Beauty and the Mustache

“But….”

“But nothing, hon.” Jethro pulled away but his hands rested on my shoulders, his light brown eyes penetrating, almost hostile. “Please, Ash. Please go with Drew. Please let him take you home and keep you safe.”

I blinked and glanced to the side. My eyes were scratchy from crying. My voice was nasally when I spoke, and I knew my frustration was bleeding through. “I’m not helpless, Jethro. I’ve been taking care of Momma for the last month. I made sure she was bathed and comfortable, and that she’d eaten. I live by myself in Chicago. I put myself through college.”

“Honey, Ash, no one is questioning the fact that, out of all of us, you are the most capable of living in the real world and making good decisions. But Darrell Winston is not one to be reasoned with.” Jethro released a pained breath, his eyes were glassy. His fingers flexed on my shoulders and he shook me a little when he spoke, his voice unsteady. “Honey, you are precious to us. You are precious to me. We just lost Momma. You are my baby sister, and I can’t-”

“Okay, okay.” I cut him off because he was working himself into a tiff. The last thing I wanted was to argue with my brothers. If they wanted me to go with Drew, if it gave them peace of mind, then I would go with Drew.

Jethro exhaled, closed his eyes in relief, and he gave me a big hug. “Thank you.”

My eyes locked with Drew’s, whose gaze was inscrutable; his mouth was a flat line. I couldn’t guess what he was thinking for all the world.

“It’s fine,” I sniffled, not liking that I’d been emotionally blackmailed into leaving. When Jethro finally took his hands from my shoulders, I spoke to all three of them, holding my index finger in front of me like a sword. “But let the record show that I’ve agreed to this only under duress.”

“So noted,” Billy snapped. “But honestly, Ash? If you hadn’t agreed, I was prepared to tie you up and have Roscoe drop you off on Drew’s doorstep. You’re more stubborn than Momma sometimes.”

Something in me snapped at his harsh tone. I was tired of this distance between us. I was tired of earning his censure. I needed to own up to my mistakes, and I needed him to understand that I was sorry.

So I reached for his hand and held it. “Billy, will you forgive me? Will you please forgive me? I’m fighting to stay now because I’m trying to learn from my mistakes. I don’t want to leave you all like I did before. I feel like I abandoned you.”

I watched his throat work without swallowing. At length he said, “Don’t be stupid.”

I ignored him and apologized again because I had to, because he needed to hear it. “Billy, I’m so sorry I left.”

Billy’s eyes moved between mine, and I could see a raw wire of emotion in his blue eyes. I’d struck a nerve.

“Ashley Austen Winston,” he said, his voice rough and unsteady, “it was never about you leaving. You had to go. I get that. We all knew that. Never regret needing to better yourself.”

I nodded, tears springing to my eyes; I thought he was finished and I was grateful for his words.

Therefore, he surprised me when he continued, “It was the staying gone that pissed me off. I can handle your irritation and hard looks. Hell, I can even handle your disappointment, your anger, your sarcasm, and your screaming like a banshee about nothing much that matters. What I can’t abide is your apathy. Apathy between family members makes the blood they share turn to water.”

***

Neither of us spoke during the ride up the mountain. Lost to my thoughts, I was caught in a net of my own making.

Drew grabbed my suitcase from the bed of his truck before I had a chance to reach it. I thought about reminding him that the giant bag had wheels but decided against it. He looked restless like he wanted to carry something heavy.

I’d packed everything, even the vibrator and condoms from Sandra, as I didn’t know when or if I would get a chance to go back to the house before returning to Chicago. Also, God forbid one of my brothers found the vibrator and/or condoms in my room. The roof would blow off the house.

Life was happening too fast. Momma had died at 4:33 in the morning; now it was 10:30 at night, and everything had changed.

He unlocked the front door and opened it, motioning for me to walk in first. I did.

The last time I’d been at Drew’s place was several weeks ago when I’d called him an ass for calling me sexy. I couldn’t help but smile at the memory because I was so mad at him I could hardly see straight. Now Momma was gone and I missed her. Drew and I would also be indefinitely separated in just a few days.

