Autumn
The days dissolved away to Tuesday, the day before Connor and Weston were being deployed. Ruby and I drove to Boston for the goodbye party, which was a semi-formal barbeque in the Drakes’ enormous backyard.
“I hope we got the dress code right,” Ruby said.
“You look gorgeous. As usual.”
Ruby wore jeans and an elegant black blouse that crisscrossed in the back. She straightened her hair, so it curled up at her shoulders and highlighted her eyes only with mascara. She didn’t need anything else.
“So besides Connor’s family, who’s going to be there?” Ruby asked.
“Weston’s mother and sisters. A few friends from Connor’s old baseball team.”
“Baseball players?” Ruby grinned at the windshield. “Sounds promising.”
“I want to be you when I grow up.”
She glanced over at me and patted my hand.
“Try to have fun, okay? I know it’s hard, but you’ll get to FaceTime or whatever Army-technological-super-classified-top-secret method of communication they have over there.”
“I know. It’s just hard.”
“You look fantastic. If that counts for anything.”
I wore a purple dress that buttoned down the front and flared at the waist. My hair was tied up in a loose bun and I curled the tendrils that fell down around my face.
I forced a smile.
Ruby pulled up to the curb and looked through her window at the Drake house. “What a cozy little family cottage. Brief me, Goose. I didn’t talk with the Drakes much at Boot Camp graduation. Anything I should be prepared for?”
“Mr. Drake changes conversation subjects at the drop of a hat. Just go with it. And Mrs. Drake will ask you to call her Victoria and you won’t want to.”
“Got it. Let’s do this.”
A housekeeper answered the door and led us through the house to the backyard. Ruby barely looked at the interior décor. She came from money so she wasn’t impressed easily. For all her bawdy irreverence, her manners were impeccable. That and her confidence won over Mr. and Mrs. Drake immediately as we chatted for a few minutes in the kitchen.
“Forgive me, I must mingle,” Mrs. Drake said. “Such a pleasure seeing you again, Ruby.”
“You too, Victoria.”
Ruby shot me a smirk and I rolled my eyes.
A hired barbecue chef manned three grills, each the size of a small car. Two were crammed with hot dogs, hamburgers, steaks and chicken. The third was all vegetarian fare. Soft drinks and water were laid out on one table, practically untouched, as most of the guests congregated near the open bar.
Weston was nowhere to be seen, but I saw his mother and sisters gabbling together and arguing at one of the six umbrella-covered tables. Connor stood with some baseball buddies, a drink in his hand, talking and laughing. He did a double-take when he saw me, and a strange, nervous smile floated over his lips.
“Hey, baby,” he said, coming over. He smelled of gin as he bent to kiss my cheek. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
“Looks like a nice party,” I said.
“Excuse me,” Ruby said, slipping away, leaving Connor and me to stand in silence like ex-spouses barely on speaking terms.
“Autumn?”
I glanced up sharply. “Yes?”
Talk to me. Please. Tell me something.
“Look, I… I have something for you. Come on.”
He took my hand and guided me back into the house. I followed him down hallways and around corners to an office space. Beautiful, floor-to-ceiling shelves in shiny mahogany lined the walls, every one of them packed tight with books.
“Wait, don’t tell me,” I said. “You’re giving me this library? Just like in Beauty and the Beast? I accept.”
He laughed as he went to the immense desk in the center of the room. “Not quite. Something better, I hope.”
He pulled out an envelope from a drawer, then brought it to me and pressed it into my hand.
“What is this?”
“Open it.”
The envelope wasn’t sealed. I peeked inside to see a check made out to me. My heart took off and my gaze jumped up to his.
“Thirty-five thousand dollars? What …?”
And then I knew. The envelope trembled in my shaking hands.
“Weston told you, didn’t he? About the farm?”
He nodded. “It’s from both of us, in that sense. Because we both…care about you, Autumn.”
I shook my head, tears welling. “I never told him how much we needed.”
“Is it enough?”
“It’s almost exactly right.” I pressed the envelope to his chest. “I can’t take this.”
Connor caught my hand and held it, so the envelope wouldn’t fall. “Yes, you can. Your family needs it.”
“It’s too much. You have this much?”
Connor bit his cheek. “My father helped.”
