Chapter Eleven
Levi
I leaned against the wooden headboard, guitar across my legs as I looked toward the ceiling. Then, setting the instrument aside, I tiptoed down the hallway and listened outside Marigold’s door.
Nothing.
Our argument still made me wince. She didn’t understand. The weight of her past, present, and future haunted me. If I had given her life, shouldn’t I keep her safe?
On the other hand, she was right. I couldn’t chain her to a radiator and expect her to be happy. She had to experience life, make mistakes, find friends, and choose a path.
I went back to my dad’s room and sunk into his desk chair.
Since learning about this miraculous gift of writing, my goal at the cabin had changed. No longer solely focused on unraveling the mystery of my father’s final days through his written words, now my quest was to unearth the journal that held the power to breathe life into its characters. Who did he write into existence? And who was my dad really?
To discover my dad’s colossal secrets, I knew that delving into each journal scattered around this bedroom would be my first step forward.
I flipped through the pages of a composition notebook resting on his desk. I might as well start here.
Two hours later, I determined the journals in this room contained snippets of books, scenes, and diary-like entries, but there was nothing from the year he’d passed, nor any characters that could have walked off the page.
“Who did you write, Dad? Did you tell them what you did?”
I considered confessing the truth about Marigold’s origins, but I worried she’d think I was crazy. After all, if she told me that she’d created me with ink and pen, I’d write her off as being “not all there.”
Writing someone into existence was the stuff of fairytales.
If Marigold and I were characters in a book . . .
An idea took root.
Was Marigold’s appearance a fluke? Or could I do it again?
With shaking fingers, I found the journal where I’d written The Mountain Girl and set the pen to paper.
Faithful as a friend true
He appeared on the mountain running through
With golden fur and a long snout
He stole his master’s thawing heart
Four paws and floppy ears
The dog was happy for all his years
I placed the pen beside the journal.
Now what?
Did Marigold come into existence the moment I wrote her—or was it sometime later? She could have stumbled through the woods for an hour before finding the cabin.
Less than a minute passed before I heard a bark.
My chair smashed against the bed frame as I rocketed up and raced out the front door. Blackness enveloped me as I careened to the driveway, rocks poking my bare feet.
A form rushed toward me and landed its paws against my stomach with a fearful whimper. I caught its furry head against my chest and tried not to vomit.
It worked. How was this possible? Fur wiggled between my fingers. The dog pushed off and ran toward the light that streamed through the open door.
“Wait!” I yelled. But the animal bolted inside faster than I could catch it.
Chasing after, I finally found the dog in the kitchen. It had parked itself by the refrigerator.
Observing him up close, the creature hardly resembled a typical canine. It was the ugliest mutt I’d ever seen. He was on the small side of medium with long droopy ears, a pudgy body, and a short yellow coat. He looked like a golden retriever who lost a fight with a beagle.
Maybe the trick to writing was simple. Don’t force it. When I had penned Marigold effortlessly, she had emerged as a vision of beauty and femininity.
Not so with this mutt.
The dog set his paws on my chest as I knelt to stroke his fur. I checked underneath to confirm that he was, in fact, a male.
“What’s your name?” I scratched behind his ears and almost gagged. He smelled like he hadn’t bathed in months.
He licked my cheek as I assessed him, holding my breath. He appeared to be young, but not a puppy. His chubby frame wobbled with eagerness, every movement exuding a contagious energy. The last time I owned a dog was back in high school when Tuck, our adventurous black lab, used to race after passing cars down the farm driveway.
“How ya doin’, buddy?”
In response, he licked my bicep.
“You hungry?”
His tail picked up speed, staring at me adoringly as I stood. I swore under my breath. The evidence that I could write physical bodies into existence chilled my fevered brow.
The dog barked.
“Shh. Just a minute. I’ll find you something to eat.”
Bark. Bark. Bark.
“Hush, boy. I’m moving.”
Marigold’s door swung open. “What’s going on?” She stepped into the light, clothed in cotton shorts and a tank top that left little to the imagination—especially since she wasn’t wearing a bra.
The dog sat beside me and inspected her. “I found him,” I said.
Her lips twisted as she studied him. “He’s rather unfortunate looking, isn’t he? Where did you find this . . . dog?”
“In the woods.”
Her expression strained. “The same way you found me?”
I couldn’t tell her the truth. Not yet. “Kind of.”
She knelt in front of the animal and plugged her nose. “He reeks. And he doesn’t even have a collar. Think someone’s looking for him?”
“Nope. He’s ours now.”
“How do you know?”
“I just do. Trust me. He needs us.”
She kept her thumb and forefinger pinched over her nose as she extended her other hand toward the creature. “What’s his name?”
The dog had a mischievous glint in his eye. I recalled the books Tom Sawyer and The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. Grinning, I said,“Finn, sit.”
He sat.
“I guess his name is Finn,” I said.
“Can we give him a bath?”
