74. Dusty

That damn well on the East Quarter is acting up again. I’m going to have to call the welder to fix it, but I know he’s backed up on his own jobs. I’m fretting over the heat wave that’s due over the next week and the fact that we won’t be able to water the crops, when I nearly careen into another pickup truck in the driveway.

My shoulders tense when I recognize the sparkly new truck. He idles at the road, so I slow down, too. His window rolls down. With a long-suffering sigh, I roll my window down. I can’t imagine he’s going to say anything I want to hear.

“Dusty.”

I nod at him. “Jerry. What brings you by?”

Can’t be good, whatever it was.

He stares ahead, before turning to look at me with a stony look on his face. “I told her.”

My stomach twists. “Told who what?”

But I know.

Deep down, I know.

Damn it all to hell.

His expression is grim. “I don’t have anything against you, kid.”

I bark a laugh.

His nostrils flare. “But she has a right to know.”

“And you decided you were the man for the job.”

“You bet your ass I am.”

I tilt my head. My first thought is why would he insert himself? Guys will play dirty to get their hands on farm ground, but this is low even for the buzzards around here. And then it clicks into place. “Because of Naomi Novak?”

His jaw hardens. “If nobody else will look out for her daughter, I will.”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

“It probably ain’t.”

He barks a laugh. “But even so, I don’t feel bad. She needed to know. I told her all about your brush with crime.”

A cold feeling of shame settles over my shoulders like a heavy mantle.

Yes. I did that.

I stole from the man who saved our lives. I stole from Gus, and he offered me his hand.

It was the single greatest lesson I’ve ever learned in my life. It’s also my greatest shame.

And just like that, I’m seventeen again. A scared kid watching his mother fade away. Bills to pay. No food in the kitchen. Can’t afford the meds we need to keep a mother’s agony at bay.

I had to do something. Runner was already gone. I was the man of the house. I’d get my hands dirty if that meant keeping Sienna clothed and fed. If that meant easing my mother’s pain.

And Juice knew a guy.

With just an hour’s work, I could make enough cash to pay for mom’s meds and a month’s worth of groceries.

I did it. And I’m ashamed of it. But I’m not sure what choice I could have made.

My honor and integrity were a small sacrifice in the face of what we were dealing with.

I’ve never been one of those men who will put their own sense of righteousness over another’s suffering.

But still, I didn’t tell Marnie.

She might have understood, if I could have been the one to tell her.

I was a coward, though. And now I’ve missed my chance. All I can do is play catch up.

Jerry shakes his head. “I take no pleasure in it, son. It ain’t your fault your daddy was a lowlife. You didn’t choose your family, but you can choose what kind of life you’re going to lead.”

Easy for him to say. It’s easy to have a clean conscience when you’re richer than God and haven’t ever gone without. High morals are a luxury.

He clicks his tongue. “Can’t you let that girl go? Can’t you leave them Novaks alone? You’ve leeched enough, don’t you think?”

“Leeched…”

He puts his truck into gear, but keeps his foot on the brake. “If that girl was smart, she’d cut you loose. And if you were a good man, you’d let her go.”

I’d ask him what he knows about being a good man, but it’s not like I know a damn thing about it, either.

You try and you try, but you can’t outrun your roots. They bind you. Trap you.

And no matter how hard you pull, those roots run deep. There’s no escape.

Jerry drives away.

I turn into the lane and park the truck.

Marnie and the dog stand by the back door.

Ed trots up to me. I lean down, petting his head, avoiding looking at Marnie.

Eventually, I peer up at her. She looks madder than hell. I stand, ready to face the music, even if my heart is shredded.

She pauses, just out of reach, frowning up at me. I’m trying to gather my words, to form them around some sort of apology, some kind of explanation.

She launches into me, wrapping me up in that signature bear hug of hers. So fierce and tight for such a little thing. She presses her cheeks against my chest. “Fucking Jerry Lind. That asshole.”

“Marnie…”

My voice breaks, like waves against a rock. “I’m sorry…I should have told you.”

She hooks her hands around my neck and pulls me down, kissing me hard. It’s bruised lips and teeth. Frustration and loss and love. Deep, bottomless love.

She pulls back, staring up at me with those honey-colored eyes. “You can tell me now. If you want. And I’ll listen to every word, baby. But you don’t need to say you’re sorry. Don’t ever let them bring you to your knees. You’re too good for that.”

My eyes burn and my throat gets thick.

I won’t cry in front of her, but damned if I don’t want to.