The Creek Series: Complete Set: Parts I, II, & III Page 5

  “It hasn’t been easy, but I’ve got Wrenn here to thank for that. She’s resourceful.” She gripped my hand in hers on top of the table.

  “Resources, I have. Land, I don’t, and I rotate my herds, so I don’t always need as much as I do right now. So, I’ve got an offer for you to consider.”

  “Understood. I’m listening,” Mom answered with quite a bit of warmth in her voice.

  “You have over five hundred acres here total, you said.”

  Mom nodded.

  Ben removed a small tablet from his shirt pocket and started making a drawing. “I’d like to purchase the back lot here of two hundred acres at a price of $250,000 and lease the rest at $5000 per year, keeping the fencing, land, and barn up to par, included. With your permission, I’d like to add a couple of wells that feed out of the spring fed creek. Justin can find a room to rent in town for a while, but my ultimate goal will be to build a home and a barn on the back property, since it accesses the other county road. What are your thoughts about all of this?”

  “Please call me Mary Ellen. I’m overwhelmed at your offer; it’s very generous. I’d like to discuss it with my daughter and call you tomorrow, if that would be okay?”

  “More than fine. I look forward to the call,” Ben said with a smile.

  We finished lunch, and the men left after taking another drive around the property without Mom or me.

  “While his offer is great, the sale will be complicated because of what your daddy did. I’m not sure how to fix it.” Exasperation escaped her.

  “I don’t understand. What did he do?”

  “The house and the land are divided into parcels. He mortgaged the house with the front and side parcels. The only land we freely own is the back hundred. Not two hundred.”

  “Would the money be enough to pay it all off?”

  “No.”

  “What do we do? I don’t understand. How could Daddy do that? How much, Mom? How much do we owe?”

  “Almost two hundred thousand.”

  My body sank deeply into the sofa. It wasn’t hard to do, the sofa was fifteen years old at least and lacked much in the way of support. The heaviness of the financial burden ballooned to a full reality for me. There was absolutely no way we were going to swim out of the cesspool of debt we were in.

  What had she been thinking all this time and how was she making that kind of payment?

  Mom watched me intently as I processed everything. Without even asking the questions, she must’ve known what I was thinking.

  “I’ve only been able to pay a little here and there. Mostly interest. I’m sorry, honey. I didn’t want you to know. I was determined you had a place to belong, and you went through so much when Daddy died.”

  I sat up on the edge of the sofa in anger. “Secrets and more lies. You’re no better than him. You let us physically and mentally suffer and struggle to hold on to this place—a place that dishes out more pain than pleasure. Then you lied when I went off to school, and somehow, I feel you’re still holding back stuff now. We would’ve been better off in a small house or duplex in town. I just spent most of the money I had to fix the bridge just so you—we—could get to our home, and it was a miniscule amount compared to the mounting debt. I just don’t know what to say. There is no end to the disappointment surrounding this broken place. You want to hold on to it? Then you figure it out because I’m outta here.” My throat ached from using my voice at the top of my lungs.

  I grabbed my keys and my purse and left without saying another word to her. I wasn’t certain where I was headed, but I knew I couldn’t stay there any longer. A place she loved and worshipped was nothing but a huge front for mysteries and pain, with no warning of when it would end.

  Chapter 7

  I drove through town and passed by the only convenience store we had. It was also a gathering spot for young adults, and it came as no shock to see Stephan’s truck out next to the highway. He was leaning against the truck talking to a group of guys and girls. He waved.

  I kept driving.

  The tears began to drip off my cheeks and spill onto my shirt. First one, then several, until the flood was uncontrollable. I was crying so hard, driving became difficult.

  For the first time in my life, I believed I hated my parents.

  The highway in and out of Hatman was hilly and curvy for the most part, but there was one small straight stretch of road between two hills. I topped over the hill and came to the straight stretch of pavement. There was a place off to the west where eighteen-wheelers could pull off the highway. Fortunately, one wasn’t parked there at that particular time, and I took advantage of having the spot to myself. A lot lizard, I was not.

