Thirty-eight
THIRTY-EIGHT
Tag
A fter our sandwiches, she threw a couch pillow on my lap and laid her head on it without a word. We were quiet for several minutes as I ran my hand through her hair. After the conditioning and brushing, the strands were butter in my hands. I couldn’t stop touching it.
Or her, for that matter.
I’d lost count of the times we’d intentionally tapped, brushed, and bumped against each other. Low-esteem was something I struggled with on the daily. But no matter how I felt about myself, it was impossible to deny that there was something between us. And Bea wanted me as badly as I wanted her.
Three weeks ago, I couldn’t fathom touching another person. And yet, here I was, trying to talk myself out of turning her face toward mine and kissing her soft lips. How did that happen?
Bea made me want to try.
She was leaving soon with Jackie. Where would that leave us?
Every breath I drew pulled me toward her, her radiance as vital to my life as the oxygen.
Her warmth pressed against me, her head in my lap…I could fill pages about the relief unraveling in my chest. Felt like a missing piece of my life was finally clicking into place. Making her dinner, caring for her, touching her hair…it was the perfect way to forget about my own problems.
She gave a cozy hum, snuggling in closer then spoke with her eyes closed. “What are you thinking about?”
“You.”
“What about me?”
“You…make me feel calmer. Since you got here, I haven’t had one panic attack. And I think it’s ‘cause of you.”
As wonderful as Bea was, I knew her presence wouldn’t magically take my panic attacks away. But maybe the universe was cutting me some slack. Whatever the reason, I was grateful for the reprieve.
The attacks, mild and severe, riddled my day-to-day existence. When I had a severe episode, I experienced a total collapse. Sometimes it was days, weeks even, before I’d feel normal and fully-functioning again. Maybe I would never fully understand why, but some days…I felt stuck in the past, stuck in the fear. And I couldn’t escape. Out of the blue, I’d be back at my Mom’s house. I wondered if those moments, those panic attacks or whatever they really were, would prevent me from ever having a normal, peaceful life.
“Do you have panic attacks a lot?”
“Not as much as I used to, but often enough to worry about ‘em.”
“Do you still go up to the hayloft?”
“Not much anymore.”
“Do you still write?”
“No.”
“Oh, that’s sad. What do you do when you’re having a bad day then?”
“Work, mainly.”
“You work yourself into the ground.”
She wasn’t wrong. I worked to avoid the attacks. And I worked to move past them.
I had no idea how I used to run Meadowbrook without Jesse. He’d come to expect my down days and took over when needed.
When I was younger, I used to crawl to a safe place to write myself out of the slump. But without words, I didn’t have anywhere to take my heart. So I worked until my muscles burned, until my brain turned to sludge, and until the muscle deep in my chest numbed to the pain. I could go through the monotony of ranch life, with my feet in two different realities.
Kind of, anyway.
But I ached for some way to put the burden down instead of just pretending it didn’t exist. I yearned for a way to tackle it head on instead of running. I was so sick of running. Every moment of every day, I worried about exhaustion overtaking me. One day, I was going to put my weapons down, surrender, and never come back.
Pretty sure Cooper had already done just that.
Ready to change the topic, I picked up her wrist and took the rubber band off it. Wordlessly, I directed her to sit up and I pulled all her hair into the palm of my hand. I ran my fingers through then separated it into three pieces, starting a loose weave.
Bea’s shoulders pulsed with a tiny laugh. “Wait. Are you braiding it?”
I smiled. “Yep.”
“You know how to braid?”
I wrapped the outside strand to the middle over and over, slowly moving further from her head as I talked. “Every summer that Randi came to the ranch, she’d bring an entire fish tackle box-lookin’ thing full of every imaginable hair product. Clips, bands, freaking glitter. Not for her, mind you. For the horses. Back then we had ‘bout six or seven and every one of them would look like a craft project by the time she was done with ‘em.”
Bea made the most adorable giggling sound. “Don’t tell me you helped her.”
“She left me no choice. It pissed off Judd and all the cowboys, but Gran thought it was funny and took pictures.”
Bea cooed. “Those are pictures I would pay to see.”
I huffed. “Me too, actually. I don’t even know where they are.”
