Текст книги "The Reeducation of Savannah McGuire"
Автор книги: Heidi McLaughlin
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Текущая страница: 8 (всего у книги 12 страниц)
Tyler
Jeremiah Moore is the epitome of an asshole. He knows I’m missing Savannah and instead of being my best friend and helping me overcome my magnitude of grief, the jerk has made a playlist for when we’re together. He’s even gone as far as changing one particular song to the text tone on his cell phone. Being the ladies man that he is, his phone is constantly going off so all I hear, every single time we’re together is the annoying voice of Madonna repeating “time goes by so slowly”. Jeremiah is lucky I’m not a hunter.
It’s funny. Savannah wasn’t here all that long for me to become attached, except I did. Aunt Sue says it’s because her and I are meant to be together, we just haven’t found the right time yet. I can neither agree nor disagree. When Savannah left, my heart was ripped right out of my chest and fed to the wolves. For the first time ever, I called out sick, telling Bobby that I just couldn’t work because I had the flu or something equally ridiculous. I stayed in bed and held the pillow she used to my face, inhaling her scent. I didn’t do that stupid shit when Annamae and I broke up, so I couldn’t understand why I was doing it now.
My momma put it in perspective. Savvy coming back was the closure I needed when she left the first time. She said had she never left, this is what I’d be going through– if not worse– when she’d be headin’ to college.
Thing is, not a lot of folks from Rivers Crossing, Texas head to college unless we’re playing football. I didn’t play, and neither did Jeremiah. Most girls around here try out for the cheer team, or whatever it’s called, in hopes to land a husband. Thinking Savannah would’ve been like that is hard. I picture her mounted on a horse, herding cattle or driving the tractor.
While we were growing up she was Uncle Bobby’s sidekick when she wasn’t with me and Jeremiah. Aunt Sue was teaching her how to cook until she had to move away. So no, I don’t necessarily agree with momma, at least on the college part. I do think it’s been the closure I need, just not sure it’s what I wanted.
Talking to her on the phone is hard. The time difference is difficult to figure out. Email is easier, but my computer is so damn old it takes ages to turn on and the Internet out here isn’t that fast, so sending her a diary of my life can’t really happen. The few times we’ve spoken, it’s been short and sweet. She asks about her aunt and uncle, I tell her they’re good. I ask about Paris, she sighs and says she’s learning. Before you know it, the time is up on my calling card and we’re saying that we miss each other before the line goes dead.
I looked into getting an iPhone, but with the lack of Internet on the ranch, it’s pointless. Sort of like my relationship with Savannah. I love her and know she loves me, but we can’t make this work if we can’t communicate. It seems we’re only able to be together if she’s here and I don’t have a clue as to when she’s coming back... if she even is. She left all her “ranch” clothes behind and took just her city life with her. It’s as if she’s closing this door on her life. Not that I blame her.
Della slides me a fresh beer. The frothy foam spills over the rim and I use the rag she keeps on the bar to clean it up. Each night after work I’m in here. Each night I leave by myself. The girl I want is currently five thousand two hundred miles from me, living the life she had planned out until one night screwed that up for her. If she hadn’t screwed up, she would’ve never come to Texas and I wouldn’t be sitting here drinking my sorrows away.
Every song that plays on the jukebox sparks a reminder of Savannah. It could be anything from long legs, picnic lunches or bonfires. She and I didn’t do much while she was here, but the things we did do created a lifetime of memories. At least they did for me. Each song reminds me of what a cliché I’ve become as I sit at the same bar night after night, drinking the same type of beer over and over again.
I’m a bad country song waiting to happen.
Jeremiah walks in without an entourage. It’s shocking to see, more so because he’s had a new friend every night of the week recently. I swear he’s running a dating business out of Red’s because women are flocking here to meet him. It’s like he’s famous or something. I don’t get it. He’s just a straight up backwards talking cowboy and women are chasing him like he’s the keeper of the golden ticket to Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory.
