A/N Thank you so much my small but mighty group of Merle and Beth fans. Let's see what they've got going on.
A reminder - it's 1960
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Every week he told himself he was never going back to Cattle Rustlers, never going to see her again, never again would he ask her out. Why would he? Why would he want to put himself through that over and over again? If she didn't want him, well fine. There were plenty of women who thought he was a pretty damned okay guy. Women who like his sort of man just fine.
Trouble was he didn't want any of those other women. He wanted her.
He'd begun to wonder how many times he could walk in the joint and sit there panting like a puppy, ready to do anything to earn even the smallest amount of affection from her. When would he finally give up and move on? But he just couldn't seem to stay away, and she managed to stay on his mind whether he was in the place or not.
Then things took a big turn. He'd been in the joint every Friday afternoon for over two months, but this Friday was different. When she came to his table he didn't order a 7Up, he ordered a bourbon rocks and he didn't dance around, he got right to the point. It didn't sound anything like his usual polite invitation when he half snarled, "Beth, I been askin' ya out damn near every week for two months, today I'm askin' for the last time. Will ya let me take you to dinner tomorrow night?"
She was startled by his tone, the harshness of it hurt. Actually, it's fair to say she was upset by his whole attitude. He even looked kind of mean. It just so happened she liked Merle, she liked him a lot. He'd always been so nice, always been a gentleman. He was never forward with her and he never acted like it was his right and perfectly okay to touch her inappropriately. Plenty of men did act that way, but never Merle.
She'd like to go out with him, she really would, but she couldn't. She had her reasons. She told him as much that day, well maybe not her reasons, "I'm sorry Merle it's just…I just can't go out with you. Not tomorrow and not ever. I like you, but it's just not possible. I'm sorry."
He felt rejected, hurt and frustrated. He stood, threw some cash on the table and said, "Yeah, fine, see ya around."
She fought tears as she went back to her work, and Merle Dixon headed down to Lucky's.
The boys there could see the anger practically oozing from his pores the minute he walked in, and it only got worse as the evening progressed. Merle seemed determined to drink all the whiskey in the joint, and the more he drank the madder, the meaner, and the louder he got.
Of course, no one down at Lucky's knew what the hell had caused this sudden foul attitude and nasty demeanor Merle Dixon was displaying. No one could imagine the cause. They never considered it could be a woman. Hell no. Merle Dixon wasn't the kind to get all tore up over a woman.
Those boys would drop into a dead faint if they knew it was over something as minor as being turned down for a date.
Merle's sour behavior finally escalated to the point the bartender could not tolerate one more minute of it or him. He also couldn't get the man to leave. He wasn't inclined to call the cops to come and deal with Merle for him. That was bad for business. But things were getting nasty and the poor guy had to do something, so he gave up and did the only thing he knew to do. He called Merle's young brother, Daryl.
Daryl came down to Lucky's with a very large and well-muscled pal of his by the name of Abraham. Between the strong, and most importantly sober pair, they managed to carry Merle out of the place. Even though by the fight he was putting up it didn't appear he was ready to leave.
Thankfully, by the time they drove to his house Merle was passed out cold. They carried him in, laid him on his bed and called it good, a job well-done. Then they went back to Lucky's and celebrated their skillful work with cold beers, a couple of hot links and some pickled eggs. On the house.
In the meantime, while he was down at Lucky's getting drunk and being belligerent, Beth was home in her tiny apartment feeling sad, lonely and depressed.
She wasn't home alone, there was someone there with her, and she had more than enough to do to keep her occupied. But sometimes no matter how busy a person is, it isn't busy enough that you can stop thinking about what's hurting your heart.
Beth had that deep longing a woman gets when she misses having a man around. Not just any man. A man she finds interesting and attractive. A man she'd like to know better. A man with whom she thinks she might enjoy sharing her bed.
For Beth there was only one man who fit that bill, Merle Dixon.
It didn't matter that she felt that aching for him, or that she was sure he would be more than willing to share his time with her. She knew it shouldn't and couldn't happen. She couldn't let it. This wasn't just about what she wanted, or about temporary satisfaction.
Yet no matter her resolve, every time he asked her out it was that much more difficult to tell him "no," and every time she did say "no" to Merle the hurt went a little deeper.
As she was putting dinner on the table she thought about the first time she saw him. She had a wistful smile on her face when she pictured him walking in Cattle Rustlers that day. She remembered thinking how manly he looked. He was nothing like the men who usually frequented the place. Merle Dixon looked like a working man.
It looked good on him.