  I’d been parked there for an unknown amount of time with my eyes closed. Memories of my childhood flooded my subconscious. Family get-togethers, my first pony ride, my thirteenth birthday down by the lake with a heart-shaped cake that had pink roses on it, and my sixteenth birthday with my first boy/girl barn dance. It played out in my mind like a movie—someone else’s life of a happier time.

  The knock on my window startled me so much so I jumped and banged my head against the glass.

  There stood Stephan.

  I opened the door and bolted out into his waiting arms.

  “Oh god, what happened?” His moving hands soothed my back.

  “Lies. My life… Nothing, but lies.”

  Stephan turned us, so he could prop against my car and hold me tightly against his chest until I stopped sobbing.

  We went to sit in his truck parked behind me, and I told him I’d just found out Mom owed hundreds of thousands on our property.

  “I can’t believe you didn’t know. I didn’t know the exact dollar, but I knew your dad left y’all in deep debt. Everyone in town knew. In fact, there’s been a rumor that you were putting the place up for sale when you came home and started making improvements.”

  “What? What do you mean everyone in town knew? They knew how much my mom owed. They knew our business?”

  “It’s a small town in a large county. People talk.”

  “Oh God, I hate people. I just want to go back to Denton, where no one knows me. I can’t go home. I’m so angry with her.”

  “You can come to my house if you want. No expectations.” Both of Stephan’s hands were in the air, and his face held honesty.

  For a slight moment, I let the walls down where he was concerned. “Okay.”

  He followed me as we drove out to his cottage in the woods. He’d saved his money and bought five acres right out of high school. The last year we were together, he’d built the two-bedroom cottage out of cedar planks, mostly by his own hands. The back of the cottage held a thirty-foot deck that overlooked a small canyon. Anytime of the day you could see deer frolicking in the terrain. The cabin wasn’t fancy, but it had been our place.

  Two years had gone by since I’d been in it last. As I pulled up to park in front of the cabin, I wondered how many girls had been there since me. It wasn’t my business, wasn’t my place to ask. I’d said my goodbyes long ago. I’d set him free to find himself and dig deep into his own soul. He’d needed to discover why he was so angry and why he would ever take a hand to a woman.

  “It’s open. You can go in,” he said with a soft smile. People in the country rarely locked their doors. Something city people would never understand.

  I stared at the ground in front of me. Shyness, insecurity, and the unknown covered my senses like a thick fogged veil. I might have turned twenty-five over the summer, but suddenly, I felt like I was back in high school.

  “It’s wrong for me to be here. I should go.” I turned toward my car.

  His voice was soft behind me. “We’re friends. I can’t deny I love you and I want more, but you’re hurting and you need to know—well, I think I’ve proven this week that I can be a friend to you. At the very least, we can be friends, can’t we?”

  I looked back over my right shoulder and saw his face; his concern for me was ob
vious. He didn’t approach me or try to close the ten feet of distance between us. There was no rush to get me into his bed.

  “Okay,” was all I could muster.

  Once inside, I laid my keys on the side table and sat on the small, hand-me-down sofa that he had thrown a blanket over to hide its ugliness, but I still remembered.

  He opened the fridge and stared at the contents, as if time was going to change what was on the shelf.

  “I have beer, Dr. Pepper, and potato chips, but I can go back to the store. Oh, and I have an old bottle of Jack.”

  “Bring the Jack.”

  He brought the liquor and a glass for me and a Corona for himself. He walked over to the small fireplace and stirred the few hot coals—remnants of an earlier fire. He added kindling and more logs, so the fire would take quickly and remove the chill from the air. But nothing was going to remove the cold I felt internally, especially toward my parents.

  I’d finished two shots before a word was ever spoken between us. I wasn’t sure if he was waiting me out or sweetly giving me space.

