Here With Me Page 3

  It floods my mind with memories…

  I was a little drunk the night I finally lowered my pants and took her—with her saying yes, yes the entire time. It makes me grin remembering.

  Her spiral curls fell around us like a bubbly waterfall, and her small breasts bounced as she rode me… shit, I can still feel her in my hands, I can still remember the marks on her skin from my kisses. She shook and moaned so loudly when she came, I’m pretty sure it was the best orgasm of my life.

  It was a desperate craving we’d denied from the time she was sixteen and started noticing me in the way I’d been trying not to notice her. She was nineteen, and I was leaving for who knew what might happen in the Marines. It was such a fucking relief to finally give in and be together…

  And on that note, I slide my ass out of bed and grab my jeans, my henley, and my boots before I do something I’ll regret.

  I’ll finish dressing in the bathroom then meet Taron at the truck. We’ll head to the Denny’s restaurant at the truck stop off Interstate 220. It’s where the farmers meet this time every year to divvy up the transient workers and decide who gets the rotations first.

  We always get priority, since the peaches follow Mother Nature’s schedule, and they have to be harvested now. There’s also the Peach Festival and the annual onslaught of tourists who double the size of our small town for a week to eat peaches, peach ice cream, peach fudge, peach cider, peach bread…

  God, I’m so sick of peaches.

  Standing in the bathroom mirror, I rub my hand across my face, over my cheeks and down to my jaw. Leaning closer, I look deep into my hazel eyes, straining to see I can see the shadows, the darkness lurking there.

  After our ordeal in Mexico, the Marines did something they never do—they sent us all home.

  It was a rescue mission. Our friend Marley was kidnapped by a band of thugs on a routine fuel run, and Taron, Patton, and I were assigned to get him back. When we found him, he’d been tortured almost to death.

  Getting him out, Taron fell and suffered a pretty bad spinal injury. Marley almost died. They got purple hearts. Patton and I were given medical discharges, and I was told to see a therapist once a week until he or she released me.

  Only, I wanted to stay.

  I wanted to be a Marine…

  Now, looking deep into my eyes, I search for their diagnosis—PTSD, possible suicidal tendencies…

  It was a diagnosis that sent a chill down my spine. I’d watched Noel struggle with the ghost of my father’s actions, but I pushed back on the notion that demon could be lurking inside me as well…

  Straightening, I clear the tension in my throat and push that shit away once more. I don’t care what they say, I’ve got responsibilities.

  “This fucking wakeup call never gets easier, I swear.” Taron meets me at the truck with two silver travel mugs in his hand.

  I only nod.

  It’s too early for conversation, no matter how chatty he feels. He complains, but he’s a morning person one hundred percent.

  He hands me one of the mugs of coffee, and I take a sip. Noel makes the best coffee—way better than that weak shit they’ll serve us at the Denny’s.

  My little sister put her head down and worked alongside me, doing whatever it took to keep this orchard running. I’ve always watched out for her, and I know this guy loves her as much as I do. We’ve had a rough road, but I can trust him with her.

  My cap is pulled low over my eyes, and I take the dirt road at a slow clip so as not to kick up dust all over everything. The sun isn’t quite up yet, and the mist rises over the rows of peach trees stretching up the hill. The place kind of glows, and as much as it wears on me, it’s beautiful this time of year.

  It’s our family’s land.

  It’s our legacy.

  I take another sip of good coffee, and Taron looks out the window a beat before breaking the silence. “Crossing the yard this morning, I saw a gold Prius parked behind the peach shed.”

  Silence fills the cab. It’s punctuated by the noise of tire wheels on the dirt road, and he’s looking at me like he expects an explanation.

  I take another sip of coffee.

  The problem with being friends with a guy for ten years and serving in the Marines with him and having him live on your place is he won’t let you get away with shit.

  “Why was Mindy at the house last night?” A grin is in his tone. A gotcha.

  We drive on for a bit longer, and I know he’s waiting for some reply. “It’s not what you think.”

  “So set me straight.” He’s grinning, but I’m not.

