“Momma.” Hannah chuckles. “There’s no such thing.” She eyes me like she’s worried I’ve taken too many meds. I used to do that to dull the pain in my legs and my heart. I snicker, recalling all the times I tried to convince her the noise under the bed, the bump in the dark, or the rustle in the field was not a monster. Maybe there was no monster, but perhaps an angel in disguise. When I think on it, I realize Hannah and I have been darn lucky living out here, a little off the beaten path of Green Valley proper.
“You let me know if you do notice anything, all right? In the meantime, I don’t think having Jedd here will hurt as long as he stays on his side of the yard.” I wink, and Hannah’s smile grows a little bit before she sobers.
“Are you okay after what he did?” She thinks on it a second. “He really should go.”
Throwing me in a tub of icy water when he knows my lack of mobility does make Jedd seem rather mean, but then again, he didn’t do anything to me I didn’t need. Fresh air and a freezing bath calmed me down. Ironically, I do feel…better. Better than I have in a long time.
My next admission is another difficult confession to swallow.
“I may have deserved what he did. That doesn’t mean I won’t be plotting ways to get my revenge.” I grin, and for a moment, I feel like my old self. The one who mischievously did things out of good old-fashioned curiosity and fun without meaning any intentional harm. I rub my hands together as though I have an evil plan, and the smile that spreads across my daughter’s face reminds me of the ones she used to give me as a child. For a flash, she’s my baby girl again, and I’m her momma, making her laugh as if there’s no other care in the world. And for just that moment, all feels like it’s been put back to rights.
Chapter Ten
[Jedd]
I should not have done what I did.
I’m mentally beating myself as I sit at The Watershed, a hole-in-the-wall bar on the river running through Merryville. I needed some space and ended up here where the tall, wooden booth seats are reminiscent of old European pubs. The place is loud but not overwhelming. It’s just enough to cloud my restless thoughts as I sit at the long bar.
“Need another?” the young bartender asks. The spitting image of his father, it’s clear the young man behind the bar is Vernon’s son.
“Thanks, Kodi. I think I’m all set.” I tip the glass before me, signaling the remainder of my swill. Kodi is short for Kodiak. His mama was obsessed with bears when she named her three boys: Grizzly, Kodiak, and Kermode. Vernon jokes he’s relieved he never had twins. Abigail might have named them Polar and Panda. Considering his mama’s a severe alcoholic, Kodiak’s position as a bartender seems a bit ironic.
The twenty-something with dark bushy hair nods in silence after I decline another beer, and I sit alone with my plaguing thoughts.
I shouldn’t have tossed her in the tub.
I’d like to think she asked for it. My momma would have made me bite a bar of Dial soap for using such language and slinging false accusations at a family member, and not the fragrance-free white bar but the old gold bar that had a strong aftertaste. I couldn’t very well wash out Beverly’s mouth, though, but her words made me feel dirty. I’d never entertained her daughter in my thoughts. I’ve only had Beverly on the brain. Not to mention, she shouldn’t have insinuated her child would be attracted to an old man like me. Not that I consider myself old, but I could be her daddy, and I don’t go for that kind of hookup.
You want to blank this man.
My spine quivers as I recall Beverly’s words. I don’t have a problem using that four-letter word for all kinds of references but not in reference to Hannah Townsen. On the other hand, for Beverly, I need to reconsider it. I won’t lie to myself and diminish the fact that I’ve been entertaining that word with her in my mind. Something about her spunk and spirit girds my loins, and they want to be girding her, and I’m not trying to be silly. I’m serious. Each night, I’m wrestling thoughts of Beverly and then wrestling said loins for relief.
Shaky fingers scrub at my forehead. I have got to get myself under control with this woman.
I know Beverly. I see her, like I said. She’s so buried under insecurity and sensitivity that she strikes out to protect herself. If she lashes first, the recoil won’t hurt. If she stings, she can’t be stung. It’s all a defense mechanism, and one I recognize well. Hell, that was me when I woke up and first learned I’d lost my arm. I struggled with feeling lopsided, incomplete, and unwhole. But eventually, I had to let those self-conscious thoughts go before they ate me alive, so I know. I know.
Beverly also has abandonment issues. Men cannot be trusted, she said. Howard—what a coward and an idiot. Fucking idiot. If she can push people away, it prevents anyone from getting close. Only, her daughter already is close. Too close. She’s put up with her mother for ten years. Striking out at Hannah makes sense while, at the same time, it doesn’t. We often hurt those closest to us because they’re the only ones who can really hurt us in return.
Human beings sure are fucked-up creatures sometimes.
Which is why I prefer horses to men. I’ve been trying to get my partner to commit to purchasing two thoroughbreds since late fall is one of the better times for buying a horse. I’m interested in a set of Quarter Horses I found near Nashville. The barn isn’t winterized, and I don’t have a stable per se, but now is the time to buy.
I continue scrubbing at my forehead. I have so much to do and shouldn’t be wasting time sitting here staring into a nearly empty stein of beer and dissecting Beverly’s behavior.
“Keep scrubbing like that and you’ll wear off the skin.” A deep voice next to me chuckles. “Only two things make a man rub his forehead like that. Troubles with women or troubles caused by them.”
I turn my head to face my barstool neighbor and find a man similar to my age, stature, and status in the gray hair department.
“Adam should have run from Eve in that garden.” I chuckle without humor.
“Nah, he couldn’t help himself. She was too tempting.” He huffs, shaking his head like we understand each other.
“Nathan Ryder,” he says, offering his hand.
“Jedd Flemming.”
We sit in silence for a moment, eyes mindlessly watching a sport’s recap on the television above the wall of liquors. Fun fact: Rodeo is the official sport of Wyoming, and I miss the show.
“What brings you out tonight?” I finally ask, feeling the awkward quiet between us linger for too long. I’ve been known to start a conversation with a stranger and end it with a new friend.
“Waiting on my girl to close tonight. She’s a local librarian. Also had another fight with my seventeen-year-old daughter, so I thought I could use a beer to cool me down before I see Naomi.”
Naomi? Not a typical name for the area.
“Your girl wouldn’t happen to be Naomi Winters, would she?”
The hackles rise on my bar neighbor, and his body shifts, angling toward me. “She certainly is.” His tone hints of possession.
My lips curl, and I nod. “You aren’t going to believe this, but my troubling woman is her sister, Beverly.”