Finding Home (7 page)

When he finally stopped and pulled away, I could still feel his lips on mine and I hadn’t wanted him to stop.  I looked up at him, timidly at first.  I could tell he was nervous too, but not nearly as nervous as me.  Brandon had always been confident…even cocky and I could see that in him as he smiled down at me with a satisfied smile. 

“You okay?” he asked after a few moments of silence.

“Yeah…yeah,” I said quickly. “I’m good.” 

“Do you have more cookies to bake?” he asked, turning away and heading back to the sugar cookies he’d placed on the cooling rack, picking one up and popping it in his mouth, ignoring the fact I’d told him no earlier.  I didn’t say anything though.  I just smiled and he smiled back.

“I do.  Are you still willing to help?” I asked, making my way to his side at the counter.

“I’m all yours,” he said, smiling over at me and I couldn’t help but wonder if there was a deeper meaning to his words as I reached for the flour to start the next batch.

Six

I don’t know how, but we didn’t talk about the kiss the rest of the afternoon.  We just continued to bake and laugh and I think Brandon ate half of my stash for the bake sale.  I didn’t care though.  There was still plenty left and Brandon stayed until every last item was neatly wrapped and ready to go. 

When he left, I wondered if he’d kiss me again.  He did, but this time it was on the cheek, sweet and chaste, and I wondered if it was his way of telling me something…like I shouldn’t read into the kiss we’d shared earlier.  I didn’t ask him about it though. I just walked him out to the porch and stayed there, leaning against the railing as he got into his mom’s car and drove away. 

I wanted to talk to someone about it, but I wasn’t sure there was anything to even talk about.  Sometimes things happen in the moment.  Maybe that’s all it was, a moment between two friends who shared a history.  Sometimes people find comfort in those they’re familiar with.  Maybe that was what happened with us…maybe not.  All I knew was that I’d liked it when he kissed me.  I hadn’t kissed many guys in my life.  The impressive grand total was four actually, including my kiss with Brandon.  None of them had felt like his kiss though.

I tried not to obsess about it.  I tried not to think what his lips had felt like against mine and I tried not to wonder if I’d ever feel them again.  I had to work the next day, so my hectic schedule kept my mind occupied and I didn’t get a chance to breathe until my shift ended. 

Waitressing was not my dream job, but I did enjoy it and it kept me busy and most of the time, it paid well.  It was at one of the few places to eat in Carver.  Just a little coffee shop on the edge of town that catered to travelers and older folks.  I got to talk to lots of interesting people, and for someone who loved to talk, it was a nice way to spend the days while I trudged through my course work to become a respiratory therapist.  I still had a few more classes to go since it’d taken me a while to actually figure out what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. 

Even though I enjoyed waitressing, I was exhausted at the end of each shift and it was no different tonight.  I was especially tired though because I’d been on my feet all day baking the day before.  It was almost seven o’clock when I walked out of the diner, making my way to my car.  The key fab had stopped working and I was struggling with inserting the key manually into the door.  I needed to grease it, but I hadn’t gotten around to it yet.  It finally turned though and I opened the door, anxious to get home and wash away the smell of the diner.

“Miranda!” I’d recognize that voice anywhere.  I turned to see Brandon walking towards me, looking smug with confidence sparkling in his blue eyes, so different than he’d been at my house the day before when I’d seen the weak, scared side of him. 

“Brandon,” I said and I knew I was smiling at him.

“I swung by your house and your sister told me you were working till seven.”

“I just finished,” I said and he was standing next to me a moment later, leaning against the hood of my car, or P.O.S., as he liked to refer to it. 

“Wanna go for a ride in my new truck?” The grin on his face was wide and excited and I felt myself grabbing onto his arm.

“You got a new truck?” I exclaimed.

“I did.”

“When?  You haven’t mentioned anything about getting a car.”

“Today.  Dad and I drove up to Wichita and now you’re looking at the new owner of that fine lookin’ pick-up truck over there.” He was pointing to a full sized, white Dodge truck, parked on the other side of the parking lot.

