Blue
I get a whiff of cigar smoke as I reach the secluded deck built into a rock outcropping that stretches over the river.
Too late, I see Keegan’s dad and brother sitting in Adirondack chairs and puffing on cigars.
It’s warm for a late afternoon in February, and I’d hoped for a few minutes alone in this scenic spot. But Mark Crenshaw and Buick have beat me to it.
I start to turn back, thinking the rocks are shielding me from view, when Mark’s voice stops me.
“Pull up a seat, Blue. I’ve got a cigar here with your name on it.”
Damn. I close my eyes for a second. I don’t want to chit chat with anybody right now.
I just heard from Holmlund that my court-martial is only a month away. As with the Article 32 hearing, the Army seems to be rushing to put me on trial.
I smile gamely and walk out on the deck, my boots sounding too loud on the weathered wood.
Mark gestures at a folding chair propped in a corner of the deck, and I slump into it. He hands me a cigar and a lighter, and I move the lighter around the foot of the cigar, then place the cigar head in my mouth and take gentle puffs.
Of course, I can’t help thinking about the last time I smoked a cigar.
It was in Afghanistan, with the guys, after a long, terrible day where we saw the lifeless body of a young boy who got caught in the crossfire.
We weren’t allowed to drink alcohol over there. Cigars were a rare stress reliever. I’d brought them back with me after my first tour.
On that day, when we’d tried to help the grieving mother who was cradling her dead son, we’d desperately needed them.
I can still remember how my hands shook when I tried to light mine.
Jesus. Don’t think about it.
“Nice weather we’re having,” Mark says, slowly blowing out a mouthful of smoke.
The line is so hackneyed I think for a moment he’s being sarcastic. But there’s no sign of that on his face as he props his scuffed boots up on the deck rail and takes another puff.
He sighs, looking across the river at the cattle grazing in what they call the Near Pasture.
I glance at Keegan’s brother. He hasn’t looked at me or said anything. He’s just been staring out over the calm surface of the river, watching the sun go down.
Since I’ve been at the ranch, I’ve tried to make myself useful. I don’t have cowboy skills, but there’s a lot of stuff I could do. I don't care how menial it is.
But Buick hasn’t taken me up on it. He doesn’t seem to want anything to do with me.
Not that I can blame him.
The smell of cow manure drifts on the wind. I hear birds chirping like crazy. They’re perched in the trees all around us, preparing, I suppose, to fall silent when it gets dark.
It’s cooling off quickly now, and I'm beginning to wish I’d grabbed my jacket.
“It’s so unbelievably peaceful here.”
I don’t really mean to say that; it just comes out. There’s a pathetic wobble in my voice.
Way to sound like a man, Blue.
Nobody says anything for a few moments.
It really is peaceful here. Or it would be, if my stomach wasn’t churning with desperation. It’s like acid, creeping up my throat, making me feel sick.
I start to stand up.
“Stay a little longer, Blue,” Mark says, waving his cigar toward the horizon. “You don’t want to miss the sunset. It’s going to be a pretty one.”
I sit back down, noticing Mark’s sidelong look at Buick and the slightest jerk of his head, a signal that he wants to talk to me alone.
Buick’s eyes slide over me impassively, and he gets out of his chair without a word.
I’ve been dreading this conversation. Mark’s been nothing but kind to me, but he can’t be thrilled about the big bunch of trouble his girl has hooked up with. He probably wishes she’d never gotten involved with me.
Sometimes I wish the same thing.
Not because I don’t love Keegan. If anything, I’m more in love with her now than ever. But when I look at where we’ve ended up, I can barely live with myself.
I’ve put her in danger. I’ve wrecked college for her and maybe her chosen career. That’s how I would see it, if I was her dad.
I can’t imagine what it’s like to be a father, to have a daughter you want to protect at all costs. And then to have to watch her fall for some asshole who is dragging her down with him.
I glance at Mark’s profile. Even in in the fading light, I can see his ingrained tan and the wrinkles deeply etched around his eyes.
I puff on my cigar and wait for whatever he’s going to say.
After a few beats, he turns to me with his direct, assessing gaze. “Laura once said I made her feel like every step she took was important. She told me one of the things she loved about me was that I made her the glowing hot center of my world.”
His smile turns sad.