  I’m also not talking about it.

  “Mindy’s a pretty girl. She’s smart and talented. She’d make a good wife.”

  “I’ll tell her you said that.”

  “Ah, man…” He looks out the window a minute, and when he turns back, all joking is gone. “You were always so wise. You always knew what to do. Why can’t you see what’s right in front of you?”

  The road changes from dirt to asphalt, and we’re almost to our destination. Thankfully. “You ever think about what happened to us in Mexico?”

  “I’ll never forget what I did.” His voice goes quiet, and I wish I hadn’t brought it up. “But I think about it less now, with Noel, Dove…”

  “I think about it every day.”

  “Did you do the therapy?”

  I briefly recall the few sessions I attended. A perky young woman with bright blue eyes asking me how I felt, wanting me to tell her all about my feelings. Right.

  “It wasn’t for me.”

  My friend drops his chin and exhales a short laugh. “Why am I not surprised by that?”

  We’re at the truck stop, and I pull into a space, shifting into park and killing the engine.

  “My daddy would say it’s better to keep quiet and let people think you’re ignorant. Don’t open your mouth and prove them right.”

  An empathetic grin is on his face, and he grabs my shoulder before we get out. “Still, it helps to do the work. Get that shit out of your head.”

  “I’d rather sweat it out.”

  “We got plenty of that on the horizon,” he chuckles. “It’s a type of therapy I love, being outside, breathing the fresh air. I could do it forever.”

  “Come on. We need to be sure we’re on the schedule or this summer will feel like forever.”

  Inside the restaurant, Taron smiles and greets Flo the waitress, then he starts shaking hands with the old timers, shooting the shit as they stand around drinking weak coffee. Taron fit in here like a round peg.

  As for me, I know what I can do and the risks I’ll never take, and yes, I see what’s right in front of me. I don’t know if it’s wisdom, but I’ve seen a lot of good people fuck things up by not using their heads, thinking before speaking, making bad decisions.

  I don’t need therapy.

  I’ll figure my shit out like I always do—on my own.

  3

  Mindy

  Mrs. Irene’s long white hair is thick and straight, and I carefully divide it into thirds. “Hallee from the Cuttin’ Corral is doing free shampoo and sets in the rec room. Not that you need it…”

  She runs her fingers across the raised dots of a braille tablet on her lap. “Did you know researchers at Harvard are working on a course of antibodies that can reverse the damage of glaucoma and possibly restore sight to the blind?” Her voice is high and soft, but confident. “This young man from Australia is pioneering the study. He gives you a round of antibodies that specifically targets the eye.”

  My hands move through her hair, weaving it into one fat braid down her back. “I wonder how soon he can get FDA approval for it.”

  “I wonder if he’d be interested in an old blind lady to use as a guinea pig.” She turns the page.

  “A beautiful old blind lady.” She tsks me, patting my arm as I tie off her plait. “Speaking of, watch out. Old Mr. Hebert is sneaking into rooms again.”

  “Jimmy Hebe
rt? How does he look now?”

  Pressing my lips together, I think about the squat little man. “He’s a little paunchy. He still has hair, but it’s pretty thin.”

  “Good looking?”

  “He’s very earnest.”

  She laughs. “What does that mean?”

  “I don’t know.” Pulling the band off my wrist, I use it to tie off the end of her hair. “George Costanza says a good-looking blind woman doesn’t know you’re not good enough for her. I won’t let that happen to you.”

  “Mindy Ray!” She laughs even more, and Miss Jessica’s playful voice enters the room behind us.

  “But would you date the deaf?”

  “Well, look at you!” I step over to lightly touch her stiff dome of gray hair. “Nice style.”

  “Oh, I wish I could see.” Mrs. Irene lifts her chin in the direction of our voices.

  “Hallee is really good.”

  “Tell me about it. I love my Brazilian blowout!”

  “Oh, dear.” Mrs. Irene places her hand on her chest. “I don’t know how you girls do all those waxes. Back in my day, women had hair down there.”

