The First Law of Love (16 page)

It
'
s all my brother and I have in the world,
he had said.

Oh Case, oh God
…

I wanted to tell him,
You have me. You have me in the world
.

But of course that was absurd. I knew it.

Clark, still sitting, said, “I agree with Case absolutely. I won't agree to sell.”

Case looked around at all of the people he certainly knew by name, saying earnestly, “We have to see this through. This town means something to all of you, I know it does. I know it to the bottom of my heart. Think how you'd feel if it was gone, bulldozed for some fancy goddamn vacation homes. Can you imagine never seeing each other again? What of that?”

There were a few grudging laughs, and a man said, “That might not be a totally terrible thing. I mean, my ex-wife does still live in town…”

More laughter, but then someone else said, “Spicer is right. We can't give up on our homes. I can't imagine relocating. It's the last thing I want.”

Al faced the crowd and said, mildly, “The sales don't have to be final, people. We call that in the business the ‘weasel clause.' I can help to rescind the agreements, if you're willing.”

There was a burst of startled chatter and Derrick Yancy had turned a pale shade of red.

“Folks,” said Hank Ryan, lifting his hands into the air in a call for attention. “Let's come back together.”

“You people are buying into something that doesn't exist,” Derrick said, having tentatively regained his cool. “Money is what you need, not romantic nonsense. It's the modern era. Text, instant message, keep in touch on Twitter. It's not as though you can't make a phone call. What you can't make is your next mortgage payment.”

There was a sobering slack in the chatter. Sensing his advantage, Derrick pressed, “Don't mismanage your money. Save it, invest it, move to a place where you can find work.”

“Such as?” I asked him. “Name us all a place where there's work, at this moment.”

“Do I look like the chamber of commerce webpage for the state of Montana?” Derrick snarled at me. There was so much anger in his tone that I felt as though he'd struck my face; three rows behind me, Case's shoulders squared even more and I sensed that he intensely disliked the way Derrick had just spoken to me. Derrick looked out at the crowd and said next, “I have roots here, indirectly, more than you could know. An ancestor of mine was cheated of land here, long ago.”

This was interesting. I made a mental note to add that to my file of information as the crowd grew noisy with chatter at this news. I looked back over my shoulder then, directly at Case, who happened to be looking right at me. I experienced the nearly-overpowering urge to elbow people from between us and run straight to him. Would he collect me close against his chest, if I dared to do such a thing? He sent me the briefest hint of a smile; was that admiration on his face?

The official meeting disbanded shortly thereafter; I tried to be patient, talking with Al and the people who flooded around us to ask questions. I kept tabs on where Case was, without appearing obvious, taking note of his position in the room. Nearly a half hour passed before the room began emptying. Derrick had left five minutes ago. Hank Ryan chatted with me for quite a while.

“You're not still considering selling out, are you, Ryan?” Al asked him.

“I've been on the goddamn fence,” Hank said. “But shit, where else would I go? The city isn't for these bones.”

“You keep reminding yourself of that,” Al said.

“Tish, you did a great job tonight,” Clark said then, coming up beside me. He shook Al's hand.

“Thank you,” I told him, trying not to be impolite and let my gaze rove past him, desperate to see if Case was leaving. Would he avoid me? Where was he? Then I saw him, near the side of the room, talking with Garth and Marsh.

“We're homeward bound. Have you had supper?” Clark asked.

“Yes,” I said, and it was mostly true. If you counted a handful of saltine crackers. I meant to eat a little better when I got home.

“We'll plan to see you Friday then,” Clark said.

“Yes, for sure,” I told him. “I'm glad you were here tonight.”

Clark winked at me and then headed out. The room was slowly emptying of residents. On the far side of the room, it appeared that Case was planning to take his leave as well. In a frantic rush of need, I scraped my things together, stuffing notes and pencils.

“Al, I'll see you tomorrow!” I said, and then forced myself to walk.

