The Mason List (36 page)

Chapter 40

Today,
5:36 a.m.

A tap on
the glass causes the bruised heart in my chest to lurch right through the
fabric of my shirt.  I see a pair of hazel eyes smash right into the dark tint,
searching for their prey.  Sadie.  Clicking the release button, I give my
friend access to the sealed up truck. 

“What is
that horrific smell?” Sadie spat as she hikes a tiny leg up into the driver’s
seat.  Even in the middle of the night, she wore a designer pair of crisp jeans
and tan high heels.

“Sorry. 
I threw up.”

“Did you
eat a decomposed carcass of some road animal?  It is positively disgusting out
there.  And humid.  Why does it feel like the steam room of Bontegia?”

“Bontegia?” 
I smile.  My lips curve just enough on the edges I would like to think it
qualifies as a true smile.

“Oh,
sweetie.” Her green eyes reflect back in the same shade as her silk tank top.  
“We have discussed Bontegia.  The holistic gym with the focus on the mind, body
and spirit.  Remember?  You called it a ridiculous use of my over-indulgent
expense account.”

“That
sounds familiar.” I really do smile that time.  “You’re early.  I thought it
would be close to nine?”

She
reaches over and threads her fingers between mine.  I wait for her to insult my
chipped nail polish.  “I cashed in a favor from someone I can’t mention.  So I
arrived in
style
in my own private jet.”

“Wasted
that one on me?”

“Just for
you, sweetie.”

“Thank
you.”

I had
asked Sadie once why she decided I was worth her time.  Every moment of every
second of her day came in a detailed plan, usually established weeks or months
or years in advance.  I asked my question before our senior year.  Sadie had
pursed her lips in a tiny bow before answering. 
Sweetie, you seem to need a
friend more than an enemy and I am either one or the other.

“Ok.  Now
that I am officially in Texas, I refuse to let you stay in this dreary parking
lot.  No more hiding.  Time to step over the vomit and march inside that
ghastly place.  You have to see him at some point.”

“I
know.”  The raw pain scraps in my throat. “Will you go with me?”

A brief
look of fear appears on her beautiful face, and then quickly dissolves into her
ever-present confidence.  “Yes.  I can go with you, sweetie.”

“Thank
you.”

I climb
across the console to exit from the driver’s side to avoid the mess by the
door.  We cross the parking lot to the revolving entrance.  She links an arm
through the crook of my elbow.  I notice the enormous shoes propping up the tiny
person.  I notice the orange streaks as they come around the buildings.  The
light at the end of the tunnel, I suppose, to those looking for that sort of
omen.

“I
accepted the position in DC.  I had every intention of calling you tomorrow. 
Well, I guess that is today now, isn’t it.  Maybe you should come for a visit. 
Get away for a bit.  The winter will be horrendous compared to here.  But you
could stay indefinitely.  How does that sound?”

Her green
eyes cut toward my sullen face.  She fails to offer a smile with the invite.  I
fail to acknowledge the underlying meaning to her words.

Chapter 41

When
I was twenty-four…

Today was
my birthday.  Sitting at table with Greta and two other students, I sipped a
glass of Syrah.  We chatted back and forth in easy conversation, all being in
French.  It was beautiful underneath the lights of the city.  It was beautiful
in so many different ways.  I laughed at a story told by Hanna Prescott.  She
was another American who was in the program with me.  We traveled together
sometimes.  Hanna and Greta were good, decent people; nothing like the Dutch’s
and Darcy’s of the world. 

My phone
buzzed in my pocket.  Taking out the little box, I smiled at the words on the
screen, feeling the warmth spread through my chest.

Happy
Birthday Alex!

I still
thought about him every day.  I thought about him and it was ok.  I didn’t fall
down in a puddle of tears and misery.  I didn’t drink myself into oblivion or
dream of slitting my wrists. 

You
remembered my birthday.

I
remembered.

We talked
occasionally; never for very long and never about anything of much importance. 
Jess and I were both busy in our new lives.  I think we finally reached a place
of comfortable existence.  We could talk and it was ok.  We could
not
talk and still survive. 

Thank
you.

