Chapter 4
JAKE
After lunch with Daniel and Patricia, I excused myself. I needed to take care of some pesky details: food and employment, not necessarily in that order.
Last week, I reached out to Dusty, my old boss at the garage. We’d kept in touch over the years because I always planned to return to Sierra Rose Ridge, and he was one of the people I missed most. He and Daniel gave me better blueprints on how to be a good guy than my old man ever did.
Me: Hey, boss man. How are things in the old SRR?
DustyDog: When are you coming home?
Me: What, no foreplay? No slap and tickle first, straight to it?
DustyDog: One of my guys went on paternity leave early because his baby is in the NICU, and I’m working eight days a week. If this is a routine hello, everything’s peachy. If you’re ready to get back to work, get your ass in here, and bring your tools. Calvin and I need help.
Me: I’m back in town for good next week, and I’ve still got all my equipment.
DustyDog: Thank fucking shit. Did the army fuck you up good, or can you still turn a wrench?
Me: Why not both?
DustyDog: Fair.
DustyDog: The wife says to come to dinner when you get in town. Don’t be surprised if she tries to set you up with one of her friends. If you’ve got a gal already, you’d better bring her, or Sparrow might have you married off in a week.
Me: I’m gal-less at the moment and prefer to stay that way.
DustyDog: You gay?
DustyDog: Doesn’t matter. She’s got guy friends, too.
Me: Nope, bitter.
DustyDog: Not good enough. In fact, it might be a challenge. Better make up a wife in Canada. According to Sparrow, there’s a shortage of decent guys these days, and that’s the only reason she puts up with me.
Me: You make wedded bliss sound so appealing.
DustyDog: Not gonna lie, it’s pretty fucking awesome, but only with the right person.
I forgot Dusty was married before. His divorce was brutal. Blair’s betrayal had nothing on what his ex-wife put him through.
Me: Tell the missus I’ll bring dessert.
DustyDog: Fuck no. If I tell her that, she’ll have a bachelorette party camped out on our front yard.
Me: If that’s the case, maybe I’ll stay home.
DustyDog: It’ll be good to have you back, fucker.
Me: It’ll be good to be back, you old bastard.
DustyDog: Duty calls, but let me know when you’re in town so the wife can send out your wedding invitations.
Me: I just got out of one failed engagement, so I’m allowed a little recovery time before I’m thrown back into the meat market.
DustyDog: Don’t say that. She’ll make up excuses for a dozen friends to drop by the shop innocently.
Me: Should I fake an invalid wife?
DustyDog: Perfect. You’ll get sympathy and free food, and maybe offers of sex, but nobody will put your engagement photos in the local paper to force your hand.
Me: Thanks for the reminder, asshole.
DustyDog: Don’t fuck this up. I need your ass in here by next Thursday, or sooner if you can swing it. I can only do part-time for now, since I’m also paying Boyd while he’s on leave, but I should have more work by late spring.
Me: On it, boss man.
Amused, I shook my head as I read back through our chat. Moving out was its own special hell, especially with the fallout from Blair’s affairs, but I was ready to start fresh.
Might as well jump in feet first and put myself on display for the gossips. Since I needed groceries, I hit the market first. Then, if I give myself an hour to pick up dessert, the diner would be next on my list.
I cataloged the changes at the market for a few minutes before I was identified.
“Jacob Brown? Is that you?”
I smiled at my fifth-grade teacher, Mrs. Gonzalez.
“Nice to see you again, Mrs. G.”
“I almost didn’t recognize you. You’ve gotten bigger.”
“The army does that,” I said noncommittally.
No need for her to know that weightlifting and boxing were my therapy.
“Come give an old lady a hug. How many people have you seen since you returned?” she asked.
“Not many. I saw Daniel and Patricia Williams when I moved in, but this was my first stop.”
“Ha,” she cackled. “I beat that old crone, Lucinda Mars. She’ll hate that.”
She scuttled away, delighted with herself. When I turned back to the meat counter, two more people waited for my notice.
Once they left, I was swarmed. Half the town wanted to confirm it was really me, and the other half wanted to reminisce about the good old days. It was surreal.
For the next hour, I shot the shit with people I barely remembered about situations I remembered even less, but it was surprisingly enjoyable. I received more hugs, back slaps, and handshakes than in the previous ten years.
And propositions. Dusty was spot-on about the women of Sierra Rose Ridge. A shocking number of women slipped me pieces of paper with their phone numbers and offers to show me around town since things had changed.
It was pointless. I was off women. Blair did a number on my heart, my trust, and my pride, and I don’t know which one hurt most.
Of course, I didn’t say any of that. I didn’t say anything. Since I’d been a quiet kid and the strong, silent type as a teen, no one expected much from me.
The same wasn’t true for them. At one point, there were seven or eight people talking at once. It amused me, and I couldn’t wait to laugh about it with Dani later.