“Nice,” I said, closing the door on my P.O.S. and walking towards his truck.  I ran my hand over the sleek white paint and I had to admit, it was nice.  Way nicer than my hunk of junk.  I stopped, leaned against the door and smiled over to Brandon, reaching over and resting my hand on his arm. “You deserve this.  I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks,” he said and he looked a little bashful, again seeming like he didn’t want to talk about himself. “I was beginning to realize how lame it is to be twenty-one and still asking my parents to borrow their car.  Now I’ve just gotta find a job so I don’t drain all my disability paying for it.”  He started laughing and as he brushed by me to get to the door, I caught that scent of him I noticed yesterday.  I tried not to focus on it, but it was hard because he smelled so good. “I wanted you to be the first to go country crusin’ in it with me.”

“You don’t want me in your truck right now.  I’ll ruin the new car smell with the lovely aroma of the diner that has attached itself to my body.”

He started laughing, but he took my hand and I looked down at it for a second before looking back up at him.

“I don’t care what you smell like, Mandy.  I just wanna go for a ride in my new truck with you.”

The way he was smiling at me, reassuring and kind, I knew he didn’t care that I’d spent my day amongst grease and coffee.  I felt like a vat of butter though and maybe before yesterday I wouldn’t have cared, but I did now.

“Can I just go home and grab a quick shower?  It’ll be like ten minutes, then we can drive wherever you want,” I said and he rolled his eyes a little, obviously frustrated, but then he shrugged his shoulders and looked at me a with a cute, half-sided grin. 

“Ten minutes max.”

“Promise.  Just follow me to my house.  Meet you there.  Okay?”

“Alrighty,” he said, opening the door to his new truck and I jogged to my car, quickly getting inside and making my way to my house. 

I knew I shouldn’t have insisted on the shower.  I knew I should’ve just hopped into the cab of the truck while Brandon took us wherever he wanted to go, but I always took a shower after my shift.  I would’ve been self-conscious otherwise. 

I pulled in my driveway and Brandon stopped his car along the sidewalk in front of my house.  I could see the lights on inside and I knew everyone was home.  I waited for Brandon to make his way up to the porch and then together, we walked inside. 

My parents were finishing up the dinner dishes and I could hear violin music coming from upstairs.  Shay was in the middle of one of her after dinner practices.  The piece was something slow and mournful and I was always amazed at my sister’s ability to play music that you could feel in your veins. 

My parents looked up when they heard the door close and their attention immediately focused on Brandon.  We’d never spent a lot of time at my house growing up.  My house wasn’t exactly known as the place to be.  My parents were too uptight, which is why a majority of our time had been spent out at Jesse’s place.  His mom had left when he was practically a baby and his dad had never bothered us.  It was the perfect place to hang out.

“Hey,” I said cheerfully, shutting the door behind us. “I’m home.”

“We saved a plate for you, in case you’re hungry,” my dad said and then dried his hands before making his way over to us, sticking his hand out to Brandon. “Long time no see, young man.  It’s an honor.”

“Thank you, sir,” Brandon said, but as I looked at him, I saw he didn’t seem to like the attention my dad was giving him.

“It’s good to see you home safe and sound,” my mom piped in, hugging Brandon after she’d joined us. 

“It’s good to be home,” was all he said.

“Brandon got a new truck today.  Mind if I go break it in with him after I take a shower?”

“Of course not,” my mom said and then I turned to Brandon.

“Ten minutes.  Promise.”

“Take your time,” he said and then I trotted upstairs.

Shay was still playing and I went straight to the bathroom, turning on the shower and getting in before the water was even hot.  I scrubbed the shampoo in quickly and ran the soap over my body.  I think the whole process took maybe three minutes and then with one towel wrapped around my head and another around my body, I tiptoed quickly to my bedroom, shutting the door and going straight to my closet, scouring it for what I would wear.  It didn’t take me long to decide on a pair of cut-offs and a t-shirt, slipping on a pair of flips flops and running a glob of mousse through my hair, scrunching up the blonde waves and then quickly brushing my teeth.  I looked at the clock and I was almost certain I’d made it in the ten minute time frame I’d promised Brandon.

I skipped quickly down the stairs and saw Brandon sitting in the living room with my parents.  I think my dad was trying to talk to him about Afghanistan and what had happened there.  I could tell by the uneasy look on his face he wasn’t comfortable with the conversation and when he looked up at me, I knew he was ready to leave.   

“All done and in ten minutes…I think,” I laughed, trying to lighten the mood. “Ready to go, Brandon?”