“She always had a way with words. Just like Keegan. Laura never seemed to get that I really had no other choice. I couldn’t have treated her any different. I was dazzled by her, from the day I met her until the day…”
He doesn’t finish the sentence, but he doesn’t need to.
“I’d have done anything for that girl,” he sighs. “Anything in the world. I’d have gladly given my life for her.”
His lips pucker for a moment like he can hardly make them continue forming words. “But in the end, all I did, all I could do, was watch her drift away from me.”
I try to look sympathetic. I am sympathetic. Keegan’s told me how much her father loved her mother.
But I know something else is coming, and it’s making me nervous.
The birds have all gone silent. Mark's words echo in the now-chilly wind.
“And the thing is,” he goes on, “I’ve always wondered if I messed up her life, marrying her so young, before she’d even had a chance to go to college or find out who she really was.”
The cigar smoke is curling around his head. My heart is beating faster.
“She became responsible for my mistakes,” he goes on. “Her life was…” He searches for the right word. “…her life was limited by my mistakes. By me. And that wasn’t fair, even if she didn’t see it that way. I should have known better, Blue. I did know better.”
I can see where he’s going with this now, and I’m fighting not to be defensive. Because he’s absolutely right. And I know it.
I swallow hard, and meet his gaze.
“I want to know,” he says, his tone turning stern, “what are your intentions here? Toward my daughter.”
I sit up straighter. “I. . .”
I actually started to blurt out that I wanted to marry Keegan. As if, right now, that’s a genuine possibility. As if I have any business thinking that right now.
I try again. “I love her, sir.”
I pour the force of my emotions into what I’m saying. “More than my own life. More than anything.”
I want to say more. But the truth is, there is nothing else I can say. Not without sounding like a dishonest piece of shit.
Because I don’t know if I’ll be able to stand by those words.
There’s a long, agonizing pause as Mark puffs his cigar some more.
“I know you do,” he finally says, his sad expression barely visible in the fading light. “I’ve seen the way you look at her. I’ve seen the way she looks at you.”
He tosses what’s left of his cigar into the water.
“In some ways,” he adds, “the two of you remind me so much of me and Laura.”
I’m waiting for the big, fat But that I know is coming.
“But…” He hesitates, then speaks a little louder, more forcefully, “. . .but you have no idea what’s going to happen, Blue. Your actions have already cost her. . .a lot.”
I swallow hard, struggling to control the bile rising in my throat. I know he’s right. But fuck it still hurts to hear it.
Mark’s blue eyes hold mine. “I don’t want to see her hurt,” he says, “any more than she already has been. If things don’t go well for you, don’t you dare try to hold on to her.”
He takes a deep breath. “You let her go,” he adds, his voice hoarse. “You understand me?”
I don’t think I’m even capable of answering. I manage a nod.
“You let her go.”
I’m mashing my thumb into the palm of my other hand like I want to push it right through the skin, right through the bones.
“Are you two planning to sit out here all night, in the dark?" Keegan’s voice makes us both jump. "It’s cold out here.”
Her steps sound light and quick on the deck, and I smell her perfume just before she wraps a blanket around my shoulders and kisses the top of my head.
“I figured you’d both be freezing.”
She drapes another blanket around Mark. He looks up and cups her check with his hand. “Thanks, sweetie.”
“Virginia sent me to tell you guys it's almost supper time. You know she doesn’t like supper to be late.”
Mark chuckles as he stands, clenching the blanket around him.
“Yeah, I know,” he says, casting one last look at the river. “Mustn’t keep Virginia Cooke waiting. I’m lucky she allowed me to visit as it is. Don’t want to get thrown off the property tonight.”
I’d been surprised when Keegan’s dad showed up to spend the weekend. The awkwardness between him and his mother-in-law is obvious.
But maybe she now has someone to hate more than him. I’m the one getting all of her frosiest glares lately.
Mark places one hand on my shoulder, leaving it there for a long moment. I don’t look up at him.
“I’ve got to make a call first,” he adds. “I’ll see you two at supper.”
I stand then and watch him walk away, feeling Keegan’s assessing stare.
“What was that about?” she asks. “Did something happen between you two?”
I envelope her in the blanket, pressing into her and leaning my forehead against hers.
“Nah, we were just chatting,” I say, hoping I sound convincing. “Just a couple of guys smoking cigars. Nothing more.”
~~~
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