Caribbean Crossroads (26 page)

She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. Still holding her nose, and without even acknowledging his ripped bare chest, she slowly walked to the hat rack and grabbed a large pink sweater with an even larger crocheted daisy on the front and tossed it to him.

“A shirt is also required office attire.” She nodded for him to put it on. He stared her down for a few moments then swung it around his shoulders leaving his bare chest clearly seen.

She deliberately folded her arms. “And how was the job satisfaction today?”

“Oh, definitely a 10.” He stamped his foot, leaving a brownish residue on the carpet. “Sorry, there was something on my boot. Busted pipe in the sewer main, so Harvey and I went down in through the manhole, the two of us working on it, when it completely broke loose. Was a great day. Maybe even an 11.” He smiled and tipped an imaginary hat and walked out, pink sweater and all.

Through the half-closed blinds, Megan watched him get into his truck and pull away, a smile tugging at her lips. Day two of worst possible jobs and he had stuck it out with no complaints. So far, so good. She grabbed the air-freshener and still holding her nose, used the other hand to spray a five-foot radius, trying not think about how much she missed him, and how ready she had been to say yes to a movie. 

***

Bryant arrived at 7:00 a.m. on the dot, exited his truck and groaned, deeply. Dozens of men in bright orange vests swarmed the US 93 like ants. The asphalt truck was already running, smoke and steam billowing from its enormous yellow belly. A bearded man with a sizable gut whistled to Bryant who was now walking in that direction.

“Hey boy, are you the temp? Get your butt over here. You’re two hours late.” The man sported a wad of chew in his lower lip and spit flew each time he spoke. “You ever done this afore?”

“Well, one summer we put in—”

“Good enough. See that big guy over there, the one with the pants hanging off his butt? That’s Doley. He’ll get you raking the asphalt, and don’t give him any lip. Lunch is at two.” The man turned and hollered to the operator of the huge yellow asphalt paver.

Bryant did as he was told, taking the orange vest and contemplating how much he cared for Megan.

***

At five o’clock, Megan stepped out of her car and scanned the roadway for Bryant. Finding him, she walked toward the cluster of construction workers. A few whistled, which made Bryant glance and return to his work, then, on recognition, stand upright to look at her again. More whistles came but she remained impassive behind stylish sunglasses. She could have sworn Bryant turned and gave the guys a dirty look.

He thoroughly watched her walk toward him.

“Thought I’d pick up your time card,” she said.

He stared at her. “It’s not 5:30.”

“I know. I wanted to close up early today.” They both knew it was an excuse.

“Carl, hold this, will you?” The man with a semi-toothless smile tipped his hardhat to Megan and said something to Bryant that made him shake his head.

Bryant took her by the elbow and guided her to the side of the road. “You’d best stay out of the way. It’s mighty dangerous for dainty boss ladies such as yourself.” He knocked his hardhat.

Megan smiled at him then surveyed the scene, her feelings soft, like her old self. He’d done the jobs she’d given him without a fight, and she could feel him showing he would do whatever was needed, and that he was sorry about his no-show presence the past few weeks. On the one hand it was ridiculous to put him through this and she hated needing so many reassurances. But she had promised herself not to get swept up in the emotion of loving against her better judgment. Living through the domino effects from her parents’ divorce was a constant, piercing reminder that love was better viewed realistically.

“So, how was work today?” She looked up at him, taking in the blackish sweat rivulets running down his face.

 “This was a fun job. In fact, maybe my favorite. The toxic fumes, the way my eyes burned, and that warm, grilled feeling of being a chunk of barbecued chicken.”

She bit her lip. “I wanted—we wanted to say—that you’re doing wonderful work. Sylvia—my boss—is really pleased with how, um, diligent you are. How dependable.”

“Sylvia says, huh? I’m thinking that might mean a bonus is in order?”

“Maybe.” A small smile escaped. “Something at the Piggly Wiggly. My treat.” She was officially extending the olive branch.

Bryant tipped his head—grinning, understanding. “The Piggly Wiggly, huh? That’s what I call a class-act company.”