He slaps me on the back just as I’m about to take a drink. Beer sloshes and wets the front of my shirt. “Asshole,” I mutter as he sits down.
A few times since Savannah left, I thought about finding a new bar to drown my sorrows in because after working with Jeremiah all day and hanging with him at night, I get my fill. I’m tired of hearing that I need to let go, move on and nail the next piece of ass that walks through the door or shows up to buy hay from us. It’s not how I operate. Never has been. When Annamae left me for the greener pastures of Rufus, I didn’t start sleeping around. Hell I didn’t even care. That’s what tells me that shit between Savannah and I was real. I care that she’s gone. I care that I haven’t been able to speak with her every night. We were just getting started and deserve a chance to get together... if that’s what she wants.
This is where everyone cheers for me and tells me to go get the girl. Yee-haw and all that happy horse shit. In order to do that, I need a passport and I don’t have a clue as to how I get one.
The screen door slams behind me and the clatter of silverware against glass tells me that I’ve interrupted supper. One doesn’t simply interrupt supper at the McGuires’s – if you show up, you stay and eat. By the time I’m walking into the dining room, Sue is up and in the kitchen already fixing me a plate. I’ll never have the heart to tell her I just ate, or that my appetite hasn’t been the same since Savannah left because I’m afraid of hurting her feelings. Aunt Sue can cook and no man in the surrounding next ten counties over will pass up a meal fixed by her.
Fried chicken, greens and fresh corn on the cob are set down in front of me. I haven’t been around as much, aside from work, and she knows why. It’s hard and we both miss Savvy. It’s just easier to stay busy and away from people who want to talk about her. Except for tonight.
Before I can muster up the courage to ask for help, I dig in and let the wholesome goodness soak up the beer that’s festering in my gut. After a few bites and a nice ice-cold glass of milk to wash it down, I look at her aunt and uncle and prepare myself.
“I want to go to Paris and get Savannah.”
Aunt Sue gasps, but Uncle Bobby sets his fork down calmly and wipes his face on his sleeve.
“What makes you think she’ll come back with you, boy?”
Boy. Not son. Not Tyler, but boy. The overprotective side of him is showing in spades. It’s fine. He can be like that, but I’m an adult and Savannah will be one soon. Once she’s eighteen her mother can’t tell her what do anymore.
“I don’t, but I want to try.”
“You gonna make an honest woman out of her?”
“Bobby,” Sue scolds, but he’s right and he also just showed his hand. Savannah and I kept our relationship a secret. The only two who knew were Aunt Sue and Jeremiah. Neither of them would’ve sold us out, especially Jeremiah. He may be a gossip, but only when it’s for his benefit. Getting me fired, or having Savannah sent away wouldn’t aid him in any way. For the life of me I couldn’t understand why her mother suddenly had a change of heart about her being here and would send her off to Paris early out of the blue. It’s all starting to make sense now – Uncle Bobby knew about Savannah and I and mentioned us when her mother called.
“He’s right, Aunt Sue,” I reply before turning my attention back to Uncle Bobby. “I imagine in your day, you courted Aunt Sue with the purest intentions. Unfortunately, times have changed and while that is no excuse, Savannah was happy here. Yes, she was looking forward to Paris, but I had a feeling she was going to stay.”
“She didn’t though,” Bobby says, pointing out the obvious since she’s not sitting at the table with us now.
“No, she wasn’t given a choice.”
“You plan to give her a choice?” his voice is booming and authoritative. I’ve never really seen this side of Bobby before and honestly it scares me a bit. He’s giving new meaning to shaking in my boots.
“Of course I do. It’s not like I’m going to go over there and drag her back, kicking and screaming.”
Sue puts her hand on Bobby’s wrist to get his attention.
“Bobby, he’s not asking for your permission, he’s asking for our help. We need to give it to him.” She’s right. I do need their help. I don’t know how to get a passport, not that I’m expecting either of them to, but Sue will know someone who knows someone. That’s how small towns work.
