Bring the Rain (21 page)

“Do you really think this is okay? Taking your shirt off?” I put out my hand, touching him to keep him at a distance. “You know what… It doesn’t matter what you think. I’m not comfortable with it, all right?”

“Okay. I’ll put on my shirt. Relax.” He grabs the end of his shirt out of his back pocket.

“No.” How does he not understand what I’m getting at?

“So you don’t want me to wear the shirt? What is it, girl?”

“This. THIS is it.” I throw my hands in the air. “You can’t pretend nothing happened between us. You lied, and you called me a slut. We are not okay. You got me?”

“Yeah.” He puts his shirt on. “Trust me. I got you.”

“Really? Because you certainly aren’t acting like it.”

His facial expression softens for a moment. His jaw unclenches. “Autumn,” he says without the edge he’s been using. “Come on. Let’s talk about it then, okay?”

“No. You had your chance behind the barn. You blew it.”

“It all had to be said.”

“So you’re not sorry?”

“I’m not sorry for what I said, but I am sorry for the way I said it.” He bends down and tightens the last bolt on the hubcap.

“That’s not good enough.”

“Well,” he rises. “It’s the best I’ve got.”

A sting bubbles in my throat. This isn’t supposed to happen. He should apologize and take every word back, not stand by it. My emotions betray me as tears sneak through.

“Listen,” he says. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped.”

“No, I’m fine. Please just finish what you need to do.”

“Autumn,” he takes a step closer, his hand finds its place again on my mid back and, despite the situation, my muscles relax. A sob escapes me with his touch—one I can’t allow myself to have.

“Leave.” I say between breaths. “I need to be alone, all right?”

“Are you sure?” His hand rubs my spine in a soft circle.

“Yes, go. Now.” I push him away as I wipe the tears from under my eyes. This is a complete disaster. I climb into the water truck, pressing my face into the steering wheel. I seriously just want to die. Why did I even try? This slicing pain hurts more than the night at the party. His engine clanks to life behind me, the red truck shrinking in my rear-view mirror before away.

“
Autumn,” Dad
says from the other side of the wall. “Is that Gina?” He passes me a stone through a door as we try to repair the hearth. I glance through what will soon be a window and there’s her little red Chevy idling out front. The dread and guilt that’s been eating away at me takes another giant bite out of my heart.

Crap. I take a deep breath. Gina’s right. It’s time for us to get through this. We haven’t spoken for a month. “Do you mind if I take a break?”

“Naw, go ahead. In fact,” he pulls twenty dollars from his wallet, “Go have a birthday lunch.”

“Are you sure?” I feel bad taking it, but all my cash perished with the house.

“I’ll be fine.”

I force out a smile. Dad has no clue how painful this conversation with Gina will be, I never told him her involvement with the story or Colt.

“Thanks,” I step through the framed window hole into the blazing sun. My back doesn’t crawl with the sun’s attention anymore. I’m pretty much healed. Only my third degree burn and glass shredded shoulder scars remain.

The passenger seat window is already rolled down. I lean in. “Hey.”

Gina has flowers. “Do you want to go for a drive?”

“Sure.” I climb in and she hands me daisies. The card reads
Happy Birthday, love your always there best friend, Gina.

“Thank you.”

She nods, putting the car in drive. We bob along the gravel road in silence. “Autumn,” she squeaks after a few minutes. “I’m so sorry. I should've told you about Colt right away. I’m messed up, you know?” She bursts into tears, covering her face. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“Gina,” I take the wheel, focusing on staying between the lines while her foot’s still heavy on the accelerator. “I’m sorry too. I didn’t mean to call you a slut.”

“But I am. I just… I don’t know what I’m doing. It’s like I’m never happy, needing the rush or something.”

“Gina, you aren’t a slut.”

“These guys aren’t even that good. For real.” She takes the wheel again and pulls the car off to the side of the road. “Honestly, each time I ask myself what the hell I’m doing. I'm seventeen! The sex isn’t even worth it. It’s like a power trip for me or something. And what these guys think of me...”

I pull her into a hug. “I don’t think of you that way, Gina. I just,” I kiss her head. “I want you to be safe and feel loved. Like really loved.”

“Do you think a guy will ever love me?” she says while she shakes. The wetness from her tears soaks through my tank.

“Yes. Of course.”

