The First Law of Love (21 page)

A straight-blade razor on the counter, a large dark-blue towel hanging from a single towel rack, curled-up bottle of toothpaste, and to my chagrin, a pair of black boxers scrunched into the corner behind the door, as though carelessly tossed aside. Near these was the t-shirt he'd been wearing last night, at the fair. I bit my lip, hard, and carefully washed my hands, in a hurry now, feeling more like a trespasser than ever.

But then, after I used his towel to dry my hands, I bent, scooped up his soft old t-shirt, and pressed it directly to my face. Again I was inundated with the scent of him and I kept my face there, my heart quaking. It was only as I heard the screen door sing on its hinges for a second time that I snapped to motion, letting the shirt fall back to the floor, almost tripping over myself to scurry back out to the living room.

Case barely looked at me as he stepped inside, moving to the fridge and extracting a can of mineral water, which he held to the side of his neck. He was even more disheveled than he'd been checking my oil, bits of hay clinging to his jeans and t-shirt, his hat on the kitchen table. Sweat trickled along his temples as he cracked open the can and drank about half of it, then backhanded his lips. I had never wanted to throw myself into someone's arms more desperately in my entire life. Sweat snaked down my spine in a hot, wet line.

Still without a glance my direction, he asked, “Are you thirsty? I've got my tools in the truck, so we can head out anytime.”

So casual, so polite. Of course he had no idea what I had just done in his bathroom, taking ridiculous liberties. He had no idea that I was vibrating with desire, just a few yards from him, and he would not know these things, as I had no right to act upon them. Less than no right to feel them, really. I told myself that it was because he had once flattered my vanity, that no one before or since had said such things to me – that I was meant for them, that they had written a song for me.

You don
'
t deserve him,
I realized.
He
'
s way too good for you. You have casual sex with men you hardly care about, men you
'
ve never considered loving, just for the orgasm. Just because. And he
'
s someone who loves with his whole heart.

I was beginning to understand that fully.

And I had lost my chance with him, long ago.

And it was clear he no longer felt the same way about me that he once had.

Besides, he belongs here. And you belong in Chicago
.

“Thanks,” I said, around a slight husk in my throat. Case handed me a can of the water and it was all I could do not to hold it to my own neck. He collected his hat from the table and let the orange cat inside as he went out; there was nothing I could do but follow, looking over my shoulder at his kitchen, one last time, before the door creaked closed behind me.

Rumbling along in his truck a minute later, I sipped the can of bubbly water and watched the foothills in the distance. I said, “The other night, standing out here, I felt like Montana doesn't know what year it actually is.”

He angled me a glance and said, “I know just what you mean. When I ride, it could be a hundred years ago, more than that. Sometimes I even imagine that it is, for whatever reason.”

“Mathias said he felt like you guys had known each other forever,” I said. “I know he wishes you could hang out more often.”

“Yeah, that very first night we all met, when he sang with us at The Spoke, I had that feeling. Like he'd been my friend before I even knew him. Garth felt the same. I don't know how to explain it. I guess some things you can't explain.”

My heart pounded hard at these words but I realized we were approaching the wizard rock. I said, “There, out by that big rock formation shaped like a T,” and he braked instantly, drawing the truck to the shoulder. I indicated with my can. “Out that way, that's where the SUV was parked last Friday.”

“There's the old access road out there,” he said, peering out the passenger window. “Garth and Marsh and I used to play out there, by that rock, all the time. It was kind-of like our clubhouse.”

“So this is still your property.”

“Yes, for another mile or so,” he affirmed. “What the fuck were they doing out there?”

“Something low down and dirty,” I guessed. “That would be my first assumption, given what I think about Derrick Yancy.”

“Let's drive out there,” he said. “Hold on.”

He turned the tires onto the shoulder and then we were bumping over the uneven ground, Case avoiding the larger clumps of brush. I braced one hand on the seat between us, not daring to sip from my water for fear of inundating myself with liquid. We came to a gravel road and he turned onto this, both of us looking for any clue.

Case said, with a touch of self-deprecation, “Am I stupid enough to think that Yancy would have left a sign? He's careful. Whatever he's looking for, it won't be obvious.”

I sighed a little, agreeing. “I'd bet he wasn't even out here the other night. He seems like the kind who'd have others do his dirty work.”

“You're a good sport,” he told me then, sitting with his left forearm braced over the top of the steering wheel. “Now I'm feeling silly for asking you to stake out my property. Like you don't have better things to do on a Friday.”

