The Mason List (42 page)

Chapter 47

When
I was twenty-five…

Our
vacation days sped by as I took Jess from one place to the next in Paris.  We
visited a few friends I still had left in the city and boxed up my belongings
in the apartment.  He suggested keeping it, but I said
no
at the idea. 
My heart hurt just imagining staying there without him.  I once heard that
being in love in Paris was different than any other place in the world.  For
me, that hazy, warm feeling only came when Jess pressed his lips to my skin
under the meadow sky.  Paris was secondary.

After the
honeymoon, we returned to Sprayberry.  Jess continued running the ranch.  The
spring cattle sold, giving credibility to his new position in the shadow of
Frank.  By May, our house was under construction out by the stump.  I continued
to search for my purpose in Arlis.  The days were filled with fairs, pancake
suppers, church picnics, and the slew of other activities that rotated through
the town square.  I even covered for Caroline at Jeeter’s for a few weeks so
she could take a vacation with my father.

In July,
I opened my own private studio in a vacant building that became available close
to the hardware store.  I wanted to advertise to the surrounding counties,
remembering how difficult it was taking lessons all the way in Dallas.  My
studio would give kids and even adults a way to learn closer to home.

Occasionally,
I traveled back to Austin to meet with my old advisor.  He often had a project
or competition he wanted me to enter.  I won a few shows and sold some of my
entries.  Sometimes, he suggested an open position in another city, but I
always said
no
.  I didn’t want to commute or spend time away for any
type of job.  I had promised to live with Jess at Sprayberry and I wanted that
more than anything else in world.

Chapter 48

When
I was twenty-six…

Today was
my birthday and the day the furniture
finally
arrived for our new
house.  I had spent the morning helping the mover’s setup each room.  It felt
good.  It felt so
incredibly
good each time I walked through the front
door, except tonight I wasn’t walking. 

“Jess put
me down.” 

“Keep
your eyes closed.”  He clamped his arms tighter around my body as his boots
stepped on the wooden porch.

“I’ve
seen the inside of the house a hundred times.  I even setup the damn furniture
this morning.”

“This is
our first official night here so just do this for me.”

“You are
impossible Jessup Mason.”  I grinned into his blue eyes.

“Closed,
Alex.”

“Fine.” 
I shut my eyes, snuggling closer to his chest as he opened the door.  I heard
his boots on the hardwood floor in the living room.  I loved our new house.  It
wasn’t over-the-top like the Manor that sat on the other side of Sprayberry. 
Our home was simple and very much us.  My favorite part was the porch that
overlooked the stump and the beautiful view of the meadow.  I even installed a
porch swing. 

Jess
continued to walk toward the dining room.  His hand let go of me and I heard
the chair pull out from the table.  Tilting me down, my butt touched the seat. 
“Ok, you can open them.”

Slowly, I
lifted my eyelashes to a dark room lit with about hundred candles; the entire
table and counter were covered with glowing flames that trailed into the living
room and around the fireplace and on the coffee table.  In front of me, were
several pans of food and a small cake with the words,
Happy Birthday Alex
in scripted letters.

We both
had been so busy with the move that I just planned to do nothing for my
birthday.  Turning to look up at his sweet face, I felt that pain in my chest. 
“You didn’t have to do this, Jess.”

“Well,
Caroline made the food.  I just set it up.”

“It’s so
beautiful.  Thank you.”

He knelt
down beside the chair, taking my hand.  I saw his eyes glisten with a few
tears.  “I want you to know how
happy
I am.  You’re here with me.  We’re
in our house together.  I’ve wanted this for so long and I finally get it.  I
finally get to have this with you.”

“This
makes me happy too.”

“I know
you’ve givin’ up stuff to be here with me.”

“No,” I
leaned forward, kissing him softly.  “Never think that.  I am here because this
is the way it’s supposed to be.”

“Promise?”

“Yes.”  I
touched his cheek, feeling the stubble under my fingers. 

Jess
pulled me up from the chair, and I followed him into the living room as the
candles twinkled around us.  Falling back against our new couch, I let him take
off my shirt.  He pressed his lips to my bare skin, kissing down my breasts
toward my stomach.  He pulled my jeans slowly over my hips.  Looping his
fingers around my white panties, he tugged the cotton fabric down to my
ankles.  My heart beat fast in my chest as I watched Jess take off his clothes
until he was completely naked.  He crawled on top of me, slipping between my
thighs. 

I smiled
at the intense look on his sweet face.  “Our guests will never sit on this
couch if they know your nasty ass was on it.”