“I’m such an idiot,” she pulls out of the hug and gives an ugly snotty snort.

“No, you’re not.”

“I need to get out of here. Go away and start again. Every party I go to, guys look at me expecting something now. I hate it. It’s horrible.”

“Then stop going to the parties.”

“What else is there to do?”

“Well, you can help my Dad build his house if you want to.” I nudge her, desperate to make her smile.

“Me with a hammer?” She wiggles her fingers, showing off her jeweled purple nails.

“Hey, you never know. Look at me!” I hold out my nails with chipped red paint and dirt underneath.

She sits for a moment, playing with her purse latch.

“Autumn,” her voice is quiet. “Did I ruin you and Colt?”

“No.”

“You’re still together?”

I sigh. “Not even close, but you didn’t ruin us. The truth would've come out eventually. You just helped us get there quicker.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No. Really, it’s a good thing. A little heartbreak now is easier than a huge heartbreak later, ya know?”

“A little heartbreak?” she asks, putting her hand on mind.

“No.” My tears sting my sun-dried cheeks. “Pretty huge, actually.”

I can’t get the conversation we had behind the barn and at the water truck a few weeks ago out of my head. He really thinks I’m so shallow that I’d rather play a game with those I love? Those words carved a pit in my soul that won’t leave me alone. I hate it, and I’ve been desperately trying to fill it with keeping my head to the ground and working hard for Dad. It’s not helping though.

“Autumn, that sucks. I’m sorry.” She’s hugging me now.

“My God, we’re a mess.”

“But we’re a mess together, right?”

“Right.”

We spend another hour talking on the side of the road. She tells me about how she still likes Peter but how badly things ended. I tell her all about my parents’ custody agreement and my choice to stay or go.

“I wish you would stay,” she says with a smile. “Please?"

“I know you do. Part of me wants to.” It’s true. The only good thing about my fight with Colt is how it opened my eyes to all Dad’s done for me this summer. He makes a point to talk with me every day. If we’re not rebuilding the house together or I’m taking a day off from the ranch for healing, he stops in from the ranch to check on me a few times a day. A call would work, but he actually shows up at Todd’s, making me breakfast before I wake up and I make him lunch. It’s a nice cycle, so incredibly different from my relationship with Mom. Not that I don’t love what I have with her-- it works for us -- but life with Dad is a bit more balanced.

Unfortunately, with Colt still around and all the opportunities Paris provides for my education, my decision hasn’t changed. I still have to go.

“So you’ve already made your choice?”

“Yeah. I tell my dad tonight. As requested in the custody agreement, I choose when I’m seventeen.”

“Happy Birthday to you,” Gina offers with light sarcasm, pulling me into a hug so I can cry some more.

***

Dad and Todd sing Happy Birthday as Grace places a giant chocolate cake in front of me. “Happy Birthday, dear,” she says as she gives the top of my head a kiss.

Bless her. Grace never blamed me for anything to do with Colt. If anything, she’s been paying me more attention. It’s like she’s trying to make up for her son’s inability to be compassionate and humane.

“Happy Birthday to yoooou.” They finish with too much vigor. A few guys sitting at the bar turn around and stare. My face burns and Dad tosses me a goofy smile. Crazy. I never thought my seventeenth birthday would be spent with the forty-plus crowd. They’re not what I imagined: Todd—quiet and thoughtful, Grace— blunt and sweet, and Dad— happy and worried.

But they’re what I need.

“Thanks guys,” I say before blowing the candles out.

Dad shifts, shredding his napkin. Though he hasn’t dared to ask, I know he’s waiting for his answer. I haven’t been able to look him in the eye all afternoon. I hate how I’m going to break his heart, but I can’t stay here. Just knowing I’m this near Colt hurts too much.

So, I eat the cookie and pretend I’m content. I can’t tell Dad in front of Todd and Grace. Though, maybe that’s why he invited them. For support?

“Can we do gifts now?” Dad asks.

“Gifts? No, please. I don’t need anything. You’ve all given me enough.” Especially Dad. He shouldn’t spend a cent on me.

“Oh come on. Giving is fun. Let us old people have our fun, honey.” Grace hands me a little box wrapped in flowered wrapping paper. The waitress stops by with refills on draft and slides another ice water in front of me.

“Go ahead.” Graces presses the box into my palm. 

