The Revelations of Preston Black (Murder Ballads and Whiskey Book 3) (6 page)

“Thanks for taking care of me,” she
finally said as we were totally free of suburbia. “Lately the road feels like
home, the truck stops and hotels. But it’s not home.”

“Well, with you I’m never lost, never
hungry. Never wanting. Maybe that’s why you feel that way?” I put my arm around
her. “But you deserve more.”

“All you have to do is love me. That’s
the only thing I need.”

After an awkward delay, I said, “Not
really sure your mom would agree with you.” I shook my head and went on,
talking just to talk. Never knowing when to shut up. “I think I’m a bit of a
letdown in her eyes.”

“Preston, do you have any idea how
hurt she’d be if she heard you ever say something like that?” She got angry and
pulled away from me. “My mother never expected me—not for a second—to go out
and find a man to take care of me. If you think that’s who I am then we have so
much more to discuss.”

“That’s not how I meant it, Katy. You
know that, right?”

“Then you should’ve said what you
meant.”

“In my head I think about what Ben
would’ve done to those people last night. Maybe I feel like I’m not aggressive
enough. Just forget about it, okay?”

“No, it’s in the air now. We can’t
roll the windows back up like it never happened. If we’re going to take this to
the next level we’re going to have to get some things straight. You know why I
never wanted a serious relationship? Because my dad was an asshole. My mom
didn’t need somebody to protect her and she certainly didn’t sit around all day
waiting for some guy to swoop in and save her.” She crossed her arms and stared
out the window. “One of the first guys I ever got close to was Dante Fiorelli—a
forestry major from New Jersey. I told you about him. He thought he knew how to
take care of me. Every week he’d drag me up to Dolly Sods to backpack—never
mind that the mountain sat in my backyard. Or that we’d spent three or four
nights at week down at Wamsley’s talking to Jeremy or Chip about bikes. Henry
and Ben antagonized him relentlessly because they didn’t respect him. After I
broke it off with Dante I went for a bookish guy. A quiet European Lit major
who could only express emotion as a reference to a novel or character. Needless
to say, it didn’t last very long, and I knew I had to raise my standards higher
if I was ever going to really fall in love. Then I met you.”

She smiled, even though I didn’t
really get it.

“Well, we have an amazing thing here
and I don’t want to change any of it. I hope you feel the same way.”

She sighed. “You know, boys are like
singles—they just want to get to the point and move on. Like every situation is
another problem to be solved. Girls are like albums, they want to spend time in
your thoughts. They want you to see them as a whole, not as a collection of
pieces.” Her tone grew angry again and I couldn’t quite figure out why. She
closed her eyes and let her head fall back against the headrest. “We’re not
going to go steady forever, I hope.”

“Look, in my thoughts I’m able to give
you the house you deserve. Nice things. But what if this is temporary and we
have to scrounge for money after this bubble bursts? That’s what I’m afraid of.
That one day I’ll be back to a nine-to-five and all we’ll have is the stories of
our time on the road.”

“Well, soon enough you’ll see that
what matters most is being together. Not the shows or the fans. Besides, do you
think my opinion of you changes based on what you do for a living? Or that my
mom’s does? I know that you and Pauly had a hard time growing up, and I’m not
sure I could ever walk in your shoes, but think about being up on the mountain
at that farm. We have our fair share of alcohol and food and laughs but six
months before all that I buried my kid cousin. Crops fail and animals get sick.
It’s a different way of life, but we don’t change our opinions of somebody
based on circumstances beyond their control. The river floods. Springs go bad
or dry up. It’s nobody’s fault—everybody pitches in and makes it right. That’s
what you’d be a part of. A support group that extends far and wide. What would
Jamie say if he heard you talking like this?”

“I know.”

She knew that would get me. And she
was right. “It scares me to think it isn’t going to last forever. Your people
can be pretty intimidating, you know that? They have all these memories and
shared experiences. I never get the inside jokes.”

“Preston. Are you worried about being
an outsider? Because there’s not an event on God’s green earth any more
inside
than burying
Odelia Lewis and Lucinda Tasso in a mine shaft above the Blackwater. Can you
imagine coming into the family not being a part of that? Consider that your
initiation and let it be. I have cousins and aunts who don’t know what happened
because they weren’t there. My pap and grandma respect the fact that you
would’ve died for me given a chance. And you pulled a trigger for me. What else
is there? Really? You have their love and respect.”

But she kept going like she never had
any intention of letting me jump in. “Jamie came to our first show. You don’t
think Ben would’ve wanted to be there if he would’ve known? Or my mom and
Chloey? They came out to Philly just to see us and followed us up to New York
City. You think Jamie wouldn’t have dropped everything to be there if he could’ve?”

“I get it, Katy. I know where you’re
coming from.” After a long minute, I said, “Well, what about Pauly? I can’t
leave him all by himself.”

“You know Pauly will be my brother as
long as you love me.” She put her hand on my shoulder. “But you know he’s going
to fall in love and get married too, right?”

Emotion made me say things I didn’t
want to say. Things I’d been afraid to say. Clichéd things. “Katy, I’m never
going to let anything happen to you. You know that, right?”

“I appreciate that, Preston. I really
do. But stuff happens and I know you’ll do everything you can.”

“No. No way.” I got a little mad now.
“I’m never going to let anything happen to you. I promise.”

We
stayed at Cloudland Canyon for as long as we were able to without making the
long drive back to Muscle Shoals feel like some sort of overnight epic. After
the last two days we didn’t need any drama, and this little side trip suited us
perfectly. We walked through the blooming dogwoods and talked about everything
but music and I realized I had no idea how badly she needed a day off. As much
as I hated to admit it, I needed time off too.