  “The other day when I got the call and you asked if I’d won the lottery.” I paused.

  He nodded, watching me intently.

  “It was a man at the paper in Fort Smith. He saw my ad to lease the land and called before it even ran, saying Ben, his son, was looking for land to lease. Well, Ben came today. Loved our place and made an offer to buy the back parcel and lease the front. He wants to put a cabin on it for his ranch hand, Justin, who also came with him. He made a fair verbal offer. Only problem is the bank won’t be able to split up the lien to sell off part of the land. Why didn’t she tell me? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Don’t yell at me. Look, I understand where you’re coming from, but don’t make this my fault. I don’t get into people’s money business, and I truly thought you knew.”

  “I know. I’m sorry.” I leaned back against the sofa and took a couple more quick shots, staring at the fire.

  We were both quiet for a while, but I felt his gaze on my skin. For some reason, I got up and crawled into his lap in the recliner. He held me until I fell asleep.

  When I opened my eyes, it was dark, only what remained of the fire provided any light into the room.

  Stephan had flipped out the recliner and still had his arms tightly around me. I inhaled deeply, and his familiar scent tickled my nose. This time it was comforting. When I leaned my head back, I caught his eyes watching me.

  “Feel better?”

  “Nope.”

  “I’ll run you a hot bath. That will help.” He put the foot rest down and helped me stand up.

  “I should go. I don’t have any clothes or…”

  “I still have some of your stuff. You left shorts, sweatpants, and underwear and stuff. I put it in a box in the spare room, or you can wear one of my T-shirts. I don’t think you should drive after drinking, but I’ll drive you if you want to go home.”

  I shook my head.

  The bathroom was built for me. He knew I loved to take long bubble baths, and he’d cornered two large picture windows from floor to ceiling, overlooking the canyon with a vintage claw tub sat an angle in front them.

  I looked around the room at all the details, once again admiring his work. With his and her vanities on opposite sides of the tub, the room looked like something out of a magazine, everything either white or black.

  There was something calming about hot water, and as I inched into it, the tension in my body began to release. I leaned back against the edge and closed my eyes. When I finally opened them, he was sitting on the stool, watching me.

  “You’re a perv, you know that?” My voice was teasing, but in all honesty, I felt comfortable with him watching me.

  “I can’t see anything for all the bubbles. Besides, it’s not like I haven’t seen you naked before. But actually, I was just watching you and making sure you were okay after you drank as much as you did. I’m really sorry about today. You and your mom don’t ever fight, so I can imagine what she’s thinking about now.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “You’re embarrassed because you placed an ad without asking her and didn’t know what you were doing.”

  “Am not.”

  “Are too.”

  “You weren’t there.”

  He chuckled and ran his hands through his blond shaggy curls. “I’m not going to have a petty argument with you. I wasn’t there; you’re right.” He got up from the bench and opened the closet, retrieving a towel. “There’s a new toothbrush in the drawer on your side. Your hairbrush and stuff is in a box under the sink.”

  He walked out of the room, and I heard the soft click of the door latch. It was all quiet for a while. Then I began to hear music filtering through the cabin walls.

  Why had he kept my stuff for so long?

  After drying off, I opened the door to the master bedroom to find it dimly lit with lamplight. He had placed a box on the bed and closed the bedroom door. When I opened it, I found the clothes he’d mentioned and even some old fashion jewelry and odds and ends pieces of junk, but I didn’t go through it completely.

  I borrowed a T-shirt out of his dresser to complete my mismatched ensemble and found an old hairbrush to get the tangles out of my hair.

  “Did you find everything you needed in the box?” he yelled through the door.

  The door creaked when I opened it to find him propped on the facing wall, holding out a glass of orange juice for me. I took it from him and downed a big gulp.

  “Yes, thank you. Why did you keep all that stuff?” I asked, walking back to the box, still woozy from the liquor.

