“And it only took your brothers waterboarding you to get you to figure it out.”
“She told you about that too, huh?”
Daisy nodded, stifling laughter.
“You wish you’d seen it, don’t you?”
She nodded again, letting that laughter loose. For a second at least—I swallowed her laughter with a long and deep kiss, thick with possession and gratitude and awe.
The sound of vehicles approaching broke the kiss, and I turned, confused.
Because trucks and a few cars of various sizes were filing onto my property, parking in the lawn and anywhere else they could find.
“What the hell?” I asked, stupefied.
Daisy wound an arm around my waist and watched the parade with a look of knowing on her face. “So, you know how you needed that money to save your business?”
Frowning, I nodded.
“Well, I might have made a few calls.”
Every car door that opened revealed the face of a member of our town, heading in our direction with wallets in hand and thanks on their lips. Stunned, I stood in front of my family’s home as those people I’d helped began to crowd, handing over cash and checks and words of affirmation. Someone crowed Fuck Mitchell! which was followed by waves of laughter, snapping me to my senses.
“Hold on,” I said, but either no one heard me, or they ignored me. “Hold on!” I shouted.
They quieted, and I looked them over in wonder.
“What in the world are y’all doin’?”
Pastor Coleburn stretched to his full height and said in his Sunday service voice, “Keaton Meyer, this town owes you a great debt, a debt beyond words. But not a debt beyond action. We’re here because you’ve helped every single one of us in some way. You’ve saved this town time and time again in small ways, sometimes in magnificent ways. And we won’t let you go under.”
The throng of my town family cheered and began handing money over again. I couldn’t catch it fast enough.
“I can’t … I can’t take this,” I said, scrambling to gather it all up. It just kept on coming.
Daisy stood next to me, collecting their offerings with her cheeks high and flushed.
“Sure you can, Keaton,” Chris, one of our foremen, said. “If it wasn’t for my job with you, I don’t know what I woulda’ done. I was one foot out of jail when you found me. Now I’ve got a wife, a baby, a house—I never could have done it.” He handed over a check for five hundred dollars.
I shook my head, uncomprehending.
Jensen, my buddy from the police department, said, “When my pipes busted a couple years ago right before Christmas, you came in the middle of the night and fixed everything yourself, wouldn’t even take money for it, knowing we didn’t have it. So I owe you for labor and interest.” Smiling, he passed me a wad of bills that I stared at stupidly.
“I can’t take this,” I said to my hands. It was the only sentence I could recall.
“Yes, you can,” Daisy said. “All your sacrifice, all you’ve done … this town loves you, Keaton. You helped when you didn’t have to, even when it was to your detriment. Even when you had to lean on Mitchell’s money to stay afloat, and for no other reason than it was the right thing to do. Let us take care of you this time.”
I shook my head to clear it, but it did no use. Would my father have taken the money? If it meant saving everything, I had to believe he wasn’t too proud to accept help from those he’d helped. But when faced with these people I knew so well, some who had so little, I couldn’t bear to let them sacrifice on my account.
“Take the money, you proud son of a bitch!” somebody shouted from the back, setting another chuckle through the crowd.
“I don’t know how,” was all I could say.
“Say thank you and cash the checks!” somebody else yelled.
When we laughed, tears pricked my eyes, but they were too strong to swallow. “Thank you,” I said, my head bowed. “Thank you.”
A small eruption of joy was muffled by Daisy, who gathered me up and held my face. Kissed me hard with cool tears on her cheeks. My brothers had come out and were clapping townspeople on the back and taking donations. I didn’t know if it’d be enough, but it would help.
And here I’d thought it was hopeless.
Daisy’s sisters had pulled in late, but found their way to our side of the crowd. When Grant reached me, it was to pull me into a hug that caught me off-guard.
“You should have told us, Keaton,” he chided. “I could have helped.”
“I don’t generally take charity.”
“Well, too bad—you work for one. Whatever this doesn’t cover, I’ll make up.”
“Grant, I ca—”
“I swear to God, if you say you can’t one more time, I’m going to shove a check so far into your throat, you’ll shit hundred dollar bills.” I must not have looked convinced because he added, “Consider it payment for your services that you stupidly didn’t charge us for. It’s a fair deal, so long as you finish the job.”
He extended a hand for a shake, and I clasped it, pumping once. “Yessir.”
He clapped me on the shoulder again, and for the next half hour or so, we collected donations as a group, the Blums and the Meyers, and when the last few people had accepted my gratitude and headed off, our families made their way to the front door.
I snagged Daisy’s hand, pulling her to a stop. Pulling her to me. And when we were alone, I kissed her again in benediction and disbelief.
Eyes closed, I pressed my forehead to hers. “I love you,” I whispered, the words trembling with my heart.
“I love you too,” she whispered back.
“Will you stay with me?”
“As long as you want.”
“Forever?”
She leaned back to meet my eyes, her cheeks flushed and lips swollen. “Forever.”
I kissed her again to seal the promise, holding her tight, vowing to never let her go again.
31
THE GREAT DIVIDE
DAISY
Keaton and I spent two full days in bed.
In an attempt at privacy, we packed up some clothes and food and moved into one of the cottages near Jo and Grant where we could be alone. Our phones were somewhere in the small house, though I doubted either of them still had batteries. We figured if anyone needed us, they knew where we were.
Blissfully, nobody did.
Our clothes were still neatly packed in weekend bags. Mostly we’d eaten grilled cheese sandwiches and PB&Js—everything else too much trouble. Took too much time, time we could have spent stretched out in bed. Time that had lost its meaning. Sleep came when we were tired, meals came when we were hungry. The rest of the time we spent talking. Dreaming. Wondering. And, of course, doing naked things. Many, many naked things.
“You know,” I said as Keaton lazily kissed my neck, “we should probably find some real food at some point.”
He gruffed his disapproval against my skin, and between that and the scratch of his beard, I giggled, wriggling against him.
Laughing, he pinned me first with a hand on my hip, then with his body. “I’m not done with you yet.”