“Yes. I don’t want him jumping on the couch smelling like this. I’ll get a rope and some soap if you can keep him in the kitchen.
He tried to follow me.
“Wait,” Marigold said. She opened a cupboard and grabbed a bag of potato chips. “Want a treat, Finn?”
He abandoned me to wag his whole body in her direction.
Ten minutes later, we stepped outside and into the grass illuminated by the porch light. Marigold held the rope while I tried to lather Finn’s ever-moving body. “Can you hold him while I rinse?”
“Scrub him more.”
“Fine.”
Finn broke free from her grasp and shook, spraying soap, water, and dirt across her upper body.
She met my gaze with wide eyes, lips twitching. Neither of us could hold back our laughter.
Finn must have wanted to join in the fun,because he jumped against my stomach, pushing me off balance. I collapsed on my backside in the dirt.
Marigold rolled onto the grass and laughed harder.
Smirking, I corralled Finn and sprayed him with the hose.
Marigold’s laughs rang through the woods. I couldn’t remember a time when Lillian and I had laughed like this. I didn’t know it was even possible to fall in love with another woman. Because that’s what was happening. Although we bickered and I couldn’t force her to see life through my lens, I was definitely falling in love with her. She was by my side at one in the morning, helping me wash the ugliest dog in the world.
Finn slipped, and the hose jerked in my grasp, dousing Marigold as she sat cross-legged on the grass with the rope in her hands.
She shrieked. “Levi Shaw!”
“Sorry.”
The fabric of her tank top turned nearly transparent as she erupted into laughter.
By two o’clock we were back inside, changed into fresh clothes, and curled on the couch with our newest cabin vagabond. None of us wished to be separated.
And with Marigold’s feet snugly tucked under my legs and a contented dog nestled between us, a sense of completeness washed over me.
There was no doubt in my mind now. It was possible for a once-broken heart to feel whole again.
Marigold
Warm drool dribbled onto my arm, leaving a damp trail from Finn’s grinning jowls. He was sandwiched between Levi and me in the truck as we made our way to town.
“Gross. You have got to stop doing that,” I said with a grimace.
Finn wasn’t like other dogs. He had one or two loose screws, and his unconventional looks set him apart from the canine crowd. Granted, I wouldn’t love a cute dog drooling on me either.
Levi pointed to the glove box. “There should be some napkins in there.”
After finding the stack of industrial brown napkins, I used one of them to wipe away the drool. By the time I stuffed it into the door cupholder, Levi was pulling into the parking lot of the local tractor supply store.
“Are dogs allowed in here?” I asked.
“With a leash, but we don’t have one. I’ll just carry him.”
A sharp pain shot up my back as I hopped out of the truck. I straightened to keep the sore muscle from protesting. Sleeping on the couch was not the wisest idea.
Last night, my irritation with Levi faded when I caught sight of Finn wagging his body in the kitchen. Even though he’s not exactly attractive, he became an immediate part of our cabin life.
Today we awoke and realized that feeding him dry cereal wasn’t sustainable. He deserved proper dog food. And so, we indulged in a hearty breakfast of pancakes, including a portion for Finn, before heading to town.
Levi hoisted Finn out the truck, and I couldn’t help but chuckle at the dog’s signature goofy smile, his tongue wagging. I ambled a few feet behind, watching with an amused grin.
I would miss this once I reunited with my family. In two weeks, Jackson would fill in the gaps in my memory.
Perhaps I had a boyfriend. Brothers and sisters. Maybe even a dog.
The automatic doors slid open as we approached. We must look like a family of three traipsing into the store with groggy eyes from staying up half the night.
I would definitely make an effort to visit Levi after I found my old life. He had become my strongest memory.
This was a good moment, and I wanted to remember it.
Levi led us to the dog section. He tore a collar off its cardboard casing for Finn.
“I’ll hold that,” I said as he picked a matching blue leash.
With Finn tethered, we ambled through the dog aisles and shopped like first-time parents. We bought the necessities, like a bed, food, and bowls—but we also left with five different flavors of treats, a bowtie, three different-sized balls, brushes, shampoos, and a few other items we thought might be fun.
I held Finn on the leash as Levi made two trips to the truck to load our purchases.
“C’mon, Finn, let’s go home and fill up your doggie pool,” Levi said as we jumped into the truck.
His small back expanded and contracted as he breathed, tongue lolling as we left the store. I rolled down my window and let my arm rest in the breeze, fully content in this life I’d stumbled into.
Ezra
A pang of envy buzzed through me as I saw Levi and Marigold drive past. Her window was down, hair flowing in the wind. He was in the driver’s seat. If only that could be me.
Wait a second. What was I thinking?
I hardly even knew her.
But I wanted to know her better. Levi’s hostility hadn’t poisoned her. Surprising.
“Next.”
I looked away from the windows and strolled over to the bank teller’s station. Placing the water-damaged check onto the counter, I said, “I would like to cash this, please. The app won’t read it.”
“Of course, Ezra,” the woman said, taking the check.