“You like
my ass.” He grinned before kissing my lips.  His tongue brushed over the
freckle on the bottom one.  He kissed me harder, as I locked my ankles around
his waist.  I drifted away under the light of a hundred candles, letting his
body touch me in every way possible.  I would never get tired of this with
Jess.  I would never get tired of how it felt to really be us.

Chapter 49

When
I was twenty-six…

Two weeks
after we moved into the house, I drove on the dirt road to the highway for a
show in Austin.  I turned the fancy satellite radio in my new Tahoe to a
station I programmed just to torment the fire out of Jess.  I felt a little sad
being gone, even for just a few days.  He was so imbedded under my skin that I
felt a little nauseous being apart.

As I
drove down the road, I saw the child first, not the woman, walking on highway
between Arlis and Granby.  He was a dark-haired boy around four or five years
old, clutching a beat-up teddy bear under his arm, following behind the
broken-down woman.  She had dark stains on the legs of her jeans and a dirty
shirt with holes.  The November air was rather chilly and neither of them wore
a coat.   

I felt a
catch in my throat as I drove past, seeing the pair fade in the rear-view
mirror.  I was alone and a little afraid to pull over for strangers.  This
world was not a nice world anymore, but something took control like I’d never
even had a decision in the matter.  Clenching the steering wheel, I pulled over
making a quick U-turn.  I parked on the side of the road, watching from the
safety of my large truck

She was a
short woman, about five feet tall.  Her dirty hair was fastened in a ratty
clump against her neck.  She never looked in my direction, but I knew she saw
me.  I read the thoughts etched into her face.  She didn’t want some rich woman
in the fancy truck interfering in their lives.  She figured I was sitting
inside, laughing or bored with fleeting curiosity.

The pit
of my stomach shook.  I wasn’t bored or spoiled with unnecessary shit.  I swore
that I would
never
be that person when I married Jess.  Opening the
door, I jumped out, feeling the ground under my trusty gray, canvas shoes.  I
walked toward the travelers; foot in front of the other until I stood directly
in their path.

She
looked at me with narrow and angry eyes.  Pin pricks shot down my spine, seeing
the familiar grit of her jaw.  I knew this face very well.  It was the same
face I saw in the mirror for about sixteen years; a permanent look of hatred
and pride that manifested so deep it couldn’t be contained.

They
needed my help.  I would get a backlash of hatred.  She would not willingly
take my assistance.  Knowing the likely outcome, I could live with it.  They
needed me more than I needed their gratitude.

Make
her hate the Masons as much as you did.  Make her angry.  Make her want
somethin’ better.

A jolt
slammed into my chest.  It finally made sense.  I understood why the Masons
just didn’t have it in them to walk the other way.  Why they just couldn’t
leave Henry and Alex Tanner, sitting in their car in the hospital parking lot. 
How Mrs. Eva Lynn Mason, with her proper pearl necklace, didn’t give a damn
what others thought of her.  She didn’t need my love and approval to know our
move to Sprayberry was the right decision.  She never cared one bit I hated the
Masons as long as my father and I had a roof over our heads.

The
magnitude of the moment struck me hard and deep.  I stuck out my hand trying to
play it casual, which seemed impossible considering I faced the defining moment
of my life.

“Hi.  I’m
Alex Mason.  It’s getting pretty cold out here.  I was just on my way to get
some hot chocolate at Jeeter’s.  Want a ride into town?”

Her gaze
shifted to me and back to the car.  I saw the distain in her sneer; a wordless
glare that said
I don’t need pity from some rich bitch
.  A small voice
spoke up softly from behind.  “Do they have marshmallows?”

“Anything
you want.  Jeeter’s even has whipped cream.” I saw his eyes light up when I
mentioned the last part.  “What’s your name?”

“Eddy del
Torro.  And that’s my momma, Vanessa.”

Chapter 50

Yesterday,
11:34 a.m.

Sitting
in the back corner, I took another bite of the gooey pizza.  A piece of
pepperoni stuck to the roof of my mouth.  I used my tongue to pry it free. 
Definitely not even in the top fifty best I had ever eaten, but the food wasn’t
the point.  I watched them; out of sight and out of mind.  I preferred it that
way.

Eight
children, ranging from roughly seven to ten years old, ran from one loud game
to another.  The basketball toss seemed to be their favorite.  The kids
belonged to a home in the south section of Dallas.  They were here today
because I sponsored the trip to Mario’s Pizza Land.  Well in truth, the three
full hours of semi-edible goo and arcade madness, came courtesy of the Mason
List.

When I
officially assumed responsibility of Jess's grand idea, I intended to mark an
item off the old sheet and continue to the next one.  This entry for
carnival
tickets
, held three tally marks.  Jess would laugh in my face when I returned
to Sprayberry.  My rules so I could break them as many times as I wished.