Carefully, I tug off the red paper. I lift the lid of a small box, finding a necklace with a sliver heart and wings resting inside.

“To represent the angels that protected you this summer.”

“Thank you,” I say, trying to remain composed. She’s so great. Why can’t Colt be the same way? I can’t believe he thinks I’m so shallow that I play games with the people I love. He’s the one who's supposed to be fighting for me… my heart. That was built on a lie though. Nothing was real.

Todd reaches across the table and sets a purple gift bag in front of me.

“Thank you, Todd.” I peer inside. There’s a light blue box of stationary with golden fleur de lis. “This is beautiful. Fleur de lis are my favorite. How did you know?”

“I pick things up.” He gives me a quick wink.

The band switches tunes, something with an up-tempo beat. Grace tugs at Dad’s sleeve. Dad rolls his eyes, allowing her to pull him onto the floor. “One song,” he groans.

Todd and I watch them laugh. They swing one another around, but never stand too close. Friendship is written all over them. Todd’s eyes linger on Grace though. Hmm, is there something there that he’s too quiet to explore?

The tune shifts again. The bar patrons hoot and whoop as they pour onto the dance floor, making four long lines.

Todd smiles, still watching Grace.

“I know this one,” he says. His palms flinch like he’s about to stand and join, but he doesn’t. Dad and Grace are lined up, already stepping to the side. He’s always claimed to hate line dancing, but his smile speaks otherwise.

Todd glances at me, “Would you like to learn it?”

There’s an open space next to Grace. So I temporarily swallow my pride for him. “Sure, why not.”

He takes my hand and helps me weave between the lines to Grace’s side. I position Todd next to Grace, placing me on his right. There.

Todd’s surprisingly attentive. He teaches me three dances. Showing me each step, putting up with me crashing into him when I can’t catch on to the directional changes. A few times, I do it on purpose, forcing him to touch shoulders with Grace. Who would have thought I’d be playing cupid and line dancing on my seventieth birthday?

Finally, the band shifts into a slower tune, putting an end to the line dancing. Todd stands quietly next to me and Grace does too.

“It's time to sit one out. I’m exhausted.” I smile at Todd then look towards Grace. “He’s a good teacher.”

“So I saw.” She says as she shifts a lock of hair behind her ear.

There’s stillness in the air for a second. I nod, taking a step back and throwing Todd a look. A silent cheer.
Ask her.
I return to the booth, sitting down and catching Todd take hold of Grace’s hand in a cute, respectful slow dance sort of way.

…Cowboys.

Dad joins me, downing his beer.

My palms sweat. It’s weird to be alone with him now, knowing my answer has to come soon, one that will only cause him pain.

“I put your gift in the back of my truck. Want to open it, outside?” Dad asks. He glances at Todd and Grace. They deserve their privacy.

“Sure.”

In the parking lot, Dad opens up the truck bed where there’s an unwrapped shipping box. “Here it is.”

My gut sinks. Oh my gosh. Whatever’s in there can’t be cheap. He shouldn’t have spent anything on me. Is buying a good gift his last attempt at keeping me? I take a step back. I don’t even want to open it. If it’s something expensive, it’ll crush me.

“Open it.” He hands me his pocketknife. I put my back to him, to hide my trembling as I slice through the packaging tape. I carefully pull back the cardboard and take a peek.

My jaw hits the floor as I gaze at a pile of items nestled I’ve always known and loved in blue tissue paper. There’s my pink cowboy hat, an old family photo, and my grandma’s clock that used to sit on the mantel in our living room.

“How?” Tears pool in my eyes.

“I salvaged them.” He explains. “I shipped them out to see if they could be saved. Some parts are new.” He points to stitches on the hat, where new leather is sewn in. “The entire clock is new except for the second hand, minute hand, and guts, but they respected the original design. It’s a little different here, I think.” He traces the wood on the edge. “I didn’t have a photo, so I had to draw the shape from what I remember. Now that I see it though, it’s a little off. Sorry about that.”

“It’s wonderful.” I suck in my snot. Oh man, this is getting ugly.

“The family photo is from the barn, shielded from the flames by a metal bucket. I lucked out there.”

“Thank you, Dad.” I’m wretched. How do I tell him I’m leaving when he’s given me the most thoughtful gift of my life?

“There’s one more thing.” He reaches in his back pocket, pulling out an envelope from his wallet.