reason? I wanted to beg. I wished I had been with him so badly that my chest hurt.
“I know exactly what you mean,” I said. “I can’t sleep during thunderstorms. There’s been quite a few while I’ve been here.”
“Summertime does it,” Case said. We hadn’t so much as glanced apart and I felt the heat of his gaze like a touch upon my skin, as always. He said, “They can be violent but they usually roll through pretty quickly.”
“Clark said weather changes fast here,” I affirmed. I jumped a little as Garth flicked a piece of breadstick at Case.
“Hey, you two want to go in on a pitcher, to start out?” Garth asked, looking between Case and me with only thinly-veiled speculation.
“Yes, that sounds great,” I said.
Case nodded.
“Can we get some potato skins?” Wy begged then. He reminded me, “Remember, Tish, anything you want!”
“You buying? Sweet,” Marshall declared, teasing his little brother.
“Sure, that sounds good, and mozzarella sticks too,” I said to the pretty redheaded server who was waiting near Marshall’s left elbow. She was totally giving him the eye, but he was playing it cool, as cool as a cucumber salad as Gran would have said, and I almost giggled.
“No problem,” she said, clicking her pen and fluttering her lashes at Marsh.
“Thanks,” Marsh said, only checking her out after she sauntered away. He muttered, “Shit, I gotta get her name, dedicate a song or two.”
“What a smooth operator,” Garth teased him.
“Hey, that’s how you first got in Becky’s pants, I’m just saying,” Marshall fired right back, and we all laughed hard at this, even Garth.
“Damn, not in front of the kid,” Garth managed to say through his laughter. “Shit, he hasn’t even French-kissed a girl yet.”
Wy grew indignant, saying, “Have so!”
“When and where?” Marsh demanded.
“Other than Hannah’s earring?” Case asked, angling one shoulder to face Wy. At the word ‘earring,’ I had a sharp flutter in my stomach, thinking again of my missing silver hoop.
Wy knitted his eyebrows and admitted, “Fine! Not yet.”
“There’s plenty of time for that,” I told him. “Remember, I was almost a senior in high school before my first kiss.”
“Yeah, I heard that story,” Garth said, provoking more laughter.
“So judging by this time line, are you still a virgin?” Marsh asked, totally straight-faced, and everyone laughed even harder, including me. I punched his arm.
“You are begging for a severe beating,” Case told him, even though he was laughing too.
“Ow,” Marsh complained, nursing his arm where I’d decked him. He said to me, innocently, “It’s all right, I still am too. Maybe we could, like, help each other in this regard…”
“Oh my God,” I groaned, my stomach again hurting from laughing.
The server returned with our appetizers and drinks, and Garth did the honors, pouring for all of us. Wy had a coke with two cherries stuck on the rim. I snagged a mozzarella stick and leaned back towards Case asking, “So, where’s the elk steak on the menu?”
“Second page,” he told me and our eyes held fast. I enjoyed being with him far, far too much, thinking of Clark’s words my first Friday at their house. How I should be Case’s friend, but nothing more.
But how do I stop it from being nothing more?
What if I don’t want it to stop?
He added, “I’d order you the nine-ouncer. With mushrooms, that’s the best. I mean, if you like mushrooms.”
“I do,” I said.
“And it comes with a side of fried onion. They carve it into a little flower and then deep-fry it,” he said, and our eyes were speaking so much more than our lips. I thought of the way my old roommates would joke about ‘eye-fucking’ someone at the bar. I always thought it was a stupid expression, but that was exactly what Case and I were doing right now. Just exactly.
“It sounds too pretty to eat,” I said, all breathless and shivery. His eyes tracked to my mouth and lingered there for a moment.
“You have a little bit of mozzarella…” he said, indicating my top lip by touching his own.
“Dammit,” I muttered and Case’s smile widened. I said, “I’ll be right back,” and jumped up to hit the ladies’ room.
