Feeling This (12 page)

He leans down resting his hands against the
window, “Where ya headed off to this early?”

A smile spreads over my lips, “I should ask
you the same thing. Why are
you
so far away from home so early?”

He reaches in, carefully cradling my cheek
and shakes his head, “Kimber, how’d you get so beautiful?’

If I were standing right now, I’d probably
be a puddle at his feet. He was always so smooth with words. I always knew he
meant them when we were dating. But when I heard the rumors about the girls, I
didn’t doubt it because of his way with words. The anger I’ve felt at him for
the past month slowly dissipates.

“I’m goin to the Bruins Ranch on the other
side of town. I help Mrs. Bruin out with things.”

“I heard you are pretty busy taking care of
your mom and all. I wanted to catch you and ask if you could find some time for
a date.”

My ears prick up as he utters the word
date. Andrew Perry is actually asking me out on a date. Maybe I didn’t scare
him off after all. I can feel a blush spreading across my face as he leans down
closer to the window waiting for my answer.

“Um, yes, I think that would be okay.”

“Well when can you get some time?”

“How about tomorrow night? Work is usually
busy on a Saturday night, but I might be able to get Derek to cover for me.” I
say a silent prayer Derek will work for me.

He backs up and calls out as I start the
car back up, “I’ll see you at 6:30 tomorrow night.”

I nod shifting the gear into drive. The
smile can’t be wiped from my face and I do a little celebration dance all the
way to the Bruins.

Mrs. Bruin even comments on my mood when I
trip while climbing up the steps to the immense porch, “Kimber Maguire, is that
a smile I see? I haven’t seen that smile in a long time. And look at you, today
you are just glowing with that sweet dress.”

My grin widens but I keep my date to myself
still acknowledging her compliment with a thank you. I spend most of the day
entertaining the boys, playing with them on the WII. They have every game
involving sports possible and we go through just about all of them. Baseball
seems to be their favorite and they’re pretty good at it.

As lunch rolls around Mrs. Bruin comes in
and asks me to make lunch for the ranch hands. Usually she does this. I think
I’ve made meals for them only a few times in the three years I’ve been helping
out. Today she seems distracted though, hence my nannyish responsibilities.

I pack up brown paper bags with sandwiches,
bottles of water, apples, and homemade cookies. She always makes something home
baked for them. Once finished I carry the lunch bags out to a red wagon with
big all-terrain wheels. I used to pull the boys in this wagon across the
property out to the lake when they were little. They’re both too big for it
now. It takes me two trips to get all of the bags into the wagon. Including Mr.
Bruin, there are ten other men out in the fields herding the cattle and caring
for the land among other things.

One of the men left last week, Mrs. Bruin
was telling me. Mr. Bruin was trying to replace him because each man is pretty
vital with such a huge ranch. They were amazed when just last night someone new
showed up on the doorstep looking for work. She said it was just pure luck. She
confided in me that he’s from Dallas and certainly not a country boy but seems
to be a hard worker. Mr. Bruin wanted to give him a chance anyway.

I struggle to pull the wagon out to the
barn, a red two-story structure towering about an acre away from the main house.
They break there for lunch every day. It grows as I get closer. Mr. Bruin keeps
his hay supply up in the loft. Below there are stalls for the horses.  My flip
flops were not made for this terrain and my dress was not the most appropriate
choice of attire today. As I get closer, the men greet me by name. Sometimes
they come to the main house looking to fill the water coolers or on an errand
for Mr. Bruin. So I pretty much know most of them. Handing out the lunches I
avert my eyes as much as I can. Half of them have removed their shirts and it
makes me squirm staring at men’s half naked bodies who are twice my age.

Joe, one of the ranch hands calls out to me
when I turn away, “Hey Kimber, how’s that sister of yours? I hear she’s in
town.”

I spin back around and answer rolling my
eyes, “She is. But Joe, I’d stay away if I were you.”

“You know I can’t do that.” The rest of the
men start laughing at Joe’s declaration. Mike, the foreman, who has been here
forever, grasps Joe in a headlock ruffling his hair. I roll my eyes at them
again and continue walking. Joe is the closest to my age, at probably about thirty.
He’s been after my sister for years now. They met at the Duck one night and hit
it off pretty well. I don’t know why it didn’t develop into anything. If I were
to guess it’s because she can’t stay in one place for any length of time.

When I get to the last lunch, I spot the
newbie. His grey shirt is still on but it doesn’t leave much to the imagination
as it’s almost soaked through with sweat. He has broad shoulders leading down
to muscled arms that peek out of his sleeves. When he looks up, I can tell he
is closer to my age than any of the others. He’s sitting farther away from them
keeping to himself. He smiles apprehensively and takes the bag from my hand as
I hold it out to him, he quietly thanks me. I can’t help but stare, something
about him strikes me. His hair is dirty blonde, a darker shade than mine with
the front longer than the back. It covers half of his forehead, pushed
haphazardly to the side. His eyes are bright blue and I can’t seem to take my
gaze off of them. He looks away uncomfortably and I notice is angular jaw with
just a hint of stubble. Embarrassed, I turn to find the wagon.
Shit Kimber,
you just made a fool of yourself again.

Hurriedly, I make my way back to the big
house and continue my video game marathon with the boys after they finish lunch.
They love all of this attention.  When four thirty rolls around I sprint out to
my car, eager to finally call Heidi to tell her about my date with Andrew on
Saturday night. Maybe it is meant to be and four years ago just wasn’t the
right time.

