Finding Home (8 page)

“The water tower?” I asked, turning to look at him with an eyebrow raised.

“This thing is a work of beauty,” he said, stopping the truck at the base of it and turning off the engine and then hopping out of the truck.  I sat there for a second, before getting out myself.  He was standing at the base of the tower, his neck craning up, staring at it. 

“It’s just a water tower, Brandon.”

“No, it’s not,” he said, still looking upward. “It’s home.”

The tone in his voice was low and serious and I heard a hint of hope in there too.  I don’t know why I did it, but something was drawing me to him and a moment later, I was beside him, turning my neck upward, trying to understand what he was feeling as he stared at the hunk of metal. 

“They’d just started this thing when I left and when I got home and saw it was done…it was like this affirmation that life goes on.  The whole time I was gone, even with everything that happened, life went on here…” he said softly until I interrupted.

“It went on because of you,” I said, nervously resting my hand on his back as we stood there. “Because of you and your friends.” I felt his gaze on me and I turned my head to see he wasn’t staring at the water tower any more.  He was staring at me. “Thank you for that, Brandon.” My voice was quiet and there were tears in my eyes.  I was grateful for him and for others like him who sacrificed so much to give us the freedoms we often took for granted.

“Don’t thank me, Mandy.  It’s just what we do.” He walked away then, my hand trailing off his back and he made his way back to the truck, opening the tailgate so it fell open and he climbed into the bed. “The view’s even better from here,” he said, lying back, and I wondered if that was an invitation for me to join him.  I didn’t second guess my intuition and I walked over to the truck, hopping up onto the tailgate and scooting myself into the bed.  “Come here,” he said, patting the spot next to him.  I felt the nerves building as I moved myself so I was beside him.  I leaned back, folding one of my hands behind my head with the other resting at my side, just as his were.  Our eyes both stared up at the red letters and he was right, the view was better.  It was actually kind of spectacular, the lights shining up on it, as if it were some majestic wonder instead of a simple water tower in the middle of a Kansas wheat field and then I heard him start to sing.

“
Water tower, it sure is good to see you.  I’ve been away…way too long.  Water tower, like a lighthouse in a storm, you helped me find my way back home.”
  The sound of his voice singing the Jason Aldean song made me smile.  I’d never heard Brandon sing until he’d come home and there was something about his voice that touched me.  I could hear the pain and feel what he’d been through.  It was deep and a little raspy and spot on when it came to pitch. 

“I wish you’d sing more,” I said to him and I saw him smile a little in the light of the water tower.

“I’ve gotta have something to sing about.” He turned his head and grinned at me. 

“You’ve got something to sing about tonight then?” I pressed and he turned back to the water tower, the smile still on his face.

“I do,” he said, and then I felt him adjusting, his left hand coming down from where it’d been cradling his head.  It was holding mine a second later, his warm palm resting against mine and I curled my fingers around his. “You’re here.”

He inched closer so our bodies were touching and he lifted the hand he was holding to rest on his chest.  I could feel his heartbeat and we just laid there for a while, staring up at the water tower.  I wasn’t nervous having him so close.  I thought I’d be nervous.  It was Brandon, after all.  He wasn’t supposed to be lying next to me, holding my hand and making my heart beat too fast. 

“I didn’t think it’d feel this good to be home,” he said and I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye.  He was still staring up at the tower, a little smile on his face, but then he turned towards me, our eyes meeting. “And I didn’t realize how much I’d missed you.” I could feel the heat rushing to my face, but I didn’t look away. 

“I missed you too,” I said softly and he let go of my hand, turning on his side so he was propped up by one elbow, looking down at me in a way that caused my cheeks to flush even more.

“Did you think about me while I was gone?” he asked.

“That’s a stupid question.  Of course I did.”

“I thought about you.” His fingers brushed the side of my face, leaving a warm trail behind them. “You’re so good, Mandy.  You’re the best person I know.”

“You must not know a lot of people then,” I said with a quiet laugh.

“I know enough to know no one’s got a heart like yours.” He was brushing hair off my forehead now and my insides were nothing but a bundle of anticipation, wondering what he was going to do next. “You wrote me every week.  Every damn week.  You didn’t just email me.  You took the time to write me a letter in your own handwriting every week.  And I’m sorry I didn’t write you back more, but you don’t know what those letters meant to me.” I thought back to those weekly letters.  I hadn’t done it for recognition or for myself, but for him so he knew someone was thinking about him. “I kept every one of them under my mattress and I’d take them out sometimes on the worst nights.  When I read your letters…it was like I was home for a little while.  Thank you, Mandy.”