I threaded through the growing crowd, noticing that I was appropriately dressed for the bar, although most of the women were wearing slightly sexier clothing than me. I found the bathroom and ducked inside to do a quick check – I swiped the sticky cheese from my lip and quickly finger-combed my hair, which was wild in the humidity in here, to say the least. I wished I was wearing my red-and-black tank top that showed off my cleavage.
Why, Tish? To what end?
Remember, you’re leaving this place at the end of summer.
Shit, sooner than that – in two days for the bar exam.
I studied my eyes in the mirror, somberly. Maybe being back in Chicago would return me to my senses, remind me what I had been working for since I was eighteen years old and starting college.
Oh God…
I shoved out of the bathroom door and hurried through the crowd then, hurried to get back to Case; only the unfortunate sight of someone I recognized, elbowed up to the bar, slowed my pace a fraction.
Shit, he saw you.
Derrick was perched on a stool, a highball glass near his hands. He caught sight of me and I could tell he hadn’t anticipated seeing me here, because his shoulders straightened and he actually appeared somewhat startled before his natural arrogance reasserted itself. He narrowed his eyes but then nodded at the empty bar stool nearest him. I turned away without further acknowledgment, recalling that Al had said Derrick stayed in a hotel in Miles City; though, to be fair, there wasn’t a hotel within Jalesville city limits, only the old campground that had already been a score for Capital Overland.
I got back to our table and slid into my seat; Garth and Marsh were talking with a guy who was standing between their chairs. Case had been listening but he watched me take my seat and said, “You got all of it.”
“Case,” I said, leaning over the table.
The teasing fell from his face as he saw that I appeared concerned, and he leaned towards me too.
“Yancy is here, at the bar,” I told him.
Case looked that way for an instant, then back to my eyes. He said, “Call me crazy, but this doesn’t seem like the kind of place that he’d hang out.”
“That’s what I was thinking,” I said. “He nodded for me to join him,” and at this I shuddered inadvertently.
I saw the way Case’s jaw tightened at this news, though he didn’t react in any other way. Instead he said, “We play in about a half hour, but we’ll situate you right by the stage, and Wy will sit with you.”
He was thinking of ways to protect me (though I honestly didn’t feel overtly fearful of Derrick) and it made my heart swell and sing inside my chest. I said, changing the subject a little, “I can’t wait to hear you play again.”
“Tell me what you want to hear, we’ll play it,” he said softly.
“Your song,” I said at once. “The one you played at The Spoke last week.”
Case was totally still, almost as though he was holding his breath. He studied me intently and there were several things I sensed he wanted to say, but didn’t. Finally he said, “I need the fiddle to play that one right. Next time we’re around the fire, I promise.”
“It’s a deal,” I agreed.
The rest of the food arrived then and the conversation swelled to include everyone once more, Marsh and Wy vying for attention, Garth telling Case that they better eat fast and make sure their amps were ready to go. I kept stealing long looks at Case, just across from me; he took off his hat before eating and I curled my fingers into my palms to keep from reaching to stroke his red-gold hair. If I was someone who prayed, I would pray to Melinda Spicer, his sweet mother, to thank her for the man before me. Again I felt pain, actual pain, at these thoughts. As though in the past two weeks, life had punched me hard in the chest, repeatedly.
“C’mon, Tish, these guys gotta get ready. We can sit and have dessert if you want though,” Wy told me amiably after we’d finished eating. “Hey, did you like the elk steak?”
In truth, I hadn’t been able to eat much of it, my stomach in little hard knots of confusion, but I said, “Yes, it was delicious.”
Case walked close behind me as we all cut back through the bar, and once I felt his hand gently upon my lower back, as though to guide me as we maneuvered through the crowd, sending a spasm of sparks across my body. I stalled, leaning into his light touch; it was so packed with people that it wasn’t an obvious ploy for him to keep touching me. But he did and I could have died it felt so good, his warm, strong hand that pressed just a little more firmly now.