I sagged. “God, Connor. You told him? You told your parents?” I turned away, my face burning. The envelope fell to the lush, carpeted floor.
His arms came around me from behind to turn me to face him. “Hey. It’s nothing to them—”
“It’s everything to me!” I cried, tearing out of his grip. “But I can’t say no, can I? I have to help my family. I’d be a fool to let my pride stop me, but my parents… They have pride too. And if they knew how I got this…”
I sank down in an overstuffed leather settee with wide brass buttons. Connor retrieved the check from the floor and knelt in front of me.
“We’re leaving tomorrow morning,” he said. “For God-knows how long. Wes told me about your family’s situation, and he didn’t—we didn’t want to leave you alone to cope with it. Not when I can help you.”
“This was his idea,” I said.
Connor shook his head. “He told me you needed it. I made it happen.”
“No, I can’t. It’s too much. My parents would wonder where I got it and I could never tell them. Never. God, my mother would never speak to me again.”
“Why not? For helping them? That’s all this is, babe. It’s help.”
“It’s too much.”
He pressed the envelope into my hand, and curled my fingers around it. I lifted my tear-stained face.
“What’s happening between us, Connor? I’m so confused. I feel like you’re two different people. You write me these beautiful letters but when I see you, those words aren’t there.”
And then I froze. A heavy lead weight dropped into my stomach. Followed by another. Two pieces clicking together. My throat went dry and a million thoughts—a thousand words—suddenly swarmed my brain like white-winged moths. I looked at Connor and my mind tried to conjure him sitting at a table, pen to paper, writing and writing and writing. My name at the top of the page.
I couldn’t do it. Connor wasn’t there.
But Weston…
Weston Turner materialized at the empty desk in my mind’s eye, and it was effortless to picture him there, bent over a notebook, his pen scribbling…
No. Stop. Impossible.
Yet the implications swamped me. A deluge of nauseating suspicion.
“What is it?” Connor asked, his tone wary, his hands stiffening on mine.
I held his gaze hard, searching, thoughts racing through my mind.
It can’t be. That’s a fucked up thing to do to someone. Catfishing? Like that show? Despicable. Weston would never manipulate me like that. And Connor would never do that and then sleep with me. Never toy with my heart. Why would he?
“You wouldn’t… lie to me, would you?” I asked, my voice hardly a whisper. “You wouldn’t tell me things that aren’t true? Not sentiments like those in the letters?”
I slept with you for a poem.
Connor shook his head from side to side, his lips pressed into a thin line.
“They’re all true, Autumn,” he said. “Every word in those letters is true.”
I nodded slowly. Connor’s words were his own. They had to be. Plenty of them came out of his mouth. I’d heard them myself. The phone call in Nebraska was a perfect example.
I sucked in a steadying breath. “I just don’t know what’s happening. Everything feels so tangled up.”
Connor blew out his cheeks. “I know. And I don’t know what to do about it.”
Mrs. Drake walked into the office then. “Oh, I beg your pardon, I hope I’m not interrupting.” Discreetly, she kept her eyes on her son while I wiped the tears from my cheeks. “The guests were starting to ask after you, dear. And Reginald has arrived.”
“Be right there, Mom,” Connor said.
“Need anything?” she asked him, but I could feel it was directed to me.
“We’re good.”
She went out and closed the door quietly.
“The famous Reginald,” I said.
His eyes were still on the door. “These are my last hours with my friends and family. And you.”
“I know. Let’s go party.”
We both got to our feet. He held the envelope out to me and I took it, tucking the check into my purse, which immediately felt a thousand pounds heavier.
“Thank you,” I said, as we walked out. “Even if it stings to accept the money, I’m incredibly grateful.”
He smiled, a strange melancholy behind his eyes. “It’s what I do.”
Out in the backyard, Connor held up his glass. “I’m going to get a refill. Can I bring you something?”
I desperately wanted to get drunk—it wouldn’t take much—and get this horrible tangle and tightness out of my stomach. But the last thing I needed was to make a fool of myself in front of the Drakes. It was going to be hard enough looking them in the eye as it was.
“Just a water.”
He kissed my cheek again. “Be right back.”