But that wasn’t quite true. I was thinking of coming home to Tennessee for Christmas. Maybe we’d see each other then….

For some reason, the idea of seeing Drew in passing during family holidays made me feel worse than not seeing him at all.

Drew led me down the hall, past the bathroom where I’d dulled his razor, to a large bedroom. The walls were painted a pale green. A double bed anchored the center of one wall; the comforter looked to be an old quilt made with white and yellow hexagons of fabric hand-stitched neatly together in the honeybee design. A side table was next to the bed and a wooden bench was at the foot of it.

Much like the library I’d woken up in during my first visit, one entire wall was windows, but two of the glass panels were also doors leading out to a large porch or balcony. I couldn’t see much of the porch now, but in the daytime, I would have to explore it.

“You’ll sleep here.” Drew carried my suitcase to the wooden bench and added, “You can use the bathroom you used before. If you’re hungry, help yourself to anything.”

I nodded, thinking that the bed looked sublimely comfortable. It had that cushy appearance, like the mattress was that super swanky orthopedic memory foam and the pillows were feather.

He lingered at the bench, glancing around the space as though inspecting it.

“You should get some sleep,” he said, not looking at me as he moved toward the door.

Just then, an owl hooted.

I shivered and murmured, “Hootiedoom.”

Drew stopped in his tracks, his eyes moving to mine. “What?”

I gave myself a little shake. “Sorry, I said hootiedoom.”

His brow furrowed, but his mouth curved just slightly. “What is hootiedoom?”

“It’s when you experience a sense of dread right after an owl hoots.”

Drew stared at me for a beat then smiled. “I’ve never heard of hootiedoom. Maybe I should add it to my field notes.”

I was grateful for the break in tension, and I managed a small smile. “You have a PhD, and you’ve never heard of hootiedoom? What kind of graduate school was this ‘Baylor University’?” I used air quotes for emphasis.

“Obviously not a very good one.”

“Obviously. Then I’m guessing you never heard of Snipe-shivers?”

He pressed his lips together and faced me, his feet braced apart like he was planning to stay awhile. “No. I’ve never heard of Snipe-shivers.”

“Oh, bless your heart.” I’d said it before I knew I was going to say it. Obviously, some part of me craved bantering with Drew, engaging in a battle of wits and thinking about something other than death and funerals, and crazy dangerous family members, and leaving in a few short days for Chicago.

His mouth dropped open and his eyes became wide saucers under arched eyebrows. “I can’t believe you just bless your heart-ed me.”

“What?” I shrugged, hoping my forced expression of obliviousness was halfway convincing, “What’s wrong with saying bless your heart?”

“Ashley, I grew up in Texas. Ladies all over the south use bless your heart for one reason and one reason only.”

I shrugged. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I have only good intentions for your heart.”

The air in the room shifted as soon as the words left my mouth, my last statement echoing between us, and I realized their double meaning way too late.

“Do you?” He said this simply, the smile waning from his lips.

Drew broke eye contact first, took a step back, and lowered his eyes to the floor. “I’ll let you get some sleep.”

Unthinkingly, I stayed his retreat by grabbing his arm just above his elbow. “Wait, Drew.”

His eyes sliced to mine and a grim smile seemed to curve his mouth both up and down. He covered my hand with his. “The funeral will be on Wednesday. I imagine you’ll want to get your flight booked as soon as possible. I have a satellite connection up here for the wireless.”

I sighed, my heart feeling like dead weight in my chest, so I likely sounded overwhelmed when I said, “I honestly don’t know what I want.”

“Ashley….” Drew stepped forward and cupped my face with his big paw. I immediately wrapped my hands around his wrist to keep him there. His eyes became lost while studying my face. The fact that he was staring at me didn’t feel weird because I was staring at him. I had a mounting urge to memorize every detail of his features, just in case—after this week—I never saw him again.

His expression sobered, like his eyes were once again focusing, and he said, “Ash, you just lost your momma, and I just lost a really good friend. Now you know I don’t think of you as a sister…” His eyebrows lifted as he said this, his voice dipped with Texas charm, and it made me laugh even though I felt close to crying.