Bring the Rain (20 page)

“Dad, I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say.”

“I know, I know. I just want you to know that I love you. All right?”

“Yeah, Dad. I do.”

“Can you forgive me, Autumn?”

“For cheating on Mom?”

“No,” he shakes his head. “I don’t expect that. Please forgive me for cheating on you.”

Whoa. It’s like he’s trying to yank the arrow back out of my heart. Suddenly, my laptop chimes from the counter. Mom, via Skype.

“Go ahead, answer her.” He smiles across the table at me. “We can talk more later. I know you’ve been waiting for her call.”

“Thanks,” I say as I pick up the laptop. It beeps again. “Are you sure?”

“Yup, I’m always here for you.”

His words hit me hard because they’re true, and it’s terrifying. He’ll make sure we finish this conversation; there’s no doubt about that. There’ll be more conversations to come too. There’s the difference between him and Mom. Mom and I touch on need-to-know topics, but when it becomes too uncomfortable we move on. I’m not used to this, but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t appreciate it.

“Okay, later,” I say in place of my epiphany. I slide open the door to my makeshift bedroom. I click Receive on the laptop and sit down. The mattress deflates a bit. I’ll have to plug it back into the air compressor tonight. Maybe I can ask Mom for some money to buy a new one? No. That’d insult Dad. I can deal with it, at least it’s softer than the linoleum floor underneath. 

“Autumn, bonjour.” Mom’s voice rings through before the video. The feed clicks on, and there she is in her white robe, smiling at me.

“Hey Mom!” I try to sound overly enthused when I’m torn to shreds. She gave up on Dad too… on us, way before he even did something wrong.

“How are you? How’s your back?”

“The burns are almost healed. I graduated from physical therapy with the shoulder.” I rotate it for her. “Overall, pretty good.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yup.”

“Autumn, your Dad called me a few days ago.”

“He did?” I didn’t know he knew how to use Skype.

“He told me about your boyfriend and your fight.” The screen freezes for a second but her voice continues. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there.” Then the image jumps forward, and she’s brushing the bangs out of her eyes. “What happened, love?”

I shrug, “He lied about something, and I realized that we’d gotten too serious. I’m only sixteen, I don’t need serious right now.” That’s always a good excuse to tell a parent. Any age is too young for a serious relationship to a parent. I continue, “It’s not a big of a deal. I was mad he lied, you know?”

“I’m sorry. Relationships are hard, but I’m proud you’re not getting into anything too serious. It’s important to keep your freedom. You’ve got your whole life to fall in love.”

“Thanks. I know, Mom.” She gave me this lecture last fall when I went to three school dances with the same guy. He was cute, but we were mostly friends and he was moving away at the end of the semester anyway.

“Good. So,” she continues to fidget with pencils on her desk. “On that note, I have news.”

“Oh?”

“Remember when I traveled to Greece in June? Well,” she takes a deep breath. “I met a man.”

“Wow, really? I mean, that’s awesome. Whoa.” I’m totally flustered. Talk about an epic daughter fail. “What’s his name? Do you do long distance between France and Greece?”

“Oh goodness, no. His name is Ambrose. He is Greek, but also works in Paris. He happened to be visiting his daughters when we met.”

“Wow.” Daughters? Weird. If they get married, I’ll have stepsisters.

“He’s wonderful. He loves classical literature and art. You’ll adore him, dear. I’m sure of it.” Her smiles sparkles, and she perches her chin on her palm. I feel like I’m talking with a girlfriend about her first date or something, not my mom.

“That’s great news. I’m happy for you.”

“Thank you.” She pulls out a necklace from under her shirt. “He gave me this.” She holds a gold chain up to the web cam, showing me a large pearl. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

“It is. He seems like he’s making you really happy. You must like him a lot.”

“Oh Autumn, I think I may love him. No, I do. I love him.”

Love him?… The two words slash through me like machete. Like she loved the man on the other side of this wall, who preserved every memory of her when she left?

“What do you think, honey?”

I blink back the burning tears. “I’m so happy for you,” I say with a projected smile. Hopefully, she’ll take them as happy tears.

“I know, I never thought I’d find real love, you know? Someday, Autumn, when the time is right, you will too.”

“Right,” I say confidently while everything inside me wilts and dies. Real love? So, she never really loved Dad? I can’t handle this anymore. I feign a yawn. “Sorry, it was a tough day on the ranch.”

Mom frowns. “I need to speak with your father about pushing you too hard.”

“Oh no, I barely worked at all. Howdy came back today, so it got pretty emotional.”

“I’m glad you have Howdy. He’s always been such a good horse. At least you’re not completely alone there. I still feel bad, like I abandoned you to the coyotes or something.”

