Redeem Me (22 page)

I absolutely hate those fucking smiley faces.

I
’m tired and thirsty, but I have to get out of here. The cab pulls into the airport and I pray I can get a flight home this morning. Violet won’t be happy, but at most I’m missing the last breakfast. Maybe lunch, too, but our original flight was supposed to leave at 2:30 p.m. It’s not like we’re going to be doing much today. The seven of them have got to be hungover. The last few rounds I stuck to water, but they just kept drinking, progressing to shots by the end of the night. The girls at least had good reason. We were trying to repair the damage we inflicted on each other the night before. Friday night was awful.

The lady at the United counter hooks me up with an 8:10 a.m. departure to Tampa. I was hoping to avoid Tampa completely, but I’m still thankful. I’ve spent the entire weekend thinking of Jason and trying to appear as if I was having the best time at Violet’s bachelorette party. My justified fear of calling Jason or Noble in a drunken stupor kept my consumption in check last night. What exactly would I tell them?
I love you
, I guess. Tragic that it would work for both. At least I still hate Jason.

As I walk toward security, a young man in a suit too large for him hands me a card. I absently smile and continue walking. On the front there’s a picture of a sunbeam shining through a cloud, and on the back is a Bible verse:

I settle into my seat only twenty minutes after the cab dropped me off. The plane is practically empty. I text Julia that I’ve left. I’m sure they’re all still asleep, but if the plane goes down, it’ll be nice for someone to know I’m on it.

Julia’s rant of “You have no respect for the sanctity of marriage” still rings in my head. I’ve never seen her so mad. We have three weeks until the wedding to get all this worked out. If working this out is even possible. I’ve abandoned the need to understand what happened. Every theory I come up with leads me back to trying to figure out Jason and Stephanie.

Tonight is not about thinking.

My meander down the concourse is filled with familiarity. The bar we stopped at for drinks is on my right. It feels like three weeks ago we were in here. Usually that’s a sign of a great trip. This one was more like a painful medical procedure. I see the bathroom and the chairs I sat in with Harlan. The sadness starts to creep up on me and my pace slows. My eyes linger on the chairs.

I look up and in an instant the whole world stops. My breath catches in my throat and my knees buckle slightly under me. I blink several times, not trusting my eyes. It can’t be him. It is, though. I’d be able to spot him a hundred yards away and covered by a blanket. Jason is sitting in an empty gate area. He’s slouched down with his arms crossed at his stomach and his hat pulled down over his eyes. I move to the wall of the concourse but never take my eyes off him. He doesn’t move. He’s asleep. My mouth is unbearably dry and I remind myself to breathe. It’s not possible, but I think I can smell his shampoo from here.

I discreetly move closer, hugging the wall as long as I can. I’m interrupted by bathrooms, closets, and kiosks of magazines, pretzels, and sodas. He still doesn’t move. When I’m less than fifteen feet from him, I stand and wait. I count in my head:
September, October, November, December, January, February, March, April
—eight months. Now that he’s sitting here in front of me, alone, it seems like eight seconds ago. I take a deep breath and my chest rises to my chin.

The seats in every row around Jason are empty. Three rows back, overflowing from a neighboring gate, are a woman with a stroller and an older gentleman reading the newspaper, but other than that it’s just Jason and me. Just as it always is…was.

I tiptoe the last fifteen feet and sit in the seat directly across from him. Our feet, both touching the ground, are separated by a mere twelve inches. His boots are the ones I bought him, his Old Gringo Mad Dogs. I remember having trouble finding a pair I thought did him justice. It seemed as if no boot was as beautiful as Jason.

His legs are crossed at the ankles and one pant leg is up slightly. His jeans are a deep, dull blue, that dark color that looks like it’s seen some dirt in its day. His thighs are enormous. His jeans tighten just above the knee and I remember exactly why: the muscles in his legs used to support his enormous chest. My eyes continue up his thigh and I rest my admiration at his zipper. I swallow hard and can feel my heart beating. The rest of my body kicks into gear and I shift in my seat. Jason moves slightly, too, as if sensing my need. His head tilts back a little and his arms loosen.

In his new position, I can see the belt buckle I gave him. It’s large and silver with a steer engraved on the front. At the sight of it, I bite my lower lip and try to fight back the tears. On the back I had JL + AO engraved the same way he carved it in a tree once. I remember taking a picture of the carving to the jeweler. The engraver said he’d never seen such attention to detail. I told him he’d never seen Jason Leer.