I stared at him, just this side of outright horrified; if he thought I was about to give up any amount of time to hang out with him, he was dead wrong. Though I kept my voice very neutral as I replied, “This is the kind of thing I will never, ever get a chance to do, back in Chicago. So please, don't feel that way. I'm actually kind-of excited.”

His eyes held something, deep within, but he was so damn good at hiding things. Even if Clark hadn't told me this, I would have known. But damned if I could tell what he was really feeling. He studied me silently and then his gaze lowered just a hair, to my lips, but only for the length of a breath. I felt punched in the gut, even as his eyes moved instantly back out the window.

Damn, damn, damn you
, I thought, not certain if I was talking to myself or to him.

“Well, your car isn't getting fixed with me sitting here,” he said, all business again.

“You're right,” I muttered, and this time really did hold the cold can to my neck.

***

Case swapped out the battery
as the sun sank behind the law office and sunset decorated the sky. I leaned against the hood on the far side and took great pleasure in covertly observing him. My cotton dress was grimy, but I didn't care. I handed him tools; I knew what was what in a toolbox, thanks to Uncle Justin. He had made all of us learn how to change oil, change a tire, drive a stick shift. Clint and Ruthie had been eager, while I was a grudging student at best; I liked it much better when Uncle Justin took us out in the motor boat, letting Clint, Ruthie and I take turns driving.

“You know, I was just wishing we were close enough to Flickertail Lake to jump in,” I said.

Case said, without looking up, “That's the lake by your family's café, right?”

“Yes. God, it's perfect this time of night.”

“You sound homesick,” he observed.

“Maybe a little,” I admitted.

“But that's not where you plan to live?”

I shook my head, then, realizing he wasn't looking directly at me, said, “No.” My voice was soft. “I hope to have a good job offer at Ron Turnbull's firm. And I've put in my time at his firm already, the past two summers. It won't be easy, but I'm a fast learner. And I know how to work hard.” Case was listening silently. I went on, not sounding particularly convincing, “I really do love Chicago. I'm flying back next week to take the bar exam, actually. Shit, that came fast.”

Bent over my open hood, Case did look at me then, his eyes searching my face. He said, quietly, “Can you hand me the smaller pliers?”

“Sure,” I said.

“But you'll be back out, after that? Through August, you said?”

My throat felt tight. Our fingers brushed as I passed him the tool and I said faintly, “Through Labor Day weekend.”

He nodded silently at this information.

I babbled on, “I don't have a place to live there yet, so I'll probably stay with my dad and his wife, Lanny, for a while anyway. You should see her, she's like a caricature. Everything false. Fake lips, fake breasts, fake nails, hair extensions, but classy ones, not the dime-store kind.” I didn't know why I was going on in this fashion. I didn't know why all I could think about was how fucking much I was going to miss this place. And how much I wanted Case to stand up and curl me against his chest.

Case said, “Your dad must be into appearances.”

“Yeah,” I reflected. “He's materialistic. But he's not a bad guy. I mean, there are worse things than that.”

“That's for sure,” Case agreed, and I thought of Owen Spicer and knew that this was utterly true. My father may be shallow, but at least I knew he loved me, in his own way. Watched out for me.

“There's Derrick,” I said then, suddenly spying the black 4x4 rolling down Main Street. Case straightened up and together we watched as the big vehicle, with its tinted windows, halted at the stoplight.

“He's a weasel,” Case said. “He's a weasel and a bully, both, and damned if I'm going to let him fuck us over around here.”

I shivered a little at the tone in his voice; he was so reassuring, confident of his position, and I loved that. No one would push him around. I was glad I could help him, at least for this summer.

This one summer
…

The 4x4 was headed our way now, on the opposite side of the street, and the driver's side window lowered smoothly at the touch of a button inside the vehicle. Slowing down, Derrick leaned to call over to us, “Lovely evening, isn't it?”

When neither of us responded, Derrick grinned, flashing white teeth, and accelerated away.

“What a prick,” I said.

“You can say that again,” Case muttered, before changing the subject and saying, “You want to fire her up? You should let it run for a good half hour, let the new battery charge.”

I imagined him leaving me here, now that there was no logical excuse to stick around, driving back out to his place and caring for his animals, making supper for himself, eating as he maybe watched TV. Would he take Cider out for a ride? Would he sleep on that lonely pillow on the couch? Or would he prowl his yard, restless in the dark, waiting for a sight of the black 4x4 with Colorado plates?