  “Good night, Irene!” Miss Jessica cries. “She’s talking about her head hair.”

  I guide Mrs. Irene’s hand to the side of my head. “Feel. It’s like a straightening treatment, but it’s not chemical… It’s keratin.”

  “Well, I’ll be…” Her voice is full of awe. “But your curls are gone! I miss everything now.”

  “I’m sorry. I really didn’t think to tell you.” Harristown is so small, these old ladies have known me all my life.

  “I just wish I didn’t feel like livestock.” Miss Jessica pats the side of her hair with an offended huff. “Who names a salon the Cuttin’ Corral? It’s like expecting me to buy clothes from a place called the Dress Barn. I am not a cow.”

  “I think they’re riffing off Napoleon Dynamite.” I pick up the braille book that slid off Mrs. Irene’s lap.

  “What’s that?” Miss Jessica frowns at me.

  “I know this one!” Mrs. Irene waves her hands. “It’s that band who sings the song about all the small things.”

  Chewing my lip, I decide to let that one go. “You know, I wonder if Mr. Hebert is getting dementia. Maybe he forgets which room is his.”

  “Pah!” Miss Jessica cries. “Jimmy Hebert has been a hound dog since he was in high school, and he’s a hound dog now. He knows exactly what he’s doing.”

  I throw up my hands. “Well, I tried.”

  Miss Jessica keeps going. “Debbie Turner is a hussy, and Olivia Wilson is dumb as a box of rocks. If we were sixty years younger, they’d both be pregnant.”

  “I guess you all’ve known each other longer than I have.” She’s more fired up than I’ve seen her in a while. “I don’t guess I should say anything to Beth.”

  I’d like to be charitable, but I kind of relish the thought of informing my childhood nemesis her grandfather is an old man-whore.

  “You just mind your own business.” Mrs. Irene pats my arm. “They’ll only turn it around on you.”

  Miss Jessica sits on the couch nodding. “I think people need to mind their own business when it comes to love. When I was in high school, I fell in love with a man… best looking thing I’ve ever seen before or since.”

  “Oh, I remember him.” Mrs. Irene nods. “Chris Hathaway?”

  “He was like moving art. A statue… David…”

  “I’ve never heard of him!” I hop on the couch, ready for the whole story. One of my favorite parts of the job is the old stories.

  “Well, he didn’t live here long. My parents didn’t like him.”

  “Nobody’s parents liked him,” Mrs. Irene interjects. “He was thirty and trying to date all the high school girls.”

  “I wanted to do more than date him.”

  “Miss Jessica!” I laugh-cry, not really shocked.

  “Who knows? He could’ve been the love of my life. I’ll never know now.” She shakes her head and looks off wistfully.

  “Is he why you never married?”

  “The war is why I never married.” She pats my hand. “But never you mind. I don’t want to bore you with my old stories.”

  “I love your old stores! They’re fun!”

  Mrs. Irene reaches out, and I catch her hand in mine. “I know your dream is to be an artist.” Her eyes glisten as she speaks. “But your heart is here with us.”

  “Maybe.” I slide my fingers over the blue veins in the back of her hand. “Or maybe I’m just a chicken. I know I’m safe here.”

  “We love you here.”

  I exhale a sigh.

  This morning I decided it was time to make a Plan B and stick to it. It’s so easy to keep doing the same thing over and over and finding excuses for why things don’t change.

  It’s called being crazy.

  “I know one thing.” I squeeze her hand. “I’ve got to get working on my art or I won’t have the poster ready in time for the festival.”

  For the last five years, the Grower’s Association has commissioned one of my watercolors for the official Peach Festival poster for the year. Residents and tourists alike collect them.

  “I can’t wait to see it.” Miss Jessica hugs me.

  “And I can’t wait to hear you describe it in glorious detail!” Mrs. Irene lifts her chin and shakes her hands as she says it. “Your aura is on fire today.”

  Leaving them both with a hug and a wave, I stop off at the reception counter to be sure the new teenage intern has everything she needs before I head out to my car.

