Sweetgrass (17 page)

“Well, it’s about time,” the man called out as they approached. “Where the hell you been so long?”

“Hey, Tripp!” Adele called out, her face beaming with delight at seeing him. “You’re back! Darlin’, where the hell
you
been?”

“Never you mind,” he said with a lazy drawl and a half smile that teased of unspeakable places. Then, shifting his dark-brown eyes on Preston, he said with a scowl, “Stop driving like a girl, Press. Just bring it on in.”

Preston’s face was stony as he brought the boat slowly, carefully into dock and cut the engine.

“Don’t bother to tie it up,” Tripp told him when Adele threw him the ropes. “I’m going right out.”

“Like hell you are!” Preston shouted back. “That’s crazy! The tide’s near out. You’ll run up on the mud and get stuck.”

He tossed his cigarette into the water and offered Preston a patronizing pat on the back. “Don’t you worry about me,
mother.
”

His two friends chortled as they stood, waiting to board.

Preston shook his brother’s hand off and fired back. “You know better, but you don’t give a damn.”

“Sure I do,” he said amiably. “Let’s just call it a difference of opinion.”

Tripp pulled the boat alongside the dock and tossed the ropes to a friend. His eyes, under thick brows, shone with an incredible magnetism.

“You know you’re taking a big chance,” Preston said. Mary June could tell he was simmering.

Tripp turned to face his brother, and though his smile remained on his face, his tone changed to reflect the insolence of age and experience. “What I
know
is this creek. Better than anybody. And that includes
you,
little brother.”

Preston’s eyes flashed with restrained fury. “Yeah, I’ve heard that story before. Well, I’ll be damned if I’m going to go after you and get you out of trouble, big brother.
Again.
And if you rip up the bottom of
this
boat, like you did the last one, Daddy will have your hide on a platter.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Now, hurry it up, pal. If you didn’t take all day getting back, I wouldn’t have to worry about hittin’ the bottom, would I? Shit, Press, you drive slower than—”

Preston climbed from the boat and stood face-to-face with his brother, shoulders back, glaring, daring him to finish.

Tripp was taller than Preston by a good three inches and had more muscle mass to his shoulders. There was a danger
ous quality to his stance that was evident by his animal-like stillness. Yet Preston stood his ground.

Tripp let the sentence slide with a smirk and a shake of his head. He turned to look over his shoulder. “Come along, gentlemen. Climb aboard.”

Mary June released a sigh of relief. She’d never met Adele’s eldest brother, Hamlin, whom they called Tripp on account of him being a Hamlin with the triple III after his name. But she recognized immediately that Tripp was a bad boy.

And being a good girl, there was something intriguing about a bad boy.

Preston turned toward her to lend a hand as she climbed out from the boat. His hand was firm and strong, and with one swoop, she landed on the deck, almost crashing into Tripp. She looked abruptly into his face, inches from her own, and her breath caught in her throat.

She felt an immediate, almost animal attraction. Tripp had the same thick brows and straight nose that was a Blakely trademark and the same confident athleticism. But he had an unrestrained magnetism and charisma that were striking.

Mary June saw the same spark of interest ignite in Tripp’s dark brown eyes.

“Who’s this pretty girl?” he asked, looking directly at her.

Mary June averted her eyes.

“She’s my friend, Mary June Clark,” Adele answered him, stepping forward to grab hold of Mary June’s arm. “Come on, sugar, let’s head back.”

Tripp released a smile. “We’ll have to meet more proper a little later,” he told her.

“Sure,” she mumbled, flustered, before Adele led her away.

Preston stood by and watched the exchange in stony silence.

Tripp turned and his attention was captured by the boat.
He jumped in and, taking hold of the wheel, revved the engine, calling to his friends to hurry it on up.

“He’s a damn fool,” Preston said as he bent to pick up their gear.

“Aw, Press, he knows what he’s doing,” Adele countered. “You don’t have to worry about Tripp.”

“Yeah, right,” Preston mumbled, then walked ahead with an angry stride.

“What was all that about?” Mary June asked.

Adele waved her hand and the two began walking toward their bikes. “Oh, don’t give them no mind. It’s always been that way between them. They fight about everything. Oil and water, that’s them.”

“I thought there was going to be a fight right there on the dock.”

