CHAPTER TWO: A GOOD DROUGHT
In the middle of the streets of Eden,
the four winds blow.
I've been living underneath the shadow,
of my father's soul -
here and gone.
I'm here and gone.
Ain't it funny how the road that made you
you can't outrun?
Ain't it funny how the place that saves you
will burn you up?
(Here & Gone, Mississippi Twilight)
SUNDAY
JASPER
The paperwork never ends. It takes up all the evenin' I should be spendin' out in the fields, closing the ranch down for the night with the rest of my men. That's my job. That's my duty. Not this — not monotonous, never-ending bureaucracy. This was Dad's work. Or Rose's, in a pinch. Never me. I'm a horse trainer by trade, not some big-wig lawyer. I don't even know what half these words mean.
By the end of the tenth page my left hand has totally cramped, but I still got an inch high stack of documents to go through. I drop my pen on the table, stretching out long, angry fingers. I can't sign my name one more Goddamn time.
I've missed dinner by now. Probably for the best. Savin' pennies here 'n there might just keep this place afloat. It might be the only way, honest. At this point, I'm not sure what else I can do. We'll be selling off land by the end of the year.
Tonight especially, I feel like a modern day Job. Everythin' just gets taken away from me, bit by bit, piece by piece. My faith is being tested. Not in God — that faith was never too strong anyway — but my faith in the Whitlock name. Am I strong enough? Do I have it in me? Will I honour the family legacy when all Hell breaks loose? When I lose everyone I love — every soul that's ever loved this place — will I stay loyal to this land?
I'm the only one left to take charge. The future of the Whitlock name has been left in my incapable, overworked hands. I don't have much of a choice but to stay loyal. I'll keep losing. Take it all, I think, take it all but this house. I'll never let another man destroy this. My eyes dart up and away from the mahogany table top, takin' in the grand room around me. These walls are all I've ever known — the red wood and grey stone, iron chandeliers and thick, fur rugs — it's home. Home is a place I'm proud of. It's the only thing I am proud of in this backwards world.
Sadness holds a vice grip 'round my throat.
I push back from the table, chair legs scraping hard against the stone floor. Across the room, I pick up my father's decanter of scotch, and pour myself a too-big glass. The alcohol soothes my sadness. It burns beautifully in my empty stomach.
My eyes close. I see her. Bluntly cut black hair. Pale blue eyes. Furrowed brows. Alice. I'm endlessly thankful for Alice. Eight people spendin' a full week on the ranch means good, hard earned money for me and the boys. It's unusual, to say the least — lettin' a group of models wander around the property dressed in God knows what — but any business is good business.
I take another drink. The sadness shakes off long enough for me to get back to work.
An inch of paperwork later, the world around me has fallen asleep. Darkness creeps in every window. Silence hangs like a curtain between me and the real world. For a second, I actually feel peaceful. I sit back in my chair, letting my eyes drop shut. The silence is broken by a muffled roll of thunder 'n my eyes snap open. Through the black door, I can see that the night sky has turned a dark, mauvey grey. The clouds are suddenly illuminated by a flash of sheet lightning. Maybe — at the very least — it'll finally rain. We need it badly.
I rise from my spot at the table and approach the back door, openin' it just as another roar of thunder shakes the earth. I watch in wait as the storm grows nearer, as the sky grows heavier above. After a few minutes my body grows tired and my patience wears thin. I decide either the rain's not comin' at all, or she's takin' her sweet damn time. One way or another, the ranch will stay put until the morning. I should rest before the sun starts crawlin' up again.
My alarm doesn't wake me up.
It's a loud bang.
I jolt up 'n out of bed in an instant, breathing hard and ready for trouble. The noise goes again, all but shakin' the walls around me. Regardless, my heart settles down behind my ribs. It's only thunder, rolling directly over the house.
Oh, it's rainin' now. Pouring.
My father's voice rings in my ears: a good drought always ends with a flood.
The clock beside me flashes bright red — 3: 41 AM. I hope Peter's remembered to close the stables for the night. There's a few new foals who wouldn't fare so well against a storm. Not much I can do about it now, but maybe I should go double check anyways. See the damage from out on the porch, at least. I stretch out my tired, achy body, takin' my sweet time in moving away from the comfort of my own bed.
I tug my bedroom door open, and that's when I hear a voice fightin' hard against the storm. Something rattles downstairs, like fists banging on a window. It takes a moment, when realization hits it strikes hard— shit. Someone's outside. Sounds like one of the girls. I hurry back into my room and grab the first shirt I can find. I rush puttin' the thing on, cotton scratching hard against my sunburnt back. I'm downstairs in a flash, flippin' on every light switch I pass.