I wiped
the grease off my lips and gathered up the trash.  After three days away, I
felt a stab of homesickness.  It was strange to think I had once left him over
two years and yet, I couldn’t stand to be gone a couple of days.  I traveled
more than I planned but I just couldn’t stop.  The Mason List took on a mind of
its own.  The ideas came faster than I could even process.

Vanessa
del Torro and her son Eddy became my first project.  She was a tough one to
crack; the girl had ten times the hatred and mistrust than the younger version
of me.  Caroline gave Vanessa a job at Jeeter’s.  I checked off the list,
my
father’s hardware store job. 
A few months later, I added
riding lessons
when I got Eddie a horse
.

My eyes
scanned the list differently these days.  I felt anticipation rather than the
gripping control of the past.  Sometimes, I purposely sought out people, and
others just stumbled up under my feet.  In most cases, I preferred to be
anonymous.  I watched in the shadows as I paid restaurant bills for random
tables.  I had bought high-end Nike’s for an impoverished school.  I never saw
the faces of the kids, but I already knew how good it felt to wiggle your toes
inside a pair that actually fit and marked off
school shoes
from the
list. 

One night
before Christmas, I tipped a waitress five thousand dollars at a diner just
outside of Fort Worth.  Concealed in the safe darkness of my car, I had watched
through the window as she approached the table.  Her expression had made my
chest clench.  I bit down hard on my lip to fight back the tears.  Her tired,
old face collapsed into the red cushioned seat.  Without a single word between
us, I saw the relief etched in the lines around her mouth.  She needed a
break.  She hoped for a break.  She wished for a break.  That tip was just
enough to get her there.  That night I had crossed
Christmas present money
off the list. 

One
afternoon, I had waited to get my oil changed and overheard a desperate man
getting the bad news on his truck.  I caught a glimpse at the most pathetic
piece of rusted up metal sitting next to the curb.  I left my warm seat and
crossed over to the new car side of the dealership. 

Whipping
out my checkbook, I pointed at the white double cab sitting on the show room
floor.  I didn’t need to see any piece of the inside to know the fancy truck
had the best of the best.  An hour later, I sat in my Tahoe as the man drove
out the showroom doors.  He wiped a tear across his plaid shirt sleeve.  I
ducked as his wild eyes searched around the parking lot but I made sure he
never saw who or what or where the gift came from that day.  Pulling out a
sheet of paper, I had marked through
white diamond truck for my dad
.

I had
also kept my art studio in Arlis, but I gave free lessons to anyone willing to
spend the time to learn.  After every new student, I put a tally mark next to
fancy
lessons with Pascal. 
This had been my life for over a year.  I thought the
little bursts of excitement would fade.  If anything, it grew stronger and hit
deeper.  I owned that list; it no longer owned me.

This trip
to Dallas had set the ground work for my most personal endeavor to date. 
The
Anna House
.  Close to my old neighborhood, I bought a Victorian style,
two-story house.  It was roughly four thousand square feet.  The carpenter said
the building had the potential of being divided into three living quarters.  
In honor of my mother, I could house three families who needed a place to stay
while visiting loved ones in the hospital.  Once completed, I would mark off,
the
farmhouse at Sprayberry
.  I planned to build one in Arlis too.  Dr. Mason
and I had even talked about the possible linkage of the hospice ward to
The
Anna House
. 

I looked
one last time at the kids playing skeet ball.  Time to go home.  Time to see
Jess.  My lips curled up in a smile as I thought about what I planned to tell
him.  I almost told him last night, but I wanted to see his blue eyes in person
as I said the words.  Taking out my phone, I dialed his number.  It went
straight to voice mail as it often did when he was out on the ranch.   Stuffing
the black box down in my purse, I turned up the radio listening to Brad
Paisley.  I was in a good mood as I drove from Dallas back to Sprayberry. 

Jess
wasn’t at the house when I arrived.  I sat on the porch, watching the sun go
down across the meadow.  The sounds of crickets picked up as my feet moved back
and forth with the porch swing.  I called Jess again, but it went straight to
voice mail.  

I counted
back and realized I’d called three times today without talking to him, which
was not that unusual when I traveled at the same time the ranch worked cattle. 
I was ready for him to get home.  It had been almost twenty-four hours since
I’d last heard his voice.   

I knew it
might be a long night.  The ranch could change like the wind; one minute
everything was fine and the next, an all-out crisis.  Jess could be tied up
indefinitely.  I’m sure he was at the barn, knee deep in something disgusting. 
My stomach twisted thinking of the awful smell and I choked down a dry heave.

I heard a
truck pull up on the front side of the house.  I waited, hearing the footsteps
against the wrap-around porch.  I couldn’t wait to see his sweet face.  My
heart beat fast as I thought about telling him what I found out in Dallas. 

