The Lovesick Cure Page 7

  She’d run into trouble with that at a school board mixer shortly after getting engaged. She’d been happy and relaxed, chatting with a small group. Somehow the conversation had gotten around to Jesse’s classroom. She’d only talked a moment or two about their projects in earth science, but it had been enough to spark an argument on the drive home.

  “You just can’t blurt out this stuff,” Greg had said to her. “It’s dangerous to have you go on about the Permian and the Carboniferous when there are powerful people on the school board who continue to believe that the earth has only been here for 6,000 years. When you so casually suggest that it’s a hundred times older, it draws attention to you in a controversial way. We can’t have that. You and I can’t have that. No controversy!”

  Jesse did not consider settled science to be a controversy, but she had apologized and dutifully taken great pains to think before she spoke and stifle the urge to inform outside the classroom. Only with her students was she free to talk about plate tectonics or continental drift, only there could she openly marvel over the faunal succession revealed in a core. And losing her job had taken away even that outlet.

  The upside of her current situation came sweeping in like a fresh breeze. Now she could talk about anything she liked. She could voice any opinion that appealed to her. Amazed, she felt the evidence of that freedom suddenly lighten her heart. Yes, she still loved Greg. She would miss Greg. But she was not going to miss being married to the principal.

  “You’re welcome to it,” she told Sarah’s blog photo and then childishly stuck out her tongue.

  Jesse clicked out of her email and got up to look for the toilet. What was it that Aunt Will had said? “No matter the heartbreak a person still has to eat.” That applied, she decided, to all other bodily functions, as well.

  She found the bathroom between the two bedrooms. She entered from the empty bedroom side and quietly tiptoed through to shut the door to the room where Aunt Will was sleeping. It was only as she turned toward the toilet that she noticed the bathtub. Jesse thought her eyes might bug out of her head. It was oblong metal with wood trim around the edges, raised up on a dais with what looked like a fire grate beneath it. The curved metal was connected with oversize rivets.

  “Good grief,” she muttered to herself. She couldn’t imagine that the guy downstairs was into steampunk chic. This thing had been in this room for a really long time. Using it would be akin to taking a bath in a cement mixer. But she had to admit to herself, that cement mixer was sounding pretty good. The sponge baths might work for cleanliness, but there was nothing like lounging in a big tub of steamy hot water.

  The guy had said she could borrow her bathtub.

  She needed to stop thinking of him as “the guy.” He had a name, at least sort of. Doc Piney. Jesse hated it. But the good news was that any contact between them would be minimal, and she could avoid calling him anything. As she washed her hands in the sink, she went back to thinking of him as “the guy.”

  As she unobtrusively explored “the guy’s” apartment, she got an image of him that was conclusively not steampunk chic. The ancient, well-worn wallpaper and ratty curtains were perhaps more shabby chic or maybe just plain shabby. The guy’s wife was either one hundred and twelve or he had no wife at all.

  The kitchen tilted it to the latter. Even in the depths of the Ozarks, Jesse was sure that a husband with a job would be expected to provide better than putrid green laminate and forty-year-old appliances.

  Since Aunt Will was asleep in the main bedroom, Jesse checked out the other one. Or rather, she peeked inside. The piles of dirty gym clothes, shoes, books and video games did not bear close inspection. She was reminded of her brothers’ rooms, where it was always easier to find a shirt on the floor than in the closet.

  Finally she made her way out to the porch where she took a seat on the swing. Because it was in the back, the view was not the best. There was no expansive valley to gaze at, or peaks in the distance. But for Jesse it was fine. From the distance across the little yard, she studied the karst visible in the side of the mountain.

  A karst, in its most simplistic definition, was a weak spot beneath the surface, so worn away by the flow of water through it that it had collapsed from the mere weight of the ground above. The Ozarks had a very karst-ridden topography. The ancient white limestone of the oldest mountain range in North America was so hollowed out by the hydro erosion that it bore a striking resemblance to Swiss cheese. The fact that generations of mountain people had lived off this bitter excuse for land was an improbable truth.

  “There is no place more beautiful than the Ozarks,” Jesse’s dad used to say about settling his family so far from his kin. “But beauty’s not much of a nourishing meal.”

  The screen door to the apartment creaked as Aunt Will joined her on the porch.

  “I wondered where you’d gotten off to.”

  “Just sitting here thinking,” Jesse answered.

  Aunt Will’s voice was stern. “I hope you’re not wasting a minute ruminating on that man that wronged you.”

  “No,” she answered. “Actually I was thinking about rocks. And about my dad.”

  Aunt Will nodded and seated herself beside Jesse on the swing. “I think about him almost every day,” the old woman told her. “It used to make me sad and like to cry, but not so much anymore. More often than not these days, when my boy comes to mind, I laugh or smile, even if I might tear up a bit.”

  Jesse reached out to hug the old woman. She was her father’s closest relative and Jesse remembered how much he had loved her.

  “You took care of my dad through a lot of his childhood, didn’t you?”

  “I did,” Aunt Will agreed. “I loved him from the day he was born and raised him the best I knew how.”

