Meadowlarks (7 page)

             
Stepping out, I wrap a towel around my waist and decide it's time to shave the scruff off of my face. I lather the cream and use my hands to apply it to my face.

             
              When I'm dried off, I put on a pair of stained blue jeans and a black t-shirt. No point in dressing nicely today; there's a lot of work to do around the ranch, and I've been putting off painting the chicken coop for a few weeks.

             
Downstairs I hear the radio playing some hip hop music and a girl’s voice trying to quickly repeat the lyrics in the chorus of the song. Jeremiah is dancing like a fool in front of the range, trying to sing along with her and very obviously not knowing the words at all.

             
When the song ends, I speak up. “Encore!” I yell and clap my hands together.

             
They both turn, and Jer bows graciously at my applause.

             
Gwen gets off the stool. “Morning, Blaine. How are you today?”

             
I know what you're doing, young lady, and it's not going to happen!

             
“Hey ya, Gwen. I'm great, thank you. How did you two sleep?” I grab a piece of toast from a plate on the island and shove it into my mouth, chewing down obnoxiously at her.

             
Jeremiah wraps his arms around her waist and plants a kiss on her cheek. She smirks and shoves her behind into his lap and then breaks free from his grasp.

             
He winks at me, and I can't help but smile back.

             
You better not play games with him, Gwen. So help me.

             
“We have a lot to do today, eh?” he asks, noticing my grubby clothes.

             
“Yeah, gotta get that coop painted. I've slacked big time.” I slap my hands and rub them together quickly, hoping my insinuation gives Gwen the hint that we will be busy and she should probably go.

             
“I'm gonna drive Gwen back to her house, but I'll be back in twenty.”

             
He's a mind reader.

             
“Okay, see ya. Gwen, have a nice day.” I smile at them both, put my hat on my head and tip the brim down at her.

             
“Bye, Blaine.” She looks like she's going to pout, turns on her heel and follows Jer out the door. I wave at him as he closes the door behind them. Grabbing my work boots, I slap my hand on my thigh and call to Rex.               “C'mon, boy!”

He gets up from his giant pillow, and we go outside.

*              *              *

             
I may be one hell of a rancher, but I'm a horrible painter. I think I have more red on my hands than I do on the coop. Thankful, that's why I have Jer around—for things like this. He takes pride in his work, and I am always satisfied with the tasks he completes.

             
My phone buzzes, and I grab a rag to wipe my hands before pulling it out of my pocket.

             
My truck kicked the bucket. It won't turn over. I'm by Lander's.               Come get me?

             
I laugh. I knew this was going to happen someday. That old Chevy should have died years ago. It was older than we were; it belonged to Jer's dad, and I think that was the reason why he couldn't bring himself to part with it.

             
Sure enough, Jer is sitting on the tailgate waiting for me with a big frown on his face. I pull in behind his truck and turn off the ignition.

             
“Hey buddy! Do you need me to call triple A?” I joke, and he gives me the finger.               “So, what happened?” I ask as I walk up to the front of the truck. The hood is already up, so I examine the engine, checking out the usual suspects.

             
“Don't know,” he says and scratches his head. “I dropped Gwen off, pulled on to the street, and it just died. I had no power at all.”

             
I laugh, as I doubt there's been any power in this old thing in a very long time.

             
“I hate to say it bud, but I think it's time for a new one.”               I kick the bumper of his truck with the toe of my boot.

             
“Hey, now; I'm sure we can fix her!” he says, rubbing his hand over the spot I just kicked.

             
I sigh and lower the hood, letting it fall it makes a loud bang.               “Jer, if it's...” I trail off and look him in the eyes. “If it's about the money, I can help you out.”

             
I don't pay him with buttons and marbles, but I know how much he does make, and he can't really afford to buy a new truck.

             
“No, Blaine. You aren't giving me a loan. I can afford a payment...I think.”

             
After some pondering, he decides to take a look at a few new trucks. He surprises me when he asks me to pull into Moorehead's Dodge.

             
“Dodge?
Really
?” I snort. I've always been a Ford man, and I haven't really given a second glance to anything else. We slowly drive along a lineup of blues, reds, greys and blacks.

             
“Stop!” He puts his hand on the lever to get out. I stop, and he jumps down, briskly walking over to a white 2500 extended cab.

             
Not too bad
. I can picture him flying down the dirt road in the truck with nothing behind him but a dust cloud.

             
“Well, howdy, fellas!” a deep voice from behind us says. “I see you are checking out this fine piece” A bald and burly man in a striped dress shirt pats the bed of the truck with his hand.

             
“Yes, sir; can you tell me about it?” Jeremiah quickly shakes his hand and goes back to eyeing up the truck.

The salesman, who mentions his name is Bruce, explains the mileage, horsepower, exhaust and the usual bells and whistles.

              Jeremiah is like a kid at Christmas, and I can see he's sold already.               “Can we take it for a spin?” He's beaming like he already owns it.

             
“You sure can, young fella. Just gotta ask your friend here to move that big black monstrosity parked behind us!” he jokes, pointing his thumb back at me and my Ford.