He loves me. He still loves me. All these months I’ve been telling myself he hasn’t wanted me, but he’s loved me every minute. Why didn’t I believe him when he said it?

His shirt is a red-and-black plaid button-down. His chest is every inch as broad as I remember. I smile sadly and put my fingers to my mouth, recalling how I used to tease him that lying on his chest was like lying on a sofa cushion.

“Get used to it—it’s all you’ll ever have,” he would tell me. It’s as hard as a concrete block. There’s a small patch of black hair right in the middle of his chest and the memory of it turns my sadness into something hot and wet. His arms are protruding from his shirt’s rolled-up sleeves. Enormous and heavy, they’re crossed now with one twisted slightly toward the ceiling, the muscle in his forearm sticking up. Most men don’t even know they have a muscle there and Jason’s is flexed in his sleep. I can still feel the weight of his arms wrapped around me.

I’m startled by the announcement of the impending boarding of my flight. We’re not alone here, but we could be.

Jason’s hat hangs low, hiding most of his face. His juicy red lips peek out from the bottom and I can taste them in my mouth. I sit on my hands to keep from crossing the few feet between us and touching him. I wish I could see his eyes. If he wakes and opens his eyes, I’ll stay here with him. I’ll get a room, or get on a plane with him, and I’ll run my lips over every inch of him. I’ll drink him down until he can no longer stand. I’ll not say a word to him about what he’s done; in fact, I won’t say a word about anything. If he wakes up…

“We will now begin our preboarding of Flight Six Thirty-Eight to Philadelphia. We welcome aboard our first-class and elite club members, as well as families flying with small children.”

I stare at his black felt hat and see the turquoise bead I added to the strap and realize he’s still my Jason, no matter what he did with Stephanie or anyone else.

Wake up.

If you just wake up, I’ll do the unthinkable. I’ll call Noble and ruin his life, I’ll leave BJ with Butch, and I’ll somehow face my brother after everything I’ve put him through. I’ll do all of it if you just wake up right now and touch me.

Touch me anywhere.

Place your rough palm on the side of my face. Wrap your massive arms around me. Pull my hair and press your lips on mine. Take me by the hand and pull me to the nearest hotel room, or car, or bathroom. I don’t care, just wake up.

“We are now boarding rows twenty-five through forty-five on United Flight Six Thirty-Eight to Philadelphia. Rows twenty-five through forty-five, please board at this time.”

I sit silently, only looking away to see my gate and the passengers filing in. My eyes can’t release him for long and return to devouring the sight of him. His lips curl up the tiniest bit on each side. He’s smiling and I smile, too. I’m going to cry, or scream, or something far worse.

Jason, wake up, and take me…away.

I watch him silently, his breathing mirroring my own.

“We are now boarding all remaining rows on Flight Six Thirty-Eight to Philadelphia. Once again, all rows please board Flight Six Thirty-Eight to Philadelphia at gate seventeen.”

The line’s dwindling. There are only minutes remaining and Jason still sleeps across from me. I can taste his lips. I will him to wake up.

Defeated, I rummage through my wallet. I find the folded paper I’ve been carrying around for months. Twice I’ve almost thrown it away. I know if Noble finds it, it will only hurt him, but I just couldn’t relinquish it. I open it one last time.

nice bed

I refold it and rise to my feet. My legs are shaky and I confirm I’m steady before moving closer to him. I leave the note between his arm and chest, and my skin’s electrified without actually touching him. My stomach flips and I might throw up all over him. I turn and walk away. Each step takes sheer will and I still listen without breathing for him to wake and say my name.

“I saw you were sitting with our cowboy,” the lady who checks my boarding pass says. I silently look back at him again. Still sleeping. “He’s been here for three days.”

“Seriously?” I ask, horror covering my face.

“He said the only girl he’s ever loved would be here this weekend and he didn’t want to miss her. Apparently, she won’t talk to him and he wants her back.”

“Three days?” I ask again, unable to believe her.

“He had to buy a ticket to get through security on Friday. We’ve taken pity on him and let him shower in the club lounge.” The lady scans my boarding pass. “He’s gorgeous. I hope she comes before I get off today.” She absently adds, “Enjoy your flight,” as she looks past me at Jason.

“When my flight takes off, you can tell him he missed her,” I say, and swallow hard to avoid crying.

“It’s you,” she says after a few seconds of staring at me. “Oh, honey, you’ve got to wake him up. That boy’s in love with you!” She gently holds my elbow as I hold on to my grasp of reason.

“No. Imagine the tragedy that’s led us here.” I shake my head and start to cry. “It wasn’t meant to be. Not today…not ever.”

