11. Josh #2
I hadn’t missed the look Dove threw my SUV before we slid into our seats. Not quite disapproval but… something like it. I wanted to ask, but something stopped me, unwilling to break the tentativeness of the moment.
As she’d suggested, we worked together to get the animals fed, everything else minor enough to wait until we got back.
When I’d finished watering and feeding the chickens, their impatient clucks loud in the hush of the morning, Dove was there waiting for me, petting Omen, who was perched close by on a fencepost. I don’t know why I’d expected to end up going into town alone but seeing her standing there waiting for me was a surprise, albeit a good one.
The drive into town was quiet, neither one of us breaking the silence that had seemed to extend between us.
The urge to crack a joke, or simply start talking, hung in the back of the throat.
I didn’t care what we talked about, so long as it stopped this awkwardness between us.
The memory of last night didn’t just hover over us like a cloud, so did the years I’d been gone, reminding us that there was plenty we didn’t know about each other now.
Years worth of things we’d missed out on.
I turned the radio on low to see if that would help dissipate the thickness of our silence, but it only seemed to highlight the fact neither one of us were talking.
A twangy country artist crooned about love through the speakers, and I itched to switch it, but I kept my hands tight on the steering wheel, afraid a station change might be too much of a tell.
It was a relief when we finally pulled up to old Dell’s store front, a favorite for the local farmers around here, handy for anyone in a quick bind. Dove hopped out before I’d even unclipped my seatbelt, as if she, too, was stifled by the heaviness growing in the car ride over.
I exhaled a steadying breath before I opened my own door and stepped out.
It had never been so hard to be near her before, never so tough to stop myself from little urges like reaching over and brushing away the stray lock of hair that had fallen into her eyes.
I wanted to invade her space, trace her lips, and taste her smile.
While I’d always had those impulses, I’d never struggled so much to control them before.
It was as if time and distance had made Dove more potent to me, the exact opposite of what I’d hoped it would do.
I imagined reaching over the whole ride over, and her reaching back, like I swear she had last night.
My hands ached from where they’d clenched the steering wheel tightly.
I cleared my throat and slammed the door behind me, waiting for the little beep to indicate it locked.
Dove snorted from where she was leaning against one of the posts along the storefront, supporting it’s sun-faded red awning.
“What?” I asked, pocketing my keys.
She shook her head as I approached, following behind me into the store. I held the door open for her, and a bell jingled above our heads.
“Nothing,” she replied airily. As she passed, I caught the subtle smell of her shampoo, the same strawberry scent she always used that made me want to call up the company and demand they tell me just what they put in it that had it smelling so damn mouthwatering.
With the decadent assail on my senses, her snotty reaction toward my car was long forgotten.
Entering behind her, the sweet scent she left in her wake was quickly overtaken by the mix of leather, grain, and sawdust unique to Dell’s store.
One whiff and it had me careening back in time, when I’d accompanied my dad as a boy here, or when I was older, tasked with picking up what he needed by myself.
There had even been a few times Dove had tagged along, hopping up into my old Chevy, windows down and sun shining, just the two of us relishing in the escape from the farm, if only for an hour.
There were plenty of things I missed, but those I missed the most. The deep bone memories of home, of family .
There were times in the recent years I’d been gone where I’d gotten so lonely I had nearly broken down, phone in hand, ready to call my dad, or worse, Dove , as if she’d even understand the reason behind why I was gone, or how badly I wished to come back but couldn’t.
“Well, lookie who it is,” came a voice, soft and worn with age.
Following it was old Dell, one hand on a wooden cane and the other raised in greeting as he carefully walked around the counter.
Atop his head was the ever-present hat he wore advertising his store, and the overalls he always sported practically hung from his thin frame.
The only difference I could see were the extra lines deepening his face, but his eyes glowed just as bright as they always had whenever he saw a customer.
“Hiya, Dell,” came Dove’s sweet reply, her smile warm and welcoming.
“Good to see you, Dell,” I replied, and meant it. When I left, I hadn’t imagined I’d miss more than just my family and friends, but there was a hole in the shape of this town in my heart. It was healing slowly the more time I spent back, and I wasn’t sure how I was going to leave it again.