From the entrance to the dinin' room I can see her clearly.
It's Alice. She's soppin' wet.
I all but run through the grand old room, forcing open the french doors as fast as I can. Thank God I left the porch light on. The poor woman would be lost in the rain otherwise.
"Get in here!" I shout, makin' sure she can hear me over the wind and the rain. I can feel my face goin' tight with concern when the little woman doesn't immediately move to follow me back into the house. She's shaking her head, trying to push wet hair out of her face. I feel like I'm in a dream. "C'mon —"
"No," she argues, trying to pull me out from my warm, dry house. Her hands are clammy. "No — there's a hole. There's a leak. My roof is leaking. I was asleep and it just gave out," Alice shouts back.
Seriously? She ran out in the rain for a little water in her room? Seems pretty counterproductive to me. I let out a heavy sigh, posture crumblin' at the onslaught of information. "Okay. Just — come in." I make way for Alice to enter my house again, and finally, hesitantly, she does.
"I'm sorry," Alice whispers, huggin' herself tightly. She takes one step into the house, then another, finally lettin' me close the door behind her. She pipes up again, sayin', "I don't want to wake anyone up." Her blue eyes dart around the room. I wonder what anyone she's referrin' to. I'm the only anyone in here.
I shake my head at her in response, too distracted to say much else. Under proper light, I can see that she's wearin' next to nothin'. Tiny grey shorts and a t-shirt — both drenched and clingin' to her skin — and a pair of sneakers coated in a thick layer of mud. Her teeth are chatterin'. It's pathetic, and beautiful, and arousing, somehow.
"Jesus Christ — hold on," I finally manage to grumble.
I return with the throw off the couch, unfolded and outstretched for Alice to take. She does, rather enthusiastically, and wraps the thing tight around her shoulders. "Thank you," she breathes, voice regaining a little calm.
"You couldn't wait until sunrise?" I ask her. It comes off sharp. Tired. I'm still strugglin' to look her dead on.
Her head turns, eyes snapping back to stare me down. She's frowning. That catches my full attention. "No, Jasper, I couldn't wait. There's —like, half the roof caved in."
"Wait -what?"
"I tried to—"
Fuck. Before she can finish, I'm runnin' off to grab my Wellies from the front door.
"Jasper!" She shouts. For such a small person, Alice has quite the voice. She'd do well in a big open place like this.
I shove my feet into boots and grab my jacket off the hook. On the way back to Alice, I grab a flashlight from a cabinet in the dinin' room. "Where'd it cave?" I ask, movin' all the while.
"Over the table. Jasper, I —"
"Here, take this," I say, handing Alice the flashlight. She complies, shakin' in place while I do up my old coat.
"I'm coming with you," she suddenly says. I laugh at the mere suggestion of it.
I pull open the back door and turn back to Alice, tuggin' the flashlight out of her little hands. "Stay right here. I'll be back."
"No. My stuff! All my work is out there still. I can help — "
"It's okay," I reply in a rush. "I'll get it."
I close the door on little Alice before she can argue my decision. Another pair of hands would be useful, but tellin' her what to do would just take more time. I'd need someone else. Someone taller, at the very least. Peter. Maybe that photographer Alice brought along — whatever his name was — he was big. Could be useful.
The rain is comin' down heavy, almost blowing sideways from the wind. I run with my head down, goin' towards the tool shed beside the barn. There's a tarp somewhere in there. It'll help for now. Mud kicks up around me, stickin' my boots firmly to the ground with every step. By the time I get to the shed I'm soaked head to toe, my raincoat a rather useless shield against the elements. Inside, I find the tarp quickly with the help of my flashlight, and a moment of protection against the weather. Once I've accomplishment my find, I tumble towards the door. But I hesitate to head back into the storm. My hair is soakin', my back is wet, my boots are flooding. Maybe I'm not Job. Maybe I'm Noah, and this is my flood. I glare at the sky, towards a God I haven't believed in for a long time. A little warning would've been nice, I shoot in His direction.
"Jasper!?" I hear, the woman's voice unmistakable even against the fightin' wind. It's Alice. I rush back outside - tarp in one hand, light in the other. My body immediately tenses against the cold.
I find Alice out in the rain, standin' only a few feet behind me. Wearing — or drownin' in — my father's jacket. Somethin' angry curls within me. Why can't this woman listen? "What did I say?" I yell back. "Go back inside!"
She huffs at me and turns her head indignantly, as if to say: do as you will, then proceeds to stomp right by me. Part of me is surprised she can even stand up in this God awful wind. I'm stuck to the spot watchin' her until a drop of rain manages to sneak its way down the back of my neck. I shiver, and it frees me to run after that strange, bull-headed woman.