I love Bobby, but the overbearing uncle attitude needs to go. She’s almost an adult and can make her own decisions. If I get there and she’s happy, fine. I’ll leave, but not after I’ve had my say.
“Thanks, Aunt Sue.” I get up and give her a kiss on the cheek. I feel her smile and hope that if Savannah and I are lucky enough to be together in the future, she’s soft and gentle like her aunt... although her aunt is really one in a million.
Savannah
Zach and I walk back to his hostel together under a cloud of darkness. We’re side by side but there is enough distance between us that everything is casual. He offered to walk me home, but I’m still a city girl through and through and know that it’s dangerous to let a stranger know where you live. Besides, if he’s in the right place at the right time, he’ll see me coming out the door. Definite drawback to living on the Champs de Elysees: You can’t hide from the tourists and according to Zach’s schedule he’ll be on my street in three days.
He complained, but I wouldn’t budge. I’m not the kind of girl who tells a guy she just met at the Eiffel Tower where she lives. In my romance novel, it sounds great. In the crime report, it’s an act of stupidity.
We stayed on the second floor of the tower, exploring each side of Paris together. It’s nice that he lives by the same map I do, although I wish it were a year from now and I were meeting him, or someone similar, so I could be a proper host. It makes me wonder if Tyler will visit, or if the only time I’ll see him again is if I go back to Texas. I’m not sure I can. I’ve wanted Paris for so long I feel as if I have to make it work.
I haven’t really enjoyed being here before as I much as I have today. It was good to laugh and even cry a little at some of the jokes Zach was telling. But each emotion brought back a memory of Tyler and I often found myself comparing him to Zach. Would Tyler let me drag him around from museum to museum? Would he want to walk along the Seine and over the aptly named Love Locks Bridge and see the few padlocks that remain? Or would he only want to spend his time here out in the country, looking at the vast green pastures and learning how people farm here?
Tyler is a wild horse in my life or maybe I’m the free spirit that can’t be tamed in his. I know he’d be there for me, but I’m not sure our lifestyles can blend. After seeing the lights of Paris for this past month, watching the people as they rush from place to place, and listening to the cars at night – the city is what I love. It tells a story, the people are its chapters. The country is nice for a break, but I’m not sure it’ll ever measure up to what I’m seeing now.
By the time we reach the third floor the sun has set and just like every other night in Paris, wedding proposals are being made. People clap, cheer and offer well wishes to the soon-to-be betrothed. Zach and I make it a game. Walking around pointing at which couple we think will be next. It’s very hit or miss, but an overall enjoyment for our evening. Of course we get more wrong than right, but we aren’t really counting.
Zach thanks me when we stop at the hostel. It’s that awkward we-just-met-should-I-give-you-a-hug-or-give-you-my-number moment. He opts for the hug, pulling me into his muscular arms, which only serve to remind me of Tyler. I should call him when I get home, but that means stopping at the corner store and buying a phone card. And the fact that I’m making up excuses or reasons why we shouldn’t talk is stupid and a complete eye opener. If he wanted to be with me, he would’ve asked me to stay, right? I pat Zach on the back and he lets go. “Are you sure you’re okay to walk home? I’m having a hard time letting you go on your own. It’s dangerous out there.”
I look up and down the street and shrug. “I’ll be fine.”
He nods, but the frown he has doesn’t dissipate. “Here’s my number,” he says as he pulls my hand out and writes it on my forearm. Smart, this way the sweat on my palms won’t make the ink wash off.
I agree and tell him that I’ll see him bright and early for our countryside train ride. The novel that I was planning on reading tomorrow will just have to wait.
“It was very nice meeting you Zach.” I walk away before he can say anything and I definitely don’t turn around to see if he’s watching me. It’s killing me not to, but it’s far too soon for anything like that, plus my head is in a fog. If anything, Zach will be a fun companion until his journey is over and he’s back doing whatever it is that he does.