“You didn’t. Don’t worry. I’ve got Dad.”

She pauses and considers something before she asks, “How is he?”

“He’s hanging in there, but the drought and the fire have taken their toll.” There’s a deep cough from behind the thin wall. The sound of the flowing water stops, followed with a creak and tiny
ding
. He must have gone out the back door. I gather the curtain and peer through the office window, watching him take a seat on Todd’s platform deck. He rests his arms on his knees and hangs his head. It’s a tragic thing to behold-- a defeated cowboy.

“I hated that about the ranching life,” Mom says. “The forces of nature are always in control. Maybe that’s why I love marketing and business so much. I have to worry about social networking trends, not the clouds.”

“Yeah, I feel really bad for him. I’ll be sad if he loses the ranch.”

“I understand, sweetheart. It was your first home. There are lots of good memories there.”

“More than I expected.” I yawn again, but this time it’s real.

“All right, dear. Have a good night. We’ll chat again soon.”

“Goodnight Mom. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

I close the laptop when her end of the video goes black. Dad’s still outside and there’s a desperate pressure in my chest, begging to break free. I know what I have to do. The heat blasts my face as I step outside, joining him on the back step. 

I place my hand on his shoulder. “Dad, I forgive you.”

He reaches up and rests his hand on mine. He takes a moment before he says “Thank you.”

“And Dad?”

My gut wrestles as I realize the words I spoke so easily to Mom haven’t been said to him for years. “I love you so much. Thank you for being here for me.”

He turns to me, wet splotches making the wrinkles around his eyes sparkle. “I love you, too, Autumn.” He pulls me close and kisses my hair. We sit like that for a moment, then he clears his throat, releasing me. “So your Mom’s got a boyfriend?”

“Seems so. Have you dated?”

He forces a light laugh. “Everyday, I date this land.”

“About the land, I have an idea that could help some.”

“Oh?”

I nod to my white truck, still sitting unused on the gravel drive. “What if you sell the truck?”

“No, that was a gift to you. I can't sell your truck.”

“Okay. What if I sell the truck? Would the cash help?”

“I’m not taking your money, Autumn.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to. But if the cash turns up in form of feed and supplies, you can’t refuse that, can you?”

Dad’s lips finally turn upward in a smile. “You would sell your first truck to help?”

“Of course. It’s my ranch too.” I swear the words make Dad glow and he sits up straighter. “Would the money help?”

“Yes. It’d help a lot. It may buy us time for rain.”

“Then get it sold. It’s not like I have a license anyway.” I draw a circle around an ant hill.

“I’ll do that. Thanks.”

“Dad?”

“Yeah?”

“I wish I could bring you the rain.”

“Me too, honey. Me too.”

We sit quietly for a bit before I ask the question that I can tell is always crushing his soul. “Do you think we will lose the ranch?”

“Yeah, Bug. I think we’re almost at the end.”

Working around
Colt on the ranch is beyond challenging. My ears are always perked for his voice. I can’t avoid him. He’s always near, hauling hay or wrestling steer for the health examinations. I try not to watch, but it’s kind of hard to keep my eyes away. He moves in a way that makes my brain freeze, but I’ve caught him glimpsing at me out of the corner of his eye too. I make sure to throw him dirty looks when his eyes meet mine.

I grab the water hose and drag it to the trough. Dad’s had to ship off the steer too early, and they ended up being on the small side. The price of winter feed increased and with the drought not lifting up, he couldn’t keep them on. It’s provided him with enough to pay his workers and feed the heifers and growing calves. There’s no plan for fall though, short of a miracle. I’ve contemplated asking Mom to loan him money, but there’s his pride to be considered. There's no way I can do that to Dad right now. I’m pretty sure borrowing money from Mom may be worse to him than going down with a fight.

A half-grown calf walks up to the trough to take a sip. He looks at me while he drinks, wiggling his ears.

“Hey fella.” I reach out tentatively, scratching behind his ears. In general, I try not to attach, but there’s something about his stare that holds my attention. He blows a bubble in the water and leans into my scratch. He likes it. I step closer, giving him a good rub. Even cattle deserve love. Then I see a perfect white diamond shape on his shoulder with two white spots to its left. The little guy surprised!

“You survived!” I give him one last rub. Maybe if I make a case for him, he won’t have to shipped for beef next spring. Then again, Dad will need the money if this place is still functioning then. I sigh, blowing the butterflies of hope out through my mouth. I need to be realistic and grow up. “See you around, buddy.” I can’t lose anything else. I’m barely holding myself together with what I have left.

