Down to You (17 page)

“I’m so sorry, but it’s a family
emergency.”

“I understand. Do you want me to come get you
now?”

“No, my friend Ginger is on her way.”

There’s a long pause. “I would’ve taken you
wherever you needed to go.”

“I appreciate that, but she was already on
her way when she called.”

“Hmmm,” is his only response.

“Well, thank you so much for… everything. I
promise I’ll take care of stuff with my car when I get back. And
I’ll pick up as many extra shifts as you need me to in order to
make this up.”

I hate the thought of losing my new job and
having to go crawling back to my old one, but it’s my dad…

“Don’t worry about that. We’ll figure
something out. You’re not going to be out of a job when you get
back, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

I close my eyes in relief. The thought had
very much crossed my mind.

“I really appreciate your understanding,” I
say, injecting into my voice all the sincerity I can muster.

“I’m sure I can think of some way for you to
pay me back.”

The comment is wildly inappropriate, of
course, but I can hear the smile in Cash’s voice. He’s teasing
me.

“I’m sure you can. The question is: can you
think of something that does
not
involve me taking off my
clothes?”

I’m playing with fire and I know it.

“Of course! Wear a skirt and only one item
will need to come off. I’d just hate for you to miss out
on…everything else.”

A little shiver works its way down my spine
and lands in the pit of my stomach like a bolt of lightning. I
laugh uncomfortably. I can’t tease like he can.

He must know I’m at a loss. He chuckles.
“Take care of what you need to. Take your time. Call if you need
anything.”

“I will. And thanks, Cash.”

After we hang up, I get a drink from the taco
joint inside the student center and then walk back outside to sit
on one of the benches and await Ginger. I wonder if I should call
Nash. Just to let him know I won’t be in town all weekend. He might
want to keep an eye on things.

Or at least that’s what I tell myself. The
excuse I use.

“Nash, it’s Olivia,” I say when he
answers.

I hear his soft laugh. “I know who you are,
Olivia.”

I feel the blush sting my cheeks. I’m glad he
can’t see it. “Oh, right. Sorry.” I clear my throat nervously. “So,
I’ll be out of town for the weekend. I just wanted you to know in
case…well, just in case anybody needed anything.”

Ohmigod, could you sound any more lame?

“Okay. Thanks for letting me know. Need some
time away from my overbearing brother already?”

I know he’s teasing, but I don’t like that he
puts Cash down. “He’s not overbearing. And no, it’s nothing like
that. I need to go home for the weekend. That’s all.”

The lightness evaporates from his tone,
replaced by concern. “Is everything all right?”

“Yeah. My father broke his leg. He’s fine,
it’s just that he was expecting some lambs and he can’t get out
with a broken leg to find and check them in, so…”

“Is that something you can do by yourself? Do
you need some help?”

“Nah, I grew up on that farm, helping him
until I was old enough to do things by myself. I’ll be fine. But
thank you for asking.”

What a great guy! Dammit!

“Well, if you need some help, you know where
to find me.”

“Thanks, but I could never ask you to do
that.”

“Olivia, please,” he begins. The way he says
my name makes my stomach squeeze. It sounds so much like it did
last night. Was it his lips I kissed? His touch I felt? “Ask. If
you need help, I want to know.”

“Okay,” I say, already feeling a bit
breathless. Too breathless to argue anyway. “I will.”

“Good. I’ll keep an eye on the place until
you get back. Give me a call when you arrive.”

“Will do. Thanks, Nash.”

“You bet.”

The brothers alternate taking up space in my
head, like they so often do, as I await Ginger. I just don’t know
when it will get any easier with them. Or even if it
will.

I’m still preoccupied when I hear a horn
honking and someone shouting my name at the top of their lungs.

It’s Ginger.

“No effin’ way,” I say under my breath as I
make my way to her car. She’s standing in the driver’s seat,
hanging out the sunroof. By the time I get to her, she’s smiling
like an escaped mental patient.

“Bet you thought I’d get lost, didn’t
you?”

I say nothing. I
totally
thought she’d
get lost. In fact, I’d have guaranteed it.