Like everyone else when they first walked in the place, she could see he was having a little trouble adjusting his eyes to the dim light. She just watched and waited until he chose a seat before beginning the walk to his table. The closer she got to him the more handsome she could see he was, and she felt herself smiling a genuine smile. Bigger and far more sincere than her usual "work smile."
He wasn't the pretty-boy type at all, but to her way of thinking he couldn't be more handsome and appealing. Gosh that smile of his. It seemed to span his entire face and although she didn't know quite how a person would word it, it was like his smile had personality.
She found everything about him so appealing. His build was so muscular and manly, his hands were strong and broad. His ice blue eyes seemed to sparkle and his curly hair appeared to be so soft. And then he spoke and oh my goodness, that voice. His gravelly drawl sent a shiver right through her.
He was a country boy; she was sure of that. Probably from the mountains. She was a country girl herself, from the farm.
Even dressed as nicely as he was, his appearance still came off as a little rough. Or maybe it was just obvious Cattle Rustlers wasn't his usual sort of place. He was polite and friendly though, and then those other two came in and sat with him.
She could tell right away they weren't his friends; it was a business lunch of some kind. And oh my gosh, that other guy was so rude. He had one hand up his girlfriend's skirt while he was looking at Beth and calling her Doll Baby. Eww. Those kinds of men were one of the worst things about her job.
She caught the apologetic look Merle gave her when that guy called her Doll Baby, that's how she knew it bothered him as much as it bothered her, even though he didn't say anything to the guy. She didn't expect him to but she liked that he was letting her know he was sorry.
When he came back the next time she was pretty sure the only reason he did was to see her. She liked that idea, a lot. She was happy to see him too, and hopeful he might ask her out. But as soon as he left the bartender, a fellow named Phillip, called her over.
He looked caring and concerned when he warned her, "I saw the way you and that guy were checking each other out Beth. Maybe it's not my business, and I probably shouldn't say anything, but I like you and I respect you. I'd like to believe you and I are friends. It's because we're friends that I wouldn't want to see anyone take advantage of you or hurt you in any way."
The look on his face was so serious, like it pained him to tell her these things, "That's why I'm letting you know Beth, he's a real shady character, and his reputation with women, well, let's just say that old expression, 'love em and leave em', was invented with guys like him in mind. He's left a lot of broken hearts in his wake. You'd end up being just another notch on his belt."
The warning had her face turning beet red and her tummy churning, and then he leaned closer to her and lowered his head. His voice was barely above a whisper and he looked like he was about to tell her someone had died. What he said hit her hard, "He's a known drug dealer, he even went to jail once."
Beth felt her heart break at Phillip's words. How was she to know the devious bartender had his own deceitful reasons for telling her those things? It had nothing to do with protecting her from Merle Dixon, he was only clearing the field to make his own move.
Not being aware of the real truth had her thanking him for warning her, while at the same time she felt crushed. She'd hoped maybe Merle was the guy she could finally trust enough to let into her life. It had been such a long time since she trusted anyone.
She'd had more trouble with men than she cared to think about, and her life seemed to have more than its fair share of struggles. It was all she could do to keep the rent paid and groceries in the fridge. Some weeks, when business and tips were slow, just scraping together enough money for a few groceries was a challenge.
At barely 22 years old she often felt so overwhelmed, and sometimes it got a little tough to imagine there would ever be a light at the end of the tunnel.
As tough as life was though, she wouldn't change things. She'd made a huge mistake in trusting the wrong person, but it didn't turn out all bad. There was some good that came of it. Still she's not about to let her guard down, she has no desire to make her life any harder. She definitely doesn't have time to waste on some guy who's just looking to party. And worse, some drug dealer. Oh my Dear God no. She had one terrible relationship she can't risk another.
He still seemed so nice though, and it didn't feel like he had any sort of nasty intent. He'd been so patient and polite, asking her out over and over even though she said no every time. Even when she turned him down for dates he didn't get mean or pushy, and a lot of guys would have. Could he really be such a good actor?
Or is she that easily fooled? She shook her head in bewilderment. She must be, because to her he seems so nice. He's always acted like a gentleman. Darn it, why couldn't Merle Dixon be the man she thought he was?
She had to think about what was best though. So, that day she'd told him flat out. She let him know she was never going to say yes, and that's when he finally got angry. He stood and threw his money down on the table and left in a huff.
She was a little stunned by the abrupt change in his behavior. Truth was, she was more hurt than angry. She wanted to be mad right back at him. Instead, she had to fight to keep from crying.