Colt was right. I’m such a screw up. He was a game, a hunky cowboy to make my summer fun. I wanted to use him for entertainment the way the guy from Egypt used me last summer. It’s sick, especially when I continued after he surprised me, being so much more than I bargained for. He taught me to be still enough so I could enjoy being myself. I rub my itching arms. It always feels like invisible spiders are crawling over them lately. I’m basically a clumsy wreck when I’m near Colt or on the verge of a panic attack when traces of the fire surprise me.

It seems like the only thing I’m good at and good for is driving lately.

I turn the key in the ignition of the water truck and the engine purrs. Clutch tapped, I transition up to second gear. I have this. Off-roading isn’t any worse than gravel. Dad always tells me to take the little hills slow, but it all feels the same to me.

Clutch to third. 

Where did he say to meet him? Cross the stream, up the hill, and to the broken fence?

I drive a few minutes then come to a dried out ditch, cracking with a raised edge. This can’t be the stream Dad spoke about, can it? I eye the slant of the decline. It totally looks like the stream in the latest F150 commercial, where they plow through and water gloriously sprays like a V around the truck. Hmm, there’s no water but I do have an imagination. Am I that bored? Since I left my phone in Dad’s truck, the answer to that is yes. I am definitely that bored.

I grip the wheel and step on the accelerator.

I push down the clutch, shifting to fourth, then to fifth.

Dust flies up around the truck as I throttle into the stream's bed. Sweet, a dust bowl! I’m thrown forward and the truck veers left, spinning out. My heart crashes against my chest wall in way I haven’t experienced since my first rollercoaster ride. Whoa, too cool. Now this is something I can’t do in Paris. I pull the truck straight ahead again but I’m leaning left up the bank. A burning smell stings my throat.

Shoot.

I stop where I am. There’s no reason to pull over without roads. I jump out and my stomach turns, revolting at the smell. Burning rubber. It’s somehow worse than the other funky country smells, that honestly I can’t smell anymore. Burning rubber means one thing. I bend down and examine the front left wheel. A brown dagger of rock jabs through the tire.

Double crap. I kick it, dreading Dad’s facial expression when I tell him. How much do tires cost? When I get to France, I’ll pick up a café job or something to pay Dad back. I scan the horizon. I can’t even see the barn or the steer chutes from here. This’ll be at least a half an hour trek, without a phone and I forgot to put on my sunscreen. It’s like I’m determined to not have skin on my back at all.

I dig through the truck, looking for a hat but having no such luck.

I jog down the bank. The wheel grooves are close to five inches deep. I don’t even have sunglasses so I look at the ground while I walk. It’s high noon. A real country girl would have been prepared. Only a few minutes into my journey, there’s a roar of an engine. Maybe Dad figured I got lost? I get out of the dried up stream, so he won’t miss me. The bright sun makes it impossible to see where he’s at. I shield my face while I wave, hoping I’m facing the right direction.

The engine moves closer and when the vehicle dips into the ditch, a flash of red destroys my hope in it being Dad’s blue Ford F150. I groan as Colt’s dingy truck barrels towards me, coughing up dust.

I bite my tongue as he approaches, debating whether I should lie about the water-truck situation or, screw it, just bolt away over the hill. My back’s already itching as the sun’s ray barrel into me. No, this is one of those times where I’m going to have to deal with Colt. Plus my plan is ridiculous. If I ran, he’d still find the truck, and he’d call Dad. Everyone would freak out, drop everything they are doing and hunt the ranch for the poor lost city girl.

Talk about the last thing I need.

Colt jumps out of his truck after he parks at the top of the ridge. He’s wearing a light blue baseball cap, even from here I can see it matches those icy blue eyes perfectly. There’s a thicker five o’clock shadow highlighting his jaw than I’ve ever seen on him before. My heart flips and like magic, new little butterflies are born. I dig my heel into a crack along the bed of the dried out stream. It’s not fair he still makes me feel like this.

“You all right?” he calls down with a cowboy’s nod.

“I’m fine. The truck’s got a flat tire, that’s all.”

“Where is it?”

“Just down the stream and over a bank.”

“Hop in,” he says, already walking back to his truck. “You’ve got to be careful with your back.”

I feel like I’m being chastised as I follow him up the ditch. He slides into the front seat, leaving me to open my own door. Normally this wouldn’t bother me, but I know Colt. He might as well have thrown me in the truck bed. He’s always opened the door for me before.

“Thanks,” I say as I climb in. The cool air conditioning is heaven on my skin and it’s easier to breathe. There’s hardly a moment where my lungs don’t remind me of the smoke and flames. “Up there.” I point north.

The truck chokes to life and Colt slowly drives it down the ridge, back into the stream’s bed. Silence is our company for the drive. I almost get the guts to tell him I think he owes me an apology, but then he smiles. A faint chuckle escapes his lips as we approach the water truck ahead.