As soon as I’m home with the doors locked, I pull out my phone and text him. The conversation bubble pops up immediately. I can’t help but smile at the thought that he was waiting for me. Either that or he was texting his friends back home and I just interrupted. Regardless, he tells me good night and that he’s excited for tomorrow.
That makes two of us.
I stop at the café on the corner and order the same thing I do every day, black coffee with milk and sugar... a lot of sugar. Each time I order it, the barista gives me a strange look. It’s almost as if they’re confused on how to just pour a cup of coffee and simply add milk and sugar instead of adding nine other things to it. As soon as the hot paper cup is in my hand, I’m out the door and heading toward Zach’s hostel. I’m not much of a coffee drinker, but everyone in Paris is and I don’t want to stand out. I even sit and drink it out of tiny cups with my pinky in the air. It’s something everyone should do when they’re in Paris.
It doesn’t take me long to reach the hostel and when I get there, Zach is standing outside with his foot resting against the wall. Tyler sometimes stands like that. Thoughts of Tyler cause me to stop short and focus on a leaf that is mindlessly swirling on the ground. Everything reminds me of Tyler and I know that’s the way it should be, but each moment is painful. I don’t want to live like that.
“Good morning,” Zach says, breaking my reverie. “Did you bring me one?”
“What?” I look at him, confused, and see that he’s pointing to my cup of coffee. It dawns on me that I should’ve grabbed him one or at least texted and ask if he’d like something to drink. “Oh, um… I thought with you being in the service you didn’t drink coffee.” I’m not exactly quick on my feet, but at least it’s something.
Zach laughs and takes the cup from my hand, taking sip. His face scrunches and pushes the cup back into my hands. “I think I’m thankful you didn’t bring me a cup. What is that shit?”
“It’s my coffee.” I laugh and take a sip, not minding the sugar loaded warm breakfast.
“No,” he says shaking his head. “That’s warm Red Bull on crack. You’re in Paris. You’re supposed to drink espresso and Frappuccino’s.”
“Zach, I think you mean I’m supposed to drink the coffee black because in Paris, coffee is like a fine art. Come on, we have a train to catch.” I bump his shoulder as I pass by him, heading toward the station.
The train station is busy, but not overly crowded. Zach beats me to the counter and buys our tickets. I try to give him the money, but he’s ignoring me, pretending like he can’t hear me even though he’s smiling. I give up and decide to show him on the large map where we’re going today. I point to Vouzeron and drag my finger back to Paris. I don’t know what’s there, but I’ve put it on my list of towns to check out.
The public address system announces the train for Chantilly and people rush to the platform.
“Is that our train?” he asks.
“No, it’s going in the wrong direction.” I show Zach on the map. As soon as my finger points to Chantilly, he grabs my hand and pulls me toward the platform. Before I can ask what’s going on, we’re on the train, sitting side by side and laughing.
“What’s going on?”
He looks around the train with a smile spread across his face. Today his hat is on backwards, but his overall appearance is still the same as yesterday.
“One of the guys at the hostel told me about Chantilly and said that girls really dig it. He said that there’s mansions, flowers and some other girly shit so I thought we’d check it out.”
“We’re in France,” I remind him. “There are mansions everywhere. I believe each town has at least one.”
“There’s also the song. My mom loved that song.”
“Loved?” I question.
“She died about ten years ago, cancer. Chantilly is on my list and I’d like to see it with you.”
How can I say no? I can’t, which is why I sit back in my seat and squeeze his hand. I should let go, but it feels good to hold his hand.
Tyler
Taking Jeremiah with me to Austin was a mistake. He’s like a kid in a candy store, except the adult version. Rivers Crossing is small and definitely behind the times. You won’t find a shopping mall, strip mall, chain restaurants or nudie bars. What you do find is good, wholesome cooking, friendly people and land so vast that you can see for miles. In Rivers Crossing, the people are gracious, humble and your best friends within five minutes, unlike the bigger cities. I’m biased, I know.