  “What happened to his parents?”

  Aunt Will turned to look at her thoughtfully for a long moment. “Life happened to his parents,” she answered. “Life happened. Just like it happens to you and Piney and nearly everybody else. Life with all its twists and turns and detours, unexpected complications and events out of your control.” Aunt Will shook her head. “When you go back to Tulsa, DuJess, I want you to tell your friends who are so busy making their plans for the future, that an authentic Ozarks Granny Woman told you the meaning of life.”

  Jesse was trying to take that in when she heard a chuckle from beyond the porch.

  “It might be a boost to tourism, Aunt Will. Maybe we’d get all those weird city people with their robes and tambourines making pilgrimages up here. I’ll sell the T-shirts.”

  Jesse looked up to see the teenager from the photos on the guy’s desk. He was even taller than he’d looked in the pictures, very nice looking, in an adolescent kind of way, and with a smile reminiscent of his father’s.

  “It might be the best living to find on this mountain,” Aunt Will answered. “Come over here and give me a kiss. I’ve missed the sight of you.”

  The young man bent low to dutifully plant a peck on the old woman’s cheek. “I’m sorry I haven’t been by to visit,” he said. “School and basketball and all, it’s really busy right now. Maybe Cammy and I will hike up there one Saturday.”

  “I’d like that,” Aunt Will told him. “That’d be real fine. Have you met DuJess?”

  “Hi,” he said, with a wave in lieu of a handshake. “Tree Baxley.”

  “Tree?”

  He shrugged. “It’s an Ozark thing, don’t even ask.” His smile was infective.

  “Can you sit with us a spell?” Aunt Will asked.

  “Nope, sorry. I’ve got to get some groceries in me and get back to the school. We’re playing Calico Rock tonight.”

  Aunt Will nodded. “Didn’t I hear they won state?”

  Tree shook his head. “The girls’ team won state. The boys are good, but unless they pull in a ringer, they aren’t growing them as tall as me over there.”

  Aunt Will chuckled. “Lordy, lordy. I haven’t seen a basketball game since your
daddy was playing, DuJess.” She glanced again at Tree. “Do they still serve those hot dogs at the concession stand?”

  “They do serve hot dogs,” Tree agreed.

  “Then I believe I’ll go to the basketball game and have me a hot dog for supper.”

  9

  Jesse had been surprised and slightly embarrassed about attending the basketball game; inviting oneself along was bad enough, but attending a public event, elbow to elbow with others was not something she wanted to do this week. Since learning that the lingering stench of the awful poultice was not limited to her own nostrils, Jesse cringed at the thought of subjecting total strangers to her bad smell. But Aunt Will had plainly decided that she wanted to go and no one was about to tell her otherwise.

  “Piney can take us,” she’d said. “Afterward he can drive us up the mountain in his truck.”

  If the guy had any objection, he didn’t voice it. Instead he’d readily agreed to Aunt Will’s request. Tree, who’d made a batch of pancakes for himself and wolfed them down with such speed one might have thought it was a contest, left early to catch a ride with a friend. Piney had to finish up the consults and orders with Dr. Mo. When they finally arrived at the giant metal building that served as the high school’s gymnasium, it appeared that the game was underway.

  “The girls play first,” Piney informed her. “We’ve only missed a few minutes.”

  He offered Aunt Will his arm. It was a polite, formal gesture, but it was functional, as well. The older woman’s steps became more sure and she no longer required the stick she typically leaned upon.

  Jesse followed the two of them across the graveled parking area. Even before they made it to the entrance, she could already hear the activity inside, the sound of a hundred pairs of feet synchronized upon the bleachers. Stomp. Stomp. “De-fense!” Stomp. Stomp. “De-fense!”

  The ticket taker at the door greeted Aunt Will with great deference.

  “You still keeping roosters, Armon?” she asked the man.

  “From time to time,” he answered. “From time to time.”

  “I’ll be hoping that none of those times gets you into trouble,” Aunt Will told him.

  “All the prayers you’d want to put up on my behalf are appreciated,” he assured her and then announced, “Anyone over eighty gets in free.”

  Jesse was rifling through her purse as the two moved on ahead. “Go on in, honey,” the ticket taker told her.

  She glanced up at the sun-browned face. The strip of pale skin visible along his receding hairline indicated a life lived in a cap.

  “I’m not eighty,” Jesse pointed out.

  “No sir-ree,” the man agreed and gave her a playful wink and what was obviously meant as a saucy grin, the latter largely spoiled by a missing front tooth. “Doc Piney’s done paid you up. Now, don’t get your fem-nizm worked up. Here in theses hills, the men mostly pay. Most don’t mean to try to collect nothing on it later. Doc Piney for sure don’t. The man’s a monk. But I could probably be talked out of my next wife if you got an interest in that direction.”

  Jesse stared at the man for nearly half a minute, uncertain how to respond to that. She finally settled on a polite, “No, thank you.”