“Really?” he says. He slaps the wheel, then a laugh bubbles from his gut, growing louder and crazier with every breath. “If you,” he takes a gulp of air, “broke the axel,” he’s covering his mouth, “we’re all screwed.”

My gut drops into the floor. I don’t think I broke the axel. “It’s the tire. There was a rock in it, for sure.”

Still laughing like an unhinged lunatic, he brings the truck to a smooth stop. I climb out before he cuts the engine. I don’t need to hear his crap.

“What were you doing?” he says, now bending down to examine the tracks of my reenactment of an F150 commercial.

“Nothing,” I mutter. This is so humiliating.

“Hmm, doesn’t look like nothing. Looks like someone spun out.” He walks along the revealing tire tracks. “You’re a bit wilder than I thought,” he says with a smirk.

“Can you help me with the tire, or not?”

He shrugs, finally walking over to meet me at the truck. I point to the rock in the rubber but instead he gets down on the ground to check the axel. His shirt pulls up as he slides under the truck and the lower part of his abs are still absurdly chiseled, in hot guy calendar form. I force myself to look at the horizon, but I keep glancing at him. It’s not fair that he can still drive me crazy like this.

Come on hormones. Get a grip.

“It’s not the axel,” he says as he scoots out from under the truck.

“As I said, it’s the tire.” I point again to the dagger that landed me here.

“Are you sure it’s not the engine?” His smile curls sideways and my heart flip-flops. It’s like my body and I are on completely different teams right now.

“Colt, stop it. Just help me, okay?”

“Fine, calm down. You don’t have to beg.”

“Shape up, or I’ll shove you down the bank.”

“Oh?” he says, taking a step way too close. “Would you prefer I go?” The smell of his pine soap mixed with the fresh scent of Tide is like a tranquilizer. It’s the smell of late night conversations, curled up next to him on the porch and watching the stars. I react to him like a human touching the nose of a great white shark. Yeah, okay. I’ve been spending too much time watching The Discovery Channel.

Colt puffs out his cheeks. “Don’t worry, Autumn. I’ll help. But,” he reaches down and lifts my tank top strap, comparing the changing shade of my skin. “You’ve got to get back in my truck. That or wear an extra shirt.”

I roll my eyes on the way back to the truck. “Trust me, if I had an extra shirt, I’d already be wearing it.” I only make it a few steps before a balled up wad of cloth hits me in the back of my head.

“Did you really just throw that at me?” I bite the inside of my lip and take a deep breath. I’m totally livid, but I know when I turn around I’ll need every facial muscle to cooperate so a hormonal grin doesn’t overrule me.

“So what if I did?”

I manage a scowl as I turned around. He’s standing there with his chiseled abs and chest of steel, waiting for me to fight back. Fine, if that’s what he wants, that’s what he gets.

“Get over yourself.” I hurl the shirt back him. “Put that back on.”

“Naw,” he grabs a bunch of tools out of the truck bed and pulls out the spare tire. “I don’t burn. It feels pretty great without it actually.”

 “Oh come on. You’re not that hot.”

He doesn’t say anything but his face twitches so I know he heard me. I climb back into his truck and turn on the radio and air conditioning. Remembering his code, I break into his phone to browse the Internet, but no matter how hard I try to stay focused on the screen, my eyes drifting over to where he works.

Damn.
I force myself again to rip my eyes away. I don’t care if he’s the hottest guy on earth. He lied, and, really, he’s delusional if he thinks walking around without a shirt on will change anything.

Colt wipes the sweat off his face with his t-shirt, then he leans over, jacking up the truck. His eyes are stuck in a permanent squint. I rest my feet on the dashboard. There’s no way he can be comfortable out there. Is this his way of apologizing? There’s a buzz in my palm. I glance down, a test from some girl named Marie. I put the phone down, forcing myself to keep the message unseen.

Colt stretches his back, making sure his muscles pop. No, he’s not apologizing. He’s just doing this to shove himself in my face. What on earth am I doing waiting in this truck while he acts like this? He’s a guy. If I don’t confront him now, he’ll assume that we’re fine. Soon he’ll be showing up to watch games at Todd’s, or worse, talking to me about this Marie chick.

No. He’s got to know he’s an ass. I’m not letting him escape this.

A livid pulse drives me to throw open the door. My boots smack the ground, dust flying out around me. “Colt,” I yell out. “What do you think you’re doing?”

He stands up, brushing the dust off his hands. “Changing your tire. What are you doing?”

“I’m…” Oh god. What am I doing?     

He walks toward me.

“Stop,” I say. “Just stop, okay?”

“Stop what?” He takes another step so within my reach and my heart spins like a top.