began to fill the sky. I caught a shot of Tanner Brock,
disappearing into the horizon on horseback, his back straight and defiant, and
knew that was the picture I had come here to take.
But the cost to
get it in the first place...was it worth it?
When the car
pulled up to get me, I waited for him to say goodbye. I stood in his drive and
stared at the huge, rambling house that now was forever entwined with his
kisses in my brain. The sun had dipped below the black clouds on the horizon
and the wind was picking up.
His silhouette
moved past the kitchen window. I couldn't tell if he was watching me, until he
raised his hand in silent farewell. Then walked away.
"Dammit,"
I whispered into the wind.
I slid into the
back seat of the car and slumped down as low as I felt. I clutched my upper
arms tightly, feeling the places where his touch still seared me. Never in my
life had I felt such an intense, and instant desire for a man. It would figure
he would be someone I could never have.
As if I didn't
feel worse enough, the rain began to batter the roof of the car the minute we
passed the sign heralding our entrance into Holcum. I recognized the road of
course, and slumped even lower in my seat. But there was still no way to avoid
seeing it.
The house was
empty. No one lived there, that was clear from the over grown grass. Someone
had systematically broken all of the windows...bored teenagers most likely. It
looked like it had been standing there, unloved and uncared for, since the
night we left.
I swallowed back
the bile that rose in my throat, then clapped my hand over my mouth. A few deep
breaths settled my stomach, and I felt even better once the light changed and
we rolled out of sight of my old home.
I hated Holcum. I
had erased it from my life, just one more place we lived and left with no marks
made on us. Except the mark was there, a scar on my heart as black as the night
we piled into the station wagon and just drove - silently - away.
I never saw my
father again.
He was somewhere
in Indiana, last I heard. Put away for a very, very long time. Turns out
running from your crimes only makes things worse in the end.
My family all
dealt with it in our own way. My mother moved in with her sister and seemed
content to forget she ever was a wife...or mother. My younger sister still
insisted on his innocence and joined the world of activism. Me, I became a journalist
with the intent of finding out the truth of what happened but ended up running
from my sadness into the shallow world of celebrities. But I honored my father
by moving, always moving, still pathologically unable to put down roots.
Perpetually the outside, no matter where I was.
We all cope in
different ways. I erased Holcum from my personal narrative, but it was still
here. At least the hotel was far enough away from the family place that I could
pretend I wasn't here.
But when I got out of the car and saw LeeAnne
Colfax talking to the woman at reception, my heart dropped all the way down to
my muddy cowboy boots.
"Change of
plans again," I rapped on the driver's window. LeeAnne hadn't spotted me yet, but I knew
it was her. She still wore her trademark braid pulled back tight from her
round, pale face. She looked exhausted and I thought I saw tears in her eyes,
and a stain down the front of her shirt. The woman behind reception had the
same round face - her sister? Her mother? I hadn't stayed long enough in Holcum
to know for sure.
That strange
longing snuck back into my brain. I stared at LeeAnne, swinging wildly between
the desire to run away and the desperate desire to know if the best friend I
could claim in Holcum would be happy to see me.
I shook my head.
She seemed preoccupied with her own shit. She'd probably forgotten about me
already. "Take me to the
airport," I told the driver. "I'm going home."
Chapter Fourteen
Tanner
disappearing into the horizon on horseback, his back straight and defiant, and
knew that was the picture I had come here to take.
But the cost to
get it in the first place...was it worth it?
When the car
pulled up to get me, I waited for him to say goodbye. I stood in his drive and
stared at the huge, rambling house that now was forever entwined with his
kisses in my brain. The sun had dipped below the black clouds on the horizon
and the wind was picking up.
His silhouette
moved past the kitchen window. I couldn't tell if he was watching me, until he
raised his hand in silent farewell. Then walked away.
"Dammit,"
I whispered into the wind.
I slid into the
back seat of the car and slumped down as low as I felt. I clutched my upper
arms tightly, feeling the places where his touch still seared me. Never in my
life had I felt such an intense, and instant desire for a man. It would figure
he would be someone I could never have.
As if I didn't
feel worse enough, the rain began to batter the roof of the car the minute we
passed the sign heralding our entrance into Holcum. I recognized the road of
course, and slumped even lower in my seat. But there was still no way to avoid
seeing it.
The house was
empty. No one lived there, that was clear from the over grown grass. Someone
had systematically broken all of the windows...bored teenagers most likely. It
looked like it had been standing there, unloved and uncared for, since the
night we left.
I swallowed back
the bile that rose in my throat, then clapped my hand over my mouth. A few deep
breaths settled my stomach, and I felt even better once the light changed and
we rolled out of sight of my old home.
I hated Holcum. I
had erased it from my life, just one more place we lived and left with no marks
made on us. Except the mark was there, a scar on my heart as black as the night
we piled into the station wagon and just drove - silently - away.
I never saw my
father again.
He was somewhere
in Indiana, last I heard. Put away for a very, very long time. Turns out
running from your crimes only makes things worse in the end.
My family all
dealt with it in our own way. My mother moved in with her sister and seemed
content to forget she ever was a wife...or mother. My younger sister still
insisted on his innocence and joined the world of activism. Me, I became a journalist
with the intent of finding out the truth of what happened but ended up running
from my sadness into the shallow world of celebrities. But I honored my father
by moving, always moving, still pathologically unable to put down roots.
Perpetually the outside, no matter where I was.
We all cope in
different ways. I erased Holcum from my personal narrative, but it was still
here. At least the hotel was far enough away from the family place that I could
pretend I wasn't here.
But when I got out of the car and saw LeeAnne
Colfax talking to the woman at reception, my heart dropped all the way down to
my muddy cowboy boots.
"Change of
plans again," I rapped on the driver's window. LeeAnne hadn't spotted me yet, but I knew
it was her. She still wore her trademark braid pulled back tight from her
round, pale face. She looked exhausted and I thought I saw tears in her eyes,
and a stain down the front of her shirt. The woman behind reception had the
same round face - her sister? Her mother? I hadn't stayed long enough in Holcum
to know for sure.
That strange
longing snuck back into my brain. I stared at LeeAnne, swinging wildly between
the desire to run away and the desperate desire to know if the best friend I
could claim in Holcum would be happy to see me.
I shook my head.
She seemed preoccupied with her own shit. She'd probably forgotten about me
already. "Take me to the
airport," I told the driver. "I'm going home."
Chapter Fourteen
Tanner
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