Let me come back with you. Oh God, I can
'
t stand the thought of you going there without me, too. I want to wrap your towel around my naked body, after you make love to me in your shower. And on all fours on your bed. And then on the kitchen table
…
the living room rug
…

Oh my God.

I felt just this side of outright insane. A large, hot, and tightly-gripping fist seemed to be squeezing all sense from my brain; my nipples were nearly jutting through the material of my dress. I realized I was staring at him with all of these thoughts rioting through me, and almost jumped in my haste to move to the driver's side, to break the intensity of my imagination.

Tish.

Get a fucking hold on yourself.

I leaned in the window and turned over the key; the engine sputtered a little and then caught, and the Honda sprang to life.

“That's a good little four-cylinder in there,” Case said, closing the hood gently. “Once you get home, let her run for another fifteen minutes.”

I nodded inanely.

He said, “I'll see you tomorrow night, at Clark's.”

The time between this moment and that one was more than an eternity. I found my voice and said, “Thank you again, for everything. You're a lifesaver.”

He shrugged as though it was nothing; was that a pleased expression in his eyes? I hoped so. I squelched the fierce urge to touch him and instead curled my hands around the top edge of the open window.

I asked, “Do you play again, tonight?”

“Not until Saturday,” he said, collecting his tools. He regarded me for just a second longer, then slipped his sunglasses into place, toolbox in hand.

“See you tomorrow,” I said, not quite able to offer a smile.

He tipped his hat brim at me and then left me standing there beside my car, alone.

It was sometime after midnight when I came awake to the grumble of thunder. The living room was icy enough that goosebumps broke out all along my arms and I shivered, stumbling from the couch to close the sliding glass door to the porch, effectively shutting out the cold draft. It had not yet started raining, though the scent of it was heavy in the air. On second thought, I grabbed the blanket from the back of couch, where I'd fallen asleep yet again, and wrapped it around myself, then headed out onto my solo chair near the railing.

I curled up and watched the sky; even in the darkness it was fearsome-looking, an anvil cloud suddenly backlit by a sizzle of lightning. I shivered again, wrapping more securely into the blanket. Thunder growled, ever increasing, as though a vindictive giant was dragging its feet in the direction of Jalesville, intent on smashing it apart. I thought of sitting on the dock at Shore Leave, with Ruthann and Clint, watching storms roll across Flickertail Lake, pock-marking the water and creating whitecaps. I had always found a thrilling joy in the sound of thunder; something within me that longed for danger found it appealing.

Case.

I curled arms around my knees and let myself acknowledge who I truly wanted to be thinking about, knowing there was no point in doing otherwise.

Are you awake right now?

I wish you were here with me right now.

I want to be in your arms.

I thought of how I'd touched him last weekend, around the fire, how I had put my fingertips on his back, the way he'd held my forearm in his hands just today. I thought of breathing the scent of him from his shampoo bottle, his t-shirt, the insanity of that.

Oh God, Case, come over here. Please, just come be near me.

Tish.

Where is this coming from?

Was it loneliness? Lack of physical contact? Maybe this meant I needed to get back to Chicago that much more quickly. That perhaps after the bar exam next week I could find an excuse to stay there, in the city…

Oh, God
…

No
…

I pressed my fists to my eyes just as another crackly burst sounded off, much closer this time. I held that pose for long moments, blocking my vision, longing for him when again I recognized with sterling clarity that I had no right. Not when I was returning to the life I was supposed to live, come the end of summer. And then I suddenly realized something and sat up straight, crackling with awareness.

He
'
s close
…

He
'
s close to you, right now.

I knew this, just as I had known Tuesday night that I would see him before this Friday at the Rawleys' house. I sprang to my feet and leaned over the railing, peering into the night, lit only by a lone streetlight on the far side of the parking lot. Rain began striking the ground then, lifting the sharp scent of dust. My heart echoed the increasing intensity of the thunder as I scanned the darkness; did I actually expect him to come walking with that sexy, shoulder-shifting stride, to just beneath the balcony, like a modern-day Romeo?

Oh God, that would be so amazing
…

I heard the sound of an engine then and my heart beat a fierce tattoo against my ribs; from my vantage point on the porch, I couldn't see the vehicle, which was undoubtedly one of my Stone Creek neighbors anyway. I spied taillights then, and though I had no idea if the truck was Case's, it was indeed a truck. It drove away from the apartment complex and then back towards Jalesville, just as rain began sheeting. I stayed put, watching, pretending that it was Case, out driving, checking on me maybe. Just as restless in the middle of the night, dying for any excuse to see me.