  I shoot a quick text to my bestie. Okay if I hang out in your orchard for the next few days?

  It doesn’t take long for Noel to reply. Come on. I’m up to my ears in balloons and glitter.

  I can’t even imagine what that means, but I quickly text back. I’ll be there in ten.

  Tossing my phone on the passenger’s seat, I steer my gold Prius toward Ma’s. I’ve got to collect my sketchpad and paints and drop off my nightgown and trench. Last thing I need is Noel looking in my car and getting curious.

  4

  Sawyer

  “I’ll pick up the crates, get more netting and rope…” Taron tosses a tarp in the back of the ancient red Chevy. “Anything else?”

  “That should do it for now.”

  He takes off, and I switch on the water lines running to the cold bath for the fresh-picked fruit. Jay Hidalgo assembles a team every year to help with picking. They’ll clean every peach off the trees and dump them into the assembly line for our annual crop of teenagers to sort and crate. We tried using machines to do the work, but they damaged too many peaches.

  We’ll work from sunup until it gets too hot to bear, usually around 3 p.m. The pickers call it a day, but we keep going until all the fruit is sorted and crated and either in the store or headed to the distribution center.

  Female laughter meets me as I cross the yard to the house, and I see Mindy’s car parked in the driveway. My stomach tightens. I haven’t seen her since I left her asleep in bed.

  “Beth Hebert was such a little bitch. I think we need to find a way to tell her.” Noel is wielding a glue gun over a pile of tiny multicolored balls and paper straws.

  “Maybe we can ask her if Pop Pop knows the condom on the banana trick.”

  “As if she’d even know. I’m surprised she didn’t get pregnant in high school.”

  I pause at the door watching them laugh, and my stomach warms. It sounds like something old ladies say, but I can still see them as teenagers leaning all the way on the table, head to head, giggling and talking about makeup or whatever girls talk about when they’re young.

  Their friendship is a bright light in our stormy lives. Sleeping with Mindy somehow felt like I was trespassing, like I changed everything. It’s part of the reason I held back for so long, even though I wanted it as badly as Mindy did… Maybe more.

  My sister glues yellow, pink, and green puff balls on the side o
f a straw. “You should do a sex ed class in the rec room and invite Beth to help. Have her pass out flavored condoms.”

  “I’m not sure the old ladies’ gag reflexes are up to it.” Mindy’s hair is in a high ponytail with the ends dancing around her shoulders. She’s so damn cute.

  “As if those old coots can get it up.” My sister snorts.

  “You’d be surprised. They’re all on Viagra now.”

  What the hell? I pull the screen door as they fall back cackling. “Afternoon, ladies.”

  Noel jumps and makes a little yip, and her dog Akela trots over to lick my hand. I pat her gray and white head. “What are you doing here?”

  “Last I checked I live here. What are you doing?”

  She holds up a festive straw. “Making decorations for Dove’s end of the year party. What do you need? Food?”

  My eyes move to Mindy, who is very focused on drawing upside down Vs on a green balloon with a black sharpie. What do I need…

  I pick up one of the green balloons with pink puff balls glued to the top. “What is it?”

  Noel stands and takes it from my hand, picking up two smaller ones and sticking them together with tape. “Cactus.”

  “Huh. I see it.” I have to hand it to my little sister, she’s really good at all this crafting shit.

  “I’ve got to get moving.” Mindy stands, grabbing her bag off the back of the chair. “You mind if I’m out in the rows the next few days?”

  Our eyes meet. Her tan complexion is darker from the sun, making her green eyes glow, and the strands of hair curling right around her face are highlighted gold. She’s so pretty, I almost forget what she asked me.

  “Ah… sure.” I clear the thickness from my throat, the memory of last night’s kiss tries to push its way to the front of my brain.

  She blinks away quick when my sister stands, catching her arm. “I told you it was fine. Jay’s men aren’t coming until Monday, right Sawyer?”

  Noel looks back at me, and I wave, turning to the refrigerator. “Yeah, there’s time.”