Seth

“You sure were hungry after all that work.”

Tom set the spoon back in the bowl a little guiltily. He had finished off three servings of pot roast, carrots, and potatoes in record time. His wine remained largely untouched, but he’d drunk down two tumblers worth of ice water. “The tractor took care of most of the work, but yes, I’m starved. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a true home-cooked meal. As far as I’m concerned, it’s Steve and Wayne’s loss.”

“Steve and Wayne?”

“My absentee buddies. They really did have something come up unexpectedly.” He sounded like he was trying to convince her of the truth of this, but it was unnecessary.

Jennifer nodded and rocked back gently on the porch swing. She and Tom had decided to take their meal outside seeing as how it was such a pleasant evening. The sunset had been one of the most spectacular she could ever remember seeing.

“More?” She indicated his empty bowl.

He shook his head. “I think I better pace myself and save some room for dessert.” He glanced over at her bowl, which was still fairly full. “If you want, I could bring you a slice. Just point me in the direction of the knives and forks.”

She was about to protest, but didn’t. Her appetite had been poor since Seth’s passing, and even when she did eat the food had lost all appeal to her. Tom glanced again at her nearly full bowl and seemed about to say something more, but didn’t.

She sighed and folded her arms to warm them against the chilly air. Dinner and the light conversation that followed had been a welcome balm to her. She didn’t want to spoil the mood by refusing his offer, and with a small smile, she held out her glass. “That sounds lovely. Would you mind refreshing my wine for me?”

“I’ll be right back.” For such a tall man he moved quickly and gracefully off of the rocking chair to her left. He took her glass from her and for a moment their hands touched.

It seemed then that the grief and loneliness threatened to engulf her but she quickly covered up her reaction by rubbing her hands together as if she were cold.

“Here.” Tom gallantly stripped off his suede jacket and draped it over her shoulders before she could protest. It was warm with his body heat and smelled faintly of a light, woodsy soap that was masculine but not overpowering.

“I…thank you.” It was like being hugged, she thought as she felt the weight and warmth of the jacket settle over her shoulders. Tom stood staring down at her and she cleared her throat. “The knives and forks are in the drawer to the left of the sink. Dessert plates are in the cabinet above the microwave.”

“Got it.” He had moved off before she could decide what the expression on his face had meant, if anything.

God, is this what loneliness does to people? Does it make them imagine there is more going on when this is just a perfectly normal dinner between neighbors?

True to his word, Tom returned a few minutes later with the pie, two dessert plates, a knife and two forks balanced on top of one another. Her glass had been refilled, and he carefully set it down on the wrought iron table next to the porch swing.

With sure, precise strokes he cut the pie into eighths and carefully levered out a slice for her. He placed the fork in the center of the slice with a flourish and she found herself smiling. He was obviously trying to lighten the mood after the awkwardness with the jacket, and she took the plate from him gratefully.

“Thank you.”

He nodded by way of acknowledgment, and they sat in silence while they ate. The pie was excellent, some sort of strawberry rhubarb combination.

Before she knew it, she had finished her piece without even realizing it. Tom continued to chew in silence, his eyes glancing at and away from her empty plate as if deciding what to do next.

Finally he set his fork down. “Seconds?”

“Sure. Why not?” She handed him her empty plate and he levered out another generous slice for her.

“If you like it that much, I can leave the rest here with you.” He made a dismissive gesture at the bakery box. “I don’t usually care for sweets, but this is quite good. I’d seen the advertisement for this place in town but never had a reason to stop in before.” He scraped up the last of the filling from his plate and sat back with a contented sigh.

It was only now that she saw the name stamped on the front of the box, Rhonda’s Treats n’ Sweets. It had been Seth’s favorite place to go, and it even had an ice cream parlor in the back.

“You ever been there before?” He motioned with his fork towards the box.

She took a slow sip of her wine. “It was Seth’s favorite place. The last birthday cake I ordered for him was from there.”

Tom set his fork down on the plate with a loud clatter. “I had no idea, I—”

She shrugged her shoulders and felt the weight and warmth of the jacket settle around her more firmly. “It’s fine. Really, it’s okay. It helps to talk about it from time to time. Keeping my feelings buried inside is doing more harm than good.” She was keenly aware of how loose the sweater and jeans were on her small frame, and she kept her eyes on her plate.

“You can if you want to. Talk about it, I mean. I may not be good for anything else, but I can listen well enough.”