She lets go and looks at me sympathetically, sensing the two sides to this story are wretched. I walk past her and board my plane home. Through the window, I can see the black clouds barreling toward me. They shut the cabin door and we pull away from the gate. My chest relaxes as we turn onto the runway. I think I can hear thunder as I begin to cry and the plane shakes and moans into our ascent, away from here and away from Jason Leer.

I
consider the flight a success since I was able to sleep the second half of it—that is, after I cried for the first half. Perhaps I should check myself into a facility of some kind. I must be losing my mind. I can’t still be in love with Jason. Not eight months after we broke up. Not after his son was born. And God help me, not after Noble Sinclair’s fallen in love with me.

My life with Jason is over. And until I saw him today, I was happy with Noble. I’m going to find a way to be with Noble if it kills me. He deserves for this to work out. And I deserve for this to work out. The light on my answering machine is blinking, and I know I should just unplug it and throw it away. But I can’t.

“While you were sitting there, I was dreaming about you. I could feel you near me. We’ll be that close again, Annie,” he quietly says. “Why didn’t you wake me?” There’s a long pause. I stop brushing my hair and turn toward the machine. “The Annie I love would have woken me up. She wouldn’t give up on us, no matter what. I need you.”

I hit the erase button. My answering machine escapes being heaved against the wall. Its casing is taped from previous messages even though it’s the second one I’ve had in eight months.

I’m too exhausted to react. Defeated, I lie in my bed and let sleep heal me. At least enough to see Noble. I know I’ll never be well again.

My eyes open and I feel as sad as I did when I went to sleep. I’m less exhausted, though, no longer feeling as if I might burst into tears at any point. I shower and wander around my room, assessing the changes Clint’s made. New windows, new crown molding, a built-in entertainment unit, and new doors all make the room seem totally different from what it was a year ago. Totally different…

I pause at the pictures of Noble and me from the Harvest Dance. My happiness is real. I was, and am, happy with Noble. A familiar knot in my stomach returns as I remember how close I came to throwing him away. I pull the last clean items—a black skirt and white tank top—out of my suitcase and throw them on, forgoing underwear. I leave my hair wet and grab my sunglasses before heading out the door.

The big green monster is in a field several acres away from the farmhouse. I pull off the road onto a dirt access lane. The dust rolls up and over my car as the Volvo plunges into every hole and dip. I pop toward the ceiling on a particularly large bump and slow down to avoid breaking my neck. Noble makes a turn in the tractor and is now heading toward me. I drive within fifty feet of him, get out of my car, and wait, leaning on the driver’s door. The tractor’s towing an enormous plow and looks like a large green beetle with a clear bubble on the front of it.

It comes to a halt thirty feet in front of me. I see Noble pick up his phone and I grab my own out of the car. He’s looking at me as my phone starts ringing. Without breaking my stare, I answer.

“Hello.”

“You’re early. Do you want a ride?” His voice is naughty and scrumptious, and I’m particularly thankful Noble is the same as he was when I left, because I am not.

“I’ll be right up. If I can figure out how to get up there,” I say, and Noble laughs at me.

The inside of the tractor is luxurious and unexpectedly high-tech. There’s a touch screen within reach of the seat and an armful of buttons to the right of the steering column. I climb into the cab and directly onto Noble’s lap, straddling and facing him.

“What happened to your head?” I frantically ask after noticing the purple bruise with seven or eight stitches running through the middle of it.

“Let’s not talk about that right now.” Noble pulls me to him and kisses me. I close my eyes, trying to push out any thoughts that don’t belong to Noble—equitable distribution of my thoughts and emotions. Noble’s smiling when I lean back and he tangles both hands in my hair.

“This is quite impressive,” I say, and notice Noble’s hard-on beneath my thigh.

“Exactly what part?” He kisses my neck.

“I’ve never been in a tractor this large.”

“Aah, the size of it. I get that a lot,” he whispers in my ear.

I look over my shoulder and see the field before us with not a soul moving in it. Above my head is a radio.

“All the comforts of home.” I turn up the volume on the radio and stare back at the field. I glance down and see my senior picture taped to the dash. I pull it off and come face-to-face with my old self, before the demons took over.

“I look so innocent in this picture.”

“You look exactly the same now, Charlotte, just slightly prettier.”

I look at Noble and he’s admiring me. He loves me and this morning I was going to call him and tell him he may never see me again. If he’s lucky. I turn the picture over and read my message on the back from five years ago.

I close my eyes and digest my own words.