“Great job tonight!” he called after me.

There was a jam in the flow of people and I tried not to look as concerned as I felt, that Case would leave without saying good-bye. I couldn't see him now and sweat misted all along my skin. A notebook slipped out of the side of my partially-unzipped briefcase, sliding to the floor.

“Dammit,” I muttered, shuffling things in order to attempt to stoop delicately in my heels and skirt to fetch it; I felt like crying and hated myself.

“That was some fearless work,” he said then, surprising me as he came up beside me, bending to grab my errant notebook before I could. As he straightened I felt everything within me come all at once alive and pulsating.

“You're still here,” I said, and I sounded foolishly grateful.

Case handed me the notebook and I held tightly to his gaze with my own.

“Can I walk you to your car?” he asked. We were both still holding the notebook, between us, our fingertips close, before he surrendered it to me.

“Of course,” I said, trembling and all a-flutter.

Case took off his sport coat as we walked side by side down the hall leading to the foyer, rolling back the sleeves of his dress shirt, looking more like the cowboy musician I knew, but I liked it. I liked it far more than I could even begin to admit. And I loved the way he'd spoken so calmly and yet with such controlled fire, going after Yancy along with me. I thought about what I had learned tonight, not the least of which that Case was a man of conviction. He was forthright. He stated his opinion with dignity, though I suspected he would be more than willing to take the gloves off, if push came to shove.

I respected that immensely.

And, if I was totally honest, it made me hotter than fucking hell.

At the door, he moved ahead to open it for me, and I used this as an excuse to look up at him, saying, “Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” he said easily, as we walked outside into the balm of the summer evening. The sky was crystalline with starshine and I took a moment to breathe deeply; I was close enough to Case as we descended the stone steps that I could smell his aftershave, something rich and pleasantly spicy, coming from him. I fantasized about putting my face against his chest.

The parking lot was emptying now, people backing out, taillights flashing as the residents of Jalesville headed for home. I thought of all the people who were worried, worried deep in their bones, that the places where their families had put down roots, carved a life for them generations earlier, were now threatened with displacement. How many of these people were driving home tonight thinking about the fact that they may very well be displaced by this time next year? That they would have no choice but to sell to Capital Overland, in the end.

Case and I reached the sidewalk in front of the courthouse and I paused, watching people climb into their vehicles, feeling helpless. Had I done anything to help this evening? Case remained at my side, and I had the sense he was watching me from the corner of his eye, even as he kept his gaze in the same direction as mine.

“I just wish I felt like I'd done some good tonight,” I said, unhooking my jacket at the waist. I was sweaty and my jacket felt too tight so I shrugged out of its confines; beneath it, my indigo blouse was limp. It fit like a fancy tank top, leaving my shoulders and collarbones bare, though still far more conservative than any of my usual summer outfits.

Case turned to me and said, his voice deep and steady, “Hey. You were incredible in there, if you don't mind my saying. Yancy was doing his best to take you out at the knees, but you didn't let him push you around. That's impressive.”

His words buoyed my stomach, my heart; had I been fishing for a compliment? I curled my jacket around my forearms and said, “Well you were pretty damn impressive yourself. You care and people sense that.”

He shrugged, looking into the distance, at the outline of the mountains on the western horizon; it was so hard for me to tell if my words had any impact upon him at all. He said quietly, “I do care. This place is my home. I know it doesn't mean shit to someone like Yancy, but it's all I've got. It's all most people around here have. We have to stick this through, together.”

He means himself and the other residents, not you!

Tish, you idiot.

“You're right,” I said. The air around us was growing quieter as cars and trucks vanished down the road. I heard crickets then, and the beating of my own heart, which seemed absurdly amplified, as though I had my ears plugged, as Case turned his chin back in my direction and tipped it down to look in my eyes. His shoulders in their pale shirt were wide and strong against the dark sky. He stood with his own jacket caught over his forearms, held to his stomach. He was wearing his stone face again. I couldn't draw a full breath.