Are
you having a party or something?

Yes.

Have
fun.  Good night Alex.

I looked
back up at my friends around the table, celebrating my birthday.  Hanna poured
more wine in my glass.  Reaching forward, I clinked the crystal against the
others.  The sound echoed under the sparkling lights.  I was here and he was
there; each choosing a different fork in the road, each learning to breathe on
our own, seven time zones apart.

Good
morning Jess.

Chapter 42

When
I was twenty-five… 

I rolled
down the windows of the rented Hyundai, the moment the tires touched the dirt
road.  They went down on all four doors as if the mere presence of Arlis willed
them into submission.  Feeling the air whip through my hair, I reached for the
radio knob to switch stations.  My hand froze in mid stride hearing the deep
voice of Jason Aldean.  I smiled, imagining Jess flying down this very road
listening to the twangy voice sing about some tractor.  I’m sure he loved this
one.  I wondered if he could hear it right now; our lives parallel once more in
the world.

Looking
up through the front glass, I saw the vacant farmhouse under the half moon.  My
father and Caroline had gone to Abilene to visit her cousin.  They would return
in the morning, just in time for the Mason’s Thanksgiving dinner spectacle. 

Walking
through the familiar old house, I felt like a stranger amongst items I had seen
most of my life.  Time never had a good way of standing still except at
Sprayberry.  I was the cog out of place here as the hum of a well-oiled ranch
continued to pump out the same barrels. 

Opening
the back hallway door, I found my room the same as when I left for college. 
The shelves were lined with old books and walls covered with paintings by an
amateur.  I paused in front of a photo of a laughing woman with red head and a
small, carrot top child; by far the one I always liked the best of my mother. 
She was happy in that one and so was I.  My father must have pulled it out
while I was gone.

The rest
of the frames chronicled a whole life with a dark-haired boy, from riding
horses to the ridiculous snapshot from the night in the ER with his burn
bandages.  On the corner of my desk, another portrayed two, smiling kids
dressed in Arlis blue caps and gowns.   

Feeling
exhausted, I left the memories for a hot shower.  The steam helped with the
suffocating hold of apprehension.  I would see him tomorrow.  The entire flight
and car drive riveted with nothing else but rambling thoughts of Jess Mason. 
What would I say to him?  Would he be different, look different, or act
different?  The fear crept in around the edges.  Maybe he wouldn’t care to see
me at all.  I swallowed hard, knowing that was just plain stupid nerves. 

Since I
left, my days had become a life without him.  The day in and day out of
consistent mundane followed with splashes of the wild and extraordinary.  I
lived exactly as he had asked me to that night on the beach.  I experienced it
with nothing holding me back.  I had a life with a job and classes and people who
opened up endless possibilities.  I had friends from countries I only heard
mentioned in Discovery Channel shows.  I had exactly what I desired the entire
time I lived in Arlis; a life free of the Masons.

Brushing
out my hair, I settled into the old desk with my trusty journal.  The train
might leave the station but something always came in the baggage.  Tucked in
the back section of the little red book, I pulled out the Mason List.  My need
to mull over the contents failed to surface as often while in Paris.  One foot
on Sprayberry, I needed to see it.  The urgency spread catching my breath. 
After all these years, how could something so small and insignificant, have
such power?

A sharp
tapping sound riveted off the glass window.  The paper remained clutched in
trembling fingers as I peered out into the darkness.  A face pressed tight
against the glass with a wicked smile.  I folded the paper in half and shoved
it out of view.  Raising the window, I shook my head.

“Jerk! 
You scared the crap out of me.”

“I know. 
Sort of the point.”

“What are
you doing here?”

“Figured
you were already back.  I wanted to see you.”

“You
could have seen me tomorrow.  It’s twelve-thirty.”

“Which is
tomorrow, smartass.  And I haven’t seen that rotten face of yours in hell of
long time.  I couldn’t wait any longer.”