Damn, being back in Sierra Rose Ridge had me ready to fall back into old habits, but she was one habit I couldn’t pick up again. If Blair fucked me up this much, no telling what Dani could do when I’d loved her most of my life.
Eventually, my luster wore off, the crowd thinned, and I bought a few groceries. When I got home, I cleaned out Old Blue to have something to do.
Since I didn’t own much, there was little to unpack and no furniture to put it on. As an unmarried soldier, I lived in the barracks. Unofficially, I spent most of my off-work hours at Blair’s apartment until the day I came home early.
I had a bedroll on the floor of the master bedroom, and my clothes were in duffel bags. The house was unfurnished, but I planned to work on it anyway, which would be easier without furniture
I spent years planning how to make this place uniquely mine.
It would be hard work, but I was no stranger to that.
My hands itched to tear up the ugly-ass carpet and rip off that hideous wallpaper.
New ceiling fans and lighting fixtures. Fresh paint indoors and out.
The kitchen was spacious but in dire need of new cabinets and appliances.
My hand cramped as I wrote everything down as I toured my house. It was a good thing I had prospects for income because this place was going to take a fuck-ton of work and money.
While I wouldn’t ever be grateful to Blair for cheating on me and cratering my dreams of family and forever, at least I had all the time in the world for my renovations and no rush to get them done.
DustyDog: You still coming for dinner tonight?
Me: Of course. I said I would. Why wouldn’t I?
DustyDog: Didn’t know if any of the welcoming committee made you an offer you couldn’t refuse. Show you the sights of town that you might have missed.
Me: Are you trying to get me laid, or are you hoping to live vicariously?
DustyDog: laughing emoji barfing emoji
DustyDog: Neither. The wife heard from three different friends that they gave you their contact info, and it sounds like there might be a lottery. (I can’t tell if you’re the prize or the victim.)
Me: I told you. I’m not interested. It’s nothing personal.
DustyDog: I’ve passed along your message, but Sparrow had that look in her eyes that tells me she has Ideas.
Me: Is that a good thing or a bad thing?
DustyDog: I’ll be highly amused, but I don’t know about you.
Me: Why did I want to come back to Sierra Rose Ridge?
DustyDog: You’re obviously a glutton for punishment.
DustyDog: See you at seven, sucker!
I laughed. There was enough time to plot out my first big projects, and I’d hit the hardware store in the morning.
A couple of patio chairs and a folding table would suffice. I didn’t expect guests, but if Patricia or Daniel wanted to check things out, they needed places to sit.
My heavy-duty rolling tool box was locked in the garage, ready to move to Dusty’s shop. Mechanics preferred to use their own tools, and I was no exception.
Maybe I’d get a pet. I never wanted to bring an animal into this house as a kid, even if I’d been allowed. And with my job, pets weren’t an option. A dog would be good here. Liven the place up and give me something to think about besides wishing for things that would never be.
Far-fetched dreams tried to invade my mind as they always did when I pictured my future, but I shoved them back. Dreams were more dangerous than any of my ghosts. The impossibility a future with Dani reminded me of my conversation with her dad.
“Why would you want to live in that place where you have so many bad memories?” Daniel asked after we gorged on tiny lasagnas.
“Sierra Rose Ridge is my home.”
To me, it had always been that simple.
“Sure, but there are other houses in Sierra Rose Ridge that wouldn’t be tainted by all the bad things that happened to you.”
“It’s a house,” I shrugged. “It didn’t hurt me. And it brought me you, all of you. You’re my home more than any address. I haven’t had a physical home in a long time, but this was always the one I wanted to come back to.”
His eyes glittered.
“Get your ass over here so I can give you a hug. If I get up and down too many times, it hurts, but I can’t let something like that pass without acting on it. Love you, boy, and I’m proud of the man you are.”
I bent to hug him.
“I’m glad you’re home, son. We missed you.”
I hadn’t cried in years, but some of that old poison leeched away with a few tears. I wasn’t magically cured from the shit my father put me through, but some of the heaviness lifted. It was enough.
Not only were there no demons barring the door of my old house, my guardian angels welcomed me home again. Despite my niggling worry on the drive here, no nightmares haunted the halls. As I told Daniel, it was only a house.
“Enough maudlin bullshit,” I told myself. “It’s time to run the gauntlet again.”
With a groan, I washed up, but it would be easier to get it over with than dread it. The diner was the next hot spot to pay my respects to the town gossips.
I still wasn’t ready to see Dani, though a reunion at the Tavern might be better than something more private. Maybe I was more of a pussy than I thought, but I needed to shore up my defenses first.
My truck purred when I turned the key, and the corner of my mouth kicked up. Fuck, yeah, I was cruising Sierra Rose Ridge in Old Blue, on my way to get a pie from the diner, and I had plans for a home-cooked dinner. Life was pretty good.