I couldn’t see his eyes, as he was behind me, but I imagined how he looked as he stroked me ever so gently, his fingers curling around the material of my t-shirt, his thumb moving slowly up and then down, the way he’d stroked my leg last night. I couldn’t breathe. The crowd shifted enough that I couldn’t remain standing still and Case let his hand move back to his side. My knees were actually weak. I thought of how I had knelt on his bed last night. How I had licked his pillow and probably left behind my earring.
“We’re over here,” Case said, tipping near my left ear to tell me.
In the bar the tables were jammed with people; two men with black bandanas were running cords on stage. The Rawleys claimed a small table that was obviously reserved for us.
“You’ll be all right here?” Case asked, still close behind me, and I turned enough to see his eyes. My heart absolutely shredded at the sight of him, going all to pieces; he appeared somber and intent, studying me from beneath his hat brim. If I was brave enough, I could have stood on tiptoe and put my arms right around his neck.
I nodded wordlessly and he stunned me by reaching and tucking a stray strand of hair, a loose curl, from the side of my forehead to behind my right ear. He let his fingertips just scarcely trace my jaw as he lowered his hand, and my knees did give out then; luckily for me, I was in the proximity of a chair.
“Tish!” Wy plopped near me as Case, Garth and Marsh carried their guitars up onto the stage. The boy said excitedly, “You wanna get some dessert?”
“Sure,” I said, not even having heard exactly what he’d asked; I was too busy watching Case as he extracted a dark blue electric guitar from its case and proceeded to hook it up to the proper cords, so efficiently, something he’d done hundreds of times, probably. All this time he’d been out here, living his life and I’d been living mine, back in Illinois. I wanted to chase myself back through those years and shake the shit out of the old me, the girl from Camille’s wedding who had been so selfish and so cold. One of the guys in a black bandana was saying something that made Case laugh, and my heart again felt as though it was leaking something vital.
“Another drink?” asked the redheaded server. She leaned closer to Wy and me and nodded towards Marsh as he settled on the stool behind the drums, joking with Garth about something. She asked, “Is he your brother?”
Wy and I said, “Yes,” at the same time, and Wy grinned at my lie.
“What’s his name?”
“Marshall,” I told her.
“He’s so hot,” she said.
“He thinks so too,” Wy said, and she giggled.
“He’s totally single,” I added, helpfully.
“Your next round’s on me,” she said. “Sara. Nice to meet you.”
Just like last night, Case would send me a look every so often, a sweet and private look that I felt to the depths of my soul. I sipped my free beer and watched him right back, taking in every last detail; he was careful and loving with his instruments, just as he was with his horses. Tender touches on everything, his big hands with their long and knowing fingers that could tune a guitar just as effortlessly as he could saddle a horse, or pluck sage from the brush in the foothills, or tuck hair behind my ear.
His hair glinted under the bar lights, which also played over the angles of his face; he’d left his hat at the table and it was currently on the chair to my right, where I could reach over and put my fingertips on it, which I kept doing. He looked so damn sexy, tall and lean, his shoulders so wide, his unconsciously graceful movements, powerful and graceful at once. He seemed to have finished his ministrations on the guitar and sent me another look, smiling sweetly at me. I felt an answering smile move directly over my face.
The guys in bandanas finished up their work on the stage and jogged down the steps, back to the floor. Marsh settled behind the drums while Garth and Case took positions near the two floor mics, their electric guitars held near their hips. So totally sexy. The crowd rumbled and then a few cheers turned into a round of excited applause. I noticed for the first time that I recognized people from Jalesville here and there, before my eyes went straight back to Case, cradling his gleaming, dark blue instrument.
“Hi folks, how’re you doing this fine evening?” Garth asked. There were raucous whoops and cheers, and he said, “Fuck yeah.”
“We love you!” called a woman, and Garth grinned and then winked at her; all the Rawley boys had good winks.