He stood still, taking her in—she could feel his look almost drinking her up. Combined with his sweaty face and tall rugged frame—and knowing he was doing all this for her, making it up to her—made her feel attractive and womanly. Involuntarily, she smiled bright and full. Without hesitation, he reached down and kissed her generously.

“Ew,” she said, finally laughing and pulling away from the tar and sweat.

“That’s from a working man.” He winked and trudged back over to the roadway. “I’ll pick you up at 7, that’s p.m. And it’s an ice cream sandwich, so wear something pretty.”

Megan couldn’t help smiling the entire drive home. It didn’t answer where to go from here, but that would come tonight.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Zucker’s Pond was famous for its man-made pool and nature-made 100-year-old oak tree. Under the sprawling branches overhead, Megan and Bryant ate sub sandwiches and laughed about childhood pranks. As he talked she watched his face—animated, relaxed, happy—despite the horrible jobs she’d sent him on. Megan sighed inwardly. He was amazing, so good, and yet something still held her back from fully trusting him, committing to him. What was it that didn’t sit right? Was she doing what Jillian had said, “sabotaging her happiness”?

“What, do I need a car chase in here somewhere?” Bryant had been talking. He teased her but his face was serious.

“No, I’m sorry, just thinking about—about life.”

“In other words, I should have gone with the car chase.” He balled up his wrapper and tossed it in a big garbage can about 10 feet away.

“Nice.”

“That and $40,000 will get you a scholarship.”

“So what happened with basketball?”

“Sore subject.” He rested his arms forward on his bent knees. “My senior year, Dad kept me at the yard. My stats stunk—not enough practice time, not enough sleep, too much arguing with him about the whole thing.”

“That was a long time ago, Bry.”

“Of course it was, but
he’s
still back there,” Bryant said. “It’s all about the yard, like it’s another child or something. Although, to be fair, he’s hardly been there since I’ve been home, not that I’ve been home that long. He’s traveling a bunch, up to my Uncle Pete’s and some different places. Big surprise to me.”

“Maybe he’s learned something. Maybe he’s changed.”

Bryant shrugged. “Things always change. Employers who give you heinous jobs …”

“Employees who are cocky and annoying …”

“Girls who reject awesome men that want to date them. Lots of things change.” He leaned back against the tree. “Speaking of change, you realize you’ve got two days left.”

She sat still. The puffy white clouds had passed over the sun and they were in a momentary shade. “Yes, I do.”

“I checked back home and there’s a temp place, if you want to see their situation. Have you talked to your supervisor for the time off?”

“I’m working on it.” She was, but only in her soul. She hadn’t breathed a word to Sylvia.

“Aha.” He sat up. “Anything you want to tell me?”

“No,” she said then looked up at him. “Yes.” She gazed at the pond. “I guess I’m trying to understand how this will help us know where to go from here. I mean, how does a week in each other’s cities fundamentally change anything? Have you made any decisions about the lumber yard or something else?”

The question was unexpected. He just looked at her, processing. “No, no decisions yet. At least on that score. But it’s only been a short time. There are some things worth figuring out as you go along. Together.”

She touched his hand, interlacing her fingers. “It’s not in me to dive into something without knowing what’s below. When I go in, I dive deep, and it takes a while to resurface again.”

“A bit serious, aren’t you?”

“Well, we’re not kids. It’s not prom and hanging out at the Tastee Freez, though I really would have enjoyed the ice cream sandwich. It’s real life—balding hair and car payments.”

He burst out laughing. “That’s jumping ahead.”

She sat up. “Laugh, but it’s real, and I’m not going to sit in pretty sunlight and pretend it’s not.”

“No, you’re not.”

“That’s exactly how it starts, all starry-eyed and we’ll make our own future together. ‘Things will happen as we move along, Loralee, and it’ll all work out.’ I’ve heard that before. And then it doesn’t. People can’t make promises like that, because they don’t know. And when bad things happen, someone says, I got a bum deal. I don’t want pretty stories and it’ll all be fine. I want to know what’s coming, and take it with my eyes open.”

Without hesitation, he brought his mouth to hers, surprising her with his warmth. He kissed her again, softly, then pulled her in—asking, receiving. Like a glacial thaw, warm air rolled through the crevasse. She breathed it in. Why was everything clearer when she was with him? Or was it that nothing else mattered?