Even from half an acre away, I can see the damage Alice was talkin' about. My heart jumps into my throat, all too big to be comfortable. Too big to breathe. Good Lord. Half the roof has been knocked in by a thick broken branch, leaving a gaping wide hole. If that roof had failed anywhere else, or if the branch had gone through a window - Alice wouldn't be standin' beside me right now. I'm frowning so hard my face hurts. This measly old tarp isn't going to fix anythin'.
"Come with me," I say to Alice, my voice raised against the rain. I usher her towards the cabin and for the first time tonight, Alice actually follows my suggestion. "Be careful," I tell her, pushing the boundaries of my authority, "it's not sound." She nods her hood-clad head. We both wade into the cabin, workin' through at least an inch of water.
Alice splashes through the room, collecting armfuls of fabric into wet, open bags. I flash the light around, tryin' my best to help her while quietly assessin' the damage. My light eventually lands on a pile of black, hardcover books - sketchbooks? Portfolios? - full of soaked papers, splayed out 'n all but melting into the hardwood floor.
"Oh my god," Alice groans despondently. Her eyes are trained on the same pile, mouth hanging open in disbelief. "No — no, no, no." She hurries over to the circle of lit space beside the bed, peeling each piece up with a slow, delicate touch.
Whatever she's trying to save, it seems pretty pointless. And even inside, we're both gettin' soaked. The roof above us creaks. "Alice!" I push, tryin' to hurry her along.
"I need these," she replies, soundin' desperate.
I consider arguin' it for a split second, but I have a feelin' it won't get me very far with Alice. I decide to grumble my approval at her and move on, finishin' up the work she'd started with all the clothes. All the while, I can't help but think, this is it. This repair is gonna set me back a few thousand dollars. At least. She's gonna pack up all her shit and leave, too. With all of 'em, so there goes payroll. Where's that money gonna come from? What am I gonna do? And she could've gotten seriously hurt! What the hell would you have done then?
"Okay," Alice says, dragging me out of my reverie.
I stop my worryin' long enough to look at her. She's standin' by the door, tuckin' wet papers into every pocket the jacket has. I'm sure she's got those books zipped up under there, too.
I shove a handful of rather … lacy garments into a backpack open beside the couch. I close the thing and sling it over my shoulder. "I'll grab your cases," I say, before thrustin' the flashlight in Alice's direction. "We'll get you settled back in the house and I'll uh, come back 'n figure this out."
Alice glances up at the hole in her cabin roof, face twisted with concern. "I'll bunk with Carmen and Tanya," Alice decides, turning her head to look at me again. "We'll drop my stuff off next door and I'll come back to help—"
What is her problem? I've never met someone who needs to be so damn involved with every little thing. Any other person would be running for civilization, but Alice - Alice stands here lookin' guilty, like she willed Mother Nature to wreak havoc on our little slice of paradise and now it's her job to fix it.
I shake my head.
"Come back to the house," I firmly suggest, "we'll figure the rest out in the mornin'. No point wakin' the whole world up now, and there's no way I'm gettin' up on that roof before the storm eases off. "
Alice scoffs at my insistence, but her demeanour changes fast when another roll of thunder shakes the cabin around us. I bet the big house is lookin' pretty sturdy right about now, I think. I sure as Hell want to be there.
The woman succeeds, noddin' her head in agreement before turning herself to face the front door. "Alright," Alice submits, her voice teeterin' towards anxious. She shines the light out into the storm, illuminatin' barely five feet in the distance. The rain is still comin' down in an uninterrupted sheet. I can sense her hesitation from all the way across the room.
I suck in a deep breath of wet air. I'm no more eager to head out there than Alice is, but one of us has to move first. I play gentleman, walkin' until I'm right in front of her, shieldin' her tiny body from the rain that splashes at our feet. I tighten my grip on both of Alice's cases.
"You ready to make a run for it?" I ask, throwin' a quick glance her way.
Alice lets out an incredulous - kind of hysterical - laugh. "Yeah, I guess," she says.
We both dart into the night, runnin' down my now swampy path towards the main house. Thunder rolls again, followed by a particularly sharp snap of lightning. Alice shrieks beside me, and picks up her pace significantly. Despite the chaos of it all, I'm laughin'.
So is she.
Once we're both huddled under the cover of the back porch, I drop Alice's bags to the ground. "Take off your shoes," I instruct, doin' the same myself. My once navy boots are muddied from toe to top.