“I came out of retirement, just for tonight,” Garth said. “And it feels pretty damn good.” There were more cheers at this, louder than before, and Garth ordered, “So don’t fucking disappoint me. I want to see asses on the dance floor, people.”
And with that he led the guitar into the first few bars of “Welcome to the Jungle,” while the crowd went insane. Marsh was wild on the drums and Case tipped his chin, lashes lowered, the bar lights flickering over his handsome face, completely overtaken in the music as his fingers curved and flew to make music, keeping time with his wide shoulders, as though unconsciously, stroking that electric guitar like it was a woman he could not touch enough…
Oh God, look at him. Oh my God. I can’t handle it. I just plain can’t handle it.
Sometimes when I looked at him the absolute only thing I could think of was how he came to me in my dreams at night, his mouth on my breasts, hot and luscious on my skin, bringing me to orgasm in my sleep. And right now was one of those times. Clutching my icy beer bottle by the neck, I held it to the side of my own and struggled for composure. If I had even one more sip, I would lose my tentative hold on my inhibitions and rush the stage.
After the first song they were laughing, the crowd hot for more; there were plenty of women stalking the stage, I noticed, and felt my fingers become talons. The three of them played and sang with such joy, effortlessly, leading from one rock song to the next, and I could not tear my eyes from Case; he returned my looks every so often, smiling with his eyes, as though to reassure me that everything was all right.
Later, as they led into “Wanted Dead or Alive,” he sent me a longer look, a hint of a smile on his lips. And suddenly everything else in the crowded, busy, chaotic bar faded to a gray haze in the distance, receded to nothing; all I could see was Case, his eyes, his eyes intense upon mine, re-forging a connection that had always been there, broiling just beneath the surface. Thoughts and images suddenly shattered through me, sharp as broken glass.
I’ve known you. I’ve known you far beyond this place and this time…
I know this. I can’t explain it, but I know it.
I saw him on horseback then, but under the blazing sun, his beautiful hair afire with sparks before he resettled his hat. Looking back over his shoulder at me, where I sat high atop a wagon seat, distant from him.
Come to me, I’ll wait for you beyond the horses, he whispered in my ear, in a moment we risked stealing, kissing my neck, my lips, my breasts through the layers of my gown. I clung to him as hard as I could. My wedding band caught the sun and glinted, while the very air around us crackled with heat. His strong hands were gliding up my legs, beneath my long, heavy skirts. There was an urgency that I could sense before I understood.
I will not risk it, I told him intently. I will not put you in danger…
If we were caught they would kill us, this I knew. Or, far worse, they would kill him to punish me.
I will protect you, he told me, his hands in my hair, upon my face, clutching my hips. I swear to you. Please, come to me, I will not live through another night without you…
I will, I promised, unable to deny him, scarcely able to breathe. Oh God, I will come to you…
I blinked and felt myself reel, returned abruptly from the prairie in my mind to the crowded, noisy barroom; I rose too quickly and told Wy, “I’m going to the bathroom.”
I sensed Case still watching me, worried, as I made my way through the crowd and I looked back at him.
It’s all right, I told him with my eyes. I just need a second…
In the bathroom for the second time, I bent over the sink and splashed my face with icy water. Some dripped down the neck of my t-shirt and I let the cold of it shock my senses into something resembling reason.
What the hell?
What in the hell was that? Am I going crazy?
I drew a deep breath and knew longing. Knew need. Knew these things to the interiors of my bones.
Case. Oh God, Case…
We have belonged to each other before now…
I realized that I could not stay in here, hiding out; as though to emphasize the point, a toilet flushed. I startled at the sound and pushed back out the door, my hands shaking a little. And almost immediately a voice beside me asked conversationally, “Are you dating him then? Or just fucking him?”
I snapped back to reality with a vengeance, encountering a sound I knew all too well – that of a man who’d had a few too many shots of hard liquor. I turned to see Derrick leaning one shoulder against the wall near the bathrooms, in dress pants and a shirt with the top collar button undone. He was clearly shit-tanked, as Case had said last night, describing his own grandfather.