But hadn’t she felt that before, someone becoming her world? Ignoring the warning signs and thinking it would all work out? 

When he pulled away, he tipped her chin toward him. “Did you know that was coming?” She tried to smile but couldn’t so she looked down. 

Leaning back, he tugged her shoulder and she nestled into him.

 “And your eyes weren’t open, either.”

 “Oh, shut up.”

He lay his head back on the prickly bark, grinning.

They stayed until the stars began to pop in the sky. The Nevada nights were still warm and hazy, and they chatted all the way to their separate cars.

“And what exciting career choice do you have for me tomorrow?”

“Oh, you’ll like this one.” Megan spoke normally but felt pained at the unmistakable lightness in his voice and manner. He had done his part, completely, and now it was time to go. And he had no doubt that she would follow him to California, just as she should. 

But she couldn’t. Because it wasn’t about him. It was something else, something that stopped her from going farther without a guarantee. Each moment Megan pushed back the reality of what she would choose and what she would say. Bantering back to their cars she felt a pressure fold in on her. She would have to decide, again, which path in the road, and she didn’t want to take either.

***

Thursday.

Megan checked her watch, looked at the clock, and checked it again. Nausea pulsed through her, knowing that today was it, and she would have to tell him the truth. If only she knew exactly what that was. In one decisive move, she scooted her chair back from her desk. She would leave and not be here. He could drop the final time card on the desk. Carrying her things, she opened the door, just as Bryant entered.

“Oh, I was just—” In one glance he took in her coat, keys, and expression. Standing in the dusky light of the doorway, she knew there was no excuse to invent.

“Going somewhere?” He said it quietly.

“Yes.”

He stared at her, the air seeming to hold still, her heart thumping hard and loud and flushing her face.

“But not with me,” he said. It was flat and final.

Megan looked evenly at him. “I can’t go with you, Bryant.” His jaw hardened. “I should, I know I should—you’ve done it for me. Heaven knows, beyond the call of duty. I don’t understand it, but it can’t be love.”

“Or maybe it’s selfishness.”

“In that case, you don’t want to be with me.”

She watched his face, looking for the anger, the tirade he rightfully deserved to express. He had taken so much. But he simply stared at her with a puzzled, tight expression. He folded his arms over his chest and looked out into the parking lot.

“Do you care?” He turned back to her. “Do you even want to make this work?”

How could she help him understand when she didn’t yet understand herself? Not knowing what to do, she fell back on being business-like. “The truth is, I don’t know what’s wrong with me. And until I know, you need to move on with someone who isn’t so emotionally unstable.” Brisk, analytical—it was her only protection. His face, that open vulnerability before her. It was excruciating and she knew in moments she might throw herself at him and say inane and gushing things.  

They stood immovable, both filling the entry, each standing down their sides as the silence thickened and pounded. She could see him at any moment turning and leaving.

Surprising her, Bryant sat heavily on the corner of the low entry oak table and pulled her to his lap. She couldn’t fight the gentleness.

“Bryant, I’m so sorry.” The tears would have to come now. “You shouldn’t want me.”

“Okay, that helps.”

“I’m working through things emotionally but something’s not right and I just don’t know what it is. Until I do, I can’t go forward. I’ve thought about it—going back with you—about nothing else, really.”

“Except for outstanding jobs to give me.”

“That too.” Megan smiled wearily, fingering her keys. “I know I should go with you, and it’s wrong not to, but honestly, I can’t.”

“Won’t.

“Can’t.” How could she explain that it wouldn’t let her, that restraint in her soul? A thought came. “When I was eight”—she gave a deprecating smile to his grimace—“I was riding my bike in the gravel and I slid sideways and fell. I gashed my leg really good. At the time I was in a dodgeball tournament, but Sam—my brother—said to let it heal. But the other players said I was the best and convinced me to play. So I played, and the gash ripped open again. My brother said, ‘Meg, you need to wait for the muscle fibers to knit together.’”

She took his hand. “That’s my heart. It needs to knit. You’ve swept it out and the pain is gone. But I can’t rip it open again.”