But as he approached the bar, a crowd of greetings, hugs, and backslapping surrounded him. He was immediately swallowed up and I knew he wouldn’t reemerge for a while. I plucked a water bottle from the cooler near the grill and took it to a corner of the yard. Leaning against the trunk of a dogwood tree, I surveyed the party, not feeling part of it and not caring much. Ruby was talking to some people near the grill. Weston was still nowhere to be seen.
Missing in action, I couldn’t help thinking. The damn cap on the bottle wouldn’t turn and the plastic was digging into my skin.
“Need some help?”
Weston materialized beside me, looking devastating in jeans and a black dress shirt. He took the bottle and twisted the cap off.
“Aren’t you helpful?” I said, snatching the bottle back and taking a fast drink. “Next, you’ll be asking Connor to buy me a bottling plant.”
Weston smiled at the corner of his mouth. “Seems a bit excessive, don’t you think?”
“I told you what I told you in confidence,” I said.
“I know,” Weston said, his smile falling away. “And I know it’s a whole lot of bread—”
“Don’t make jokes,” I said. “You know how hard this is. To be this grateful and this uncomfortable at the same time.”
Weston’s angular face softened. “We weren’t going to leave you to deal with it alone.”
“That’s what Connor said. But it feels like a payoff. I know that’s a terrible way to look at a gift like this, but it’s the truth. Like he’s guilty and so he’s trying to buy me out of being frustrated with him.”
Weston’s voice was low and heavy. “He wanted to help you. That’s all.”
Is that all you’ve done, Weston?
I studied his face—his ocean eyes—as if the answers to my doubts and confusions were written there. The only thing I could grasp was the surety that he’d never hurt me. It didn’t seem possible.
“Thank you,” I said. “For opening my water bottle.”
I watched him, hoping he would get my meaning. I didn’t want debt of any kind between us, two scholarship kids.
He smiled and it was like the sun coming out after a cloudy day. “You’re welcome.”
We stood together, watching the party. Ruby joined Connor’s group and had them all laughing within moments. At one of the wrought iron tables, Paul gently wiped a dollop of mustard from the corner of Miranda’s mouth. She ceased her arguing with her daughters and smacked a kiss on his lips.
Weston’s smile was small and sad as he took it all in. A goodbye smile, I thought. And I hated it. Hated every passing second that brought us closer to our goodbye.
I moved closer to him, shoulder to shoulder, the backs of our hands brushing.
We stood that way for a long time.
Fueled by an endless supply of food and alcohol, the party didn’t end until nearly ten at night. The Army unit supervisor would pick Connor and Weston up at six a.m. to take them to the airport. Only Ruby, Weston’s family, and I were staying over at the Drake residence to see them off.
The guests trickled or staggered out, giving Connor tearful or back-slapping hugs goodbye. Miranda cupped her son’s face in her hands. “Good night, baby. I’ll see you in a coupla hours, okay? For God’s sake, someone better wake me if my alarm doesn’t go off.”
She planted loud kisses on his cheeks and hugged him.
“Okay, good night, Ma,” he said.
Paul Winfield shook Weston’s hand. “Good night, Wes. See you in a few. I’ll make sure Miranda’s awake.”
The Drakes went up to bed, leaving Ruby, Wes, Connor and me alone.
“Let’s go out,” Connor said, a slight slur to his words.
“Go out where?” Weston asked.
“This is our last night of freedom,” he said. “I don’t want it to end yet.” His eyes widened. “Hey, let’s go to Roxie’s.”
Weston frowned. “The roadhouse? On Route Ten? That’s like an hour from here.”
Connor fished out his phone, peering at it blearily. After a few moments, he crowed triumphantly. “It’s only a forty-minute drive. Come on, I’ll hire a car. It’ll be fun.” He gave my hand a squeeze. “They have pool tables. I can show you off.”
I glanced at Ruby.
She shrugged. “I’m down.”
Connor beamed. “Wes?”
“Sure,” he said. “Whatever you want.”
An hour later, a sedan was taking us west, along a lonely stretch of highway between Amherst and Boston.
“I hear this place is kind of rough,” I said, wedged between Connor and Ruby in the back seat while Weston sat up front with the driver.
“Nah, it’s great,” Connor said. “You’ll love it.”