The mountains reminded Katy of West
Virginia, except the dogwoods were blooming way too early and there were pines
instead of hemlocks and the smell seemed a little off. “Earthier,” she said.
“This is rockier than Blackwater Canyon. And there’s only a stream at the
bottom instead of a river.”

I smiled knowing I’d accidentally
given her the one thing she needed the most. Her homesickness manifested itself
as nonstop chatter about her mom and Chloey. Counting down the days until we
could sleep in our own bed made us feel like little kids counting down the days
until Christmas.

We stood at an overlook for a real
long time watching clouds move in from the west and not saying anything.
Lightning struck the rolling Alabama hills, and I worried a little about
driving back through the rain. Fog rolled up from the stream on the valley
floor as the temperature cooled. She shivered, so I took off my coat and wrapped
her in it.

She laughed when I tied the ends of
the sleeves together like a strait jacket. I kissed her neck then set her up on
the railing while she struggled and laughed. She wrapped her legs around me and
leaned back over the drop, saying, “Save me, Preston! My hero.”

And I got a little embarrassed because
I thought she might have been giving me a hard time about what I’d said in the
car this morning, about not ever letting anything happen to her. But when I
told her to be quiet she said, “You know how to shut me up.”

I kissed her and she closed her eyes.
She slid off the rail. I caught her and lowered her gently to the deck while
she kissed me back. Her hand drifted up to my cheek and lingered there. I’ll
never forget the way she looked at me when she finally let me go. Like she
tried to look past my skin and hair. Like she was testing me with her eyes,
trying to figure out what I hid behind my smile. Like my name was a lie, and
that I had to tell her the truth before we could go on.

The way she looked at me, a little
scared and vulnerable filled me with words I’d never said before. Made me
dizzy. And before I knew it my face got warm and I lowered my knee to the cold
ground. I’d never planned this moment and worried a little about not having any
kind of ring to give her, but I knew that whatever I said would be the right
thing. I grabbed her hand and rested my cheek on her palm. “Katy Stefanic,” I
said. But before I could say anything else she pulled her hand away and walked
toward the car.

Still on my knees, I leaned against
the rail and watched the mist rise from the canyon. Lightning split the
distance, and I couldn’t hear the thunder.

When I stood, I saw her headed toward
the bathroom and wondered how I could’ve fucked that up. It took a lot to convince
myself that she hadn’t rejected me. At least it didn’t feel like a rejection. I
knew the timing just could’ve been better, and figuring that out on my own
without being reactionary or angry made me a little stronger. Meant I’d grown
up. I knew she loved me.

The minute I got back to the car the
rain fell in buckets. I drove toward the bathroom and got as close to the door
as I could so she could stay dry. But she took her good old time coming back
out. I remained patient, because in the past being hotheaded never worked out
well for me. I turned on the radio—“I’m So Lonesome I Could Cry” by Hank
Williams. I turned the station and got Skynyrd. “Simple Man.”

After hearing Conway Twitty and
Loretta Lynn’s “Louisiana Woman, Mississippi Man” and Alabama’s “Feels So
Right” she appeared in the doorway. She paused, looking a bit relieved that she
didn’t have to sprint across the parking lot. When she finally scooted her way
over to the car I reached over and opened the door for her. She sat down but
didn’t shut the door and I panicked, like she’d try to escape or something.
Only after she started talking did I realize she just wanted the interior light
on so I could see her face.

“Yes,” she said. “Definitely yes a
thousand times. But I don’t want this to be the moment. Not on the road when
we’re both worn out and not thinking straight, okay? Take your time and we’ll
make it count. But you know it’s ‘yes’ or you wouldn’t have ever asked.” She
rested her head on my shoulder and her hand on my thigh.

For the longest time we sat there
without moving. Right in front of the bathrooms with the
Door
Ajar
chime
dinging into the night. When she finally sat up, she looked at me and said,
“Preston, I love you.”

“I know.” I smiled. “I love you,
Katy.”

“How much?” she said as she pulled the
door shut and clicked her seatbelt.

I circled out of the parking lot.

It took her finally saying, “I’m
waiting,” for me to realize she wasn’t being rhetorical.

I laughed and said the first thing
that popped into my mind. “More than words.”

“No, Preston. Before we go to bed
tonight I want something better than ‘more than words.’” She changed the
station. “I want the words.”

So we left the park to return to the
small hotel room, our home for the next week. The last room before the last
room in Atlanta. The last bed before the last bed before heading back to the
sleepy Morgantown apartment we shared. And I drove knowing her words meant
something.

Just outside Huntsville, between
Curley and Woodley, we stopped for dinner at a large truck diner. Just past the
International
Harvester
hats
and books on tape and windshield wash fluid we found a place making catfish
sandwiches on white bread, with sides of greens and black-eyed peas and dirty
rice. They had brisket on the menu and I had to assume it was for real because
I could smell the hickory smoke coming from the back. I would’ve been happy
with cornbread and a few sides, but ended up with country fried steak and white
gravy with biscuits and green beans with ham hock and sweet potato casserole.
More food than I could ever want or need.

Katy smiled as she ate her sweet
potato casserole. Eating made her happy, and I totally understood it. Comfort.
That feeling that your mom is going to pop around a corner any second now with
juice and cookies.

“I owe you a dessert,” I said, wanting
to prolong the good feelings. I could’ve spent all night here, with her.

“Yeah. I think it’s time for pecan
pie. We’ve been in the South long enough, right? Long enough to build up
immunity. Pecan pie and butter pecan ice cream. I wonder if that’s even a
thing? If not it should be.” She stood up. “I have to pee. Order it so it’s
waiting for me when I get back.”

With that, she sauntered over to the
bathroom. Leaving wood-paneled romance for the bright lights of hand driers and
liquid soap.