Of course, I’d have been wrong. Maybe that’s
my new streak—being wrong. Maybe I’m wrong about a lot of things.
Things I’d
love
to be wrong about.

If only I could be that lucky…

Ginger doesn’t wait long to stir up
interesting conversation. “So, did you take the penis
challenge?”

“Ginger!”

“Olivia! You better have news for me. And
details. It’s been a while for me.”

“Yeah, right. What’s ‘a while’? A week?”

She glances at me, clearly horror-stricken.
“Good God no! It’s only been four days. But I’ve got needs.”

“Ginger, I’m pretty sure you’re a freak of
nature.”

“Heavy on the freak, sweetie,” she adds
cheekily.

I laugh. That’s one thing about Ginger. She
doesn’t try to hide who she is or what she likes. She owns her
every wart and pimple with pride. And she wears them each
flawlessly.

“You would die of boredom in my body.”

“No, I’d take that young thing out for a spin
and liven things up a little.”

I roll my eyes. “I’m sure you would. You’d
have me screwing my way through greater Atlanta.”

“Breakin’ hearts and blowin’ minds! Or
blowin’ something,” she says with a devilish wink.

“Oh Lord!” I shake my head. She’s
incorrigible. She’s also practically impossible to insult.
Obviously.

“Now, stop changing the subject. Did you do
it?”

I can’t hide the smile that tugs at my lips.
She’s too observant.

She points animatedly at me. “You did! You
did! How was it? Which one was better? And when will the other one
be coming to visit me?”

“Well, that’s the thing. I’m not exactly sure
which one I slept with.”

I cringe when I see her turn wide, shocked
eyes on me. Ginger just also happens to be nearly unshockable. The
fact that I’ve managed it can’t possibly be a good sign.

“How does that even happen?”

I go through the story. The short, less
detailed version of course. When I’m finished, she starts laughing.
Hard.

“Well, you know what you have to do now,
right?”

“I’m
not
asking them, if that’s what
you’re about to suggest.”

“Oh, hell no. I was just gonna say you
have
to sleep with them both now. It’s the only way you’ll
be able to tell who owns the enchanted tongue.” Ginger turns a
wicked smile on me. “Oh, poor you. Forced to have vagina-exploding
sex with hot twins. Oh, please no! Anything but that!”

“If it was just that, it’d be fine, but you
know I can’t…I don’t…”

I’m picking at my fingernails, but still,
from the corner of my eye, I see Ginger look at me.

“This isn’t about that jackhole, Gabe, is
it?”

“You know Gabe has nothing to do with—”

“Bullshit! Liv, you’ve got to get over that.
Just because a guy looks or dresses or acts a certain way doesn’t
mean he’s just like Gabe. And, by the same token, just because a
guy
doesn’t
look, dress or act like him doesn’t mean he’s
not. You can’t judge all books by that emotionally-stunted,
dim-witted, tiny-dicked prick’s cover. You can’t stop taking
chances in life just because you got burned.”

I think of my earlier decision to take the
risk with Cash. But I also think of how amazingly supportive and
considerate Nash was when I called. If Ginger’s right, despite
their outward appearances, either one could be Gabe all over again.
But how will I ever know which one is and which one isn’t?

Or maybe they both are.

Go with your gut. Go with what you know.
Nash is the good guy. Cash is the bad boy. Bad boys don’t change
their spots.

But Nash is taken.

Cash is not.

Nash is offering me nothing.

Cash wants to be honest and give me what he’s
capable of.

Is it worth it to have either of them in my
life? Or would I be better off to turn my back on both of them? And
run.

Sensing my mood, Ginger changes the subject
to a much less upsetting one—sex toys.

Oh, Ginger!

********

I’m pretty shocked when I walk through the
front door and see a hospital bed in the living room. My heart
drops onto the hardwoods with a thud only I can hear.

When I see my father sitting in his favorite
old green recliner with his white casted leg resting on a pillow, I
feel minimally relieved, albeit still confused. The cast is not on
the lower half of his leg, like I expected. It goes all the way up
to his hip.

My father broke his femur. And no one told
me.

Damn it to hell!

I drop my bags in the floor and go straight
to him, hands on hips, fully armed with righteous indignation.

