High Country Fall (29 page)
“Do they have to be told how he died?” I asked. “I mean, yes, of course, they have to know he lost control when his truck hit a deer, but do they have to know why he was up there? It’s bad enough to lose a son without hearing he tried to kill somebody.”
George nodded thoughtfully. “I’ll pass the word,” he promised.
Driving down from Cedar Gap was an unsettling experience. Visibility was about three inches in front of the grille on Dwight’s truck. We couldn’t see behind us. We couldn’t see ahead.
Which was pretty much how I was feeling.
It took us almost an hour just to get to the Tennessee border, and we were past Johnson City, heading north on I-81, before the fog dissipated into misty rain. Not that I noticed. By then, I had made myself a pillow with Dwight’s jacket and slept most of the way.
At the east juncture with I-77, we pulled off to find a place to eat supper.
“You sure you want to do this?” Dwight asked when I picked out a motel at the same juncture.
“I’m sure,” I said. “Halloween’s right around the corner, and if Cal saw this face, he’d think he’s getting a real witch for a stepmother. Besides, it wouldn’t be fair to cut in on his time with you. You need to focus on him this weekend and I need to veg out for a couple of days, sleep off this soreness, do some serious thinking.”
“Not
too
serious, I hope.”
His voice was light, but the truth was, we were awkward with each other. Our old-shoe easiness had evaporated.
Along with the passion.
He had slept on the couch last night and he’d barely touched me today. Even when he carried my things up to my room at the motel, he merely set them inside the door, brushed my forehead with his lips, and told me that he’d see me Sunday.
More like one of my brothers than a lover.
I slept twelve hours the first night, took a midday nap on Saturday, and slept another ten hours that night. By Sunday morning, even though my bruises were in full flower, it seemed to me that the deep blue-black places were slowly turning purple.
My body might have been healing, but my spirit was still sore. I found a country music station the first night that played real bluegrass—all the old cheatin’, hurtin’, lyin’ songs that you seldom hear on commercial stations anymore. The music drifted in and out of my troubled dreams all weekend. Some time in the early Sunday morning hours, I came awake to hear Waylon singing “Brown-Eyed Handsome Man” and realized that I had been crying. Lying there in the darkness, I finally opened my own eyes and took a hard honest look at the whole worrisome situation. What I saw left me even more unsettled because it wasn’t something I could hide from Dwight, yet telling him was probably going to cost me his friendship.
I had planned a logical and decorous scenario, and then Dwight caught me unaware by showing up two hours earlier than I’d expected while I was still in the coffee shop with coffee and the Sunday paper.
“I couldn’t remember if checkout time was eleven or noon,” he said when he found me.
“It’s one,” I told him as he slid into the booth across from me. “Want some coffee?”
“Sure.” He signaled to the waitress.
“How’s Cal?”
“Fine. It was his first football game last night.”
“How’d they do?”
“Lost, but he scored a touchdown, so he wasn’t too disappointed.”
“That’s nice.”
“So,” he said, when the waitress had brought him his coffee and been assured that no, he didn’t want anything to eat, “you feeling better today?”
I nodded and braced myself for the worst. No point in putting this off any longer. “Look, Dwight, I have to know. Do you really want to do this marriage thing?”
“Is that the serious thinking you stayed here to do?”
“Yes.”
“I’m still game to go, but I told you two weeks ago that if you changed your mind or if someone else came along, I wouldn’t hold you to our agreement, remember?” He stirred his coffee and I couldn’t read his face. It was like being back in that mountain fog.
“There’s no easy way to say this.”
“You don’t need to,” he said.
“Yes, I do. Because things have changed.” I was too nervous to meet his eyes. Instead, I focused on the ring he’d given me. “Did you meet Lucius Burke Friday? The DA for Lafayette County?”
“Yeah. What about him?” Dwight’s voice was grim.
“He brought me home from the Ashe party Monday night. We had dinner together on Tuesday night and he kissed me.”
Across the table, beyond my own hand, I saw Dwight’s tighten around his mug until his knuckles showed white through his tanned skin.
“He kissed you or you kissed him?”
“Well, he made the move and I didn’t stop him.”
“I see.”
“No, you don’t. Because nothing happened. No sparks, no tingles, and that’s when I started to realize— I mean, even when I’ve been in other relationships, there were always sparks and tingles whenever another good-looking, available guy came on the scene, but not this time.” I looked at him helplessly, feeling myself on the verge of tears again. “I’m so, so sorry, Dwight. I didn’t mean for this to happen. I know we agreed that our marriage would just be a practical arrangement. Good friendship, good sex, and nothing more, but I seem to be in love with you and I don’t think I can keep hiding it. So if that’s going to be a problem for you, if it’s going to make you uncomfortable, we don’t have to do this wedding. Honest.”
I had to look away again from his steady brown-eyed gaze; and his voice, when at last he spoke, was flat and unemotional. “You’re in love with me.”
I nodded.
“And you still want to marry me.”
“Yes,” I whispered.
He took a deep breath. “Okay, Deb’rah, since we’re being so open and upfront here, want to know why I joined the Army instead of going off to Carolina to play basketball?”
“Why?”
“Because I couldn’t trust myself to keep my hands off you if I stayed in the area.”
“What?”
He gave a rueful shrug. “I’ve been in love with you since I was nineteen.”
“But you never said— You never—”
“You were a kid, for God’s sake.”
“Listen, Dwight, I haven’t been a kid for a lot longer than I care to admit. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“When the hell did I have a chance?” he asked indignantly. “Every time I came back to Colleton County, you were either over the moon for some guy or else swearing off men forever. Do you know what it’s been like these last two weeks, making love to you and you just calling it good sex? Trying to play it cool, trying not to come on too strong because I was afraid I’d scare you off? Dammit, Deb’rah! You have any idea how I felt when Underwood called me? To know every mile of the way that you could be dying?”
He glared at me across the table until the full import of his words finally sank in. I don’t remember if I was laughing or crying when I got up and went around to his side of the booth and into his arms. That part’s a blur.
What I do remember is that there was absolutely nothing brotherly about that kiss.
Nor the ones that followed.
I could have taken him right there in the booth, but hey! I still had a room, didn’t I?
And checkout wasn’t till one o’clock, right?
We made it with five minutes to spare.