“If Howard Townsen walked in that door right now and said he wanted to come back, what would you do, Beverly?” The volume of my voice doesn’t make her flinch, but I’m loud. Louder than I might have a right to be. If she loves him, I can’t change her mind, but dammit, I want her to love me.
See, I’m all over the place with her. Marriage proposal. Wanting her love. What am I doing? Like being on the back of a horse that’s bucking and kicking, trying to shake me, I stick. I take the licks and the beating because I’m holding tight to her when she doesn’t want me.
“I’d…” Her shoulders stiffen, but I can’t hear her answer. I can’t listen to her tell me she loves him. I raise a hand to stop her waste of words. She’d stick to him. She’d return to him. She’d allow him back with his pretty promises and his foolish actions.
Stay away from my sister. I’d cursed him on the very porch attached to this house.
Whatcha gonna do about it?
I’d tell his wife about his infidelities. The ones everyone knew he had.
My wife will never believe you. Besides, she always takes me back.
The thought hits me hard, like my ass meeting dirt after I’ve lost the wrangle with a horse under me.
“I came to tell you I’m heading to Nashville for a few days. I have some horses to look at, maybe pick one up.” This fight still makes adrenaline course through me, but I was done with the subject of Howard. I need to get out of here for a bit.
Beverly stares up at me, her eyes wide and worried. What does she need to worry about? I’m just the horse man, living in her fucking barn, trying to build something on her withering land.
Forget that I can’t stop touching her.
Forget that I like to spend time with her.
Forget that I’ve fallen head over backside for her.
“I’ll be back in a few days,” I tell her although I’m not certain why I’m telling her. I have an appointment to view horses, and I was hoping to convince Beverly to come with me. I was hoping to take her away from here for a few days and get her out of this godforsaken house for a little bit, but I see there might be a reason she’s never left it.
Say something, I want to yell. Explain why you stayed with him. Explain why you aren’t divorced yet. But I don’t scream, even though my insides eat at me. I take a second glance at her eyes, and my heart begs: Tell me you want to run away with me.
But I don’t ask her because I already know she won’t leave. She hasn’t yet. She’s been sitting here waiting…but for what?
Grady’s Seed and Soil is my first stop even though it’s out of the way of Nashville.
“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?” I yell at my best friend, who blinks back at me as he bounces back in his rolling office chair.
“Good afternoon to you, too, Jedd,” Vernon says to me. He smirks as he tilts backward, hitching his hands behind his head. “Nice to see you.”
“Don’t you ‘good afternoon’ me. How could you not mention Beverly is still married to Howard?” Vernon tips in his seat, reaching for his desk to prevent him from falling off the chair while at the same time his feet hit the floor for stability.
“What the fuck?”
“My sentiments exactly,” I reiterate. I swipe a hand down my face and glare at my old friend.
“I had no idea,” he states, trying to reassure me as he sits forward and rests his elbows on his thighs.
“How could you not know?” I glare at him as if he holds all the answers.
“I just assumed they were divorced. He left her.” Vernon’s eyes avoid mine, drifting to the stack of mayhem on his desk. His office is a mess, with receipts littering his desk and file folders askew in a desktop file organizer. His computer is on but flips to the sleep mode, and a tractor slowly crosses the screen with his logo.
“Vernon, did something happen between the two of you?”
His dark, tired eyes turn to mine, and he sighs. “Beverly and I were friends, but I didn’t know all the personal stuff about her.”
“That’s not what I’m asking, Vernon.” I pause, narrowing my eyes at him. He hasn’t had it easy over the years, sticking with a drunk woman who’s abusive in both action and words. “Tell me Vernon’s personal stuff. Who was Beverly to you?”
“We were just friends,” Vernon repeats, sitting upright and forcing his thick hand into his even thicker hair. He holds the cluster back as though he could manbun it, and I’ll throat punch him if he does. Manbun? Who came up with that?
“Friends shmemes, Vernon.”
His bushy brow hitches, wrinkling exposed his forehead as he continues to hold back his hair. “What are you, five?”
I’m going to act fifteen and go all adolescent crazy on this man if he doesn’t share something with me.
“We were just…two lonely adults.”
“Did you sleep with her?” My heart falls to the floor, spilling out of me like an oil leak.
“No, man. I’m married. I would never do that to Abi.”
“But?” I pause, not suggesting he should have slept with Bee despite his marriage, but there’s still something missing.
“Look, she used to come into the store with Ewell, Howard’s father. They were tight, and when Howard left Beverly after Ewell died, she came in more often. Working that farm alone with a small girl wasn’t easy. The boys liked being over there. There wasn’t any screaming at them when boys were boys, running, wrestling and making a ruckus.”
He releases his hair and leans his body forward, returning his elbows to his knees and clasping his hands.
“I didn’t mean for it to happen.”
My breath catches, the air intake stopping my lungs.
“What did you do?”
“One little kiss, man. One innocent, I-forgot-who-I-was kiss.”
“Then what?” I demand because there’s still something more.
“She felt guilty, and I felt guilty. That’s all that happened. When I’d heard Howard was back, I’d told Beverly. I never thought she’d…I didn’t ever think she’d…” Drink and drive. Vernon scrubs at his face with two hands and then forces them away like he’s shaking them dry.
“I’m sorry, man,” I mutter.
“Me, too. So very sorry.”
And I know he is.
Chapter Twenty
[Beverly]
Why?
The question haunts me over the next few days.
Why am I still married to Howard?
The simple answer was because of the cost of divorce and the inconvenience of chasing a man who didn’t want to be chased. When I was first home after the accident, I watched a ridiculous amount of daytime television and nothing scared me more than divorce court programs. The arguments. The accusations. I shiver with the recollection, but now…I’m wondering why I’ve let all this time pass without pursuing it. I might lose this farm. I might lose my home. But cutting the final hold Howard has on me is something I can afford to give up, especially if I want wishes of a healthy, happy home like Tripper Hanes states to close each Nailed episode.