The snapping rubber band filled the silence as I wrapped it around the end of her braid a few times. She grabbed it, inspecting the part she could view. “Thank you.” Slowly, she turned around to face me. “Can I ask you something? I feel nosy admitting this, but I’ve been curious…when I was in your office looking for the warranty papers, I found hospital bills. I’d forgotten all about them, until we ended up in the hospital. While we were there, you seemed really nervous. You don’t have to tell me about them, if you don’t want to, but I was curious what happened. They were pretty big.”
“Yeah. They’re big alright.” My gaze darted away as shame rolled through my gut. Do I tell her? Part of me wanted to. A huge part of me wanted to prop open my rib cage and give her full access to everything I’d hidden away, but another part—smaller yet infinitely stronger—screamed hide .
As I sat there, debating what to share, her cool fingers slipped into mine. I didn’t move away like I would’ve three weeks ago. I gripped her. Like her hand belonged there. Like she was the lifeline that had been plopped next to me in a black, angry sea.
“Do you think…do you believe you can trust me, Tag?”
I swallowed. “I do.”
“I see it on your face. Something bad happened. If you don’t want to tell me, it’s?—”
“That’s the thing. I do want to.”
She stopped talking.
“You know I have a hard time lettin’ people in.”
“I know.”
“But I want to.”
“You could try. And if it gets too heavy or it’s too hard, you can stop.”
“Uh, I don’t know which ones you saw, but the smaller bills were from Cooper. He ended up overdosing and needed a trip to the ER. He walked out totally fine. Neither of us have insurance. And it’s insane what you pay.”
She waited. When I didn’t say more, she prodded me. “And the big one?”
“I…I was the patient on that one.”
Her fingers squeezed mine. I squeezed back.
I want to do this.
I gritted my teeth and pushed the words out, tension pulling down my neck and chest. “It was…a failed attempt.”
She drew a very quiet, sharp breath. “A failed suicide attempt?”
I nodded.
She was silent, which I was grateful for.
“Cooper found me. I needed a blood transfusion and a hospital stay. And those are expensive, even on the self-pay discount.”
Her breathing was the only sound in the room, more punctuated and heavier than before.
“If anything destroyed mine and Cooper’s relationship, it was that. It was a final straw for us. I scared him, and I think he looked up to me, even if I didn’t feel like he did. It really did a number on him. I’ve always wished…” I closed my eyes to say the words. “I’ve always wished he wouldn’t have found me.”
She nodded, gently. Not like she approved, but like she understood. And that made it easier to keep talking.
She whispered, “When did that happen?”
“I was—I was eighteen.”
A long quiet settled over Bea. When she finally spoke, she sniffled and her words were slurred with tears. “I understand why you didn’t tell me, but I wish you would’ve. I could’ve been there for you.”
“You were so young?—”
Tears had trickled onto her cheeks. She said again, slower and emphatic. “I was young, but I cared about you, Tag.”
“I know. It’s something you don’t really know how to explain to people. Especially the people you love the most and…the ones you don’t wanna hurt.”
Her watery brown eyes held contact with mine. For a moment, I almost looked away. My ever-present shame tugged me as I struggled to read her expression. But her hand wriggled out of mine, sliding up my wrist. She turned it, looked, then checked my right. Her fingers easily found the singular horizontal scar, tenderly tracing it once, then again.
“I’m—” She stopped and took a deep, wavering breath. “You have no idea how happy I am that you’re still here.”
Emotions warmed the rims of my eyes, and I blinked. “When I came back from the hospital, there was a letter from you on my desk. Gran always put them there.”
“Really?”
“It made me feel like maybe I could keep on.”
Her lip quivered.
“Thank you, Bea, for caring about me.” I reached up, letting my hand slide around the curve of her jaw. I drug my thumb over her soft cheek, brushing her tears back.
“I’m always going to care about you.”
I wanted that to be true, hoped it was. I replayed her words so many times in my head, they were the lullaby that tugged me into sleep a little while later.
Bea’s eyes were closed as her fingers moved gracefully over the strings of Glory. The longer I looked, the more beautiful I found her. Her brow furrowed in concentration. A strand of her dark hair brushed her cheek in the breeze. Her tender arm draped around her yellow-brown guitar.
Last night, after Jackie arrived, Bea took it easy with her in the house. But tonight, she wanted to sit on the porch for dinner and invited everyone to join us. Somehow Meadowbrook had gone from two people to six in the blink of an eye. Cooper, Bea, Jackie, Jesse, Cade, and myself. I’d hauled out dining room chairs to accommodate everyone.