She supposed it was the last time she'd ever see Merle Dixon. What reason could he possibly have for coming back? She told herself she shouldn't care, that it was better for her if he didn't come back. Maybe she could finally quit pining over him, and maybe she'd even get interested in someone new.
Who was she trying to kid? She hadn't dated since all the trouble happened, and she had no plans of ever dating again. Merle was the only man since then who'd almost broken down her defenses.
Later that evening after dinner, after dishes and sorting laundry, when the little apartment was quiet, she got the bottle of red wine down from the cabinet above the fridge. She'd been saving it for a special occasion, she decided her broken heart was a special enough excuse. She vowed that night would mark the end of her constant daydreaming, the end of her little fantasy life with Merle Dixon.
She struggled with the cork but managed to get the bottle opened. She poured some wine in the one and only wine glass she owned, dimmed the lights and turned the radio on low. It created the perfect atmosphere for unsuccessfully trying to drink away hurt and loneliness.
He woke up Saturday morning with a head that felt like it was swollen to twice its normal size, and a throat so dry he could hardly swallow. He made an attempt to get up and go to the kitchen for the only sure cure he knew of, a hair of the dog. As soon as he raised his head off the pillow it felt like a marching band was marching right through it. "Dammit," he snarled as he forced himself up.
He didn't feel any pride in the fact he was still fully clothed. He didn't even have any recollection of how he'd gotten home. Although he seemed to remember Daryl being there. He snarled again, "Shit little brother, couldn't you at least pull a man's boots off?"
As bad as his head hurt nothing hurt worse than remembering the words she said, that she was never going to give him a shot. Maybe if he'd gotten a chance with her and messed that up he could have accepted it, but the fact he didn't even get a chance was making matters worse.
He was trying to walk as lightly as possible, but it still felt like every footstep increased the pounding in his head. He opened the fridge as quietly as he could and pulled out a cold bottle of beer. The first thing he did was press it to his forehead, it felt good against the throbbing. He got the bottle opener, popped the cap and had the beer down in three swallows.
He felt a little better, at least his hangover was better. It was his heart that wasn't doing so well.
He took a hot shower, cleaned himself up, and went back to bed.
By afternoon he was up and about again. He cooked himself a good meal and made a half-ass attempt at some of his Saturday chores. He threw a load of laundry in the washer and did the dishes. He filled the pickup with gas, went to the grocery store and stocked up for the week. When he got home, even though the weather had turned cold and it didn't need it, he cut the grass. He needed to stay busy.
All that time and energy staying busy didn't help one bit. Beth was still right there occupying his mind. It didn't matter what he did. He felt blue and disappointed and he was mad at himself for acting like an asshole with her. Worst of all was the overwhelming sadness he felt knowing he'd never see her again.
Sunday his brother came by early and they went out fishing. It was good, a diversion. But little brother noticed Merle's melancholy. As they sat there at the edge of the river with their lines in the water, Daryl asked, "What the hell's wrong Merle? I never seen ya so quiet. Friday night you was the shitfaced asshole ta beat all assholes, loud and ornery. Today you look like a fella whose dog just died. What's up?"
Merle did something he didn't make a habit of doing. It wasn't his way to talk about his feelings. Trouble was, these feelings just wouldn't sit. He had to get things off his chest. So Merle told Daryl about the blonde-haired waitress and all the times he'd been to see her, all the times he'd asked her out, and all the times she told him no. Including the last time she told him no.
Daryl shook his head, he was stunned by the story but mostly he was concerned for his brother, "Shit Merle, I never seen ya go after some gal like that. It ain't like ya at all. She must be sumthin' special. I'm sorry ya got your heart broke."
"Yeah, well just keep it to yourself brother. I don't want no one else knowin' my business."
Daryl smiled when he asked, "Who the hell ya think I'ma tell Merle, my barber?"
At least they had a laugh.
Friday night Beth stayed curled up in her chair, drinking the wine while listening to sad country songs about lost love and broken hearts. She finished all but a couple of swallows.
Saturday morning she was up early and paying the price. Her head pounded, her throat felt like cotton and her stomach was queasy. It didn't matter how bad she felt, she had responsibilities that had to be taken care of whether she felt up to it or not. Just like every other day.
She could do it. She knew she'd get through this day and the cleaning, the laundry, the cooking. What she didn't know was how in the hell she was going to survive the aching in her heart.
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A/N Everyone is just plain miserable. Me too. Please leave me a comment. There's a chapter photo on my tumblr blogs gneebee and bethylmethbrick, please check it out. I hope to see you back here next Saturday for more of Let Me Help. Until then stay safe and remember, I love ya large! xo gneebee