17. Lindee
LINDEE
“Fuck, it’s cold.”
Yes, yes it is. Despite the beautifully warm spring days we’ve been having, the temperature has still been dropping quite a bit at night. Making our up-before-the-sun, early morning adventure more than a little frigid.
“Yes, but that’s part of the point,” I remind April, looping my arm through hers as we walk toward the group gathering in the far end of the parking lot of the old mill.
“When was the last time we even joined Wash Day? High school? There’s a reason for that, you know. Because it’s fucking cold.”
“Well, we’re doing it today.”
Because I need a distraction…
I don’t know how this town tradition got started—although I probably should—but “Wash Day” has been going on for decades. Every third Thursday of the month, the same group of old-timers gathers here, by the waterwheel on the old mill, and jumps into the creek at first light. Naked.
They claim they are washing their cares away, and that’s where the name came from, but given who some of them are, I’m not sure how true that is.
For many years the event was only open to the men of the town, but slowly they opened it up to everyone.
While there are some women who join in regularly, it’s still mostly men.
They’re the only ones crazy enough to jump into that freezing water au naturel, hootin’ and hollerin’, risking hypothermia along the way on a regular basis.
“So, what’d you do? Just leave him in your bed while you snuck off to go skinny-dipping with half the town?”
“It’s not half the town,” I jeer. “And no, I didn’t. I told him that I couldn’t see him last night because I had an early morning commitment. He understood.”
I think. Brandt said he did. Still, there was no missing the disappointment written on his face. Or inside my chest. Which is why I need the distraction. The space. Because Brandt Rawlins is under my skin.
I like him. A lot. Way more than I should.
These last couple of weeks of having him here have been…
different. Unique. Special. A whole laundry list of other flowery words that I could use but shouldn’t because there is no future in this.
His life is in Georgia. Mine is here. When the whole kerfuffle between our brands is finally settled, he’s going to go back.
Although the longer he stays, part of me can’t help but wonder if he’s also putting off a resolution so that we can spend more time together. A thought that is only making it hard not to fall for him.
But that stops today. I’m going to turn this around. In the words of Rodgers and Hammerstein, “I’m Gonna Wash That Man Right Outa My Hair.”
Or something like that.
“Lind…” April says, stopping at the edge of the grass and turning to face me. “Is liking him really such a bad thing?”
“Yes. No. I…I dunno…” My answer stumbles out of me like marbles out of a bag, each one plopping down with a heavy thud. I sigh, knowing that I don’t have to fully understand my feelings with April. “I just don’t want to be completely heartbroken when he leaves.”
“And a naked plunge into an ice-cold creek at o’ dark thirty is going to help?”
“It’s at least going to distract me long enough so that I don’t think about him every waking minute of this day.”
“You sure about that?”
I scoff. What kind of question is that?
“Yes.”
“Because he’s here.”
What?!
April nods behind me, so I whip around, my heart leaping into my throat. This can’t be. It’s not possible. Yet…that is most certainly Brandt headed toward us right now.
How on earth did he even know about Wash Day?
“Better go get him before…” April pauses, not for dramatic effect, but because she’s cut off by exactly what I’m sure she was about to say. “Nope, too late.”
My eyes go wide, a new panic replacing my initial shock as Marian Berry—better known as old maid Marian around town—steps in front of Brandt, stopping him dead in his tracks.
Already naked, and not the least bit shy, the artificial redhead who is the same age as my mother cocks her hip as she greets our newcomer.
“Oh, this isn’t gonna end well…” April mutters.
No, it’s not. We need to rescue him. Old maid Marian somehow thinks that it’s still the 1960s and she’s Ginger from Gilligan’s Island.
I rush over there, my legs moving double time, crossing the grass at record speed.
“I’m Brandt, ma’am,” he says, swallowing uncomfortably. He’s doing everything he can to keep his eyes focused straight ahead, Marian’s loud and proud nudity doing plenty of talking on its own.
“Are you new here? I’m pretty sure I’d remember a young stud like yourself,” Marian flirts, reaching out and stroking Brandt’s arm.
“Just here on business.”
“Brandt’s company is partnering with Tennessee Trouble,” I jump in, hoping that it’s a rescue. I watch as Brandt’s eyes relax slightly when he sees me, the rest of his body still as tight as a circus high wire.
“Oh, how nice.” Marian turns to me, giving Brandt a break from the show. “And we don’t often see you here for Wash Day, Lindee. What’s the honor?”
