Chapter Three #2
“If you like them, then just wait until later.” He grinned as his eyes danced over to meet mine. “What are the chances I can steal her for a dance?”
“Go for it. I was actually just about to grab some air,” I said, pointing toward the barn’s open doors.
Thank you, Maggie mouthed before twirling her body into Booker’s.
“Can I get another whiskey on the rocks with a splash of grenadine?” I asked the bald bartender who was leaning against the wooden wall next to the bar.
“A whiskey with grenadine? Did I hear that right?”
“Yes, please!”
“All right, well, that’s a first. Coming right up.”
The buzz from the first drink had made its way to my head, and apparently for the rest of the partygoers too, because the dance floor had filled in quickly and everyone was dancing in rhythm.
And in pairs.
Dropping a few dollars in the tip jar, I swiped my drink from the bar and snuck outside. The night air clung to my nostrils as I inhaled a massive breath.
“Didn’t think about the whole no dance partner thing…” I quietly admitted to myself.
The October breeze was flirting with fall. There was a slight chill smooshed between the heavy Tennessee humidity that hinted at cooler weather.
Fall in Quincey Falls was something everyone needed to experience, but the couple of weeks right before?
That was something you had to see to believe.
The changing of the trees led to the most beautiful sea of fire, each tree a flame that couldn’t be contained.
The air smelled slightly sweet with a puff of smoke, hinting bonfire season was upon us and relief from the brutal summer heat was near.
But most of all, the solitude that lingered within the hills was more precious than gold.
I peered to my left and then right, landing on a deserted patch of solace that overlooked the Appalachian Mountains. The exact kind of spot I was in search of—quiet and secluded.
I pushed myself toward the break in the trees. The man-made music quieted behind me as the nature-made sounds replaced it. I stood and took in the calmness around me, letting it bring a sense of reprieve, both from the party and from the imaginary reins I’d been holding on to so tightly.
As I stared at the stars, I was reminded of all the end-of-summer parties from the past—the ones where the goodbye was drenched in sadness—but this one was laced with something different.
This goodbye was one I was eager for. The end of summer signaled a deeper ending for me, a sense of closure I desperately needed.
“Thank god,” I breathed.
“Sometimes that’s all you can do.” I felt my body jolt as a gravelly voice came from behind me. “Thank god, I mean. Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”
His voice was just as deep the second time, causing chills to prick my skin.
“It’s okay, I just wasn’t expecting anyone else to be out here,” I muttered.
My head shifted to get a better look, but under the dim light of the crescent moon and the canopy of massive Black Oaks, it was hard to make out anything more than a silhouette topped with a trucker hat and what appeared to be dark hair flowing out from all sides.
“Just needed a little bit of fresh Tennessee air and a better view of the stars.”
I nodded. “I get that.”
“I’m right there with you though. This place is a close second to heaven itself,” he continued, his large body leaning up against the tree a few feet behind me.
“It really is,” I agreed, pulling my gaze back to the abyss of darkness. “Sometimes I find myself desperate for relief from all of”—I motioned toward the barn—“that. Ya know?”
“I do. I really do.”
“When things get wild and feel out of control, it’s so easy to feel overwhelmed, to let all the chaos consume you.
” I wrapped my arms around my lower half.
“The noise gets so loud, it’s impossible to remember that we’re all just a bunch of people trying to figure this shit out.
” I swayed from foot to foot, the tension in my shoulders disappearing.
Woah. That was a lot.
Normally, I’d feel the need to say sorry, but the urge wasn’t there. Maybe if I just stood there, he’d leave.
Thankfully, the cicadas filled the silence with their own conversations.
“Like sometimes the noise just needs to be drowned out with silence,” he casually replied, almost as if he wasn’t put off by my complete and utter brain dump.
My head swiveled, making another attempt to catch a glimpse of who I was talking to, because those were not the words I was expecting. His face was shrouded in shadows under his hat, but the gold chain that hung around his neck caught the moonlight.
“Exactly, actually,” I breathed. “It’s wild, the silence in these hills is sometimes the only place I can hear anything at all.”
“That’s because these hills have a way of healing.
The whispers in the wind. The reassurance in the breeze.
The hope in the stars.” His voice lingered between us.
“It’s the only place that’s ever been able to provide me with any real direction.
Guess it makes sense then, why I came back here,” he said, a forced chuckle rolling out from under his breath.
That was the first time I picked up on his Southern accent. It was strong, but in a subtle way. His words had an extra drawl to them, enough that I could pick up that he was from somewhere south of the Mason Dixon line.
His thoughts were so prepared, perfectly said, like he’d been waiting to say them for a long time. I wanted to ask him more, but that felt too intimate, and the moment had already felt undoubtedly close for two strangers conversing in the dark.
Searching for words wasn’t something I was accustomed to, but I found myself struggling to find the right ones. Probably because I was intrigued. So much of what he’d said felt personal. Over the course of the last couple of months, this place had healed me.
“Well, it’s the only place that’s every provided me with any real direction too. Guess it makes sense then, why I’ve never left,” I responded.
A commotion behind us pulled me from my internal spiral as the crowd grew louder.
“I could stare up at these stars all damn night, but unfortunately, it looks like the chaos is calling my name,” he said. He pivoted toward the barn, but only for a second before he faced me again. “And don’t worry, you’re not the only one without a dance partner.”
Despite my best efforts, the only glimpse I got of him was when he walked under the dangling lights that had been strung up across the field behind the barn. His cowboy boots, blue jeans, and faded denim shirt were all I could make out, and that wasn’t much help.
My stomach knotted as my eyes intently searched the crowd, desperate to catch one more look at him.