As I drive around, going from block to block looking for an address that doesn’t seem to exist, all I see are food carts and lines of people. Even with my stomach growling it’s not enough for me to stop, although I’m half-tempted to because the smells of what’s sure to be delicious foods are killing me.
As luck would have it, I’m lost. Aunt Sue worked the phones and the general store like a pro on how to get a passport. When she told me that it’d take six weeks I wanted to kick my ass for waiting so long. It’d be well into two months that Savannah has been gone by the time I could get a little book that allows me to fly over the ocean. But Della told me that you could pay a little extra and get one quicker so that’s why I’m in Austin.
What Della didn’t tell me was I needed a picture and the lady at the courthouse wasn’t too forthcoming with how to find someone who took instant pictures for my application. Hence me being lost in what I’m gathering ain’t a great part of town. Jeremiah thinks it’s great, though, as he hangs his head out the window yelling yee-haw at people on the street. Right now he’s waggling his tongue at the aforementioned nudie bar, which is apparently where he wants to have lunch. I don’t know if I should go to the bar or leave Jeremiah there. One decision is surely going to get me in hot water while the other gives me the time I need to get my stuff done. This could be a moment that we look back on in ten years or so and laugh. Depends on if I get the girl or not.
With my pictures, birth certificate, application and checks in hand I stand in line and wait. Who knew getting an emergency passport would be so popular? I didn’t, but I also never planned on leaving the country. Savannah’s worth it though. I know she’s too young to make a commitment like getting married, but just having her here is worth the trip to France. I can’t see my life without her in it, even if she’s just a neighbor. Thing is, I’m not sure Rivers Crossing is for her and I don’t know if the city is for me. My momma said part of being in love is compromise, finding a happy medium for the both of us. I don’t know what that would be considering our worlds are vastly different.
Maybe I shouldn’t be going after her. I’ve just about cleaned out my savings to buy a ticket. What if she rejects me? Or has already moved on with some beret wearing French dude? I look down at the paperwork in my hand and sigh. Am I wasting my time?
“You tell her you’re coming yet?”
“No,” I say with a frown. “Aunt Sue has her address, and she thought it would be ‘knight in shining armor’ of me to just show up with roses in my hand.”
“What if she doesn’t need to be saved?”
I glance at Jeremiah and wonder when he became the voice of reason. I’m next in line and starting to sweat, second-guessing what it is that I’m doing. My trip could be futile, or she could come back with me. That’s what I want: Savannah back in Texas and living at the ranch. I know that makes me selfish, but she was taken from me once before and I don’t want to lose her again.
The lady in front of me is done and now it’s my turn. Jeremiah is rocking on the heels of his cowboy boots wondering what I’m going to do. The clerk looks at me, her eyebrows raised and her back hunched. She’s already tired from her job of processing applications and I’m holding her up. Stepping forward, it’s do or die for me. Jeremiah pats me on the back. I’m not sure if that’s encouragement or his way of telling me to get the hell out of here. It’s a crap shoot. I know this. She either comes home, or she doesn’t. And there’s only one way to find out.
My application is stamped, and re-stamped. I’m sure the clerk has worked here long enough that she doesn’t have to read or check them. Or maybe she just takes them and some other, higher paid person processes them.
“Seven days,” she says without making eye contact and bellowing out, “next.” That’s it. I know nothing more or nothing less.
The walk back to the truck is met with Jeremiah going on about something irrelevant to my plight. He means well, but he doesn’t get it. He’s the guy that refuses to date a girl more than once, even though he’s met plenty of upstanding women in his day. Hell, a few of them I’d date if I weren’t hung up on a striking blonde who took my heart to Paris with her a month ago.