You
'
re flattering yourself and it
'
s ridiculous.

I sank back to the chair, wrapping into my own arms, which were cold, cold comfort when I longed for someone else so badly. I thought of everything I had learned about Case since arriving here, since we had reentered each other's lives. I thought of the things he'd told me. How he stood up for what he felt was right. The way I felt molten all through my center just picturing his face. I thought of his lonely trailer, his barn full of animals that he so obviously loved. How he played his guitar and his fiddle with such quiet passion.

I hugged myself all the harder.

And even knowing all of these things about him, he still confused me terribly. There were times, like today, when I was certain he was just as attracted to me, that desire pulsed through him, just as it did through me at the mere mention of him. In the next moment he came across as though he was trying to convey to me that he was concerned about me the way an older brother might be, a friend.

Do I want his friendship?

Yes.

But, oh God, it
'
s so terrible of me, but I want a hell of a lot more than that. It
'
s insane. I have no right to want anything more.

Case.

I repeated his name, whispering it aloud so that I could feel it on my tongue, could taste it in my mouth. I thought of him telling the story of the first girl he'd ever kissed and as unreasonable as I was at present, I was unthinkably jealous of her. I could hardly even manage to acknowledge that another woman had already been married to him, had been pregnant with his child. And she had left him. Clark said they fought a great deal; could there have been a deeper reason?

Don
'
t even, Tish, you
'
re wrong.

Go to bed.

It was raining so hard that there was splash-back on my face as I sat there, even under the ceiling that formed the bottom of the balcony on the floor above mine. I let the rain strike me, holding myself as hard as I could, and still it wasn't even half enough.

***

I spent Friday at the
law office with two tasks in mind. First, I looked into the closing of Highland Power. Second, I asked Al about this alleged Yancy ancestor, former landowner in Jalesville. Al told me that I should visit the courthouse on Monday, when Records Office was open. He said it was a musty basement room but it contained microfiche files for all of the newsprint articles that had been published in the greater Jalesville area since 1893, when the town had been founded.

“Microfiche?” I repeated.

“I know, you'd think it was three decades ago down there,” Al joked.

“No, it's not that I'm complaining. I'm just surprised. I'm embarrassed to admit that I don't know how to use that type of machine,” I told him. My eyes swept up to the clock, which I had been checking all day.

Four hours until I can see him
, I thought, drawing a breath.

Al was giving me a strange look when I glanced back at him, but he refrained from commenting. Instead he said, “I was going to ask you to come in for a few hours tomorrow to help me do inventory, but now I'm rethinking. You look exhausted, counselor. I've been working you too hard.”

“Al,” I reprimanded. “No such thing. And I'm happy to come in tomorrow. What time?”

“I'll bring us leftover chocolate cream pie, Helen Anne is just making some as we speak,” he promised. “Maybe four or so hours. You're my angel, kiddo, no kidding. Let's say about two or so?”

“I'll be here,” I said. “You can count on me.”

Driving home two hours later, I gripped the steering wheel tightly and let pure anticipation spike through my blood. I would see Case and tonight we were staking out his property. I kept picturing us in black jumpsuits, with guns strapped to our hips, prowling through the foothills. I giggled then, realizing that I did not care one bit how we looked or what we did exactly, as long as it meant I could be near him.

At my apartment, I dressed in my darkest jeans and a black t-shirt, then grabbed a dark sweatshirt to bring with. I left my hair loose (
your hair is beautiful, all down like that
may have been echoing in my head), and allowed one concession to femininity in a pair of small silver hoop earrings. I slipped into socks and my heavy-duty hiking boots, and then drove too fast to Clark's.

I pulled in and saw Wy hanging on the corral fence, lavishing both his horse Oreo and Buck with attention. My heart tripped over itself to see this evidence of Case having already arrived, and I put the car in park and nearly skipped to the fence.

“Hey, Tish!” Wy said brightly as I joined him. He was wearing his cowboy hat and I grinned happily at him, taking Buck's face between my hands and rubbing him with affection.

“They like it when you blow your breath into their noses,” Wy explained with an air of all-knowing. “See, like this.” He leaned and blew gently into Oreo's face and the horse nickered quietly and bumped her nose lightly against the boy. Wy ordered, “Now you try.”