I picked up Jackie from the airport yesterday. Had to say, she was a spitfire. Her aura and personality were so wildly different than Bea’s, I had a hard time believing they shared parents. If it wasn’t for their identical eyes, I’d have my doubts.
It was clear Jackie adored Bea though. On our way from the airport, she asked to stop at a Walgreens. Came out with an armful of all Bea’s favorite snacks and drinks. Then almost tackled Bea to the floor when she gave her a hug. From the moment they saw each other, they were smiles and giggles.
Now that Jackie was here to care for Bea, I went back to working. Reluctantly, I should say. It’s funny. Before Bea came, all I wanted to do was work. Now, I was trying to find reasons not to work. Using every possible excuse to slow down with her.
For the first time in my life, I wanted to savor moments.
Jesse and Cade ate the dinner Jackie cooked like they’d never had a meal before. Both wanted thirds. They looked like the same person almost, with identical smiles, bushy auburn hair, and mossy green eyes.
Cooper wouldn’t even be on the porch with us if it wasn’t for Bea. When we were all sitting down to eat, Bea glanced toward the barn then at me. All it took was one silent plea in her eyes for me to remember what she had said to me days ago.
“Solitude isn’t good for a person.”
I gave him a stern warning, and he promised to keep his eyes off the women and his hands to himself.
Dinner was…fun. The light conversation and easy banter made my chest ache. This is what wraparound porches were for, though I didn’t think Meadowbrook’s had seen something like it in over a decade.
After Jackie and Jesse had cleared plates, Jackie dropped a giant bag of Starbursts on the wicker table announcing, “Dessert anyone?” Hands reached into the bag and everyone held their seats, lingering, unwilling to leave.
Now, we all sat as Bea played the guitar. The sun had officially ducked behind the horizon, lightning bugs darted around the bushes, and a delicate fruity scent filled the air.
Bea played the final chords of a song, her eyes fluttered open, and she looked up. Her gaze immediately found me and my heartbeat stuttered. She shared a slow smile then drug her eyes away to scan the rest of the group.
She gently asked, “Cooper, what’s your favorite song?”
His head jerked up, surprised to be singled out. Bea hadn’t taken any requests so far. I could only guess she was trying to befriend him. Which simultaneously irritated me and made me want to kiss her. Couldn’t be too shocked in that regard. Just about everything made me want to kiss her.
“Uh, I’m not sure. ”
Bea strummed chords even as she conversed with him. “Well, what’s a song you like?”
“I’d have to think.” Cooper smiled then winced as his swollen lip pulled tight. Sobering his expression, he asked, “Do you rap?”
A ripple of laughter spread through us.
Jackie piped up. “Oh, trust me, she’s tried.”
“Those days are dead to me.” Bea shot her sister a look.
Jackie was sitting cross legged on the porch swing, facing her sister. She nudged Bea with her toe. “What about Ice, Ice Baby ?”
Bea laughed then. “You’ve done enough damage to my reputation as is. Shut up before I kick you off the swing.”
Cooper’s eyes smiled, and I felt like his gaze lingered on Jackie a bit too long. I frowned.
Jackie and Bea were both very beautiful, but in completely different ways. Jackie’s hair was cut at the shoulders, almost black in color. Her skin was lighter than Bea’s, her features more angled. She had a fiery, fierce kind of beauty, different from Bea’s feminine softness.
I was so lost in watching her, I couldn’t keep up with the conversation which had turned to oldies.
“I love oldies.” Bea said.
Jackie nodded. “Play something by the Beatles. That group is your namesake after all.”
Bea explained. “Peter and my dad call me Beatles and Bee Gees because I played their songs when I was a little kid.”
Jesse spoke up. “What about Here Comes the Sun ? That’s a Beatles song, right?”
“Oh, I love that one!” Bea’s fingers immediately launched into one of the happiest tunes ever written. This time, she played and sang. The song was about the sun finally coming out and melting away all the snow. A fist of emotions lodged in my throat, and I wasn’t sure why.
Sounded like those words were written especially for Bea.
For about thirty minutes, Bea shuffled through songs, playing requests.