“Hey.”

“Oh, hey
Dad.  I thought you were Jess.”

“He
probably won’t be home until late.  I think the boys had a rough day out
there.  I heard something about it at the store.”

“Did
Gunther get tired of spouting shit at the feed store and move on over to you?”

“Alex!”

I laughed
at his frown.  “Sorry.”

“You get
the contractor set up?”

“Yeah.  I
think it will turn out good.  It’s about five miles from our old house.”

“You go
by and see it?”

“No.”  I
shook my head.  “I wanted to, but I don’t know if I can.”

Maybe
someday I would go by and see the little house with the garden.  I worried it
would look different than I imagined in my mind.  It might be painted pink at
this point, or the old tree could be bulldozed to the ground.  I hated the idea
of that place being something different than the picture in my memory.  The
sound of my phone interrupted my thoughts.  I pulled it out, expecting to see
Jess's face laughing on the screen.   Instead, I saw Bobby scrawled across the
top.  “Hey, Bobby.”

“Alex…” 
His words disappeared in the stillness of the sun.  I dropped the little box,
hearing a thud on the beautiful porch overlooking our place on the meadow.  I
ran out past the stump.  Sinking to my knees, I vomited the pizza across the
grass and front legs of my jeans. 
No.
  This wasn’t happening
.  No.
 
A large pair of arms lifted me up from behind. 
No…no…no!

 “Come
on, Pumpkin.  Get in the truck.”

Clammy
chill bumps covered my skin as I bounced around in the passenger seat.  My
father drove faster than I knew his truck should go over the meadow.  I didn’t
know who else followed, nor did I care.  A dark cloud scooped over my fingers
and wrapped in a vice grip across my shoulders.  It coated me like a black cape
concealing me within its elements.  I fought hard to feel Jess, but that
internal connection came back empty. 

We
reached the side of the ravine before anyone else he called.  Bobby stood next
to the edge, his clothes covered with dirt.  I flung open the door before the
truck ever came to a stop.   

Some
thirty feet down, I saw a horse and what I assumed was Jess.  Skeeter perched
next to them in the jagged area cut out by a creek.  We’d ridden past it
hundreds of times through the years, but never ventured into belly of the
devil. 

“Wait,
Alex.”  Bobby tried to pull me back.  I slung an elbow straight into his eye,
not caring if it hurt.  I slipped and rolled all the way down; blood poured
from my knee, soaking my jeans.  I clipped my forehead on a rock right above my
eye.  The gash dripped down, blocking my vision.  I wiped the wetness away on
my sleeve.

Coming to
a stop against the flesh of a tan horse, I recognized the soft coat of
Katarina’s Revenge.  The breeder had named her after some stupid divorce
dispute.  That horse had the temperament of a debutant bitch.  Jess always
thought she was so damn pretty with her light, tan skin the color of
butterscotch.  She had never listened when I tried to ride her.  I had hated
every smug little noise she fired in my direction. 

Skeeter
reached over to help me crawl around to the other side of her silent body. 

I
screamed.

I
screamed loud and shrill, like a dying animal howling into the sunset.  My
stomach twisted as I reached forward to touch him.  My beautiful, blue-eyed boy
no longer had a face.

“I’m
sorry, ma’am.  I don’t know what happened.  She spooked on the way back.”
Skeeter’s voice shook on each word.  “Not sure why.  I think his foot got
caught up in the stirrup.  Flipped under from what I saw.  Reigns tangled up. 
She wouldn’t stop.  They fell down in here.  Thrashin’ everywhere.  I shot
her.  I was afraid to move ‘im though.”

Skeeter’s
voice narrated the horror right before my eyes.  Rocks had ripped his flesh
down to his bones.  The area around his right eye remained beaten to a bloody
pulp; his eyeball dangled off loose to one side.  Flies swarmed around the open
wound. 
The bugs were touching him.
   I swatted them away, feeling the
cool grip of panic.  His right arm remained free while the left twisted back in
a strange angle under his back.  The rest of his pelvis and legs remained
trapped under the butterscotch bitch that pulled him down into the pit of hell.

I touched
his arm as tears ran down my cheeks.   I touched his chest; his body felt
warm.  I wanted to wrap myself around it.  I wanted to never let him go.  The
knots inside me twisted up tight with the impact of the shock. 

Slipping
my fingers next to his neck, I closed my eyes and waited.  I blocked out the
commotion at the top of the cliff. 
Come on, Jess
.  I focused on the
sounds of the meadow; the sounds of our home.  My fingers shook in the blood. 
His lips were blue.  Jess wasn’t getting any air.