“You’re drunk, so I’m going to forget what you just said,” I told him, trying for a steady voice. “And nothing I do is any of your business.”
“You’d think in a hick town like Jalesville there’d be corrals full of slutty girls I could fuck, but so far no. And then there’s you. I can’t stop thinking about fucking you.” He watched me intently as he slurred through this little speech. Beside him, the door to the men’s room opened and emitted a guy who gave us a curious look. There was a wall separating the bathrooms from the bar and I could hear Garth joking with the crowd between songs, though I couldn’t see them.
And I desperately wanted to see Case, I wanted to put my eyes upon him, if I couldn’t put my hands.
Derrick blocked my path, weaving slightly he was so drunk, and this unexpected version of him made my stomach knot even more tightly, this time with a hint of real fear. I adopted my best lawyer voice and said, “I’m going to ignore that too, if it’s all the same to you.”
“What do you see in that goddamn yokel?” he asked then.
I felt my eyebrows draw together, more stunned by the second. He sounded like a frighteningly jealous boyfriend.
Derrick narrowed his eyes at me, as though trying to see into my mind. He shook his head a little in the manner of someone trying to clear his thoughts and then managed to say, “He killed him, you know. Coward. Shot him in the back. Fucker has it coming now.”
My own vision wavered and I felt caught up in whatever it was he was talking about, as though I somehow understood. But I demanded, “What are you talking about? Killed who?”
“Thomas Yancy,” he said, enunciating carefully, and he was so bombed his eyes appeared glazed, inward-looking. He looked so momentarily alarming that I thought I should call for help, that maybe he was about to have a seizure. But then he refocused on me, muttering viciously, “Whore,” and shoved me out of his way, roughly, putting his hand around the lower half of my face to do so. I gasped, more startled than in pain, as Derrick stumbled and disappeared into the men’s room. Not two seconds later, Case came around the wall from the bar and the expression in his eyes was enough to make any man run for cover.
Case came directly to me and put his hands around my upper arms, gently holding me. His voice was rough as he explained, “I had a horrible feeling. Are you all right?”
The need to feel his arms around me was overpowering. I studied his beautiful auburn eyes, rife with concern, and ached with the stabbing desire to be closer to him than this, to be held to his heart.
You can’t want that, you can’t have that, I reminded myself harshly. And I was not about to let him get into a fistfight with Derrick Yancy; I was enough of a lawyer to know that Derrick would attempt to sue the shit out of Case for so much as messing with a hair on his head, and if I told Case what Derrick had just said and done, Case would mess up a hell of a lot more than Derrick’s hair.
And so I lied in a whisper, “I’m just fine.”
I knew he knew I was lying, but he didn’t call me on it; instead he asked quietly, “Do you want to go?”
“No!” I said. I tamed down my voice and said, “No, I want to hear you play. You guys aren’t done yet, right?”
“We have another half hour or so, but we can leave if that’s what you need,” he said.
Oh God, what I need…
“No, I want to stay here,” I said again. With you.
“All right,” he said quietly, and let his hands drop away from my arms. He was sweating from the exertion of performing; his hairline was damp, his forehead shiny with moisture. As he turned to lead us back into the bar, I caught his arm, allowing myself this. He was so warm and hard, so strong, and he tucked my hand against his side, possessively, which made my heart surge with joy, despite everything.
Garth, Marsh and Wy were crowded around the table in the bar, along with Sara the server and a few other people I didn’t know, most of them standing; I reclaimed my chair, letting go of Case with reluctance. He sat near me, on the seat saved by his cowboy hat, and I wanted him to put his arm along the back of my chair. I angled my knees towards him and tried to listen to the bantering all around us. Instead all I kept witnessing across the screen of my mind was Case on a horse, riding near my wagon through an expanse of prairie, unable to acknowledge what we felt for each other; I felt hot and shivery, blazing with desire for him, both here and in this inexplicable vision of him.
