“Beers.”
He drives the tractor around the back heading toward one of the back fields. So I start back toward their house down near the woods by the river. I owe those kids some play time like the awesome uncle I am.
I look around the property as I make my way across the fields alongside a gravel driveway they had laid since the last time I was here. It’s a nice house. Big, made for large families. It makes me curious how many kids they want. He’s already had two with one on the way, and we’re the same age.
We’re sowing seeds in different ways these days. Settling down looks as pretty as a picture when my head is clear of the noise pollution of the city. I don’t mind putting in a hardday’s work out here, but it’s not the life I want to live as a bachelor.
Would I choose this life otherwise?
That’s not a thought I’ve given room to breathe since before my mom died. It’s probably best if I don’t do it right now either. What’s the point?
I have a great career, an apartment with incredible views, endless options when I’m wanting company, and conveniences twenty-four seven. Peachtree Pass doesn’t even have a food delivery. Heck, there are only a couple of places in the entire county and the one next to Greene County to get food after five o’clock.
That chicken salad sandwich pops to mind. Tasty, like the woman who made it. I need to wipe this damn grin off my face before Chris catches sight of me. I’ll never hear the end of it. And she never needs to know what happened last night with her best friend. Was that a conversation we should have had? Maybe it was understood. I can’t imagine Lauralee telling my sister what we did. There’s nothing to gain from sharing that news with anyone, but boy would it cause a dustup in this town if news got out.
Beckett comes flying out the front door, then jumps off the porch. “Uncle Baylor, want me to show you the fort I built?”
“Heck yeah, I do.”
Christine comes out holding Daisy’s hand. “We just had breakfast. I saved you some.”
I’d forgotten that it’s three square meals to keep you going out here in the Hill Country. I rarely have time to eat breakfast when I’m in the city, and lunch, unless I’m doing business, isn’t a priority beyond something grab and go to eat at my desk.
“I’ll eat, but later. Beckett’s going to show me his fort.”
She smiles wide, an ease in her stance and contentment in her eyes. “So you’re the lucky one. He won’t show us.” She dips to pick up Daisy and anchors her on her hip. “Not even this little one.”
Reminding me of his dad at that age, I’m almost transported back to a different time and place, both feeling foreign to me these days. Beckett slows just as he reaches me. “It’s for members only.”
Ruffling his hair, I ask, “Am I a member?”
“Just us. And Macon from class.”
We start walking toward the woods on the back side of the house. Before we pass the porch, Christine says, “You two have fun.”
I give her a wave along with Beck. He’s growing faster than a weed and is taller than I remember. I nudge him. “This other member, Macon, is he your buddy?”
“He’s my best friend.” The pride in his voice has me thinking about Tagger and me at his age. We were inseparable. He was usually dropped off when we were young, but I’d go over to his farm some days too. Our parents knew how to keep us busy and out of trouble . . . until we got our licenses. There was no stopping us then.
“You know your dad is my best friend.”
“Yeah, he talks about you. He said he wishes you were closer. Miss Christine says the same.” We cut across the back acre of the house and head to where the trees grow tall and thickest. We call them the woods because they always felt mysterious compared to the wide-open fields. I’m sure others who knew better would have mocked us for it.
I can see the same excitement in his eyes that I once had as we close in on the border between the known and what magic is hidden in the trees.
“I miss them.” Reaching over, I tug him to my side bythe shoulders. “You, too, big man. You know I was there the day you were born in New York City. Your mom and dad were so proud of you. I got to hold you right there and then.”
“My mom is having a baby with Marcel in France.” This is news . . . “Do you think she’ll forget about me?”
“Impossible. She loves you too much. When was the last time you saw her?”
We step into the brushy needle bed covering the ground under the trees. I let him lead—in conversation and to the fort—giving him space to speak freely. He replies, “She came to Austin last month for spring break. I stayed with her at an apartment on the lake.”
“Did you have fun?”
“There was a pool.”
“A pool? Well, that answers my question.” He nods as if it really does say all that needs to be said. “I always wanted a pool.”