Getting involved was a mistake. I know this. But it happened and now I’m dealing with the consequences. If her mother hadn’t sent her away early, she’d just be getting ready to leave now. I would’ve used the time given to us wisely and showed her how much Texas means to her. Show her she belongs here and not in some ritzy country where she doesn’t speak the language. Make her see I can offer her everything, even when I know in order to do that I have to make a change. Living in a small house on borrowed land isn’t what Savannah wants for a future.
I need to be enough for her to want to come home. I’m all I have to offer and even I know it won’t be enough.
I’m not happy. Bobby isn’t happy. Neither is Jeremiah, but he’ll get over it. Bobby on the other hand is ignoring me and barking out orders. I know he’s pissed I took the day off to go to Austin. I work six days a week. I’ve only been sick once and am about to take a vacation. Most employers offer time off in addition to sick time. This is something we were taught in my business class. Bobby is all about business and making sure the ranch is running. I get that. I also get that I shouldn’t have taken Jeremiah with me.
We have other employees, but Bobby forgets that. The ranch is being taken care of, but I’m not here to solve all the problems so he can just work. Jeremiah is going to have to step up his game when I’m gone, otherwise I may not have a job to come back to.
Bobby is gruff. He’s a hard worker, but needs to slow down. It’s why I went to school, so I can take over the ranch. He just hasn’t been willing to let go yet. Maybe that’s a good thing considering I’m flying across the world to chase a girl who may not want to be chased.
Orders are barked as soon as Jeremiah and I enter the barn. Tools are being slammed around and curse words muttered. Aunt Sue doesn’t like it when we swear, so we try not to, but Bobby doesn’t care about that right now. He tells me that the crew on the back forty are hours behind and I need to head out there to find out what’s going on. So I do. I have no desire to sit around and be on the receiving end of his death glare.
Being alone in my head is the last thing I need right now, though. All I seem to be able to do is run through all possible scenarios of what could happen when I get to Paris, driving myself crazy. Will she jump in my arms when she sees me? Ask me what I’m doing there? Tell me to go home? It’s shitty that out of everything I can think of, I only have one positive thought. I wasn’t like this with Annamae and she and I were together a hell of a lot longer than I was with Savannah. Hell, Savvy and I aren’t even together. We spent a month making out and a moment having sex by the pond.
The girl is wicked. It’s the only way to sum up what I’m feeling. She has a hold on me and I can’t seem to break it. I don’t remember feeling like this when she left the first time. I know I moped around the house a bit, but I never asked to go to New York and get her. Probably because I knew she was coming back, or she was supposed to. Each summer Savannah was supposed to come home, but never did. Her mother just left us all behind for her fancy job in the big city and forgot about us.
When I reach the land the other crew is working I can see what Bobby is talking about. The field was mowed days ago and ready for haying this morning, but only one-third of it is done. The guys stop working when they see me pull up in my truck. It’s not break time, but they seem to think it is.
I’m angry and frustrated as I slam the door and stalk over to where they’re now sitting in the shade.
“Y’all have two hours to finish this field. The bales need to be back to the barn before quitting time.”
“It’s too hot,” one of them says. There are only a few full-time employees; the others come in daily looking for work. Unfortunately, none of my full-timers are in this crew of five. Bad planning on my part and I’ll be here all night making sure the job is done because of it.
“Move to Alaska,” I say to the group, not caring who is belly aching as I turn away from them. When you live in Texas, it’s warm, hot or too hot. You get used to it.
One of them says something about quitting and that’s enough for me to lose my cool. I turn back around and look each of them in the eye. Not a single one of them pipes up now and not a single one of them cares.
“You’re done for the day. Pay will be ready at five. If you want to get paid, be at the gate.”
There’s moaning and groaning, inappropriate language being spread around, but I don’t care. I hop in the tractor and start getting the job done.
My ticket for France is non-refundable. If I don’t go, I lose the money. If I go, I could lose the girl. It’s a no win situation and a classic example of thinking with my heart and not my head. Someday, logic will win out, but not today.
