The Woman For Dusty Conrad

Of course, Angela was nowhere to be found when Kathy, the cashier, Justin, the manager, then Ruth, whose chickens she had rescued yesterday, all assailed her with questions. Kathy was well-meaning, Justin was looking for tawdry details; while Ruth offered up some advice on how to guarantee Dusty wouldn’t leave again. Advice involving chicken fat and feathers that made Jolie shudder.

Finally, she sat behind the wheel of her Jeep, the door tightly closed and locked, her breathing sounding much too ragged in the empty SUV.

It wasn’t that the questions got to her. It was more that they were far too similar to the questions swirling in her own mind. Clamoring for answers that only one person could give her. Answers she was beginning to fear she’d never get.

She switched on the ignition and waited for the heater to warm the interior of the SUV.

Where her nerves had been a mess after Dusty had kissed her mere hours before, now they visually shook with the tension further created by her outing. When he’d left, the world as she knew it had ended. It had taken her a long time just to be able to get up in the morning, face her friends and co-workers, function like more than a robot, her heart bearing scars she didn’t dare show anyone.

Then just like that Dusty was back and those wounds had been opened up afresh…and the townsfolk had more questions now than they had before.

Sometimes it seemed that all her life she’d been the oddity. The little girl whose parents had died in a fire and whose grandfather wasn’t fit to raise her. She’d promised herself when she’d come of age that she’d never do anything again to garner such open attention.

And in all honesty, she hadn’t this time, either. Dusty had.

She pushed her hair back from her face with shaking hands. Movement from the corner of her eyes vied for her attention and she glanced up from the dash to find Elva bearing down on her full speed, the wheels of her shopping cart wobbling ominously. Throwing the Jeep into reverse, Jolie squealed from the general store parking lot, nearly taking Elva’s cart out in the process.

She honestly didn’t know what more she could do, merely knew the desire to do something. Even though she’d tried to confront Dusty this morning. Asked him why he’d left. But he had skillfully avoided answering her.

What was there left to do?

“You can give him what he wants,” she whispered.

The words seemed to echo in her ears. Her chest tightened to the point of pain.

What Dusty wanted was for her to sign the divorce papers.

She bit down so hard on her bottom lip she feared she’d drawn blood. In front of her, a low-slung sedan was going no more than ten miles an hour, the plates from a neighboring county. She forced herself to let up on the gas and follow at a safe distance, though the temptation to gun the engine and pass the out-of-towner was strong.

The downtown shops were all so very familiar. But rather than finding comfort in seeing Mrs. O’Malley tending to her autumn garden outside her bed-and-breakfast, and Penelope Moon hanging a sign advertising clearance prices on Halloween goodies, she saw threats looming everywhere. Mrs. O’Malley would tell her she’d been a fool. Penelope would probably say something along the lines of destiny had its own way of working things out and that she should just go with the flow, and would she like some aromatherapy candles to help see her through?

Jolie rubbed her throbbing temple as the car in front of her pulled to a stop. She halted as well, scanning the brick front of Eddie’s pub. The day was warm enough that Eddie had the front door open, letting the early afternoon sun slant in and illuminate the first few stools. Her stomach dropped to the floorboard as she spotted Dusty sitting next to John Sparks and a couple of guys from the station.

The car in front of her finally moved, but she stayed completely still.

Almost as if sensing her presence, Dusty glanced up and through the door, his grin still firmly in place as his gaze collided with hers. His smile froze, then disappeared.

Give him what he wants, an inner voice taunted.

All she had to do was go back to the house. Sign the papers still lying on the kitchen table. Then hand them to him when he came back to the house.

Then again, she could just bring them down here and hand them to him along with his things. Or pin them to the front door and leave his stuff on the front porch.

John Sparks was questioning Dusty and he looked away, freeing her from his gaze.

Jolie’s heart felt as if it might race right out of her chest as she carefully placed her foot on the gas. She knew in that instant that she had to do it. She had to give Dusty what he wanted. And she had to give it to him now.

Long strides took Dusty down the sidewalk of Main Street, his thoughts on everything but his surroundings. Until he turned the corner and the old house he’d grown up in loomed a block away. His heartbeat accelerated. His step slowed. His chest grew so tight it was difficult to breathe.

This was the only place he’d ever known as home. Every time he blinked, a different memory flashed through his mind, projections of images marked indelibly on his soul. The sprawling front lawn brought to mind Erick. How they would argue over whose turn it was to get the old mower out of the garage. Tussle in leaves that even now covered the lush green expanse. Toss a baseball back and forth, each lob growing a little harder, going a little farther, until his younger brother would purposely try to hit him with the ball.

But at the end of the day, just after dinner, before either of them were off to do whatever they had to do that night, he and Erick never failed to call a truce and meet as if by silent agreement on the front porch steps. They’d talk about everything. Or nothing at all. He’d always sat with his fingers clasped between his knees. Erick leaning back on his hands, staring off into some unforeseen future path that was mapped out for him in the sky.

Back then it seemed as if the day might never end. As if they’d had all the time in the world to tease each other about girlfriends. Debate which sports team was the better, the Detroit Tigers or the Cleveland Indians. Or just sit in quiet companionship while their mother did the dinner dishes and their father either read the paper at the kitchen table or was off at the firehouse.

Dusty reached those same steps and slowly sat down, considering the view he’d seen a thousand times. Majestic oaks were at the height of color, setting the street on fire with their oranges and yellows, their crisp smell drifting on the air, prompting him to take a deep breath. There didn’t seem to be anything particularly unique about the view itself. No. He presumed that he and his brother had chosen this spot as their own because it was neutral territory. Not his room. Not Erick’s room. Not their parents’ room.

Of course eventually the entire house ended up his. Yet sometimes it seemed as though this spot alone was truly his. His and Erick’s.

He looked down to find his hands clasped between his knees. If only he’d been able to save Erick, this spot would still be theirs.

“Are you going to marry her?” Erick’s voice seemed to drift to him on the cool autumn air, from some long-ago, forgotten time.

Up until that point, the “m” word hadn’t even entered Dusty’s mind. He and Erick had both been working at the station by that point. And with their staggered shifts, it was rare that they were both off at the same time. But they had been that day. Before their parents sold him the house and moved off to Arizona. Dusty had been dating Jolie for barely a year by then. Erick had been dating Darby. And his brother’s question had nearly knocked him over.

Dusty snapped upright, much as he had that day.

“No,” he’d said then, the idea so outrageous he couldn’t even imagine seriously considering it. Marriage was something people his parents’ age did, not him. He was a fireman. Still lived at home.

“I don’t know,” he’d said moments later, the concept beginning to take root as he thought about the girl next door with the brown curly hair and big blue eyes who had transformed into all woman seemingly overnight. He couldn’t even remember now why he hadn’t asked her out before he had. But he suspected his motivations hadn’t come totally from out of left field, and that Jolie had had a bit of a hand in his asking.

“Yes…I think I will.” His slow answer had come after Erick hadn’t responded, and then the concept had not only grown roots, the rightness had struck him, flowing through his veins as thickly as his own blood. Just as it had that day he’d met Jolie, when he’d picked her mail up from where she’d dropped it, her heather-blue eyes soft and sexy and all too inviting.

Dusty swallowed hard. He wondered what his brother would think of what was happening between him and Jolie now. He glanced toward that spot in the sky that Erick had always stared at, that unseen road that he wondered if he’d ever be able to view himself. A path Erick might be on even now.

Silently, he asked, “Erick, where are you? If ever I could have used your advice, it’s now.”

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