“Yeah,” he said, standing up and then walking over to my dad in the recliner and shaking his hand again. “It was good to see you again, Mr. Dalton.  You too, Mrs. Dalton.”  He went to my mom, leaned down and gave her a quick hug before walking over to me.

“Don’t be a stranger,” my dad said.

“I won’t,” Brandon replied and then I took his elbow, inching him towards the door.

“I’ll be home later,” I said and we walked out before they could reply. “You okay?” I asked Brandon as we walked towards his truck. “You seemed a little scared in there.”

“I’m fine.  Your dad’s just always intimidated me.”

“Join the club,” I laughed as he opened the passenger door for me and I climbed inside.

I looked around as he walked in front of the truck.  It was nice.  Smooth leather seats, new car smells and dog tags hanging from the rearview mirror. 

Brandon was in the driver’s seat a second later.  When he turned on the ignition, the dashboard lit up and Brad Paisley blared through the speakers.  He reached over quickly, turning it down so it wasn’t drowning everything else out. 

“Shall we?” he asked, looking over to me and I nodded as he eased the truck from the curb.

“Was my dad totally bothering you?” I asked as we drove. 

“No.  He just thanked me for my service and asked me how I’d been doing since I got home.”

“I can tell you don’t like talking about it though,” I said, my words coming out nervously.

“You’re right.  I don’t talk about it much, but it doesn’t mean I won’t when asked about it.”

I didn’t push him.  He’d open up when he was ready…if he was ever ready.  I’d just wait and listen if he needed me. 

“So…where’re we going?” I asked him as we drove to the outskirts of town.  There wasn’t much to do in Carver and I’d bet anything there wasn’t anywhere new he could show me.

“I don’t really know,” he said, smiling to me, suddenly rolling down both of our windows and turning up the volume on the stereo.  The music blared and the wind whipped my hair around as he pressed the accelerator.  I looked over and watched as the speedometer inched up higher and higher, nearing sixty miles an hour on a road with a speed limit of forty-five.  I held onto the handle of the door, trying not to say anything.  I was scared though.  I hated speed and I certainly didn’t trust Brandon.  He was a maniac when it came to anything with an engine, but I didn’t want to upset him either by asking him to slow down.  I continued to bite my tongue, but then he floored the gas pedal and the engine roared as the truck seemed to lift as we flew down the road. 

I glanced over at Brandon.  He had a look of elation as he drove, his eyes focused on the road.  My heart though, was pounding and when I saw the speedometer approaching seventy, I had to say something.

“Can you slow down, please?” I asked calmly.

“C’mon, Mandy!  This is great!  Don’t you feel alive?”

“No.  I feel like I’m gonna be dead if you don’t slow this thing down.” There was more urgency in my voice and I gripped the handle tighter.  He just kept going though. “Please, Brandon.”

I didn’t want to shout at him or sound whiney, but I was on the verge if he didn’t slow the damn truck down.  I was staring over at him as I held on and I saw his eyes glance over to me briefly and I remember thinking he’d better not take his attention off the road for one second or we could crash.  He moved his eyes back to the road quickly and then I felt my heartbeat starting to relax as the truck slowed down.  I was quiet until we were cruising at what I felt was a safe speed. 

“Better?” he asked a few moments later and I nodded.

“Thank you, Brandon.  I…I just don’t like going that fast.  I thought you’d know that after all this time.”

He didn’t say anything for a second, but then he reached over, turning the music down again and then rested his hand on mine for a moment.

“I’m sorry, Mandy.”

“It’s okay.  I’m just a wuss, I guess.”

“No, you’re not.  You’re smart.  I, on the other hand…not so much.”

I just laughed a little and he lifted his hand off of mine in order to make a slow turn down a dirt road and I looked up to see the water tower in the distance.  If I’d learned one thing from living in Kansas my whole life, it was that people were serious about their water towers.  Lights illuminated the tall white tower emphasizing the word CARVER written in red, block letters on the side.  It’d only been around a couple of years and it was all the talk of the old people in the diner while it was being constructed.  They were proud of it and I could recall them talking about making trips out to see it once it was done.  I, myself, had not yet made a trip out to see it up close and personal.  I didn’t see the allure of a water tower.  It was just a thing, but to some people, it was an icon.