One thing at a time , I reminded myself. Leaving was the last thing I was thinking about right now, what with Dove being the only one taking care of the farm. Especially after last night.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Dell continued in astonishment, “is that really Joshua Hex standing before my own two eyes?” He squinted, wrinkles intensifying, as his eyes trailed up to meet mine.
I chuckled uncomfortably, feeling chastised. “In the flesh.”
“Been a while, boy.” Then, as if reminded why I was here, his eyes softened, and he looked at us both with sadness lining his face. “Sorry to hear about your folks.”
Our thanks were murmured solemnly.
“Woulda been at the funeral if it weren’t for this damn leg”—he gestured to it with an annoyed flap of his hand—“but it was raining something fierce that day, and it had me down for the count. Mighty pissed I was.” He shook his head gravely.
“Your folks were good people. I wanted to pay my respects.”
“That’s all right.” Dove smiled gratefully at Dell. “You were just as good back to them, and that’s what matters most.”
Grief tinged her voice, and I yearned to pull her in for a hug. Instead, I nodded in agreement. “You were a good friend to them, Dell.”
In true Dell fashion, he cleared his throat, waving away the sadness as if it hung in the air. “None of that now, just how us folks do around here, innit?”
He limped past us, heading over to a stack of burlap feed bags.
“Well, I guess there’s still a farm to run in the meantime, isn’t there?
” He gestured to the pile. “Need help movin’ these?
I can call my great-grandson, Nicky, to help.
He’s just in the back. I had him pile them up for me, but I didn’t know you’s were coming by so early.
I would’ve had ‘em set out front, ready’n waitin’. ”
“That’s okay,” I reassured him with a shake of my head. “I got it.”
“ We got it,” Dove reminded me, hip checking me out of the way to grab a feed bag and heft it up. She threw me an unimpressed look as she heaved it up on one shoulder, easy as you please, so she could open the door and exit.
Dell threw me an amused smile. “You sure you got this?”
For some reason I didn’t think he was talking about the pile before me.
“I hope so,” was all I could manage to say in reply, still transfixed by how easily Dove had swung that fifty-pound feed bag atop her shoulder, the skin of her biceps straining taut over hidden muscle.
He chuckled, turning to limp back toward the counter. “You can square up when you’re done,” he called over his shoulder.
The bell over the door chimed again, and I turned just in time to see Dove slip back into the shop.
As I pulled my wallet out to pay, she headed deeper into the store, aiming for an aisle farther back.
Dell was busy calculating, old fashion as he was, licking at a pencil and slipping on his readers before pecking away on an ancient receipt calculator.
A few minutes later, Dove rounded the corner, several bags heavying her arms.
“I got a few extra things for the horses,” she explained, adjusting her grip on the items. “And I grabbed some treats for Omen.”
I waited for her to place them on the counter, tack it to the bill, but she hastily added, “Don’t worry, I’ll pay for this.”
I looked at her oddly. As if I was worried about a few extra bucks. Even if I should be, considering the state of the farm’s finances I was beginning to work out. “Place it on the counter, Dove.”
She shook her head. “No, really, I can?—”
“ I got it ,” I stressed, persistent. “Put it on the counter and go wait in the car.”
Her lips twisted with reluctance. What the hell was there to be reluctant about?
I scowled, grabbing for the items in her hands. When they were stacked on the counter so Dell could include them, I ordered more firmly, “Go wait in the car, Dove.”
She cast me an annoyed look, grumbling under her breath at me as she spun around and stomped toward the door. “Fine, Daddy.”
Why that little brat …
I wanted to snip back, like I normally would, but it was like all the wind was knocked out of my lungs by that simple two-word sentence, one word hitting me like a lightning bolt to the chest. Even though her voice had been mocking, it had me gripping the counter, knuckles white with the sheer effort it took to hold myself up.
The strength left my knees, leaving me a shuddering mess, and I suddenly had the urge to pull Dove over my knee and spank her.
I’d never had that impulse with a woman before in my life , but it seemed lots of things buried sprung to life around her.
I was more than thankful for slow, old Dell taking his time on the other side of the counter, unable to see how her bratty jab had affected me.