Chapter 9
Justin
J ack Dunn hands me a cup of coffee, lifting it to me in the back seat of his super-cab truck. The truck is about as old as mine, and in equally good shape. “Here you go.” He meets my gaze. “Thanks again for helping us out.”
I look back at the moving trailer we’re pulling.
“What else could I be doing on a Sunday morning?” I say before taking the lid off the coffee. The steam and rich aroma swirl into the air.
“I bet Bridget would say church.”
With a scoff I nod. “You’re right, Mom would. And my dad would say there’s work to be done.”
Jack gets in the driver’s seat and turns on the engine as we wait for Ricky to come out of the convenience store. “Rick told me you might be interested in our property?”
My stomach clenches. This is the first time Jack has talked directly to me about this subject. This conversation was a big part of why I accepted Ricky’s request to help move his kid sister. Three hours each direction gives us ample opportunity to talk.
Clearing my throat, I say, “I hate to see it go to developers. I’d rather you keep it.”
Jack’s eyes meet me in the rearview mirror. “I’m getting too old for this work, just like your dad.”
“You’re younger than my dad. I get it. Dax” —my brother-in-law— “had an idea. Instead of selling, you could rent the land to us. I’ll farm it. The ethanol is taking some of the guesswork out of the markets.”
“Realtor said we should sell while the prices are good.”
“Jack,” I implore. Ricky and I have known one another our entire lives.
We both call each other’s parents by their first names.
“It’s fucking land. Barring a cataclysmic disaster, it’s not going to depreciate.
That developer wants to pay you pennies compared to what he’ll sell it for when he chops it into little pieces. ”
We both turn to see Ricky walking across the parking lot with a box in one hand and a large cup of coffee in the other.
“We haven’t signed anything.” Ricky’s dad nods. “Won’t sign until we hear you out.”
“What about Devan coming home? You don’t plan to sell with her moving back in, do you?”
The side door opens as I finish my question.
“Do you what?” Ricky asks.
Jack smiles at Ricky. “Justin wants to know if Mom and I will kick you and Devan to the curb.”
Ricky opens the box, filling the truck with the overwhelming scent of sugar. I swear I get a cavity simply by inhaling.
My friend shrugs. “I’ve been looking at a few apartments in town.” He lifts a glazed cake donut, the one he knows I can’t resist and hands it to me. “Here you go. I figure Devan can live with me if we have to.”
“We’re not selling the house out from under you,” Jack says as he puts the truck in gear. “All this shit takes time. Devan moving home was unexpected but not a bad thing. It’s making us take a closer look at our options.”
With a mouth full of warm, sticky donut, I say, “I wonder why the developer hasn’t come to talk to us.”
“Said he did,” Jack replied. “Your dad told him flat out he’s not interested.” His eyes meet mine again in the mirror. “As long as that land is your dream and Kandace and Dax are giving him grandbabies, Jack’s not interested.”
“So, I need to give you a grandkid?” Ricky says with a smile. “Give me nine months.”
“Oh no,” Jack replies with a laugh. His demeanor dims. “Rick, if it’s your dream, speak up.”
I look at my best friend, expecting him to say something. When he takes another bite of his jelly-filled donut, I shake my head. “What the fuck?”
Ricky turns to me. “I’ve been thinking back to when I was at Vincennes.
I’m the one who keeps the books on the farm, and I’m considering going back to school, getting my bachelor’s.
Maybe I can have a real job, something with numbers.
Maybe accounting. I can play farmer on the weekends and during harvest.”
“Are you shitting me? How long have you felt this way?”
“It’s been growing over the last few years.”
“Why now?” I ask.
“Devan,” Ricky says. “I’m proud of her.”
She’s a kid, I want to say.
“I’m not saying I want out of Riverbend,” Ricky goes on. “I’m saying I might want to know there’s money coming in without worrying about the weather.”
His admission isn’t a total shock. I’ve been hearing Ricky bitch about farming for years. I didn’t realize that he was thinking of a way out. I force a smile. “My friend should follow his dream. Just remember, I can always use your help.”
“I figured,” he says as he stuffs another donut into his mouth.
Leaning my head against the window, I drift off.
I wouldn’t say I fall asleep. My mind fills with thoughts about the Dunn property.
Dax was able to get some approximate numbers.