Twenty-eight
months, thirteen days, and roughly seven hours, according to the green glow on
the desk; not that I was counting.  Jess climbed through the frame shutting out
the cold behind him.  Turning toward me, he never paused as he scooped me up in
a tight hug against his chest.  He squeezed the breath from my lungs as I took
in the scent of ivory soap against his neck.  Every bit reservation had left
the moment I saw his face through the window.  The grip of his arms relaxed,
and I slid down his chest, causing my t-shirt to inch up and expose my
white-panty clad butt. 

Feeling
self-conscious, I turned bright red in the dim shadows of my desk lamp.  I
tugged at the bottom of the fabric, pulling it down as his eyes cast over the
front of it. 

“Is that
my shirt?” A large blue number, the same as his favorite cowboy Emmett Smith,
graced the front over my breasts, which incidentally was the same number Jess
wore on his high school football jersey.

“Maybe.”

“You know
that was my favorite and you stole it.”

“I didn’t
steal it.  It’s been right there in that closet.  You could have taken it back
anytime.”

“Liar.  I
think it came back in your suitcase.” He reached up and touched the side of my
neck.  His fingers ran over my skin then down through my loose hair.  His thumb
stroked the soft strands at the end.   I watched his face shift to that look. 
The one I knew very well; a desire deep in his blue eyes that said I want to
kiss you.  My breath held for a second, thinking he might just do it.  “They
not have any sunshine in Paris.  You’re like crazy pale and just all freckles.”

“You
jerk.”  I punched him slightly in the shoulder, feeling the pull of our
familiar dance.  I looked back into his eyes and without thinking, I slipped my
arms around his neck.  Jess held me tight against his chest.  It felt so
incredibly good to touch him after all these months.  My tall frame relaxed
against his body, molding into the every curve.  The room went dark as my eyes
closed.  His right hand left my shoulder and traced lightly down my spine
coming to rest on my hip; a delicate and familiar touch coming from his hands. 

While in
Paris, I think my mind had done an excellent job suppressing how much I missed
him, how much I wanted to feel him; excellent until he climbed right through
the window.  I whispered against his shoulder, “I’ve really missed you, Jess.”

“I know,
Al.  Me too.”

I
released my grasp and backed away.  Jess held onto my hand and turned it over,
exposing my wrist with blue stars inked into my skin.  “What’s this?”

“I drew
it.  You don’t like it?”  I wasn’t sure his reaction to another permanent spot,
once again, added while I was away. 

“It’s
really good.  I get it, I think.  Texas?”

“Something
like that.”  I smiled as he released my hand.  The tattoo was a simple design
of four stars; a memorial to the beautiful sky I left behind, drawn in the same
color as the eyes of the person who showed it to me.  Ironically, I now had
both; a left hand that bore shame and a right that captured something I
couldn’t explain to anyone.  Climbing in my bed, I covered up my freezing
legs.  “How you been?  I mean really.”

He
plopped down on the little twin bed, making the springs creak with each bounce.
“Rough, but I’m hangin’ in there.  It has been long days and even longer nights
sometimes.  I swear problems around here don’t come in threes.  It’s more like
thirty-threes.”

“I’m
sorry I didn’t come to the funeral.  I wanted to.  I just… I had…” my voice
trailed off with little conviction.

“It’s
ok.  Not much notice.  Frank went out the way he lived around here.  Sneaky and
inconvenient.”

“That’s
one way of putting it.  He went off like a crotchety old dog in the pasture to
die alone.” 

“Can’t
say I blame him, Al.  Propped up against a tree with his last thoughts bein’
the meadow grass wavin’ in the wind under the blue Texas sky.  I guess it must
have been peaceful.”

“I guess
so.”

“I keep
hearin’ in his cranky voice, you know. 
Boy, we don’t got no time to be
shootin’ the shit.
  I hear it every time I stop to take a break.  Makes me
work twice as hard.  I want to do this place justice.  He trusted me with it
even if he had an odd way of showin’ it.”

He was
tired.  I could see every one of those lines of fatigue.  His days were filled
with unlimited responsibility.  Most graduates took a job they would just leave
for the next big thing.  Jess inherited a life; a legacy.  

“You’re
doing a good job.  I know you are.  It’s just going to take some time with the
transition.”