I could feel my eyes growing moist at his words.  The gratitude in his eyes was not something I was used to seeing in Brandon.  He was goofy and sarcastic and had given me nothing but grief since I’d first met him in kindergarten when he’d threatened to cut off one of my pigtails.  He seemed different now though. 

“You don’t need to thank me,” I said softly and then I decided to take a chance. “Was it hard…being in Afghanistan?”  My voice was nervous now.  He’d been so guarded about his time there and I hoped I wasn’t pressing him too much.

“Most of the time it wasn’t hard.  It was lonely though,” he answered and I waited to see if he’d say anything else. 

“What about…what about…when…when your leg…” I stammered when he hadn’t said anything.

“Like I said, I don’t really remember much.” He looked away for a second and the way his eyes stared off into nothing made me curious if he was telling me the truth.  Something told me he remembered more than he let on. “I’m just glad to be here now…with you.”

“Are you okay, Brandon?” I asked, propping myself up on my elbow so we were facing each other.

“You can stop worrying about me now,” he said with a gentle smile, running his hand along my shoulder. “I’m home and I’m fine.” I could see his physical wounds were healed, but I worried his emotional wounds were still wide open.

“I worried every day you were gone and when I heard what’d happened to you…” I said, my voice trailing off as I closed my eyes, thinking about the day I received the phone call from his mom. “I’ve never been so scared, Brandon.” It was my turn now to touch him.  I was nervous at first, my hand moving cautiously toward him, but when my fingers made contact with his skin, I could’ve sworn I saw his eyes close for a second as the grin on his face got a little bit wider, before opening his eyes again and I don’t think I’d ever paid attention to how pretty his eyes were.  Deep blue with specks of gray and silver.  It was like they went on forever and I wondered how I’d never noticed them before.

“I was scared too.” The tone of his voice caused my fingers to stop running along his arm. “I’ve never been so fucking scared in my life.” His voice was choking up and my thoughts started racing, trying to figure out what I should say to him.  He was opening up and I needed to find a way to get further into his mind.  He breathed in deeply and I watched as he swallowed hard. 

Nervously, I lifted my hand from his arm and started moving it down his side until it was on his thigh and then it stopped just above his knee when I felt the prosthesis.  I looked for any signs that I should stop, but he didn’t say anything and he closed his eyes again, his mind obviously lost in thought.

“Sometimes I think it’s still there,” he said, his voice low and weak. “I swear I can still feel it sometimes.  Phantom pain they call it.  Natures cruel joke, I guess.”

“I’m sorry,” I said gently, not knowing what else I could say.  His eyes remained closed, pain in every feature of his face and I moved my body closer to his, so my chest was pressed against his.  I brushed my lips over his then, just resting them there for a few moments.

“Kiss me again,” he whispered and I didn’t hesitate, pushing my mouth onto his once more.  I felt his lips start to move over mine slowly, just the right mixture of warm and wet, so they slid over each other perfectly.  His tongue ran over my lips encouraging me to let him in.  His mouth moved more forcefully over mine, yet still so gentle.  His hands wrapped around my waist, easing me on my back so the weight of him was hanging over me.  I don’t know how long we stayed like that, our mouths moving over each other, but what I did know was that it felt perfect.  He felt perfect. 

When he pulled back, he was gazing down at me, half of his mouth curled up in a smile as his eyes moved over my face while he ran his fingers slowly through my hair. 

“Are you okay with all of this?  Whatever the hell this is?” he asked me with his low, rugged voice and it was one of the few rare times I’d seen him nervous. 

“Yeah,” I replied quietly and I was relieved that he was just as confused by all of this as I was. 

He didn’t say anything else.  He just laid back onto the bed of the truck, pulling me down with him until I was resting on his shoulder as my body curled into his, my palm laying on his chest, right over his heart, which seemed to be beating as quickly as mine. 

Seven

It’d been a few days since that night at the water tower.  I hadn’t seen Brandon since then.  He’d had some doctor’s appointments and physical therapy in Wichita and I was busy working.  We’d exchanged a few texts, but I wondered if I was reading too deeply into what had happened between us lately.  I didn’t know what was going on between Brandon and me.  He didn’t know either.  He’d said so himself.  I did know I couldn’t stop thinking about him though.  I wondered if he was thinking about me too.  As I looked at myself in the mirror as I got ready for my shift, I doubted he was.  Brandon was cute and funny and Carver’s resident war hero.  Just as the incident with Dana had shown, his real estate had gone up and he could do better than me. 

