Page 38 of Dove
“Nothing,” she replied airily. As she passed, I caught the subtle smell of her shampoo, the same strawberry scent she always used that made me want to call up the company and demand they tell me justwhatthey put in it that had it smelling so damn mouthwatering. With the decadent assail on my senses, her snotty reaction toward my car was long forgotten.
Entering behind her, the sweet scent she left in her wake was quickly overtaken by the mix of leather, grain, and sawdust unique to Dell’s store. One whiff and it had me careening back intime, when I’d accompanied my dad as a boy here, or when I was older, tasked with picking up what he needed by myself. There had even been a few times Dove had tagged along, hopping up into my old Chevy, windows down and sun shining, just the two of us relishing in the escape from the farm, if only for an hour.
There were plenty of things I missed, but those I missed the most. The deep bone memories of home, offamily. There were times in the recent years I’d been gone where I’d gotten so lonely I had nearly broken down, phone in hand, ready to call my dad, or worse,Dove, as if she’d even understand the reason behind why I was gone, or how badly I wished to come back but couldn’t.
“Well, lookie who it is,” came a voice, soft and worn with age. Following it was old Dell, one hand on a wooden cane and the other raised in greeting as he carefully walked around the counter. Atop his head was the ever-present hat he wore advertising his store, and the overalls he always sported practically hung from his thin frame. The only difference I could see were the extra lines deepening his face, but his eyes glowed just as bright as they always had whenever he saw a customer.
“Hiya, Dell,” came Dove’s sweet reply, her smile warm and welcoming.
“Good to see you, Dell,” I replied, and meant it. When I left, I hadn’t imagined I’d miss more than just my family and friends, but there was a hole in the shape of this town in my heart. It was healing slowly the more time I spent back, and I wasn’t sure how I was going to leave it again.
One thing at a time, I reminded myself. Leaving was the last thing I was thinking about right now, what with Dove being the only one taking care of the farm.Especiallyafter last night.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Dell continued in astonishment, “is that really Joshua Hex standing before my own two eyes?” Hesquinted, wrinkles intensifying, as his eyes trailed up to meet mine.
I chuckled uncomfortably, feeling chastised. “In the flesh.”
“Been a while, boy.” Then, as if reminded why I was here, his eyes softened, and he looked at us both with sadness lining his face. “Sorry to hear about your folks.”
Our thanks were murmured solemnly.
“Woulda been at the funeral if it weren’t for this damn leg”—he gestured to it with an annoyed flap of his hand—“but it was raining something fierce that day, and it had me down for the count. Mighty pissed I was.” He shook his head gravely. “Your folks were good people. I wanted to pay my respects.”
“That’s all right.” Dove smiled gratefully at Dell. “You were just as good back to them, and that’s what matters most.”
Grief tinged her voice, and I yearned to pull her in for a hug. Instead, I nodded in agreement. “You were a good friend to them, Dell.”
In true Dell fashion, he cleared his throat, waving away the sadness as if it hung in the air. “None of that now, just how us folks do around here, innit?”
He limped past us, heading over to a stack of burlap feed bags. “Well, I guess there’s still a farm to run in the meantime, isn’t there?” He gestured to the pile. “Need help movin’ these? I can call my great-grandson, Nicky, to help. He’s just in the back. I had him pile them up for me, but I didn’t know you’s were coming by so early. I would’ve had ‘em set out front, ready’n waitin’.”
“That’s okay,” I reassured him with a shake of my head. “I got it.”
“Wegot it,” Dove reminded me, hip checking me out of the way to grab a feed bag and heft it up. She threw me an unimpressed look as she heaved it up on one shoulder, easy as you please, so she could open the door and exit.
Dell threw me an amused smile. “You sure you got this?”
For some reason I didn’t think he was talking about the pile before me.
“I hope so,” was all I could manage to say in reply, still transfixed by how easily Dove had swung that fifty-pound feed bag atop her shoulder, the skin of her biceps straining taut over hidden muscle.
He chuckled, turning to limp back toward the counter. “You can square up when you’re done,” he called over his shoulder.
The bell over the door chimed again, and I turned just in time to see Dove slip back into the shop. As I pulled my wallet out to pay, she headed deeper into the store, aiming for an aisle farther back. Dell was busy calculating, old fashion as he was, licking at a pencil and slipping on his readers before pecking away on an ancient receipt calculator.
A few minutes later, Dove rounded the corner, several bags heavying her arms.
“I got a few extra things for the horses,” she explained, adjusting her grip on the items. “And I grabbed some treats for Omen.”
I waited for her to place them on the counter, tack it to the bill, but she hastily added, “Don’t worry, I’ll pay for this.”
I looked at her oddly. As if I was worried about a few extra bucks. Even if I should be, considering the state of the farm’s finances I was beginning to work out. “Place it on the counter, Dove.”
She shook her head. “No, really, I can?—”
“I got it,” I stressed, persistent. “Put it on the counter and go wait in the car.”
Her lips twisted with reluctance. What the hell was there to be reluctant about?