The price of land has skyrocketed in the last few years.
I admit to being shocked when he gave me an estimated value.
Dad and I talked about buying, we have most of the capital, but damn, it would make things tight.
Then Dax came up with the renting idea, and I was immediately on board.
As the truck bounces along 69 north toward Muncie, I can’t tell if Jack took kindly to the idea of renting or if he wants to cut all ties.
And then there are the thoughts of BK. It’s funny how our mind builds things up—higher, better, bigger.
I can’t be certain if that’s what I’ve done in the last month or longer…
okay, five weeks last Friday since we kissed.
Who’s keeping track?
Nevertheless, my memories of that one kiss have blown into much more than what happened. In my mind, I’ve taken our one kiss further. I’ve imagined her soft moans and tasted her sweet lips.
Five weeks.
BK said she wasn’t currently from Riverbend.
Yet she was at the hog roast.
Pulling my hat over my eyes, I know I shouldn’t spend my time thinking about some woman I’ll probably never see again. Instead, I make an effort to return my thoughts to the Dunn property. I’m counting acres, calculating the price of seed…anything to avoid thinking about BK.
I’ve come to the conclusion that my mystery woman was only in Riverbend for one night with friends.
I’ll never see her again.
I’m not being down on myself, simply a realist.
The one woman in forever to light a spark inside me will forever remain only one kiss.
BK.
“Justin.”
Blinking my eyes, I hear my name on repeat.
“What the…?” I push my cap off my face and blink, trying to focus as sunlight floods the inside of the cab.
Shaking my head, I take in the surroundings.
Jack Dunn is still driving. No longer are we on the interstate.
We’re driving through an apartment complex.
All the buildings are three stories, and they all look exactly alike.
“You were snoring,” Ricky says.
“Fuck you.”
Jack laughs. “You were both snoring. So much for keeping me awake on the drive.”
I think of something I should have thought of before as I look at the seat to my side. “Hey, are Devan and Marilyn both supposed to fit in this back seat?”
“No,” Jack says, “They both have cars to drive back.”
My focus goes to the building where we’ve stopped. I crane my neck toward the sky. “You didn’t mention that she lived on the third floor. First floor? Right?”
“Oh shit.” Ricky opens the door to the truck. “I forgot. She lives on the third floor.”
Opening my door, I stuff the ends of my t-shirt into my jeans and turn my cap backward as I mentally size up a hundred trips up and down. “You’re going to owe me more than donuts.”
Jack presses a button outside the door. It makes a buzz sound.
“Jack?”
“Yeah, Marilyn,” he says. “We’re here.”
“Okay,” comes from the box. “Come on in.”
There’s another buzz.
“Tell me there’s an elevator,” I say.
Ricky bumps me with his shoulder. “I’ve seen you carry multiple bales of hay, railroad ties for fences, and more. Carrying a couch down three stories…you could do that alone.”
“But I’m not.”
We all laugh as we head up the stairs.
Each floor looks exactly the same. Same hallways.
Same doors. The only difference is the numbers.
I wonder how Devan and Marilyn could stand living in this box.
This building—the entire complex—represents the shit I don’t like.
Give me a custom farmhouse, a wraparound porch, and land. I could never live in a box.
As we reach the third floor, there is a young woman standing in the hallway. From her dark hair, I know this is Devan’s roommate. Honestly, I barely recall her as one of Devan’s friends who used to follow us around.
She’s grown up.
She’s cute with a big smile. Her hair is in a ponytail, and she’s wearing shorts with a Ball State t-shirt. “Come on in,” she says. She lifts her arms and gives Jack a hug. “Thank you for helping. Sorry about Dad.”
Jack pats her back and looks at Ricky and me. “Rick brought his friend, Justin. Justin, this is Marilyn, Devan’s roommate.”
“Hi,” I say, ready to get their shit down into the trailer and back home.
“Come in,” she says. “We have everything ready to move.”
“Is Devan here?” Jack asks.
“She is…”
Marilyn’s voice fades away as my heart rate spikes and my gaze meets the soft brown eyes staring my direction.
No way.
This can’t be real.
Her eyes shine as pink fills her cheeks.
“BK,” I say too softly to be heard.
BK is Ricky’s little sister.
Fuck.
She’s Devan Dunn.