I giggled a little and said to Buck, “I hope you don't mind, buddy,” before pursing my lips and directing a breath between his nostrils, still holding his jaws in both hands. He whooshed air back at me and nudged my face, as though giving me a kiss, and I laughed all the more.

“Now he'll never forget your scent,” Case said, from just behind me, and my heart detonated like an explosive charge.

I turned to look over my shoulder at him, unable to keep from smiling radiantly. He was hatless, in a black t-shirt and his customary faded jeans. Sunglasses hanging again from the collar of his shirt. I swallowed hard at the sight of him, not quite able to reply, and he said, “You found your hiking boots.”

“Why, are you hiking somewhere?” Wy asked, hooking his elbows over the fence and leaning forward. “Like, into the mountains?”

My gaze flashed at once to Case, who seemed to be telling me something specific with his eyes, radiating with a sense of subtle excitement. By unspoken agreement, neither of us mentioned our plans for later in the evening. Slightly breathless, I said to Wy, “No, I just got sick of wearing inappropriate shoes all the time.” Everyone else was out back, I could hear them, and on inspiration I said to Wy, “Hey, will you grab me a drink?”

“Sure,” he said at once. “What'll you have?”

“My usual, but not quite so strong,” I told him.

Wy darted inside and immediately I asked Case, “What is it? I can tell there's something…”

His grin deepened and he said, “You had the same thought as me, about the ninja look,” and he nodded at my black shirt and dark jeans; his eyes stroked over my breasts very subtly, but it was enough that my nipples tightened into gemstone-level hardness and my very vivid dream from Tuesday night came flooding to the forefront of my thoughts. He was already looking back at my eyes, but there was a flash of heat in his, intense heat that burned straight to my toes.

“What else?” I asked softly, knowing there was more. I was stroking Buck's neck as though it was Case's chest, I suddenly realized, and stilled my hands.

“I was going to say that after supper, we can meet at my place. It's less than a ten-minute ride by horseback. I'll head out when you do. And I found something just this afternoon, out by that rock,” he said, coming closer and putting his hands on Buck's neck, on the opposite side. He patted his horse, our eyes holding steady, and my heart was frantic with the need to be pressed to his. He said, “It's the strangest thing. Someone was digging out there.”

“Digging?” I repeated.

He nodded and said, “I took Buck for a ride out there and explored all around, like a kid, not exactly expecting to find anything. But then, near the base of the rock, I saw that the earth had been turned. I could tell. A couple of scrubs uprooted. And there were boot prints, not my own.”

“Did you grab a shovel?” I asked, ready to drive straight over there and put one to use. My imagination was firing on all cylinders. “Do you think they buried something?
A body?
Maybe Derrick had someone killed —”

Case didn't make fun of me, didn't scoff or so much as laugh. He said, “I felt the way I used to when we were kids, Garth and me trying to find mysteries to solve, the legend of the gold all up in our heads. But Tish, I don't think they were burying something. I think it was that they were —”

“
Unburying
something,” I finished. Then it struck me and I absolutely babbled without thinking, “You said my name.”

He looked hard at me then, intently, and I was not imagining the flush over his cheekbones. He knitted his eyebrows and I suddenly realized I threw him into a tailspin just as much as he threw me. His voice was soft as he contradicted in his deep voice, “I've said your name.”

“Not ‘Tish,'” I disagreed. I couldn't have torn my eyes from his for the promise of all the gold buried in the foothills through all of Montana.

His eyelashes lowered for a second but then he looked back at me, Buck's long nose the only thing between us, and our invisible connection sizzled and throbbed, stronger than ever. I knew he felt it, even if he wouldn't acknowledge it, not yet. I studied his eyes and had the strangest flash of what felt like a memory – Case coming to me while I sat up high on a wagon seat, his shoulders near my ankles. His hand gliding up my leg, under layers of my long skirt, his eyes burning into mine. The strength of this vision was like a striking fist.

Oh God
…

What was that?

Did I just have a Notion?
I wondered, almost shuddering with its force.
Like Aunt Jilly?

“Here you go!” Wy announced, popping back out the front door, a gin and tonic in hand.

“Thanks,” I told him, flustered, sloshing a little onto my hand as Wy passed it to me. I wiped my wrist against my thigh as we walked around the side of the house, to the porch. I knew that Case and I would have to shelve our discussion until later; I was dying to ask him if he'd had the sense of the wagon, of touching my leg, too…