“You don’t give yourself enough credit, Tom. You’ve done plenty just by being here.” She pushed the crust of the pie from side to side on her plate. “It gets so lonely being out here by myself.”

“I know a little about what that’s like.” He was rocking slowly back and forth thoughtfully. “I was married once, my high school sweetheart.”

Once, she thought. But not anymore, obviously.

“What happened?”

The rocking continued as he stared off across the pasture. “She died.” He paused and began to trace where his wedding band would have been. “It was my fault.” He exhaled sharply and shook his head, his expression hard. “I was stupid and careless, and my wife died as a result. Her family never forgave me, but what they failed to realize was that the blame I’d heaped on myself was far worse than the judgement they passed on me. That’s why I moved out here as far away from them and anything else that reminded me of her, only it wasn’t enough. I wake up sometimes thinking I hear her voice speaking to me even though I know I’m alone.” He met her gaze, his expression haunted and full of pain. “Is that what it’s like, to feel so much guilt over someone it’s as if they’re haunting you day after day?”

She swallowed past the lump in her throat. None of the rumors in town had even come close to what he was revealing to her now, yet she understood exactly what he was going through.

“It can at first, but it doesn’t have to be. When Seth died my husband Gerald blamed me for his death. He told me that if I’d gone with him while he was out exploring then he wouldn’t have fallen. I’d have at least been there to render aid or call for help, but Hutch—Dr. Hutchins—reassured me that he was dead before he landed in the dry river bed. It was an accident and there was nothing anyone could have done to save him.”

She could feel the tears streaming down her cheeks and she bowed her head. “I know that my son loved me and I love him more than anything in this world. He was my miracle, my treasure, but now…the memory of him seems more a curse than anything else. Does that make me a horrible person, to wish that he had somehow not existed so that I wouldn’t have to feel this pain and guilt day after day?”

“No, it makes you human. When Amanda was killed I went into a deep depression. I drove everyone away and shut myself off from the world. I even went so far as to give all of her things away and burned all the photographs of ourselves together. None of that did anything to help me forget, and rather than face the truth of what I’d done—that I’d been too drunk to drive yet I did it anyway—I chose to run away. When I held you back and prevented you from seeing your son the way that he was you called me a bastard. Amanda’s family more or less said the same thing to me the night she was killed, so in a way I guess you were both right.”

That explains why he hardly touched his wine.

“Well, regardless of what they said or what you believe, you are not a horrible person, much less a bastard. I only said that because I was frightened and upset, but I didn’t mean it. You spared me the pain and trauma of seeing my son like that, and I can never repay you for what you did. You chose to take that on for reasons which even today I still can’t fathom.”

The rocking chair continued to creak rhythmically as he swayed back and forth, considering her words. “I saw the result of my actions when it came to Amanda—after the accident, I mean. Seeing something like that, especially someone you love reduced to only so much….” His expression darkened as if he seeing something terrible flash before his eyes. “It changes you. It makes it harder to see the good in things or to believe that happiness can ever be yours again. I don’t know, I just couldn’t let that happen to you, especially when I was in a position to prevent it.”

They sat there in silence for some time, each lost in their thoughts. In all honesty, Jennifer didn’t know how to respond to what he had just said, much less admitted to. She had felt as if a terrible and unbreakable darkness had come into her life, cutting her off from friends, family, the outside world since Seth’s passing. There were no illusions of it ever abating, especially when she seemed unable—or unwilling—to let the past go and to finally lay Seth’s memory to rest. His room remained exactly as it had the day he died, and as for Gerald’s things, they were stacked all over her dining room table at this very moment.

Darkness she knew. Despair? She had been wallowing in it for seven months, and as for believing that happiness would never be hers again? Glancing over at Tom as he continued to rock back and forth, his jaw set in a firm line as he stared off into the night, she felt a kindred spirit in him. A fence may have separated them as surely as her own misguided prejudices, but it seemed that their shared grief had united them in a way she hadn’t anticipated.

“It’s getting late. How about you help me with the dishes? You are partially responsible for all of this you know.”

The rocking came to a halt and she could have sworn she saw the ghost of a smile on his face. He turned to her and began gathering up the plates and bowls. “I’ll wash and you dry?”

She nodded. “We’ll be finished before you know it. I’ll even pack you some leftovers to take home.”

“That sounds great. I’ll be sure to return the Tupperware when I’m finished, that is, if you don’t mind me darkening your doorstep again.”

“No, I don’t mind at all.”