El Rancho del Corazón
31 Hayloft
ALMOST FOUR YEARS AGO, I was told at midnight on New Year’s Eve to go sleep in the hayloft when I got home. Aside from getting hay for the horses, there was never a reason to go to the hayloft. I was tremendously excited. In fact, I was a wreck. The very thought of Heaven awaiting me in the hayloft set all my nerves on edge. I walked around with a perpetual erection or the fear that I would never get one. Jessica was my fantasy for, oh, the last eighteen years or so. I still often awoke at night realizing I’d been dreaming about her. I loved her. I admitted it. I guess everyone knew it.
That’s why I was so surprised when I realized how incredibly calm I was. When Moms and Dad went to bed, I sat up in Dad’s chair with the TV on and got involved in a silly old romantic comedy with Audrey Hepburn and Cary Grant. I realized with a start that it was almost midnight and I hadn’t even checked on my sleeping bag. I thought that it must be down in Bloomington. I went into the bedroom to see if I could find something and neatly folded at the foot of the bed was Jessica’s quilt that she brought to the hayloft years ago.
I smiled. We were kids. I wondered what she would want tonight. Certainly not to sit on a hay bale with nothing to protect her skin or clothes. I picked up the quilt and headed for the barn.
I wasn’t actually late getting there, so I didn’t think she given up and left already, but I was surprised that she wasn’t out there already. Still, she probably had other things to do and might not even join me. I spread the blanket, used the electric Coleman lantern that I grabbed from the garage on the way out, and settled down to read for a while. I’d picked up my literary criticism text at the bookstore and brought it along to get a head start on the reading.
I fell asleep.
I woke up, knowing it was four-thirty and automatically whispered a good morning to Hannah. After all this time, she was still my first thought when I opened my eyes.
My second thought was the soft blonde hair tucked under my chin and spread across my shoulder. My arm was wrapped around her and I wondered if I had been awake enough at one point to do that or if she’d arranged me in my sleep. I shifted slightly so I could see her better. She stirred and went back to sleep.
Sometimes I believed what I saw in the magazines and all the photos I’d collected. I believed she was a glamour girl with perfect skin and a perfect body, always perfectly coifed and perfectly attired. That was the only way anyone ever saw her. The girl lying next to me had tangled hair with a stray bit of hay caught in it. She had a little pimple on her jaw next to her ear. She wore an old T-shirt and a ratty pair of sweatpants. She snored softly against my chest and there was a wet spot where she drooled.
She was beautiful.
One arm was thrown across my chest and I lay my hand on it, feeling the warm texture of her skin and the fine blonde hair that grew on her arm. She didn’t stir again, so I just lay there watching her—touching her arm softly and holding her. I fell back to sleep.
When I woke up, it was daylight and she was gone.
I went into the house and started making up bread. It was only six o’clock and everyone was taking the day off. I knew they’d like bread. When it was ready to rise, I went to the backyard and started doing my forms. I did them very slowly and deliberately. I tried to focus on each one and let my consciousness sink into the background as I flowed from one to the next. I emptied my mind until there was no one there to talk to me. I was the earth. I was the water. I was the wind.
“That is so beautiful,” Jessica said softly as I came to rest. I was exhausted but energized. Sweat was pouring off my body. I refocused on the here and now.
She hadn’t dressed for the funeral yet, but she’d obviously showered, dried and styled her hair, and applied a touch of makeup but not enough to call attention to it. She wore skinny jeans and a pressed cotton blouse. Even with this casual attire, she wore high heels.
“Is that what you used to rescue Hannah?”
“A little faster than that.”
“Sarah told me.”
I’d taken in every inch of her beauty as we stood there. Somehow, what I’d seen early this morning made what I saw now seem a little artificial. “I’d hug you but I don’t want to mess up your outfit.” She smiled.
“You hugged me earlier. Thank you for last night. I just wanted to come over and tell you that. I really needed you.”
“Any time, Jessica. You know that.”
“I do,” she said. She tilted her head down a little and looked up at me in a pose I recognized from one of her magazine spreads. I wondered if they came naturally or if she’d had to learn them from the photographers. “Tonight?”
“Of course.”
“I’ll see you after… You know.” She turned and walked back to her house. I went into mine and straight to the shower. I was a little self-conscious using the master bath for my shower. I almost ran upstairs before I realized my parents had occupied that part of the house. The downstairs master had been scrubbed of pretty much everything that would make it look like my parents’ room.
After I had clean clothes on, I went out to put the bread in the oven and start making breakfast. There was no bacon. The sausage was made of turkey. There were no eggs. Instead there were cartons of Egg Beaters. I should probably figure out ways to cook more healthful meals for my casa instead of such rich food. That freshman fifteen would be no joking matter before long.
“I smell bread,” Anna said dreamily as she came into the kitchen. I handed her a cup of coffee enhanced with chocolate. She practically purred. Mom and Dad came to the kitchen table and I repeated the coffee rituals with their own special fixings. The bread came out of the oven and I started slicing it while it was still hot and steamy. “Our son is home,” Anna said as she took a big bite of the crusty end that she liked the best.
“If it didn’t mean we’d have to give up the bath upstairs, I’d invite him back to stay,” Mom laughed. “I think he makes you happier than I do.” That popped my eyes open.
“Mom!”
“Oh, don’t worry, son,” Dad said. “Fresh bread is still only second or third on Anna’s list of favorite things.” Anna playfully hit him in the arm and then melted into him for a kiss. That looked like it was going to inspire Mom and I turned back to the stove to get our omelets started rather than watch the three of them play between bites.
When I had our meal on the table, I decided to broach the subject I’d been curious about for two days.
“Mom, you called me Wednesday and I’ve seen Jessica three times. I’ve come down here for her brother’s funeral but I still don’t know what he died of. What gives?” I asked. Mom rolled her eyes and nudged Dad. He cleared his throat.
“Drew joined the army as soon as he graduated from high school over a year ago. Ford and Ellen didn’t even know until she called her brother in Iowa to invite Drew home. He pretty much severed all relations with the rest of the family until they were notified by the Army that he’d been killed,” Dad said.
“Killed where? Did they send him to Saudi Arabia as part of Desert Shield?” I asked.
“No. His unit was someplace in Oklahoma training in the desert, from what I’ve heard,” Dad continued. “He wasn’t killed in action. As far as the few details Ford and Ellen have let slip, it was an accident.”
“Geez. You know I didn’t like Drew, but I never wished him dead,” I said softly.
“We know, son.”
“Brian, we’ve decided to take Anna’s car and go on down to Bloomington tonight after the funeral,” Mom said.
“Ron said he could meet us at the ranch tomorrow to go over the removal of the burn-out,” Anna said. “Won’t it be nice to have that eyesore gone?”
“You don’t need to hurry, though,” Mom continued. “The house will probably be more comfortable than the barn without us in it.” She grinned at me. Might have known she’d figured out where I was. Especially when I said I’d already seen Jessica three times.
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