Alice makes a disgruntled noise beside me. I peek up to spot her droppin' one of her muddy sneakers like it had bit her. "That was white this morning," Alice explains, all in a huff.
I have to laugh again. "You seem more upset 'bout the damn shoes than you did a tree makin' itself comfortable in your livin' room."
"They were brand new!"
"That cabin was a hundred years old!" I throw back.
"Due for an update." Alice is quick on her feet in more ways than one.
How in God's name does she have me smilin' right now? I try to supress the reaction as best I can, in favour for a more neutral expression. It seems more fittin', considering my circumstance. That is - I'm rightfully fucked. "Right," I say. I open the door and retrieve her bags once again, lugging the heavy, wet mounds into the dining room. I set them down with a wet and weighty squelch.
Alice toes into the house, awkwardly making her way out of my father's jacket as she does. I see that I'd assumed correctly earlier. While one hand fumbles with the zipper, the other is still clutching the jacket to her chest, holdin' up the books she had desperately needed from back inside the cabin. "Here," I say, "give 'em to me."
Alice stops tryin' to unzip the coat and instead pulls the books out from what she'd undone so far. I take them in both my hands, surprised to find they'd arrived decently dry. I set them on the table before reaching out again for the coat. Alice gives it to me.
Holdin' it in my hands, I can still smell my father's scent clear as day. Scotch. Cigarettes. Sap. Mud. My throat tightens.
"Thank you for letting me borrow that," Alice says shamefully.
I look back to her, forcin' a tight-lipped smile on my face. "It's alright," I say. I hang the jacket over a chair to dry and turn back to the small, trembling woman. "Come on now," I say, "let's get you upstairs. I'm sure my sister's got something you can wear."
Alice straightens up beside me, brows raising toward her hairline. "You've got a sister here?" She asks, sounding ... surprised? Relieved?
"Not here," I quickly amend, "Rose lives in Houston. Her room's still here. I'm sure there's somethin' in there you can borrow for now. Somethin' dry." Alice lets out a weighted breath, but follows me along to Rosalie's room without comment. I left all her wet belongings at the back door - where they won't trail water all through the house - so when I drop Alice off at her new room, she has nothin' but her cold, damp self.
She looks straight past me into Rosalie's room, a grateful smile stretched across her face. I watch her blue eyes dart from the graciously sized bed to the long, white dresser lining the east wall, to the adjoining bathroom. Then Alice looks back in my direction. "This is beautiful," Alice comments. "This was your sister's room? My whole apartment could fit in here."
I let out a nervous laugh, a hand flying up to rub the back of my neck. "A little bit of an upgrade from the cabin, huh?" She lets out a gratified laugh, takin' her first steps into the room. I hover awkwardly by the door, watchin' as she noses her way around the large bedroom. Alice jolts when she catches herself in a mirror, her pleased expression fallin' into horror.
"Oh," she groans out, rubbin' dirt off her face.
"There's a shower in the back. Pajamas should be in the drawer. I think. You can - uh - you can dig around if you need to. Rose 'll never know the difference." God - what am I doing? Rosalie would castrate me if she knew I was offering up her bedroom to a total stranger. Alice digests this information piece by piece, watching me in the reflection of the mirror. She smiles at me, but it only makes her look more tired. I'd do just about anything to make her day one degree easier. "I should leave you to sleep, if you can," I mutter, reciprocating her smile. "Your stuff should be a little less wet in the morning, and we can get it all out and dry."
"Right," Alice says. Her smile falters again. "We've both got to be up soon."
There's no way I'm tellin' her I'm already up for the day. "Right," I parrot.
I give the doorframe a good, hard squeeze and then release it, standing up straight. "Alright, Ms. Alice. I'll leave you to it."
She turns around in a flash. "Hey wait," she calls, stoppin' me dead in my tracks. "Thank you, Jasper. Really. This is - this is very generous of you."
"Please don't mention it," I quickly reply, puttin' my smile back on. My name sounds nice on her lips, when she says it all soft like that. "I'm just glad you're okay."
"Yeah," Alice agrees, arms wrapping around her little frame protectively. "Me too."
I watch her for one more second before decidin' I have to leave. There's work to be done. "G'night, Alice," I say, movin' to close the bedroom door for her.
"Goodnight, Jasper," she replies, that sweet voice embracing my name again.
Back in the dinin' room, I can hear her lithe footsteps wanderin' around upstairs. It's nice not havin' an empty house.
Nicer than I'd like to admit.
A/N: I was planning on having this up like, 12 hours ago, but this will do! I'm hoping to be updating twice a week from now on, usually once mid-week and once on the weekend! 3 thanks to everyone for my reviews & favourites so far ~!