  “Kept meaning to take it to your house, just never got around to it.” He approached me with his usual slough foot swagger and sat down on the bed next to me. “I ran and picked up a few groceries, help yourself to whatever you want. I made up the spare room for you.”

  “What, not giving up this king-sized bed?”

  “Nope.” He removed his boots and socks.

  Grateful he didn’t try to drag me into his bed, I took my juice and sat down on the floor by the fire in the living room. I could hear the distant sound of the shower running and him singing along to his iPod. That boy loved his music.

  Hearing the water made me remember how we’d often taken showers together. My skin tingled at the thought of him seducing me. When we’d been together, he could barely touch me, and I’d be on fire for him. Intimacy was never our problem.

  I studied my surroundings as if seeing it new. One of his winter coats was hanging by the back door. I wrapped the coat around me and walked outside on the deck. There was a small fire going in the chiminea pot, so I stood beside it and leaned against the railing.

  The cold north wind was bristling through the trees, and I could hear the limbs talking to one another.

  Nature’s dialogue, Mom called it.

  Chapter 8

  No, no, no. Please don’t hit me again. Please stop.

  You dirty whore. You shame our family. You’re good for no one now.

  No!

  Whip. Slash. Crack.

  Startled, I woke up with the covers tossed to the floor, yet I wasn’t cold. The fit of my dream had me drenched in sweat. The secret trying to scratch its way out of me, layer by layer.

  I woke up again at the first sign of daylight peeking through the small slit in the curtains and the sound of rain outside. Without a clock in the room, I had no idea what time it was. The cabin was quiet, and I was sure Stephan was at work already.

  I opened the door and started to walk out into the small hall that divided the two bedrooms. The master bedroom door was open.

  “It’s still early. Go back to sleep,” his voice soft and whispery. Comforting.

  “What time is it?” I asked from the hall, but rather than wait for an answer, I went into his room.

  “Six o’clock.”

  “You not going to work?”

  “Raining all day, no guide trips today.
Not gonna complain though, we need the rain. You want to come lay down with me?”

  Without thinking things through, I curled up beside him in bed. He always slept in the nude, and this time was no exception, but I didn’t care. I needed the security he could give me. I craved the sense of belonging somewhere in the world.

  My mother had ripped the last ounce of affinity from me.

  The next time I woke up I was wrapped tightly in Stephan’s arms as he spooned me, and I could hear the sound of rain hitting the metal roof. It was a sweet sound, like a mandolin playing softly in the distance, and one of the reasons he had chosen to build it that way.

  “Hungry?” he said softly against my ear.

  “No.” I rolled over to face him.

  We stared at each other for endless moments. Our lips clashed—I don’t know how they did or why. Who initiated the kiss was a mystery, but the passion was fire within me and reverberated through me—through us. One thing led to another, and soon my clothes were on the floor, and we were tangling between the sheets.

  So familiar, so wrong.

  “We shouldn’t do this,” I said, trying to stop the heat wave.

  He didn’t stop. “I know what you need,” he said crawling down my body, leaving nibbles and delicate bites during his journey.

  He remembered what I liked, and he pleasured me until I was smiling and satiated, all memories of my painful past retreated to a distant fog.

  After which, lying within the capacity of his arms and embracing heart, I heard his slow inhalation, while his nose was buried in my hair.

  After a shower together, guilt ravaged me. We hadn’t had sex, if you go by Bill Clinton’s standards, but we were intimate, just the same. It was wrong. I didn’t love him the way he loved me, and I didn’t want a relationship with him to be rekindled. I didn’t trust him not to hurt me again the next time he was jealous and angry.

  The person may change but the sight of rage in one man’s eyes is clearly equal to another.

  After getting dressed in my old clothes, I joined him in the kitchen. He was making bacon and egg sandwiches, one of his favorites and also one of the few things he knew how to cook during the time we were still together as a couple.