When Case left the table to finish their set I felt the sharp pinpricks that being separated from him were beginning to cause in me. He was clearly worried about me, and I was shaken from my encounter with Derrick; I scanned furtively for a sight of that asshole, but he was nowhere to be seen. Probably he had passed out in the bathroom, but I didn’t care enough to check. By the time the guys were allowed to leave the stage (they played two encore songs), it was edging on eleven.
Case came directly to our table and said to Wy, “Hey, let’s get going. Help me load this stuff, all right?”
“Sure,” Wy said, sensing no chance to argue, jumping to do as Case asked.
“You’re exhausted,” Case said to me, and his eyes were so tender upon me. When Wy was out of earshot in the noisy bar he explained, “I have to bring the kid home. Garth and Marsh want to stay here.”
Oh God, bring me home with you, hold me close in your bed…
I can’t bear to go back to my apartment without you…
But I knew that if Wy wasn’t riding home with us, I couldn’t trust myself. It was too dangerous. I would beg Case to make love to me; his place, my place, even in the truck. I didn’t care where.
“I understand,” I said and my voice was faint. “I am a little tired.”
He said, “I’ll grab my things and we’ll go.”
Out under the stars I drew a deep breath; I paused to pat Ranger and Dancer farewell, prompting Case to do the same, and Wy told us we were weird. Case opened the door for me at the truck and I sank into the seat. We drove back to Jalesville in almost complete silence, only the radio soft in the background. I thought Wy might be sleeping as cool night air rushed in the truck.
I wanted to tell Case what Derrick had said, and what I had seen in my mind, but I couldn’t find the words. Instead we sat in tense, electric silence, so very aware of each other. We seemed to reach town far too quickly, and I swallowed hard around the growing lump in my throat, before I managed to say, “My car is at work…”
“I’m so glad you came with tonight,” Case told me. We were nearly at Howe and James, Attorneys-at-Law, closed up and dark, along with every other business on Main.
“Me too,” I whispered. “I had such a good time. Thank you for dinner.”
“My pleasure,” he said quietly.
Case parked beside my lone car in the lot and left the truck idling. From the backseat, Wy mumbled, “G’night, Tish.”
“Good-night, buddy,” I said, and then it struck me afresh that I would be going back to Chicago on Monday morning. What were the chances that I would see Case before I got back next Thursday, eons away? I felt all panicky and twisted up, and my voice was huskier than normal beneath the weight of regret as I said, “I’m flying back to Chicago on Monday.”
From just a few feet away, Case nodded at this information; he was so damn stone-faced when he wanted to be, but I was certain that he was feeling regret at this too, as I studied his face. I wasn’t just imagining it. He affirmed, “Bar exam, you said.”
I nodded, wondering how in the hell something I had worked for so very hard now seemed almost trivial. Insubstantial, even meaningless. Surely that feeling would dissipate the moment I reentered the city. I could hear my high heels on the sidewalk even as I pictured Chicago.
“You’ll kick its ass,” he said, as though trying to elicit a smile from me. But I felt more like weeping.
“Bonfire tomorrow night, Dad said to tell you,” Wy reminded us, sounding more awake. The boy sat up and murmured, “Tish, don’t forget to bring Peaches with you.”
The Rawleys were watching my cat while I flew back to Illinois.
“I won’t forget,” I whispered, still caught up in Case’s eyes.
Stop it, stop it, stop it.
Stop looking at me that way when I can’t want you like this.
I can’t. I’m leaving.
A wailing cry formed at the back of my throat as I reached for the door handle.
“I’ll see you tomorrow night, then,” Case said.
“Good-night,” I whispered.
They waited until I had unlocked and started my car; we turned opposite directions from the parking lot, and I watched his taillights disappearing in my rearview mirror.