“And you couldn’t have called to tell me? You
let me find out
days
later from
Ginger
of all
people?”

I can see by the look in his hazel eyes that
he’s slipping into feather-soothing mode. It’s that desire to avoid
confrontation that eventually drove my mother to leave and find
greener, stronger pastures. And richer pastures. And more
successful pastures. Basically any other pasture than the one she
was grazing in. The cow!

Sometimes it’s all I can do not to hate
her.

“Now, punk,” he begins, using my childhood
pet name, the one that always turns me to putty in his hands. “You
know I’d never keep something from you unless I knew it was best
for you. You’ve got so much on your plate with this new job and
with your last year of school and living with your cousin, I would
never want to add to your load. Try to see it from my perspective,”
he finishes sweetly.

It’s impossible to be mad when he does this.
I must admit it can be very frustrating, though.

I drop to my knees at his feet. “Dad, you
should’ve called.”

“Liv, there’s nothing you could’ve done.
Except worry. And now you’re missing work. Because of me.”

“It’s not a big deal. Ginger mentioned the
lambs. I’ll get them squared away and be back to work in no
time.”

He closes his eyes and leans his head back,
rolling it back and forth over the headrest in exasperation. He
says nothing for a few seconds, effectively ending this portion of
the conversation.

It’s another frustrating habit of his. He
just stops. Stops talking, stops discussing. Just… stops.

I notice a few more gray hairs at his temples
than last I’d seen. And it seems the brackets that frame his mouth
are deeper. Today, he looks so much older than his forty-six years.
His hard, disappointing life has always taken a toll. And now it’s
showing.

“What can I do to help, Dad? I’m here so you
might as well put me to work. How are the books?”

He doesn’t look at me, but he answers. “The
books are fine. I’ve been having Jolene help me with them in
between your visits.”

I grit my teeth. Jolene thinks she’s an
accountant. Only she’s not. Not by a long shot. I’m sure there’s a
mess to clean up. I feel a sigh coming on, so I change the
subject.

“What about the house? Is there anything that
needs doing around here?”

Finally, he raises his head and looks at me.
There’s humor in his eyes. “I’m a grown man, Liv. I know how to
make do without my daughter here to take care of me.”

I roll my eyes. “I know that, Dad. That’s not
what I’m saying and you know it.”

He reaches forward and grabs a chunk of hair
near my ear. He tugs on it, just like he used to tug on my pig
tails when I was little. “I knew what you meant. But I also know
you think you have to take care of me, especially since your mother
left. But you don’t, Hon. It would kill me to see you put your life
on hold to come back here. Go find a better life somewhere else.
That’s what would make me happy.”

“But Dad, I don’t—”

“I know you, Olivia Renee. I raised you. I
know what you’re planning and how you think. And I’m asking you not
to do this. Just leave me be in this life. There’s something
different out there for you. Something better.”

“Dad, I love these sheep and this farm. You
know that.”

“I’m not saying you don’t. And we’ll always
be here for you to come visit. And one day, when I’m gone, this
will all be yours, to do with as you like. But for now, it’s mine.
My problem, my life, my worry. Not yours. Your worry is to graduate
and get a good job so you can buy your old man out ten times over.
Then maybe I’ll think about letting you come back home. How’s that
sound?”

I know what he’s doing, what he’s getting at.
And I understand it. I understand guilt. But when I nod my head and
smile in agreement, it’s only for his benefit. What he doesn’t know
is that I will never leave him like she did. Never. I’ll never
choose a cushy life of means over the people I love. Never.

“Now, since you’re already here, I have a
favor. Well, two actually.”

“Name it.”

“I’ve got all the fixin’s for chuckwagon
beans. Will you put some on for supper?”

“They’re your favorite. Of course I
will.”

“Good girl.”

He smiles at me for a few seconds then turns
his attention back to the show he was watching on television.

“Dad?”

“Huh?” he asks, looking back at me, eyebrows
raised.

“What was the second favor?”

He frowns for a second then his face lights
up. “Oh! Oh, right. Ginger and Tad are wanting you to come by
tonight for your belated farewell party.”