He said, “This was a worthwhile evening, and you should be proud of yourself.”

“Thank you,” I said, hardly more than a whisper.

More time crept past as we couldn't seem to look apart or find an excuse to say good-night. He lifted his right hand from beneath his sport coat and my heart absolutely leaped, but he was just fishing the keys to his truck from his pocket. He said, “I play this evening, so I better get going.”

“Out at the fairgrounds?” I asked, even though I knew well that's where he was headed; I was concocting shallow excuses to keep him a little longer. I wanted him to ask me to come and watch him play, too shy to do so otherwise, even though the fairground was very near Stone Creek.

He nodded.

I was pulling at strings to keep him here with me. I said, “I'll have to text Camille and Mathias about this evening. They'll want to hear about it.”

He smiled then, his gaze moving up and to the left, back into time, and he said, “I wish they lived out here. It seems like yesterday that we all met. That was such an incredible night.” His eyes flashed again to mine and my heart stuttered painfully, as he added, “For a number of reasons.”

“They miss it out here, I know,” I said, looking intently at him.

“Yeah, I miss them too. I felt so at home with them, the both of them.” He seemed in a hurry then, shifting his sport coat over his left shoulder and holding out a polite hand to let me lead the way. I did, feeling as deflated a leftover party balloon. It was only a handful of steps to my car; there, I fought the terrible urge to catch his shirtsleeve.

I filched my own keys from my purse and forced a cheerful tone as I said, “Have a good evening then.”

“Good-night,” he told me. I was probably imagining I heard a note of regret in his deep voice. Yes, clearly I was imagining this, as Case barely paused before continuing towards his truck, several rows over. I stood there, all abject, with no good reason for this at all, when my heart flared with something like hope; he had paused and turned halfway back towards me, and asked, “See you at the Rawleys' on Friday then?”

“I'll be there,” I responded.

Three days away
, I thought as I drove home to Stone Creek.

Friday is three whole days away.

You
'
re crazy as a jaybird, girl,
I heard Gran say, my dear great-grandmother, who'd died almost ten years ago now.

Crazy as a fucking jaybird
, I agreed.

I showered for a good fifteen minutes, then snuggled into a long pajama t-shirt and curled up on the couch with my notebook, looking over my notes on Capital Overland, adding the bit about the alleged Yancy ancestor, who'd been cheated out of land. But a pair of auburn eyes kept appearing in my thoughts, distracting me, until I finally sat with both hands pressed to my face, letting myself think of Case, and how he'd appeared tonight.

I want to be watching him play, right now.

I want to be close to him.

To further torture me, I could hear the sound of music across the creek from the fairgrounds, although I couldn't tell if Case was singing at the moment.

I want to be near him.

I have no right to want these things.

When would he get home tonight? Would he go straight there after singing? His home, his family's land, now his and his brother's, all they had left in the world, Case had said. Were the chili-pepper lights glowing? Did Buck and Cider come from the barn and poke their noses over the top of the corral to greet him when he pulled into the yard? What if a black 4x4 was even now prowling his property? I sat up straight at that, knowing I had to tell him.

But what excuse would you use?

Why were you out at his place on Friday evening, anyway?
Miserable, I set the notebook aside and wrapped into my own arms, unable to answer that question.

Hours later, deep in the night, a storm rolled over Jalesville, the thunder grumbling a low-pitched threat, rain spattering the windowpanes. It wasn't quite enough to wake me, instead incorporating into my dream, where I'd fallen asleep on the couch. And in my dream, I was holding Case's head to my breasts, my fingers in his hair, and his mouth was open over my nipples. I couldn't get enough of his hot, suckling kisses upon me, the feeling of them spiraling outward through my entire body, and the growl of the thunder was my desire; I begged and begged him for more, panting, my breath coming in hard gasps, even as he held me to him with strong hands spread wide across my back.