Knotted Roots

Chapter THREE



Unpacking of all of those boxes was torture, but three hours later, I was finally done. As promised, Grandma Betty drove us to town for dinner. The drive was just as awkward as I imagined. The silence was thick and suffocating. Grandma didn’t turn the radio on this time, but the scowl on her face had the same effect. She didn’t want to talk to me? Fine, I didn’t want talk to her either. No problem at all.

When we pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant I burst out laughing. The outside of the small building looked ordinary enough, well, except for the blazing neon sign that read Daisy’s Diner. Only in the South would you find such a place, apparently named after the owner, and especially with a name like Daisy, or at least so I thought. When we parked I couldn’t help but let yet another giggle escape my lips. Grandma acted as if she heard nothing, which made me feel horribly guilty for laughing to begin with.

When we entered the little diner I took in the checkered tablecloths that covered the small tables, as well as the red vinyl booths that surrounded them. It was like stepping back in time. It was simple and rustic, two things that we didn’t have where I grew up. There was even a jukebox in the far corner, country music blaring from its speakers. I followed Grandma to a corner booth and we sat down, my thighs automatically sticking to the vinyl of the seat, which made it impossible to slide in any further. I had to settle for the middle since I wasn’t willing to chafe the backs of my legs just to scoot closer to the window.

I looked around, taking in my surroundings. This was definitely going to be an interesting summer.

“You look a little shell shocked. What’s on your mind?” she asked as she glanced between my face and the menu in front of her.

“I’d rather not say,” I replied, trying to hide my smile as I perused the menu I was clutching.

“I see. Hmm, lemme guess. This fits your idea of us Southerners, right? The small town diner, complete with all the ‘cheesy’ trimmings,” she replied as she stared straight into my eyes.

“Come on! I mean, it’s so cliché. How do you not see it?” I asked. If looks could kill, I would be bleeding on the floor at that moment. Evidently she didn’t find it funny at all.

“Cliché? You think you’ve got it all figured out, don’t ya? You think you know what all of us around here are like, but you have no idea. Not really,” she paused and scanned the diner. Her eyes settled on a man across the room that looked to be in his late thirties or early forties. “See that man over there? What’s his story?”

“I don’t know him! How am I supposed to know?” I replied.

“You’ve got us all figured out, so you should know.”

I looked closely at him, studying him from across the room. He was dressed in dirty jeans, a torn t-shirt, and scuffed work boots. “In all honesty, he looks homeless,” I said as I looked back at Grandma.

“Wrong. That’s Dr. Livingston. He’s the only family medicine doctor for 50 miles. If anything happens to you, God forbid, he’s the one who will be treating you.” The smug look on her face was more than I could handle. She knew what I would see when I looked at him.

“Is there a point to this?” I asked, trying to look unaffected and bored, and probably failing miserably.

“There’s always a point when I open my mouth, which is more than I can say for you, young lady. You sit there on your high horse and look down your nose at people. Yet you don’t really see them.”

“You set me up on that one! What did you really expect me to see when I looked at him? Look at the way he’s dressed, for goodness’ sake!” I was getting loud and had to make a concerted effort to lower my voice. “I don’t need a lesson in hidden beauty, thank you.”

She shook her head at me and was about to open her mouth again, but luckily I was saved by the plump waitress who arrived, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt as well. At least hers seemed to be in better repair than the doctor across the room.

“Evening Betty. Haven’t seen you around in a while. How’s it going?” the waitress asked as she smiled down at my Grandma. I looked at her name tag and found her name to be April.

“It’s going great, April,” she said as she returned the woman’s smile. “This is my granddaughter, Roxanne. She’s visiting me for the summer, all the way from New York City.”

April focused on my face and smiled at me. It wasn’t one of those forced smiles either. Hers seemed to spread from ear to ear, reaching her eyes and making them seem to sparkle. It was the one of the most genuine smiles I had ever seen in my life. “Welcome to South Carolina, darling. You helping out your grandma this summer on the farm?”