“Might’ve been. But Tripp tries not to rile Press too much.”

“Really? I thought he did a pretty good job of it.”

“No, that’s just Tripp’s style. He likes to tease. But he knows better than to tease Preston too much. That boy is slow to boil, but once he does, he’s going to scald.”

“Really?” she asked, curious about this side of Preston she’d not seen before. “Preston has a temper?”

“Oh, Lord…” She rolled her eyes. “Preston’s got a wicked temper. He’s careful not to lose it, but Tripp seems to know how to light his spark more than anybody else. Now, Tripp is another matter. He might like to tease, but he’ll avoid a fight by being clever.”

“It’s sad that they fight so much. After all, they’re brothers.”

Adele sprang to their defense. “Don’t get me wrong! They love each other something fierce. They can fight each other, but let anyone try to come between them and see what happens.”

She was glad to hear it. “How come I didn’t meet Tripp before? Doesn’t he live here?”

“That’s his house,” she said, pointing to Bluff House.

Mary June was astonished. “He lives at Blakely’s Bluff?”

“Daddy gave it to him when he got back from Korea. Along with a big parcel of land, him being the eldest son and all. I guess he figured Tripp needed a place of his own right now, after being in the war. Or he wants him to settle down.” She lifted her shoulders as if to say, who knows? “Tripp’s a hound dog and likes to roam, but he’s loved Blakely’s Bluff ever since he was little. Even though there isn’t any electricity in Bluff House and you have to pee in an outhouse, Tripp used to sleep there all summer long, even alone when he was a kid. And Lord, when he grew up, he had some parties. Wild ones that I was never allowed to go to.”

“Count your blessings. Your mama must’ve worried.”

“Uh-uh, she didn’t have to. Tripp’s a big brother in every sense of the word. Real protective of me, if you know what I mean. He won’t let any of his friends near me.” She laughed. “I guess he’s heard their stories. It’s kind of a pain, though. But I like it, too. You know?”

Mary June nodded and wondered about those parties. “What about Press? Did he go to the parties?”

“Some. He likes to party, sure enough. But he’s a different kind of guy. More like you, actually.”

“What does that mean?” Mary June asked with a short laugh.

“Well,” Adele began, choosing her words. “I mean, he’s a decent guy. Strong, don’t get me wrong. But good. I don’t know if he was born that way or just turned out that way because Tripp was always such a wild card.”

“How is he wild?”

Adele’s eyes sparked and Mary June could see she was in
fatuated with her older brother. “Tripp likes to live life on the edge. He drives cars fast, drinks like a fish, and I swear that boy breaks a heart every month. Just look at the way he took the boat out as the tide’s going down. Press is right, you know. I’d never take that chance. But that’s Tripp. He’ll take the chance just because he wants to.”

“Sounds self-indulgent to me.”

“I reckon. Some say he’s reckless.”

“I’d find that annoying to live with.”

“That’s what makes Press so mad. Over the July Fourth weekend, he had to go out and get Tripp and the boat after Tripp got stuck in the mud. Him and his drunk friends. Daddy was real mad that he was drinking on the boat and that the boat was damaged. But Tripp didn’t care much. It’s been a lot worse since he got back from the war. It used to be Tripp just liked to have a good time, but it was all harmless. He was just so hangdog contrite after, everyone had to forgive him. But ever since he got back from the war, the edge has been a lot sharper. And he doesn’t care much about Sweetgrass anymore, not like Press does.”

“Then why did your Daddy give him Blakely’s Bluff?”

She shrugged. “He’s a Blakely. And he’s the eldest. He was going to get land sooner or later. Same as me and Press. Mama says I’m going to get the big house, seeing as how I’m the daughter and all.” Her expression clouded as she picked at her nail. “But I’ve wondered about that, too. I mean, about why Daddy hasn’t given Preston his part yet and why he gave Tripp Bluff House. Press figures it’s on account of Tripp being a lot like the first Hamlin that built the house. They both came back torn up and disillusioned after war. Makes sense to me, anyway.”

“Sounds to me like everyone is making excuses for him. Don’t seem right to give something to someone just because
they’re in trouble or need help. People should be rewarded for doing well, like Preston.”

