CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Reese
When Kelly had gone I spent my time cleaning the kitchen. I did it all systematically and slowly. The plates. The pot. The knives and forks. Lastly, under running water, the mugs. It gave me time to focus my thoughts. Whenever I had been stressed in the army, I’d taken the time to clean my weapons and organize my equipment and kit. It was a way of shifting focus, of stopping myself falling into worrying.
This morning had been amazing. But what was worrying Kelly?
The more I thought about it, the more there was only one explanation to me. Someone—a boyfriend—had surfaced.
It made sense. I’d heard nothing of her phone call, except for the fact that the low burr of voice on the talking end was obviously male. She had been relaxed and happy before, and then she was tense and stressed.
She didn’t want to tell me. What else’d she hide? And she was sad…maybe she regrets…this.
I sighed. The thought of Kelly walking away from me was hard. It surprised me to realize just how hard it, in fact, was. Over the short time she’d entered my life, she’d transformed it. She had made me believe I’d done my best. Given me back my faith in myself and my trust—in myself and others.
Now I discovered she was unable to be part of my life.
I snorted, laughing at myself. “You don’t know anything! You don’t even know her last name. She might be married, for all you bothered to discover.”
I didn’t think so, but it was possible. No one had ever mentioned whether she was or not.
I sighed. The more I thought about it, the more it made sense. I didn’t blame anyone. Not her, not her partner, not even me. To blame would be to say I’d want things to be different and I didn’t. I didn’t regret it.
“If I never found out, I’d still be happy.”
I sighed.
None of this really made sense to me. Thinking’s not your strong suit, Bradford, I thought sadly. I should stop thinking and just go do something.
The farm wasn’t short of things for me to do, after all. It was why I’d bought it. I changed into a shirt and long pants and headed out for a walk.
The sky was a soft gray over the fields and it looked like rain. A much-needed rain it would be too, I thought distractedly. The air was dense with the dusty smell of parched earth. I could hear the faint whisper of the windmill next door, creaking in the gentle ripple of wind.
It was hard. Hard to forget.
I made a catalog of things I had to do. I needed to have the spark plugs checked on the pickup. I needed to repair the roof in the hallway. I needed to finish the barns. And later there were other things to do. Purchase a tractor. Prepare fields. Plow them and find a supplier of decent beans to grow. Find buyers. Purchase fertilizer and chemicals. A system for irrigation. A truck for transport. A place for packing and sorting the products and the labor to help me with picking it.
I chuckled. “It’s her fault for starting me off.”
My plans for the farm had been nebulous before that, the faintest ideas not really fully formed. Now they were growing apace. I could almost see the harvest.
I looked out over the field under the growing storm clouds and headed inside.
I was on the roof, fixing the holes, when the storm came. Being on a roof in an electric storm is easily the worst place for being. I clambered down the ladder quickly and headed into the house, shutting the door fast behind me.
As if you can escape storms that way. I chuckled.
Saying a brief prayer that the place was earthed, I went to the couch and found my phone.
I sent two texts: the first was to her.
Hey, Kelly. Let me know what’s up sometime.
As I pressed “send,” I kind of regretted it. I should just walk away. I should let her get on with her life. It wasn’t fair of me to do this to her.
The second text was to Jackson. I suddenly remembered I was meant to be meeting him in town this afternoon. It was probably just what I needed.
Hey. See you in about an hour, right? B
As I sat there brooding, he called me.
“Hey!”
“Hey, Jackson.”
“Great! When I hadn’t heard from you, I thought you weren’t going to show up. Coming now?”
“Mm.” I agreed. “Still the same place?”
“Sure!” He sounded optimistic. I thought it was rather optimistic—the pub he’d selected, the Green Mill, was famous for its outdoor area—but didn’t mention it.
“See you in a bit.”
“Awesome. See you then. Bye.”
I hung up and, stretching, went to get changed. The day had helped to clear my head and I was ready for anything. As I drove into town I found myself wondering whether my friend could shed any light on my troubles.
I walked into the bar to find him sitting at our usual table at the back. He looked up and grinned when he saw me.
“Hey! Long time since I saw you!” He stood and shook my hand. His weather beaten, lean face lit up and I found myself feeling much better now that I’d met up with someone so readily familiar.
“Hey,” I agreed, squeezing his hand. “It’s been too long.”
“Sure has,” he agreed, stretching. We sat in the back, him on the bench and me on the chair opposite. The outdoor area was empty, and the customers all packed into the space enclosed by walls. Outside, I could almost smell the rain, the way it soaked into the parched ground with that sweet, refreshing smell.
“What’re you up to?” I asked as I checked through the menu. I wasn’t particularly hungry but if we were going to drink I might like something to help with the extra alcohol. My poor head still swam uncertainly from last night.
“Oh, not a lot,” he said. “Catching up with work…the usual. How about you?”
I shrugged. Jackson was an accountant. He had been since before he joined and he’d originally been in logistics before deciding to see action. With his tanned, lined face and long black hair, he didn’t look like my imagination’s version of an accountant.