“Thank
you.” He watched me for moment with emotion tugging around his tired eyes.
“Means a lot hearin’ it from you.  But, I’m scared a little, Alex.  I’m scared
of failin’ and detroyin’ it.”

“I
believe in you.  Besides, there’s no way you could destroy something you love
as much as Sprayberry.”

“I just
don’t want to be the stupid one who ran the place into the ground.  The buyers
are antsy.  They’re worried I can’t deliver the same quality.  Damn Frank was
doin’ the job of ‘bout five guys.  It’s a wonder he didn’t fall over dead before
now.  It’s officially mine now.  When Frank died, everything reverted to me
legally except my parents’ house and the oil.  That’s still tied up between all
of us.   But I officially own every piece of Sprayberry.  All six-three hundred
acres.”

“Wow.  I…I
didn’t know it would happen that way or that fast.”

“I didn’t
talk ‘bout it much because it scared the crap out of me.  It’s why they had to
know if I wasn’t willin’ to do it.  Arrangements had to be made.  It’s hard but
I know it was the right decision.  Mother had no idea though, on what it took
for Frank to handle the place.  I stayed with ‘em for a while but I had to move
out.  She was drivin’ me crazy.  I’m not livin’ with ‘em anymore.”

“The
eight thousand square foot Mason Manor was just too small?”  I giggled as I
watched his face.

 “Not
funny.”

“Ok.  I’m
sorry.  So where do you live?”

“I moved
into Frank’s house.”

“You’ve
got to be shitting me!  The spook house?  We were too scared to even look at
that place and you live there?”

“Don’t
worry.  I haven’t seen any shrunken heads stuffed under the floor boards.”  He
chuckled, rolling his eyes at my thoughts.  “Just dirty old man shit.”

“Like
what?  Never mind.  Gross.  I don’t want to know.”

“Not like
that.  Just nasty, menthol medicine and cigarettes.  The smell seeped into
everythin’ in that place.”

“I’m gone
like five minutes and you move in the freakin’ spook house.  I don’t even know
what to say.”

“You’re
gonna laugh your ass off when you see it too.  I can take you up there in the
mornin’?”

“Ok.”

“Good.” 
His jaw clenched on the words with troubled thoughts, churning just behind the
blue. 

“What?”

He
reached up and touched a piece of my red hair, letting the long strands pull
through his fingers.  “You weren’t gone for just five minutes.”

“I know.” 
A jab of guilt erupted inside my chest.  I had planned to come back for several
visits.  Despite the best intensions, I always seemed to book a ticket to
someplace else; someplace new that didn't inflict pain.  The thought of seeing
his face and then leaving again, was more than I could stand.  So I just never
made the emotionally riddled trip back. 

Scooting
closer, I rested my head against his shoulder.  The pain remained, but it felt
better just to touch him.   “Tell me what else I’ve missed.”

“I don’t
know.”  He picked up my wrist and rubbed his thumb over the blue stars inked
into my skin.  He held on and didn’t let go.  I wondered if he really
understood what it meant.  I’m sure he thought it was for Texas or Sprayberry
or some constellation in the sky.  Part of me wanted to tell Jess the truth. 
That tattoo might as well been his name scripted in my skin; a tiny blue star
for each of the letters in his name as they faded off in the distance.

“Come
on.” I needed to keep him talking before I said something stupid. “It’s Arlis. 
You must have something good.”

“Well, I
guess Skeeter’s got a girlfriend.  She’s a teacher from over in Mineral Wells. 
I think she’s related to Ms. Baker.  He met her at the church’s Labor Day
picnic.  He can’t stop talkin’ ‘bout her.”

“Like a
completely normal woman?  And she knows that Skeeter thinks they’re dating?”

“Yup. 
I’ve had dinner with ‘em.”  He let out a deep yawn.  “And I guess the Landry’s
may sell.  Said they’re gettin’ too old to keep up with it.  Kids don’t want
it.  Now that Frank’s gone, they think it’s time to see what else is out there
before it’s too late.  They asked if I wanted it.  I don’t know.  It would be
another nine hundred acres.   I’m still thinkin’ ‘bout it.  I’d like to do it
because of the Landrys and its good hay land.”