“See?” Adele said with a devilish grin. “That’s what I mean about you being more like Press. You both care about doing things right. You like the quieter things, like fishing and hiking in the woods and reading poetry and just sitting around talking and such. It’s nice to watch you two together. Press is not shy, but he’s kind of reserved. He had one girlfriend for a long while, almost all through college. Just when Mama started picking up wedding magazines, he broke it off. But I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

“He does not look at me!”

“Does too. Anyway, I think you’re a good match.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d swear you were setting us up.”

“Worse things could happen.”

Mary June linked arms with Adele and squeezed. “Let’s not talk anymore about that, okay? It makes everything all confusing. I like things the way they are between Press and me right now. We’re good friends.”

“Okay. Time will tell,” she added with a short laugh.

“Time will tell with you and Bobby Pearlman, too,” Mary June said in a singsong voice.

Adele groaned dramatically and shook her head with a forlorn expression. “Oh, I don’t think so.”

Bobby was an adorable boy whom Adele was mad for. She’d been angling for him since she got home for the summer. He’d been the subject of numerous phone calls while Mary June was back in Sumter and Adele was planning her campaign to win him. One of the main reasons they’d headed straight for Capers today was because she’d heard Bobby would be there.

“Bobby’s only got eyes for Cynthia,” Adele said with a plaintive sigh. “I think that fish has been caught.”

“Don’t feel too bad, Adele. You know what they say. There are plenty more fish in the sea.”

“I know, I know. And it’s hard to be mad at Cynthia for too long. She’s so sweet and we’ve been friends since the first grade.”

They reached their bikes and loaded their bags and damp towels into the wicker baskets.

“Where’s Preston?” Mary June asked, looking around.

“I don’t know, probably still at Bluff House. Leave him be. He’s always in a snit after he has words with Tripp. Let’s go on home.”

“You sure? I hate to just leave without telling him.”

“He’ll come along presently.” Adele grabbed hold of the handlebars. “Besides, I’m starving. Florence’s making lamb tonight and I swear I can smell the garlic clear from here.”

Tripp never showed up for dinner that night. Nor did Preston show up early the next morning to wiggle her toes for a fishing expedition.

Mary June woke to the faint light of dawn. Rubbing her eyes, she rose on her elbow and peered at the bed next to hers. Adele was on her belly still deep asleep. She reached over to pull back the gingham curtain and peer out the window. Pale yellow-and-pink light flooded the marsh as dawn rose over the east. In these precious minutes before the sun shone high and bright, the air felt fresh and cool against her cheeks. Purple martins were dipping and diving across a brilliant azure sky in a glorious dawn dance. She thought she’d never tire of waking at Sweetgrass.

She pulled back her covers, climbed from the bed and, grabbing her robe, slipped her arms through the sleeves as she made her way down the hall to Preston’s room. Holding her breath, she pushed the door open a crack, just enough to see that his bed was empty.

He’d been unusually quiet and preoccupied during dinner and didn’t hang around afterward for cards or television. She scurried down the stairs, her bare feet quiet as she tiptoed from room to room. The house was quiet and still. Preston wasn’t anywhere to be found.

Mary June went out to the back porch and settled into the big flowered cushions of the wicker settee, tucking her legs up under her nightgown, then wrapping her robe tight around, like a cocoon. She looked out over the creek and brooded, feeling very injured.

So Preston went fishing without her, she thought, hurt that he’d do such a thing. She couldn’t imagine he’d be that put out just because she and Adele hadn’t waited for him at Blakely’s Bluff. That would be so childish, so unlike him.

Before too long had passed, she heard footfalls on the porch steps and turned, ready to present a proper pout to Preston.

Only it wasn’t Preston. It was Tripp.

She couldn’t stop herself before she brought her hand to her hair and smoothed it back from her face, then sat straighter in her chair. He’d already spotted her. His face, chalky from lack of sleep, slackened to a lazy grin. His dark hair was even shaggier than the day before, and he was wearing the same clothes, obviously having slept in them.

“Wait up for me, did you?” he asked, reaching the porch.

“No! I mean—” She blushed, realizing he was teasing her. “I was up.”

“Early riser?”

“As a matter of fact, I am.” Her voice sounded as prim as a martinet’s.

“Well, I’m
not,
” he said, and flopped into the adjacent chair, stretching out his long legs and settling in as if he was about to sleep right there. “Honey, I’m dog tired.”