Jordan

My mom’s figure in the rearview mirror
shrinks as the car careens to my unknown destination. All I know is that I
can’t breathe here so I need to leave. I guide the car onto highway sixty-seven
and head east; it’s as good as any other direction. It’ll take me into
Arkansas. Perhaps a complete change of scenery is what I need. Then maybe I’ll
swing down into Louisiana.

 But once the landscape does start to
change, I begin to second guess myself and wonder if I should have just stayed
to face everything. The buildings become sparse as fields lay for miles on both
sides of the four lane road. The sun shines bright overhead with few clouds to
mask the heat. Once I turn onto highway thirty, nothing catches the eye for
miles but for a single house occasionally and numerous herds of cows and
horses.

I’ve pretty much been a planner my whole
life. Susan and I fit together in that way so well. We had planned for our
future together. She knew she wanted two children, a boy and a girl. She had
the wedding pretty much mapped out much to her mom’s dismay. That night at the
club, she announced to the table after I proposed for the second time, that it
was practically planned. She already knew where she wanted to hold the ceremony
and that she had found her dress. I think the only thing that saved her was the
fact that she hadn’t bought it yet. She wanted her mom and mine to see it first
to get their opinions. This appeased them a little. Planning was what she did
best. Driving off without a destination in mind is something she would have
never done.

The weekend Bree and David came to the
apartment to tell us about their engagement was one of the most memorable with
Susan. Bree burst through the door yelling, “Susan, where are you? He finally
did it! He finally asked!”

Susan was making lasagna and her hands were
covered in ricotta cheese. She started screaming as soon as Bree turned the
corner, hugging her and covering them both in cheese. They ended up on the
couch giggling out of sheer joy at Bree’s news.

We spent the night drinking wine and eating
Susan’s impeccable cooking while sitting out on the back deck watching the sun
set. It was great to see her so happy for her best friend.

Later that night after we drained a couple
of bottles of wine and after Bree and David left, I led her into the bedroom.
She was a little tipsy but I couldn’t wait. Bree was finally engaged so it was
Susan’s turn. I had made the decision to wait because of the long history she
had with Bree. I knew that night, that it was finally time.

I released her hand and told her, “Stay
right there and close your eyes, okay?”

She frowned and looked at me quizzically
asking, “Jordan Rhodes, what are you up to?” But she acquiesced, closing her
eyes with a sweet smile. I remember turning around to stare at her for a moment
before going to get the ring from its hiding place in my closet. She had a
purple sundress on that hugged her tall frame. Her hands were fidgety, not able
to rest at her sides. Once I found the ring, I came over to her from behind and
rested my hand on her hip. I kissed her neck, creating those goose bumps I knew
would show up. I grabbed her hand coming around to face her and rested all of
my weight on my knee. I whispered, “You can open your eyes now.”

The surprise and delight on her face when
she saw me holding out the ring, is a memory I will never forget. She started
shaking and fidgeting more, unable to stand in one spot. I smiled at her and
asked, “Susan, will you marry me?”

Her other hand went to her mouth as tears
cascaded down her cheeks. She nodded her head vigorously and said, “Yes” in a soft
voice.

I stood up and gathered her in my arms. She
wrapped her hands around my neck and her legs around my waist and I carried her
to the bed.

I shake myself out of the memory spotting
the next exit, Mount Vernon. I really need a drink right now. My heart aches
from thinking about her. I glance at the time on the dash, 2:00. Steering the
car to the exit ramp, I find myself surrounded by fields of dull brown grasses
in all directions. I stop at a single stoplight and notice the road extends
with a sign pointing to the North for a Mount Vernon place. The light turns
green and I head toward this town, hoping for a bar that will be open this
early in the day. The two lane road quickly turns to four lanes in a short
stretch that must be the town. This is like night and day from Dallas. Halfway
through the two mile town, I find a bar with wide white letters across the
front displaying, The Ugly Duckling. Next to it is the sorriest looking
florescent green duck I have ever seen. This seems as good a place as any. I
pull in to the fairly large parking lot noting not many cars are here.

I approach the double wooden doors,
reaching out to the one on the right. As I’m pulling the door open, a man comes
stumbling out of the bar running into me. He rests both of his hands on my
shoulders leaning forward, grumbling, “Sorry man.”

His breath is horrid, stinking of beer and
cigarettes. I turn my head trying to avoid it. He stumbles farther out, removing
his hands while another man comes out of the door I’m holding open. He yells
after the man, “Tommy, go get a job.”

He turns to me and apologizes, “Sorry about
that. Sometimes the regulars cause trouble.”

I nod and follow him as he turns to head
back in. The lighting is dim and smoky even though there are only three people
sitting at the bar. The man from the door comes to face me from behind the bar
and asks placing a coaster down in front of me, “What can I get ya?”

He is tall and skinny. When he speaks, it’s
apparent one of his incisor teeth is missing. His hair is long and scraggly but
he is clean shaven.  His black t-shirt displays the same letters and awful duck
as the sign outside.

“Just a couple of beers, anything you have
on tap will be fine.”

I glance around as he turns to get my beer.
A few seats down are two men probably in their late sixties sitting and
smoking. Both seem disheveled and weary. To my right is another man, this one
is unshaven and badly needs a haircut. His skin is tanned as if he’s spent a
lot of time out in the sun.