I turned my attention back to Duane. “What? Why? Why can’t Billy laugh at anything in public?”
“’Cause everyone knows him, who he is. Heck, half of the guys at the jam session work for him. And I think he’s considering a run for county commissioner in two years.”
“Oh, goodness. That sounds awful. I can’t imagine being a public servant, all those people and their opinions.”
“I know, right? People are the worst.”
His comment made me laugh again and I studied him for a beat, wondering what other hidden layers he might reveal.
To this end, I said, “So, Duane Winston, tell me about yourself.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Tell me…tell me something I don’t know. What’s your favorite movie?”
“Anything with a good car chase.”
I smiled at the predictability of his response, but it didn’t feel quite right. “Why do I doubt your answer?”
Duane’s gaze slid to mine and he gave me a half smile. “You don’t like a good car chase?”
“I didn’t say that. I just meant, why do I feel like there’s more to you than your stereotypical guy answer?”
His hand gripped then relaxed on the steering wheel. “There’s a reason we eat popcorn during a movie. If I want to zone out, be brainless and entertained, then I watch TV, go to a movie. If I want a good story, then I read a book.”
“Ah ha!” I poked his shoulder gently. “There it is. You’re a book person. That’s probably because your mother was a librarian.”
“Yeah, she likely had an influence…” Duane squirmed a little in his seat, his eyebrows tugging low over his eyes like he was deep in thought. “I reckon most people look at us Winston boys and see a bunch of hillbillies, sons of Darrell Winston, con man and criminal. In some ways, I guess we are. We like our cars, barbeque, and banjo music. But our momma wanted more for us. She demanded it. Momma basically put each of us through a kind of finishing school.”
“How’d she manage that?”
“Books. Lots of books. At least one a week to expand our vocabulary and our minds. The classics were required reading. Plus table manners—all manners—were taken very seriously. Words like ain’t, which isn’t a word, weren’t allowed in the house, though we’ve all grown lazy with proper grammar as we’ve grown older. She also taught us how to dance.”
“Dance? She taught you to dance?”
“Yep.”
“Like, what? Like the waltz?”
He nodded faintly, clearly lost in a memory of his mother. I didn’t interrupt. Instead I admired his profile, feeling the depths to which I’d missed him. I’d missed him so much. For the first time in a week I felt like I could draw a complete breath. I knew I was falling hard and fast, but I didn’t care. We had just over a year and I planned to abandon myself to it, to him. I was completely and totally all in.
At length Duane shook his head like he was coming out of a trance and added, “But really, I think I’d prefer to be out there myself. Living, doing, seeing for myself.”
I was nodding before he finished his thought. “Yes, exactly. That’s exactly how I feel. I actually get frustrated sometimes when I read travel blogs or magazines. It’s like, I want to be the one out there doing it, not reading about someone else’s experience.”
Duane nodded at my words like he truly understood my perspective; but then he surprised me by asking, “So then, what have you done?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, how have you lived? What have you done? And that crazy stuff you did while we were kids doesn’t count.”
Now I squirmed a bit in my seat. Duane shifted like he was about to remove his hand, so I covered it with mine, pressed it to my knee.
Eventually I admitted the sad truth. “I’ve done a lot of planning, getting ready. But honestly, nothing exciting so far.” I added with a sad sigh, “No big trips or adventures.”
His eyes were on the road, but how he’d slightly inclined his head toward me and stroked his thumb over my kneecap told me he was thinking about my response. His thoughtful expression transitioned into a frown.
“You don’t need a big trip to have an adventure. There’s plenty of adventures to be had right here.”
I tsked. “You know what I mean.”
“I guess I do…and I guess I don’t. I’m just saying, if you can’t have an adventure where you are, what makes you think you’ll have an adventure anywhere else?”
I felt the answer was obvious; nevertheless I said, “Because it’ll be someplace new. I’ve already done and seen everything there is to do and see here.”
“Well, enlighten me then. What adventures are there to be had in Green Valley, Tennessee?”
I assumed his question was meant to be ironic, so I laughed and responded, “None.”
“Wrong.”
I scoffed. “No. Not wrong. We have three restaurants, three bars, Cooper’s Field, and the jam session on Friday nights. Therein lies the sum total of what Green Valley has to offer.”