Chapter 5
Chapter Five
O ne moment, I was driving into town alone to help my best friend’s sister unpack her U-Haul. Next, I was navigating the back roads toward my house with Julianna sitting quietly beside me.
Having her within arm’s length felt like a dream. I gripped the steering wheel tighter, knuckles white.If I reached out to touch her, would she disappear?
When Julianna opened the front door of Grams’ house, she'd taken my breath away. Shewas the same tall beauty she had been fifteen years ago, but with more maturity. I’d seen snapshots of her on social media over the years using fake profiles I created so I could search for her.
I avoided social media generally because I didn’t find it a worthy use of my limited time.
But for Julianna, I’d taken the time. The pictures had been gorgeous, but in person, she was a whole other level of beauty .
I noticed every slight wrinkle around her mouth and eyes, the subtle indicators of time.
Even a little chaotic with her messy hair, she was the hottest woman I’d ever seen.
Her attempts to shrink her presence by crossing her arms, standing close to objects, and wearing baggy clothes did not detract from her beauty.
I reached over and turned the radio down.
“So, you really don’t have someone waiting on you in Charlotte?” I asked, trying to sound nonchalant.
She stared out at the darkness engulfing the mountains on the horizon. She looked deep in thought.
“Nobody is waiting on me,” she replied. “I have…difficulty with relationships.”
Maybe she didn’t mean those words as a passive-aggressive dig at me, but I felt it as one all the same.
“I don’t think it’s wrong for you to be wary, considering all the loss you’ve been through.”
“It’s ridiculous,” she scoffed. “People deal with so much more in their lives than I have. Who am I to operate off a little trauma?”
I shook my head. “Don’t minimize your experiences. Your parents abandoned you, then you lost the only parent you had when you were still a teen, and to top it off, you got in a car accident with?—”
“I don’t regret that,” she blurted, “I got in the truck with you willingly that night.”
My insides froze. How could she not?
“I regret that night enough for us both, then,” I said, my voice barely a whisper.
“I would rather not talk about any of that.”
The finality in her tone caused a nervous lump in my throat. Merely a few minutes into our journey, and everything was going wrong quickly. I had to change the subject. “Okay,” I said. “Tell me about yourself. What have you been doing these days?”
This seemed to interest her, and she sat up a little in her seat.
“I ran social media marketing for a publishing company for the past ten years. But I lost my job the week before last.”
“Fuck. I’m sorry. I can confidently say they had no idea what they were losing.”
“That’s sweet of you to say,” she replied. “But how do you know? I could have been crap at it.”
I grinned, keeping my eyes on the road ahead. “No one keeps a job for ten years if they suck, especially a high-stakes one like that. Did you like doing that type of work?”
She sighed. “Yes, I loved it, and I think I was good at it.”
“I’m sure you were. It sounds like a them-problem, not a you-problem.”
“Maybe.” She looked down at her lap. “I won’t say I’m not upset about it, but the news about my back has overshadowed the grief of it.”
“Understandable. How did you end up here?” I already knew this part of the story, but I absorbed her voice as she told me the things Whit already had.
She cast a prolonged look straight at me when she was done, but I pretended not to notice and stared out the windshield. “Whit didn’t tell you any of that?” she asked.
I loosened my grip on the steering wheel, letting one hand rest casually on it. My mouth curled into a sly smile. “I wanted to hear you tell it.” I let myself ooze the charm I so rarely used anymore.
To my surprise, she smiled back. “You always were the biggest flirt.” Of course, she had caught on immediately.
“Some things never change,” I replied with a shrug.
“What about you?” she asked. “What do you do these days?”
I shifted in my seat, uncomfortably trying to conjure the right words. “Work. Volunteer.” Think of you. “I’m a supervisor for the US Forest Service.”
“Ooh, that’s fancy. Sounds important.”
“I’ve worked for the Forest Service for a while.
” I didn’t elaborate because I longed for her to know me as someone seasoned by life, not as the Bram Winchester of our teens.
I briefly considered telling her about my work with Mill Creek Aid, but it felt like bragging, which I did not want to do.
I wasn’t always the purest of heart, but MCA was too important for me to use it to score “good guy” points.
From my periphery, I noticed that she was still clasping and flexing her hands in her lap.