Errrrrrr…
“It’s been awhile, and I thought maybe this could help provide some…inspiration.”
Yeah, that’s it. Inspiration. That’s what I’m after. A good old-fashioned cleansing of the mind to make way for new ideas. Simple, believable, and not all that untrue.
“Mmmmm.” She looks me up and down, eyes flicking over to Brandt and then back to me. “May you find what you’re looking for. Wash Day does have a way of bringing clarity.”
Giving us a wink, she wanders off, swishing her hips back and forth more exaggerated than Jessica Rabbit. There’s a part of me that thinks I should be embarrassed, worried about what this says about my town. But at the same time, she’s part of what makes Trouble special.
“She’s…unique,” Brandt comments when she’s out of earshot.
“Indeed. She’s very proud of everything she’s got going on there. If you let her, she’ll tell you all about the amazing health benefits of our little polar plunge, but we locals really know she likes people to see her without her bathing suit.”
“She is in impressive shape for someone of her age.”
“She should be,” April injects, not bothering to hide the snark in her voice. “Paid for enough lipo to fill a whiskey cask.”
I elbow April, unable to believe she just said that. Brandt chokes out a laugh, enjoying the commentary.
“So, this is your early morning commitment,” he says, ignoring April’s comments.
“Err…yeah…”
Shit. This is what I do believe we call busted. Not that I lied. Outright. I was just more than a little vague about said commitment, making it sound like a work thing rather than…this. Rather than admit that I need some space because I am starting to like him way too much.
“Didn’t take you for the polar plunge type.”
“I’m not, exactly. But every now and then…town tradition, after all.”
“So I hear.”
“Just how did you hear about Wash Day?” April asks, making sure we know she’s still here.
Not helping, April…
“I met Jules at Grind Away the other day. We got to talking and he invited me to join in.”
God bless our local coffee shop owner, giving away all our secrets. The man has a gift for gab, making him the perfect person to run such a spot. But with the way he shares things, it’s surprising that we don’t have more tourists show up to locals’ hot spots.
“He and his brother, Verne, have been in charge of organizing Wash Day for almost twenty years now,” I say, not sure how else to respond.
“That’s what he said. Apparently they took over from their uncle?
” I nod, confirming. “Told me all about how the event started back in the late 1800s with the miners, who truly only bathed the once a month, but that it turned into more of a social thing in the forties. Although, apparently the skinny-dipping part didn’t come until the sixties. ”
Wow, Brandt now knows more about this than I do. Look at him go.
“Yup. The idea now is that they are washing away their troubles,” I add.
“Because the water is fucking freezing, so they are too cold to give a damn about anything,” April chirps, shivering.
“It’s quite the turnout though. I see Norm and Cliff are here.”
Huh?!
“Norm and Cliff?”
Brandt smiles, the wide toothy grin sending a shiver through me that I know has nothing to do with the chilly morning air. It does, however, make me want to curl up in its warmth, while resting my head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat.
“Those two guys over there.” He points toward the crowd gathering at the water’s edge, but it’s clear who he means. “Saw them the other day at the Post. They reminded me of Norm and Cliff from Cheers.”
I whip back to him. “You were at the Post?”
“Yeah…I popped in for a drink, thinking it might be quieter than one of the places on High Street. Those two caught my eye. They were pretending to play Go Fish, while keeping an eye on the window. I didn’t figure out why before…”
Before…
The way he trails off lets me know there’s more to the story. More that I want to know. Badly. I don’t get the chance to ask though.
“They were on Crick Watch,” April offers.
“You’ve seen the bright yellow bikes around town, right?
The ones that you can grab for free to get around?
Well, there’s a walking slash bike path along the creek, that leads right past the Post. And right before you get there is a rather awkward turn in the path, that if you aren’t paying attention, or have had too much Tennessee Trouble, you veer off and end up in Trouble Creek.
They keep a daily tally on the wall of how many tourists end up in there. ”
“The blackboard, got it.”
I look back over at the two old men wearing matching Speedos, laughing to myself. Those two are a set of characters, I’ll give him that. Both born and raised here, I can’t imagine this town without them. Or their antics.
“That’s Ralph and Mortimer,” I tell him. “Morty is the mailman, coincidentally. But Ralph runs the hardware store. When they’re not at the bar, of course.”
“Of course.”