I looked over at Grandma with a look of confusion on my face. Farm? She had a farm? “Um...I didn’t know she had a farm,” I replied.

April looked over at Grandma and shook her head, deciding that to continue that line of conversation was not going to end well for anyone at the table. “Do you ladies know what you would like for dinner?”

We ordered our food, but I never saw April write anything down on the pad in her hand. Instead, she stayed a few more minutes to chat with Grandma, before leaving with our orders stored somewhere in her head. I looked out the window, watching as a truck pulled into the small parking lot out front.

“I don’t expect you to help on the farm Roxanne,” she spoke as I stared out the window.

“Good. Because I don’t know the first thing about working on a farm,” I spoke to the window, not bothering to turn to look at her. For some reason I was offended that she hadn’t mentioned anything about a farm since I arrived. Did she think I wasn’t capable of hard work? I may have led a pretty privileged life so far, but I was far from soft. Guess that was another thing that she didn’t know about me.

I watched as the truck in the lot turned off their lights and the two front doors opened. Moments later, two young men stepped out of the cab. I was taken aback by the one who had been driving. He was tall, but not overly so, and his light blond hair was just long enough to fall in his eyes as he stepped around the hood of the truck. He wore a pair of dark denim jeans that clung to his body, almost like a second skin. His plain white t-shirt was crisp and clean, free of smudges, as if it was fresh out of the package. I could tell, even from this vantage point, that he was stocky, but his body was all muscle. I had a hard time dragging my eyes away from him. Grandma followed my gaze as I continued to stare at the incredible specimen who was now walking towards the front door of the diner.

“You wouldn’t be interested in that one,” Grandma spoke firmly. I shook myself from my reverie and turned to look at her.

“Who said I was interested?” I replied with feigned indifference.

“The drool on your chin tells me everything I need to know,” she laughed and I jumped as the door opened behind me. I couldn’t bear to turn around. I had already stared at him, and evidently drooled, as if he was a piece of choice prime rib about to be served.

“Who is he?” I whispered, scared that he would be able to hear me.

No sooner had the words left my mouth than Grandma threw her hand in the air and waved at someone behind me. She had an evil grin on her face, almost as if she was enjoying torturing me. I heard heavy footsteps grow close as someone approached. I looked up as the two young men from the truck stood beside our table, both of them smiling at Grandma.

“Hey there Chase. Brian. I would like to introduce you both to my granddaughter, Roxanne,” she said as she waved in my direction.

My jaw dropped as I looked at her for a moment, then I snapped it shut quickly before looking up into the face of one of the most beautiful guys I had ever seen. His angular face, startling blue eyes, and sweet smile caught me off guard. I swallowed, determined not to start drooling now that the object of my intense study stood before me.

“Nice to meet you Roxanne. My name is Chase, and this is my brother, Brian. We work for Betty on her farm,” he extended his hand to me, but all I could do was stare at him, mute. I wanted to say something, reach for his hand, anything. But all I could do is continue to stare, slack-jawed like a fish, its mouth gaping open. My brain had apparently gone into shock as well.

He awkwardly cleared his throat and lowered his hand, looking at Grandma who was giggling behind her napkin. His brother paid very little attention to our table, his gaze locked on a pretty young waitress who was serving the doctor his dinner.

“Sorry Chase, it seems that my granddaughter has gone mute,” she said as she laughed heartily.

“No worries Betty. I’ll see you in the morning, right? Still wanting to get to work bright and early?” he asked as his gaze moved between Grandma and me.

“Yes indeed. Got a lot to get done tomorrow. Go, enjoy your dinner. I would invite y'all to eat with us, but I’m afraid it doesn’t look like we would be very good company,” she said as she glanced over at me.

I watched all of this as if behind a glass wall. I wanted to be witty and charming, show this Southern boy how lucky he was to be in my presence, but all I could do was smile and stare at him. I had never had this happen before, not even with Ethan Perry, the most popular and good looking guy in school.