“Are you cold?” I asked.
“No.” Then she startled, as if remembering what she was doing. “Oh, my hands? It’s a nervous thing…”
I should have considered how nervous she was, just as I was. I felt like I was forging a river without a raft. So much tension remained between us.
I needed to get a grip on myself. There would be an opportunity to apologize for the wreck and tell the whole truth about what happened if I were patient.
Until then, I could stay close as the friend she needed.
Part of that meant not pushing her to talk about our tragic past when she had drawn a clear line.
“I’m sorry this is anxiety-inducing, too. What can I do to make it better? I want you to be comfortable.”
I imagined it was on the tip of her tongue to tell me I could go back and erase that December night from her memory. But we both knew that was impossible, and she would never say something so blatantly unkind.
“I’ll be fine,” she said, and she looked out the passenger window where I couldn’t see her expression anymore.
After a few minutes of silence, I turned the radio back on at a low volume. We were nearing the turnoff. When we arrived at it and I slowed, she turned towards me and said, “You live here? Down this road?” The dashboard lights illuminated her curious face.
“Yeah,” I replied, turning the steering wheel with one hand. “It’s the old Wheeler farmstead. Do you know it?”
I could hear my pulse in my ears and feel anticipation tightening my insides.
“Yes! I used to come here with Grams when I was little to see old Mrs. Wheeler. They were friends. Even after she died, Grams would bring Whit and me here sometimes for a quiet day out. I bet Whit told you about that.”
“Maybe.” I didn’t want her to know that I bought it solely because of her affinity for it.
It hadn’t been an easy property to procure.
It sat abandoned for years with the forest slowly creeping down the hill to reclaim the barn and house.
When I visited ten years ago, the porch had caved in, and weeds and vines covered the old clapboard siding.
But I saw the vision of what I wanted the house to be. I often pictured Julianna as I restored it. Many days, it felt like I was sharing the experience with a ghost.
But now she was here, and she would see what I’d made of it.
“It’s going to be obvious I had no intentions of you coming out here today,” I said. “Let’s just say, I am a bachelor in the most stereotypical sense. And I have a dog. Probably should have mentioned that.”
“Oh? What breed? What’s their name?” She sounded excited, and I was relieved. Grams never let Whit and Julianna have pets, so I wasn’t sure where she stood.
“I’m not sure of her exact breed. I got her from the shelter a couple of years ago as a pup. They thought she was a beagle and golden retriever mix. Her name is Lakey.”
“Lakey.” She tried the name on for size, a broad smile flooding her face. “That’s cute.”
We turned onto the long driveway to the main house, gravel crunching underneath the wheels. It wasn’t until we turned the bend that we could see the porch lights shining in the pitch-black of the hollow.
Julianna said nothing when the truck stopped in front of the three-car garage fifty yards from the house.
I knew what my home looked like with my eyes closed.
I’d touched every inch of it with my bare hands.
But she seemed unsure, squinting to make out the details in the dark before she slipped out of the truck.
I watched as she better took in the white siding and black tin roof of the house.
She could see the long, covered porch on the front lit up, showcasing a double swing and rocking chairs.
I tried to keep everything well-maintained and clean, and I was glad my efforts were finally paying off.
She moved around to my side of the vehicle, still staring at the facade.
Her expression melted into one of awe and appreciation.
“How did you do all this?” she asked.
I ran a hand through my hair. “Well, after the football injury, I took a construction job for a couple of years. I learned a lot doing that, and I was good at it.”
“So you have a big boy job, and you can also do this? Color me impressed.” She turned to face me. The faraway porch light reflected in her eyes, making them sparkle in the dark. “It is breathtaking, Bram.”
I held out the key to her. “Go check it out. I’ll get your stuff.”
I grabbed her small suitcase from the back bench seat of the truck. She hadn’t brought much with her since she was planning to stay only one night. I wanted to turn her single night into two, three, maybe four, or perhaps a week, or even the whole time she needed to be in Roanoke.
When I opened the screen door and walked in, I saw Julianna standing stock-still in the middle of the living room, her deep-brown eyes lit with curiosity as she scanned her surroundings. I set her bags down and flipped on the light .
Stuff was everywhere: a random flashlight, dog toys, papers, and a few empty beer cans.