Cade’s chair was pressed against Jesse’s, and he leaned on his dad’s shoulder, listening and watching. He was typically very quiet, so we were all surprised when he chimed in. “I’ve got one. But I don’t remember what it’s called.” His gaze fell to his hands which were twisting in his lap. “My mom liked a song about rainbows.” His voice tightened. “Something about maybe being on a rainbow or seeing a rainbow…I can’t really remember. She used to sing it to me because she said it would make me have good dreams.”
My eyes flicked to Jesse in time to see his jaw tighten with a swallow. He looked down at Cade. “I can’t believe you remember that.”
Cade shook his head against Jesse. “I don’t really. Just a little.”
Bea asked, “Is it Somewhere Over the Rainbow ?”
Jesse nodded, his brow furrowing. His fist squeezed the top of Cade’s chair. My stomach twisted. No doubt he was mentally preparing to have his heart ripped to shreds. But Jesse was cream of the crop as far as fathers went. He wouldn’t deny his son the opportunity to hear the song.
“Do you want me to sing Cade? Or just play the tune?”
“Sing.”
“Okay.” She looked to me. “Tag, can you Google the lyrics?”
I pulled out my phone, found them, and handed it to her. The atmosphere had shifted. Our laughter and smiles turned somber.
Every year, Jesse took Cade on a two week road trip that was somehow significant because of Laurel. Yesterday, I’d asked Jesse how their trip went. He said it was tough, and that he had a difficult time not feeling angry that his son’s memory of Laurel was slipping away.
But here Cade was. Recalling pieces of a song.
Pretty sure there were tears on Jesse’s face before Bea even began.
Her fingers easily plucked out the tune and her voice wrapped around us like a blanket. My own eyes heated as I listened to the words. Laurel couldn’t have known those lyrics would’ve aged with aching accuracy.
Bea’s voice broke, a tremble of her own heart breaking through on the second chorus.
I glanced at Jesse as he swiped his cheeks. Cade sniffled. Cooper sat stock still. Jackie had her eyes closed and her head resting back against the swing chains .
A moment of reverence. For Laurel.
Something I’d never felt before wrapped its tentacles around my midsection. The feeling was so strong it made me feel almost sick, but the longer I sat in it, the more peace I made.
This was what families did for each other, wasn’t it?
Cry together. Make space for pains that never heal. Offer chances to be real. Shoulder heartaches.
When Bea finished, crickets and bullfrogs immediately filled the silence.
A few quiet moments ticked by. Then Cade whispered words meant for his dad. We all heard them though and my own vision blurred.
“Do you think—” Cade stopped, tried again. “Do you think she’s there, Dad? Over the rainbow?”
Jesse's exhale was loud, hoarse. “Yeah, buddy. I know she is.”
Cade said, “You sound like her, Miss Bea.”
Bea swiped her cheeks on the sleeve of her shoulder. “Thank you for letting me play such a special song, Cade.”
“Will you play it again before you leave? I don’t want to forget it again.”
“Of course. Ask anytime.”
Jesse pinched the bridge of his nose, conveniently out of Cade’s line of vision. I felt for my friend. No doubt he’d fall apart later. And I knew as well as he did, falling apart without dipping back into substance abuse was a difficult feat. Not for the faint of heart.
I’d check on him.
Bea played two more songs, no doubt trying to lighten the mood a bit, but the attempt fell. Jesse and Cade decided to scoot back to their cabin. Cooper begrudgingly mosied back to the barn. Then Jackie smacked her thighs and said, “Well, I’ll leave you lovebirds to it.”
Lovebirds .
Spoken as if it was common knowledge.
When the front door shut behind Jackie, Bea whispered. “Do you think Jesse is okay?”
“Honestly, no. Probably not.”
“I feel bad. ”
“Don’t. You gave Cade a gift.”
“I know. But still.”
I stood and moved into the empty spot on the swing. I sat as close as I could, sliding down the swing until my body was tucked behind Glory’s neck. Bea leaned her head against my shoulder. Taking a long breath of her scent, I closed my eyes. The honey and almond was strong enough to get drunk on.
“How you feelin’?” I whispered.
“Fine.”
“Really fine? Or are you just sayin’ it?”
“Really fine. I haven’t been dizzy at all.”
“Good.” Hovering my lips over her forehead, I said, “You need to get some rest.”
“I took a three hour nap today.”
“Still.”
“I wanted to play some more.” She lifted her head and looked up at me. Her face was mere inches from mine. The desire to move her into my lap and kiss her coursed through my veins. “You want to stay with me for a little bit?”