Chase said goodnight to Grandma as April brought our food to the table. I couldn’t wait for her to walk away so I could grill Grandma about Chase. As soon as they all walked away I was finally able to form a coherent thought.

“Oh my goodness! What just happened?” I exclaimed as I smacked my head down on the table, my embarrassment evident on my face. “I just sat there, staring at him. He probably thinks I’m an idiot!”

“Don’t hurt yourself child. Chase is a good guy. I’m sure he’ll forget about all of this by the next time you see each other,” she spoke before digging into the meatloaf in front of her. “Besides, you might not see him again at all. During the summer he works almost around the clock.”

“Yeah, but he works for you! That means I might actually see him again,” I replied, chancing a glance at their table. Chase was laughing at something the young waitress was saying as she nonchalantly touched his shoulder. A clear sign of flirtation. Great, I was no competition for an older woman.

“He works on my farm. Ya know, that place that you want nothing to do with?” she replied as she returned her attention to dinner.

There was only one thing to be done then. I would definitely be working on Grandma’s farm. I could not spend the entire summer watching Chase from afar. I felt drawn to him, like the proverbial moth that dives head first into the open flame. I knew I would get burned, badly, but my senses wouldn’t allow me to think clearly. My new goal for the summer? Spend as much time as possible on the farm, working side by side with the guy of my dreams.



* * * *



As we pulled back into the well-groomed yard I could barely sit still, hoping to make a quick retreat to my room to daydream about Chase. I know, pathetic, but I couldn’t seem to focus on anything but him. I had this insane urge to call Amber, but I quickly squashed that thought. It had been less than 12 hours since she ditched me.

Grandma turned the truck off and looked at me, a sad smile on her face. “We need to talk.”

“About?” I asked, looking over at her.

“Chase. I want you to stay away from him,” she said as she turned to open her door.

“Whoa, what?” I grabbed her hand before she could climb out of the cab of the truck. “Why?”

She sighed, shaking her head back and forth. “He’s not like the guys you know back home. He’s a sweet boy and I don’t want...” She struggled to finish.

“Don’t want what?” I snarled. I knew where this was going, but I wanted to hear the words.

“I don’t want him to get hurt.” The look on her face turned cold and serious. She honestly thought the worst of me, didn’t she?

“Seriously? You think I’m going to hurt him? Aren’t you supposed to be warning him not to hurt me?” I asked incredulously. Was she serious? She’s my grandma, not his, so why was she more worried about his heart? Oh yeah, I forgot. It’s hard to feel that fierce protectiveness for someone you don’t really know.

“You’re only here for three months Roxie. It’s not fair to him for you to breeze in, steal his heart, and then shred it into a thousand pieces. He’s already been through enough hell for the last year, so please don’t make it worse,” she said as she got out of the truck and shut the door.

I chased after her, my head swimming with questions. I had a feeling that she wouldn’t be very forthcoming with the answers, but I was determined to find out what had happened to him that was so traumatic. I followed her into the living room where she was straightening up the couch pillows.

“Did he get dumped? Did some girl already break his heart? ‘Cause that’s not what I had in mind for him,” I said as I flopped down on the loveseat across from the large couch she insisted on fluffing up.

“No, Roxie. Just forget I said anything,” she replied as she sat down on the couch. “Are you all done unpacking? Need any help up there?”

“No way are you getting away with that answer. What is going on?” I leaned forward, my attention focused solely on her.

“It’s not my story to tell. Just please, heed my warning. I wouldn’t say anything if it wasn’t important.” She stood up and walked out of the room. I slumped back on the loveseat and stared around the pristine room. Everything in its place, not a speck of dust to be found. I had a fleeting thought as to how she kept the house so clean and ran a farm at the same time, but it was quickly pushed aside as I kept thinking about what she told me. He couldn’t be much older than me, so what could have happened that was so terrible?