Page 25 of Carver
I still haven’t been cleared to drive, so getting a rental is out.
After spending that night with me where neither of us slept, Bronte left in the morning to be with our daughter. Since I knew there was ababywaiting for her, I encouraged her to go back home, promising I’d be there in a few days.
I didn’t actually give a shit what Archer thought. Dravin just wanted to go through the formalities. I think he was worriedthat if I got up and went outside, my face might fall off. I didn’t bother wasting breath telling him that he should have seen me right after the accident happened, discharging myself from the hospital and getting my ass home in the most fucked up condition. He knew that I wasn’t going to listen, so he flat out told Archer what was going down and promised to make me take it as easy as possible.
He borrowed a truck from Willa, who owns an antique store in Hart. She’s dating a guy at the club, and she’s been to my place before, picking old junk. She was happy to let us use her truck and enclosed trailer to bring the bike Dravin and the club restored for me back to Hart.
Dravin doesn’t get out yet. We both just sit, facing the house. The newer green and silver Chevy isn’t on the concrete pad at the top of the gravel driveway, but I can see Donna’s SUV in the garage through the windows at the top of the overhead door.
Gabriel and Kenton are probably in the fields. It’s fall. Harvest is well underway. Donna might even be out there with them, driving equipment, or maybe Ginny. She and Bronte were both driving well before it was legal. Gabriel crashed his first truck at ten years old by driving it into the ditch on the back roads between fields.
Yes. Ten.
Dravin clears his throat. We haven’t spoken a single word since leaving Hart two hours ago. “Hemmingway once said something about the broken people being the most resilient and beautiful because their bodies and hearts have gone through that trial by fire, so they see the world differently. They have a largercapacity for the truest compassion. You and Bronte… I think you’ll be okay.”
I get what he’s trying to say. I appreciate his saying so, mostly because he doesn’t have to.
The man door opens right beside the overhead garage door and Bronte steps out in a soft pink floral dress that reaches her knees. Her feet are bare, her hair is down, strands whipped by the wind. She folds a white cardigan around herself, drawing the edges closed since the breeze has a bite to it today. She lifts one hand, smiling the sweetest greeting.
“Are you sure you want me to come? I could just head over to your place and wait for you.”
“You’d be waiting hours.”
“That’s fine.”
“That’s not fine. Bronte said that you’re more than welcome. Her family truly is the best.”
He gives me a once over to double check that I’m sure before slipping off his seatbelt and bailing.
I move with care. I wanted my head to be clear for this, and I hated the painkillers that Archer gave me, even though they were low grade, so I haven’t taken anything but ibuprofen. My head feels less like it’s stuffed with cotton and more like a thousand angry yellow jackets have built their nest under my skin. It’s electric, the stitches tugging.
The discomfort is banished the second Bronte rounds the truck door, shutting it for me. She holds herself back until I extend my arm and then she falls against me. I hug her as tightly as she clings to me.
She knew we were coming, knew the exact time we’d be here because I called her yesterday, and the day before, and this morning,andsent several texts while we were on our way, but she still hugs like she was never going to see me again.
It’s pure bliss holding her after all the time I deprived myself. It’s such a pure sensation that floods me, such happiness, that my body doesn’t have time to spark a sexual high. The knee bending gratitude and crushing weight of relief and joy overrides everything else. I no longer feel like half a man. I’m as close to being whole as I’ve ever been.
“Mom and Ginny baked cookies,” Bronte says when I reluctantly release her. “They’re inside with Elowen. Dad and Gabriel are out in the field, but they’ll be back for dinner before they go out again. Everyone is so excited to see you.” She smiles at Dravin. “And you too.”
It’s not my imagination that Dravin’s ears get pink. “Well, uh, I happen to really like cookies, so it’s a good fit all around.” Dravin pats his stomach. “Kael wanted to come, but she’s meeting with a real estate agent this morning about renting a studio space.” Dravin’s eyes flick to me and I already know what he’s going to say. “If it works out, she’s hoping that you can both share the space. It’s a big building and it would be perfect. The same agent is going to show her a few houses after, and if that works out, you’re more than welcome to the house she’s in. It’s owned by Crow as well.”
Bronte is immediately all extra huge smiles. She steps from me to Dravin and takes his hand in hers. His ears go from pink to scarlet as she beams at him. “That would beamazing. Thank you so much for everything you’ve done.”
Long before she knew who he was, Dravin came into my life and changed it. Making that ad online for the pile of junk I wanted to get rid of in a random attempt to clean up the land one day when I was pissed off over looking at the mess all the time, was one of the best decisions.
Life can change in an instant, but also for the good.
Bronte drops his hands and waves us towards the garage. “Come inside and we can talk about it.” A gust of wind picks up her hair and throws a chunk right into her eyes and mouth. She peels it off, laughing, even as she spits out strands. “It’s kind of a cold day.”
“Feels like winter’s coming,” Dravin mumbles.
He follows me and I follow Bronte.
I always remove my shoes in the garage. I slip out of my boots and Dravin does the same, lining his up beside mine at the side of the stairs.
Bronte opens the ancient wood door into the old farmhouse. A blast of sugary warmth hits me right in the face. The place might be as old as the house on my land, but this one has been well maintained and even renovated over the years. It’s always warm because the house holds the heat so well, but Kenton installed central air years ago, so the place is comfortable.
The house has a stone basement that’s always cool for storing preserves and dry. There’s no seepage, undermining the foundation.