A mere two minutes later, I found myself back in the driver’s seat of my Bronco, headed to the farm, thoughts consumed by Marigold.
Few things held my attention in this town. I knew all of the people and streets. Life was as simple and boring as the seasons. There were woods and fields and the mountain, but not a burgundy grape in sight.
Marigold was different in all the right ways. She attracted me like a vineyard, yet my chaotic schedule and restless spirit left me unable to fully engage with her. She belonged with Levi. I could not pull her into my sphere.
I was a dormant firework. One spark might destroy everything I’d hoped for.
To keep my dreams within reach, I had to remain invisible, a shadow in the background.
As I pulled up to my house, a figure on the porch captured my attention.
Jake stood from his perch and ambled over to me in the yard.
“What are you doing here?” I asked. “You can’t sit on my porch like a lazy oaf. You’re on the payroll.”
He shrugged like he didn’t care, but there was an air of electricity shooting from his twitchy fingers.
“I had to talk to ya.”
Fear darkened my vision. Had we been discovered? “What happened?”
“It’s my daddy,” Jake said.
Fred Tanner? The local dope dealer and troublemaker? “What’s wrong with Fred?”
“Remember when I told you I knew a guy who could traffic the pot ’cause I don’t do that no more?”
He had to be joking. Fred Tanner was his guy? I might as well have turned myself into Jackson. “I hope you’re kidding.”
“Naw,” Jake said. “He’s got his hand in operations from Nashville to Atlanta. He’s sorta like a contractor. He finds folks who do the growin’ and then he distributes. That way, those growin’ don’t worry ’bout who they’re sellin’ to. You follow?”
I understood what he said, and I hated myself for not asking who Jake’s trafficker was before we set up the barn. This was madness.
Taking a deep breath, I said, “There are a bunch of farmers between Nashville and Atlanta growing pot. But are you saying they don’t get caught because they’re not circulating it?”
Jake’s eyes lit like he’d done something right. “That’s the beauty of it, see? The growers don’t leave their homes. My daddy does all the drivin’ and movin’ of the product. No one’s the wiser.”
“Who does he sell to?”
“Don’t know. Don’t want to.”
At least Jake had some sense. “What if you’re arrested again?”
“You ever hear of my daddy goin’ to jail?”
Although he didn’t mean to imply that my father did indeed go to jail, the question stung regardless. “No,” I admitted.
“That’s why I’m doin’ it. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time with them guns, but if I keep myself outta trouble for the next twelve months, I can slip right back into my daddy’s business and nobody’ll blink.”
I wanted to lecture Jake on how he could do better. He could go to college or get a real job. But as the financier of this operation, who was I to talk? It wasn’t too late to pull out. Fred’s involvement made things sticky. I didn’t want a single thing to do with the man.
Momma stepped outside and hollered, “You coming to supper, Ezra? You can bring Jake.”
Jake’s eyes grew as wide as tractor tires.
“I’m making a fresh peach pie,” Momma said, as if that was the push I needed.
Even from the distance, I could see the flour on the pink tulip-patterned apron she’d sewn herself. She missed Lilly and wanted some company for dinner. I wouldn’t deny her that.
“Sure, Momma. We’ll be there.”
Jake waved in her direction.
“Dinner’s at six,” she said, then she patted her apron and disappeared inside.
I couldn’t burn the pot and erase the evidence. If I didn’t do this, Momma would lose the farm. Lilly was living with Jackson. Daddy was in prison. If she didn’t have her home, she’d only have me, the son who had failed her, and I would not lose her livelihood.
The pot must stay.
Jake gripped my arm as I tried to move past him toward my house. “I didn’t tell ya the bad part,” he said in a whisper.
My muscles tensed at the unwanted physical contact, and I jerked away. “What’s that?”
“My daddy wants to see the barn. Next week. Says he won’t traffic nothing until he knows how much we got.”
Fred must not come here. It would only raise suspicion. “Is it normal for him to be involved?”
Jake shrugged. “I dunno. I been gone awhile.”
“Tell him no.”
He shuffled as I tried to move past.
“I told him that,” Jake said, “but he said he’ll come anyway.”
This was pure stupidity. “Does he want us to get arrested?”
“He says it’s just the one time. I told him next Wednesday ’cause that’s a quiet day here. He’ll arrive at three.”
Jake shrunk back from my stare. Sounds like I didn’t have a choice. I’d make sure Fred knew he wasn’t welcome. “Make sure you drive your truck. I don’t want any unfamiliar vehicles on my property. Understand?”
“Yes.”
“One more thing,” I said. “Put on something nice for dinner with my Momma.”
He nodded. “Yes, sir. Wouldn’t dream of nothin’ else. Can’t believe she’d allow a guy like me at her table.”
“She’s good and decent like that. Just don’t be late.”
Once I was alone on my porch, I sank into a cushioned chair and surveyed the land I was risking my freedom to protect.
Only the faint scent of manure accompanied me.