             
I snort. O
kay, Dodge man...

             
I jump in and fire it up. His smile quickly fades, and I rev the engine while I drive away, parking in a spot close to the dealership entrance.

             
Bruce insists on coming along for the test drive, but since he made a joke at my Ford's expense, I ride shotgun and he sits in the back. I won't admit it front of him, but this Dodge is a nice ride.

             
It’s a diesel—sounds almost like mine, just with a quieter rumble. Jeremiah is still elated, and we drive down Walker Street, turning onto the interstate. It's time to let this baby fly.

             
I can see over my shoulder that Bruce is shifting in his seat, probably regretting coming for the ride.

“Well, how does it feel?” Our windows are down, and the wind is blowing in so loudly I need to yell so Jeremiah can hear me.

              “Oh, baby!” he says, not taking his eyes off the road. “Bruce, buddy! Where do I sign?” He taps his hands on the steering wheel like they're a set of drums.

Bruce pales and forces a smile with a furrowed brow.

              Back at the dealership, Bruce is going over the loan details with Jeremiah. I stand outside, leaning against my truck, and they go inside to wheel and deal.

             
I cross my arms on my chest and lift my head up letting the warm sun fill my face. A soft rumble catches my attention, and I look over to see a grey Mustang turning the corner, driving up the street.

             
I stand up. I'm excited to see the vision behind the wheel. It's her, but she's not alone. It looks like Alex in the passenger seat, and they look like they're arguing. I watch closely as they pass by the car lot, not noticing me at all. I pull my phone out of my pocket and send her a text.
Hey beautiful. How are you today? I missed you last night. My bed felt so empty.

             
Even thought it briefly wasn't, no thanks to Gwen. I wait for her response, but it doesn't come.

Jeremiah comes outside and jumps in the air like
Rocky
on top of the steps in Philadelphia. I lift my hand up to high-five and congratulate him on his new purchase.

             
I am so happy for him; he needs something more reliable and definitely something better looking than that old red Chevy.

He tells me how Bruce offered to upgrade his exhaust system and add a pair of chrome stacks to the bed for an additional charge. Jer of course agreed to it, telling me they would be installed in a few days. He has already called his insurance company to have the new truck put on his policy and the Chev taken off. We'll have to have it towed it back to his house.

              I wonder what he's going to do with it. I doubt he will sell it, or crush it. He'll probably park it in the yard, and that's where it'll stay.

             
“Ready to get to work?” I smile and open the door of my truck.

             
“Yeah, buddy! Let's go!” He spins the key ring around his finger and punches the air like he's hit a home run.

             
On the drive back to the ranch, I have my phone in the cradle, and it rings. Without looking at the caller, I push the button my steering wheel to answer.

             
“Hello?” I say, turning onto Porter Road.

             
“Blaine, hey! It's Addison.”

             
“Hey, you! How's it going?” I'm surprised, but happy that she's called me.

             
Following in Jeremiah's dust cloud, I am about three minutes from my house.

             
“I'm good. Sorry I didn't call or text earlier. I've been...busy.” There is hesitation in her voice, but why?

             
“It's okay, darlin'. I was wondering when I was going to hear your voice again.”

             
“My brother has been a handful, and I'm almost ready to put him on a flight back to Maine,” she explains, her sweet voice sounding slightly annoyed. I can hear someone in the background talking, and then she sighs. “I gotta go; I'm sorry. Can I see you later tonight?”

             
As if it's even a question. “Of course. I seem to recall you have some making up to do?”               I smile, hoping she can tell in my voice that I'm excited.

             
“Oh, yes.
That I do
.”

             
And just like that, our short and sweet conversation is over.

             
I wonder what her brother has gotten into, why they were arguing in her car, and whether or not I should have offered to help her. Pulling up in front of the garage, I shift into park and turn off the engine.

             
If u need anything, I'm here.
I send her a quick text. She responds with a simple
thank you.

             
Jeremiah and I finish painting the chicken coop much faster as a pair than I would have on my own. And we used less paint too, I'm sure.

             
Next, we busy ourselves by mucking out the stalls in the barn and laying down fresh straw for the animals. Ivy's calf is getting so big; he's wandering around with the other cattle, and she's lying down basking in the afternoon sun.

             
“Hey, we haven't named him yet,” I say, pointing at the calf.

             
“Yeah, you're right. How about...” Jer ponders while tapping his finger on his chin. “Thor!”

             
I laugh. “Thor? Really?”

             
I think about it more and picture the strong hero from the comics. “Yeah, okay. Thor it is.”

             
We'll give him some time to grow and then see what mere mortals try to conquer him in the ring. The thought makes me grin; I know the kind of money I can make from having a prize bull that no man can keep a leather grip on.

             
At 5:30 PM, we finish up.

             
“Feel like grabbing a bite?” I ask him as he brushes the dirt off his pants.

             
“Actually, I'm meeting Gwen at The Wolfbarrow for dinner,” he says, stretching his arms up in the air and yawning. “Aren't you meeting up with that fiery redhead anyway?”