  She hurried to catch up with Aunt Will and Piney as they made it inside the main door of the seating area. There was suddenly, inexplicably, a perceptible change in the atmosphere. It wasn’t as if the place quieted. The game continued, but it was almost as if the crowd was somehow distracted by the sight of an old woman being escorted to her seat. The referee’s whistle signaled a time-out, as if play couldn’t even continue until Aunt Will was in place.

  There were nods of greeting from person after person. At about midcourt, a man came to his feet.

  “Take my spot, Aunt Will,” he said. “I can see better from up top anyway.”

  The people around him began scooting in opposite directions, creating a spot on the first row of bleachers, wide enough to accommodate the three of them.

  Jesse profusely thanked the woman beside her. As a teacher, she’d been around school events enough to know that it was bad form to show up late. But to walk in, during the game and then be given the best seats in the building was downright embarrassing.

  Aunt Will didn’t appear to notice. She was smiling brightly, looking very happy to be there.

  “Our team is the one in purple,” she informed Jesse. Appreciating her aunt’s obvious delight, Jesse scooted closer in her direction, attempting to put as much breathing space as possible between herself and the strangers around her.

  Jesse dutifully watched the game. She’d never had much interest in P.E., opting for noncompetitive swimming in both high school and college. But her life as a middle school teacher had meant sitting through untold numbers of athletic events. She knew enough about the game to realize that the girls of the purple team were getting creamed. That fact, however, did not seem to deter the hometown crowd who cheered wildly at every possible opportunity. And when mistakes occurred, they were quick to move from a moan of pain back to their stomping for “De-fense!”

  Jesse recognized her teenage cousin from the health food store. Karen, Carrie, Kathy…she couldn’t quite recall the girl’s name. The pale, Goth look she’d nurtured was completely spoiled by the color in her cheeks from chasing up and down the court.

  “Are you about ready for that hot dog?” she heard the guy ask Aunt Will.

  When she indicated assent, he reached across her to grab Jesse’s hand.

  “Come with me.”

  She followed him back down the sideline and through the door toward the concession stand. There was a short line and they took a place at the back of it. Standing next to Piney, she realized that he was actually taller than she’d thought. He had none of the long lankiness that she associated with height. His neck and shoulders were not overly muscled, but his arms did seem to pretty adequately fill the sleeves of the zipped hoodie he was wearing. His chest was not exceptionally broad, but it narrowed into nicely flat abs and a trim waist. His thighs were thick and solid, like a man who knew how to stand his ground. Jesse followed the length of them down long calves, then back up again, mentally noting where the dark denim puckered and where it pulled tight.

  She jerked her head up, startled. She’d been staring at his crotch. Had he seen her staring at his crotch? He was smiling at her. Not a sexy, knowing smile. Not that kind of saucy self-satisfied grin that says, Have I awakened your inner slut? No, his demeanor was polite, friendly. There was no heat in his gaze.

  They glanced at each other awkwardly. Jesse flailed for something to say.

  “I think our team is losing,” she said.

  Piney nodded. “Calico Rock is a much bigger school,” he said. “And their team won the state championship last year, so our girls are just doing the best that they can. The boys’ game will be closer, but it’s still tough going. It’s not conference play. For that, big schools play big schools and small ones play small ones. This is what they call a ‘traditional game.’ The two teams have been playing each other since the first high schools were built. Nobody wants to give it up now, even if their enrollment is now five times the size of ours.”

  Jesse nodded.

  Someone stepped in line behind them and she immediately put some distance between herself and the newcomers.

  Piney looked at her curiously. He glanced back at the man behind them and then leaned closer to speak softly.

  “Some of our folks may look and act a bit different from what you’re used to in town,” he whispered. “But you’re perfectly safe.”

  Jesse was incredulous. “It’s not that,” she told him. “I’m clear that most of these people are relatives of mine. But now that I know that I stink, I’m trying not to inflict myself on anyone.”

  He closed his eyes in disgrace. “I am so sorry,” he told her again. “I can’t believe I blurted that out like I did.”

  “If you hadn’t I wouldn’t know and I’d been walking around hum
iliating myself without realizing it.”

  “I’m sure that even if somebody does smell it, they would never associate that stink with a beautiful young woman like you.”

  “You did,” Jesse responded, ignoring his compliment.

  “Because I recognized it,” he said. “That stinking poultice is one of Aunt Will’s specialty cures. She doesn’t stir that up for everybody.”

  “Only the fortunate few,” Jesse said, facetiously. “Like me.”

  “And me.”

  “You?”

  “How else would I have recognized it?” He offered a sorrowful sigh of such overtly feigned excessiveness that Jesse giggled.

  “So you’ve suffered a broken heart, too.”

  He nodded and then answered with a grin, “My wife left me…twice.” He held up two fingers for emphasis.

  “So you’ve been married two times.”

  Piney shook his head. “Nope. I got my high school girlfriend pregnant. She was my one and only wife. She abandoned me and our baby when Tree was only sixteen months old. Ten years later, she shows up out of nowhere. No apology. No explanation. But she wants our marriage back. I forgive her, completely fall in love with her and marry her all over again. Three months after that, on a day not much different from any other, while our son’s in school and I’m downstairs working, she packs her bags and walks out on us just like she did the first time.”