“Hey, what are you doing? Are you crying?” Noble wipes a lone tear from my cheek. “What’s wrong?” He silently pleads with me to deny his fears. “Did something happen this weekend?”

“No…no, nothing happened. I just realized this weekend how significant you are.”

It’s not a lie. The answer is just not significant enough. Noble smiles again and kisses with lips that readily convey three long days away. I make every effort to focus on him, and the tractor, and his farm. Maintaining my position here on Earth is my only focus. I look at my high school picture again. Even then I knew what a wonderful guy Noble is, and always will be. At least until I’m done with him.

“Tell me what happened to your gorgeous face,” I demand as I caress his forehead.

“I had the chance to speak with Jack Reynolds again about my expectations regarding him not coming anywhere near you. It’s kind of a gentleman’s restraining order.”

“What exactly happened?” I quietly ask as I kiss his forehead.

“Nothing really,” he continues. “I approached Jack to talk about it and he broke a bottle over my head. Then we discussed it some more.” Noble reaches above us and turns down the radio. “I think he’s pretty clear on the parameters of the order now.”

“Oh, Noble.” I run my hands down his bare arms. I move them back to his neck and let my eyes linger on his shoulders.

“What do the other instruments in here do?”

“Farming is more interesting than you thought, huh?” Noble responds, playful again.

“Oh yeah, you should speak at career day at the high school.” I undo the button on his jeans and unzip them. I have to maneuver to release him because he’s so hard. I wrap my hand around him and begin stroking up and down. I move closer, and the stroking now touches us both and I’m pleased with my clever positioning. I arch my back and begin moving up and down to match the rhythm of my hand. Noble pulls my top down and a hard nipple pops out. He begins to play with it with his tongue and I slow my movements. Around and around he goes, stroking my nipple with the tip of his tongue. A little moan escapes me and he moves to my other breast.

Noble lifts me up and puts me down with him inside me, and we begin to move together.
Always together.
Me using the floor as much as I can and Noble moving me up and down with his hands supporting my bottom. He is my home. I arch my back, feeling nothing but Noble inside of me. He runs his hand down the center of my chest and lands between my legs. His finger on me is too much. I’m panting and sweating, on the verge of crying, and desperate to love Noble the way he deserves. I concentrate on his finger as I throw my head back and continue my heady rhythm, holding off a complete frenzy. Up, down, and all around, I can take no more and come as I feel Noble give in beneath me. I’m drained. Willing to let him be everything because there’s nothing else left.

“Welcome home, Charlotte,” Noble whispers into my neck, and the exhaustion again sets in.

“You need to be careful with perfect. It’s brilliant at hiding its flaws,” Jason says as he pushes me away. “How could you do this?” he asks. “We’re supposed to be together. No one else, remember?”

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” I plead with him. “Please, you have to forgive me.” I start to cry.

“And with Nick Sinclair. For God’s sake, Annie, we grew up together. When did you become that much of a bitch?”

“Jason, please, don’t say that. I love you!” I walk over to him and wrap my arms around his neck. He pushes me back.

“I can’t do it, Annie. You went too far. It’s over for good.”

“No, it’s not. It doesn’t have to be,” I insist, but he walks away. “Come back! Jason, come back!” I sob, and I can no longer breathe.

I wake up, grabbing at my throat and crying. I’m alone, thank God. Noble can’t ever see me like this. I lie flat on my back and stare at the ceiling, trying to make sense of why in my dreams I’m begging for Jason’s forgiveness.

It’s 11:30 at night. Noble slept at his house because of a late grange meeting. I text him:

Hi

I don’t really have anything to say. I just want to feel his presence somehow.

WHAT R U STILL DOING UP?

Bad dream

I’LL BE RIGHT OVER.

I don’t deserve Noble. I have a bad dream about Jason and Noble comes over to comfort me.

I lie awake waiting for Noble to come and not wanting to fall back asleep. There’s a strange noise outside, but I can’t see what’s making it from my window. For a minute I think Noble’s somehow behind it. It’s a cracking noise that comes again and again. Almost like wood hitting wood in a sword fight. I stare out into the dark night, the new moon hiding the source of the noise from my view. I hear it again and sense it’s violent. I rest my chin on the windowsill and stake out the darkness. All of a sudden, two bucks come into view. They’re pushing each other, and after one pulls back, they run toward each other, antlers first. I’ve only seen a buck fight once before, when I was little. My dad explained there can only be one male per herd; the second must try to fight his way in. The strongest will win the battle and the does. I feel sorry for the loser. What will become of him? I leave the window without seeing who wins.