I finished getting ready and then headed downstairs and grabbed some toast and juice before heading for the morning shift at the diner.  I liked working the mornings.  It was usually an older crowd and most of them were in good moods.  There were a few crab apples, but they were few and far between.

It was typical for a Friday morning.  A little slow, but the customers kept me on my toes.  My feet were aching half way through the shift though and I couldn’t wait to get home and kick my shoes off and do nothing but catch up on my TV shows.  I only had a few more hours to go and I was changing out the coffee pots when I heard the chime of the door, signaling another customer.  I turned to greet them, but then stopped, a slow smile spreading across my face when I saw Brandon standing there looking entirely too hot in his jeans and brown boots along with his plaid button-up shirt, rolled up to his elbows, a faded ball cap on his head.  I set the coffee pot down and wiped my hands on my apron before crossing the room to meet him.

“Hey,” I said, wondering if I should lean in and hug him or what.

“Got a table for one available?”

“Sure.  Right over here.”  Without thinking about it, I took his hand, leading him to a booth in the back.  He sat down and I put a menu in front of him. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“An orange juice,” he said and I smiled before turning and heading back to the counter, watching him out of the corner of my eye.  He was looking around and tapping his fingers on the table.  I felt the nerves kick in then.  Brandon didn’t make me nervous.  What made me nervous was wondering what this was and how we should act around each other.  I took a deep breath, picked up the orange juice and headed back to Brandon.

“Here ya go,” I said cheerfully, setting the glass down in front of him.  “Have you decided?” I poised my pen and paper, ready to take his order. 

“I have.  I’ll take the short stack and bacon on the side.” He handed me the menu, which I tucked under my arm and then spun around and went back to the counter, handing his order to the cook before tending to my other customers.  I snuck peeks at him as I walked around, but for some reason, I didn’t go back over to his table until his order was ready.

“One short stack,” I said, setting the plate in front of him. “Need anything else?”

“No.  I think I’m good,” he said, picking up a piece of bacon and biting into it.

“Alright,” I grinned nervously at him. “I’ll be back to check on you in a sec.”

I turned to leave, but then he grabbed my hand and I stopped.

“Why are you acting like this?” He laughed a little as he continued holding my hand. 

“Like what?”

“Like you’re just my waitress.”

“I am your waitress.”

“C’mon.  Don’t be so…Mandy-like,” he said, grinning up at me.

“I’m thinking that was an insult,” I said, meeting his eyes with mine.

“Not intentional.  I apologize.” He pulled me closer so I was leaning against the edge of the table. “You’re just acting so formal.  You seem kinda nervous.”

“I’m just busy.  I’m sorry,” I told him, knowing it wasn’t the exact truth. 

“Well, when you get a second, can I talk to you?”

“Um…sure,” I said hesitantly. “Let me just go check on my tables.  I’ll be right back.”

I wondered what he wanted to talk to me about that was so important he’d shown up at my work at nine in the morning.  He was nearly done with his pancakes when I got back to the booth he was sitting in and I slid in across from him after I’d checked on my other tables.

“What’d you wanna talk to me about?” I asked, glad to be off my feet.

“Well…” he began and I couldn’t help but notice he was the one who seemed nervous now. “What time do you get off?”

“Three.”

“Do you work tomorrow?”

“I’m supposed to,” I said and I thought I saw disappointment on his face. “Why?  What’s up?”

“My family’s having this get together or something…I dunno, some crap like that, up at my grandparents’ cabin.  I thought you could come.”

I sat there for a moment, looking at him across the table and I knew I wanted to say yes.  I wanted to spend more time with him.  There was no doubt about that.

“I’d like that,” I said and he seemed relieved.

“What about work?”

“I can get out of it.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.  It won’t be a problem.”

“Alright,” he said, a relieved smile spreading across this face. “Can you be ready to go by five?”

“Yeah,” I said, quickly running over everything I’d have to do, but I knew I could get it all done.

“I’ll pick you up at your house then,” he said, taking one final swig of his orange juice before standing up, reaching into his wallet and placing a twenty on the table. “Keep the change.” He winked at me and I just laughed as I watched him walk out the door.