Fay Robinson - Coming Home To You

He watched as she passed beneath the last light and the darkness swallowed her. Well, it wasn’t his problem. Maybe after this experience she’d go back home.

KATE HADN’T GONE far when a dark-colored truck rolled up beside her. No. Not him. Please, not him. She kept walking.

The passenger window slid down. “Get in, Morgan, and I’ll take you back to the motel.”

“I’d rather walk.”

“Don’t be stupid. Get in before you fall and break your neck or get hit.”

“And deprive you of the pleasure of knowing something bad happened to me?”

A car came up behind them, swerving to the other lane at the last second. A horn blast conveyed the driver’s anger. Hayes cursed. “Will you get in the truck before we’re both killed?”

Deciding it was ridiculous to let her anger overrule her good sense, Kate relented and got in the truck. He produced an old flannel shirt with ripped seams.

“Here, this is headed for the garbage, anyway. You can use it to get some of the mud off you.”

Kate used the shirt to dry herself as best she could. She undid her braid, bent her head and rubbed the shirt vigorously over her hair. When she lifted her head, she found him watching her. He quickly shifted his gaze back to the road.

“What did you hope to accomplish by following me tonight?” he asked.

“To talk to you, for once, without us arguing.”

“You make it impossible for me to keep my temper.”

“I seem to have that effect on you.”

“Because you enjoy creating chaos everywhere you go!”

“Are you going to start yelling at me again? Because if you are, you can stop this truck right now and let me out. I’m wet. I’m covered with mud. I’m cold. I’m not going to sit here in misery while you tell me again how horrible I am when I’m simply trying to do my job. And for your information, nothing has ever tried to nest in my mouth.”

He reached down and turned on the heater. Warmth poured into the cab, pushing back the slight chill she felt from being in wet clothes.

“Thank you,” she said begrudgingly.

“You’re welcome,” he answered curtly.

They continued in silence until Kate couldn’t stand it anymore. “Look, I’m really not trying to turn your life into a nightmare. I’m only trying to get information that’s very important to my book. The people at the feed store and the hardware store agreed the best places to catch you were here or at Pine Acres, so I tried here first. I thought it would be less intrusive than my showing up unannounced at the children’s ranch, and I really did want to see what a horse sale was like.”

“You’ve been even busier than I thought. Did you interview everyone in town?”

“No, just the ones I could trick into telling me something juicy about you,” she quipped, repeating the accusation he had made against her earlier.

A fleeting grin crossed his face but was quickly replaced with his usual sour expression. “I don’t doubt that.”

“Do you want to know what I found out about you?”

“That I’m a candidate for electric shock?”

Kate forced herself not to smile. Well, well, the man had a sense of humor. “Besides that.”

“Why don’t you enlighten me?”

“That you’re either a saint or a pretty good actor.”

“Oh, why’s that?”

She turned in the seat so she could better talk to him. “Your old high-school classmates remember you as a guy only interested in making a fast buck. Yet the few friends you’ve made here, like Emma Lang at the library and Mr. Harper at the feed store, talk about you with great affection. Miss Emma said you donated a hundred thousand dollars to renovate the children’s area, and I went by and took a look at the new playgrounds you had built at the elementary and middle schools. Apparently you’ve also set up some kind of free dental program for low-income children.” She shook her head. “I don’t get it. Did James’s death really change you that much? What happened to that guy who used to think only of himself?”

“Why is this any of your business?”

“Agh!” she said, frustrated. “Where did you learn to be so stubborn?”

She thought he actually smiled then. “The same place you learned to be so relentless.”

“Hayes, even relentless and stubborn people know when to compromise. Can’t I talk you into letting me interview you?”

“No. I don’t even like you.”

“You don’t have to like me. The book is for James’s benefit, not mine.”

“Go home, Morgan. You’re wasting your time here.”

They reached the motel and he parked his pickup with its long trailer at the side of the building. He started to get out, but she leaned over and grabbed his arm.

“Don’t you even care what I write about you in this book, what people think about Bret Hayes?”

He hesitated, but then said, “No. I don’t care.”

“People believe you resented James’s success and coveted what he had.”

“Do they really think that?”

“Yes, they do. Is it true?”

“No, Morgan, I never resented him or his success.”

“You didn’t want to be him?”

Pain flashed across his face. “Yes,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “In the six years since he died, I’ve wished a thousand times I could change places with him.”

THE RAIN STOPPED and the dark clouds that obscured the moon thinned until only a few raced across its silver surface. The neon sign above the motel office buzzed like a giant insect, its bright colors reflecting on the wet pavement, creating a surreal atmosphere.

The parking lot was empty but for a single car. Raucous laughter and music coming from the tavern across the road explained why the rooms were all dark and the motel seemed deserted.

Hayes had been silent since his revelation, afraid perhaps of having said too much. And his words had been revealing, telling Kate two things she hadn’t known before: He’d loved his brother. And he still suffered from his death.

She took out her room key and opened the door. When she turned to look up at him, she felt uncharacteristically tongue-tied and strangely sad. She wished she could think of something profound to say, but the only thing that came out was, “Well…thanks for the ride.”

He nodded.

She started to offer him her hand, decided it was a foolish gesture and withdrew it. “See you around, Hayes.”

“Not if I can help it, Morgan,” he countered, making her chuckle.

He crossed the parking lot, hands pushed deep in the front pockets of his jeans. Kate watched him go with an unexplainable sense of loss. When he had almost reached the corner of the building, she called out, “I met Jamie once, you know.”

He stopped and turned. “What?”

She walked from under the shadow of the overhanging metal canopy out into the moonlight where he could see her and she wouldn’t have to shout.

“I said, I met your brother once. It was years ago, and although I only got to spend a few hours with him, I’ve never forgotten it. I was a scared kid trying to survive in a tough college program with people who were a lot older than me and resented my being there. Jamie was kind to me. He made me feel good about myself.”

Hayes didn’t say anything.

“I wanted you to know that,” she added, “so you’d understand why it’s important to me to write a truthful account of his life. This book finally gives me the chance to pay him back for his kindness that day.”

Hayes stood quietly, motionless for a long time, then nodded slowly and raised his hand in farewell. She raised hers. He turned and walked away.

Kate went into her room and closed the door. A hot bath would feel good. So would going home. Until that moment she hadn’t known she was going home. But without hope of an interview, she really had no reason to stick around. Hayes wasn’t willing to cooperate. He’d made that perfectly clear.