I frowned, wondering what Kelly did for a living. The thought made me smile and Jackson laughed.
“What’s up?” he asked. “You look like you’re having quite a thought.”
I felt my cheeks warm and abruptly shook my head. “Nothing, really.”
“Okay,” he shrugged. “Well, this beats adding up company tax returns,” he sighed as the waiter came around. We placed our orders.
Laughing, I nodded. “I can imagine. I’m glad I’m not the one who does that. Though,” I paused, thinking, “maybe you could do mine. When I get into production, that is.”
“You mean, with the ranch? How’s it looking?”
I shrugged. “Pretty much like a few hectares of dirt.”
He chuckled. “It’s not dirt, my friend. It’s possibility.”
“Ever the optimist,” I teased him. Our drinks arrived and I thanked the waiter, especially as he brought the platter of eats we’d ordered too.
“Well, why not?” he chuckled, taking some peanuts to chew. “I dunno that I’d want to do it myself, mind—but farming’s massive business.”
“It can be,” I agreed, taking a sip of my drink contemplatively. I decided I’d take it easy with the beers today. “Depends.”
“That’s what Skyler said,” he nodded. Skyler was his partner—he’d met her during leave in his last year of service and they’d moved in together shortly after he’d got back. I envied him that, though at the time I’d thought he was crazy to do it, imagining everyone as damaged as myself.
“She doesn’t like the idea of farming?” I frowned.
“Mm. She doesn’t much like the idea of risks generally.” He sighed. “Not that I blame her, mind. If I was thinking about babies and stuff, I’d want a stable future.”
I stared at him. “You’re thinking about babies and things?”
He blushed. “Well actually, yeah.”
“Jackson!” I grinned. “Man! That’s amazing.”
He blushed. “I think everyone knows now too,” he added, inclining his head toward the restaurant where a few heads turned to us. I waved a hand dismissively.
“Ach, don’t mind them. They’ll forget that in three seconds. Jackson! Hell.” I was surprised.
He was shaking his head now, laughing about my enthused response. “You’d think no one’d ever done it before. Make babies, I mean.” He laughed.
“I know,” I said, lowering my voice. I looked at my hands, considering it. “I guess I never thought about it. I mean…the possibility of someone starting a family after…that.”
He nodded. He studied the salt spilled by his beer mat, moving it about. He was clearly lost in thought too. I knew he got what I meant: after all that destruction, all those deaths, the likelihood of something simple and innocent and precious seemed locked out of one’s life.
“I guess I just decided it was possible,” he said after a while. “I mean, Skyler never thought it wasn’t, and she kinda convinced me it was. And now I have, like, this idea in my mind. Me, her, the kid…I want that stability.”
I let out my breath in a long sigh. It would be a place of stability. Enviable stability. It was a possibility I’d never even accepted as possible.
“I get that,” I replied.
My life had never been what I’d call stable—my childhood had been far from that, with my loveable but unreliable father, addicted to alcohol, and my stressed and silent mother. I think I’d left the home early just to get out of that. Army life was predictable. The only kind of stability I could believe in.
I coughed. “Well, that sounds like a great future,” I said awkwardly. It seemed like one to me. A stable, happy future, filled with love. I felt almost that I could envy that.
“I hope so,” he said with a small smile. “But hey! One day at a time, right? I’m excited to start.”
I chuckled. “You always were an optimist, Jackson.”
“Mm.” He took a sip of his beer. “Enough to believe that maybe, just maybe, this place would have gotten a new playlist. I know which song follows on from which by heart now. You?”
I paused, listening. Over the din of talk I could just hear “Best of the 80’s,” still playing. I nodded, laughing.
“Just now, Depeche Mode is going to come on.”
He hit the table, laughing. We both laughed until the other customers looked at us oddly. It felt good.
I enjoyed my afternoon with him. It was only when I was driving home again that I started to think about my future again.
What would it be like to be like him? To know that there was stability, and love, in your future?
I smiled. It was a future that was almost too good. I imagined what it might feel like to hold a child in my arms. My child. It was a possibility I had to admit I’d never considered before. When I imagined it, it was all hazy except for one thing. I had a sense of the ragged, raw and overpowering love I would feel for something as small and helpless, as precious, as my child.
I wonder if I’ll ever feel it?
I shook myself, harshly, trying to shake the feeling of wistfulness that overwhelmed me. I focused on the rain on the window, on the beat of the windshield wipers, on the road ahead.
I wasn’t going to wonder about that. I was living out here, on a ranch where no sensible person would want to live besides me. I had a plan to make money out of it; a plan I should focus on. Firmly shutting the door on that wistfulness, I turned on the radio and tried to tune out my mind.
It was Depeche Mode.
I swore and then laughed and let the soundtrack carry me back to the present and the gritty humor of life and away from the wounding and wonderful possibilities of anything else. I was not going to focus on that stuff. Not now.