Walking through the familiar old house, I felt like a stranger amongst items I had seen most of my life. Time never had a good way of standing still except at Sprayberry. I was the cog out of place here as the hum of a well-oiled ranch continued to pump out the same barrels.
Opening the back hallway door, I found my room the same as when I left for college. The shelves were lined with old books and walls covered with paintings by an amateur. I paused in front of a photo of a laughing woman with red head and a small, carrot top child; by far the one I always liked the best of my mother. She was happy in that one and so was I. My father must have pulled it out while I was gone.
The rest of the frames chronicled a whole life with a dark-haired boy, from riding horses to the ridiculous snapshot from the night in the ER with his burn bandages. On the corner of my desk, another portrayed two, smiling kids dressed in Arlis blue caps and gowns.
Feeling exhausted, I left the memories for a hot shower. The steam helped with the suffocating hold of apprehension. I would see him tomorrow. The entire flight and car drive riveted with nothing else but rambling thoughts of Jess Mason. What would I say to him? Would he be different, look different, or act different? The fear crept in around the edges. Maybe he wouldn’t care to see me at all. I swallowed hard, knowing that was just plain stupid nerves.
Since I left, my days had become a life without him. The day in and day out of consistent mundane followed with splashes of the wild and extraordinary. I lived exactly as he had asked me to that night on the beach. I experienced it with nothing holding me back. I had a life with a job and classes and people who opened up endless possibilities. I had friends from countries I only heard mentioned in Discovery Channel shows. I had exactly what I desired the entire time I lived in Arlis; a life free of the Masons.
Brushing out my hair, I settled into the old desk with my trusty journal. The train might leave the station but something always came in the baggage. Tucked in the back section of the little red book, I pulled out the Mason List. My need to mull over the contents failed to surface as often while in Paris. One foot on Sprayberry, I needed to see it. The urgency spread catching my breath. After all these years, how could something so small and insignificant, have such power?
A sharp tapping sound riveted off the glass window. The paper remained clutched in trembling fingers as I peered out into the darkness. A face pressed tight against the glass with a wicked smile. I folded the paper in half and shoved it out of view. Raising the window, I shook my head.
“Jerk! You scared the crap out of me.”
“I know. Sort of the point.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Figured you were already back. I wanted to see you.”
“You could have seen me tomorrow. It’s twelve-thirty.”
“Which is tomorrow, smartass. And I haven’t seen that rotten face of yours in hell of long time. I couldn’t wait any longer.”
Twenty-eight months, thirteen days, and roughly seven hours, according to the green glow on the desk; not that I was counting. Jess climbed through the frame shutting out the cold behind him. Turning toward me, he never paused as he scooped me up in a tight hug against his chest. He squeezed the breath from my lungs as I took in the scent of ivory soap against his neck. Every bit reservation had left the moment I saw his face through the window. The grip of his arms relaxed, and I slid down his chest, causing my t-shirt to inch up and expose my white-panty clad butt.
Feeling self-conscious, I turned bright red in the dim shadows of my desk lamp. I tugged at the bottom of the fabric, pulling it down as his eyes cast over the front of it.
“Is that my shirt?” A large blue number, the same as his favorite cowboy Emmett Smith, graced the front over my breasts, which incidentally was the same number Jess wore on his high school football jersey.
“Maybe.”
“You know that was my favorite and you stole it.”
“I didn’t steal it. It’s been right there in that closet. You could have taken it back anytime.”
“Liar. I think it came back in your suitcase.” He reached up and touched the side of my neck. His fingers ran over my skin then down through my loose hair. His thumb stroked the soft strands at the end. I watched his face shift to that look. The one I knew very well; a desire deep in his blue eyes that said I want to kiss you. My breath held for a second, thinking he might just do it. “They not have any sunshine in Paris. You’re like crazy pale and just all freckles.”
“You jerk.” I punched him slightly in the shoulder, feeling the pull of our familiar dance. I looked back into his eyes and without thinking, I slipped my arms around his neck. Jess held me tight against his chest. It felt so incredibly good to touch him after all these months. My tall frame relaxed against his body, molding into the every curve. The room went dark as my eyes closed. His right hand left my shoulder and traced lightly down my spine coming to rest on my hip; a delicate and familiar touch coming from his hands.
While in Paris, I think my mind had done an excellent job suppressing how much I missed him, how much I wanted to feel him; excellent until he climbed right through the window. I whispered against his shoulder, “I’ve really missed you, Jess.”
“I know, Al. Me too.”
I released my grasp and backed away. Jess held onto my hand and turned it over, exposing my wrist with blue stars inked into my skin. “What’s this?”
“I drew it. You don’t like it?” I wasn’t sure his reaction to another permanent spot, once again, added while I was away.
“It’s really good. I get it, I think. Texas?”
“Something like that.” I smiled as he released my hand. The tattoo was a simple design of four stars; a memorial to the beautiful sky I left behind, drawn in the same color as the eyes of the person who showed it to me. Ironically, I now had both; a left hand that bore shame and a right that captured something I couldn’t explain to anyone. Climbing in my bed, I covered up my freezing legs. “How you been? I mean really.”
He plopped down on the little twin bed, making the springs creak with each bounce. “Rough, but I’m hangin’ in there. It has been long days and even longer nights sometimes. I swear problems around here don’t come in threes. It’s more like thirty-threes.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t come to the funeral. I wanted to. I just… I had…” my voice trailed off with little conviction.
“It’s ok. Not much notice. Frank went out the way he lived around here. Sneaky and inconvenient.”
“That’s one way of putting it. He went off like a crotchety old dog in the pasture to die alone.”
“Can’t say I blame him, Al. Propped up against a tree with his last thoughts bein’ the meadow grass wavin’ in the wind under the blue Texas sky. I guess it must have been peaceful.”
“I guess so.”
“I keep hearin’ in his cranky voice, you know. Boy, we don’t got no time to be shootin’ the shit. I hear it every time I stop to take a break. Makes me work twice as hard. I want to do this place justice. He trusted me with it even if he had an odd way of showin’ it.”
He was tired. I could see every one of those lines of fatigue. His days were filled with unlimited responsibility. Most graduates took a job they would just leave for the next big thing. Jess inherited a life; a legacy.
“You’re doing a good job. I know you are. It’s just going to take some time with the transition.”
“Thank you.” He watched me for moment with emotion tugging around his tired eyes. “Means a lot hearin’ it from you. But, I’m scared a little, Alex. I’m scared of failin’ and detroyin’ it.”