“I’m sorry,” I said, shaking my head at my blind selfishness, realizing I should have been upfront on Wednesday, when he’d asked me out originally. “I’m sorry. You’re right. You’re so right, and I’m…I don’t know how to say this without being completely honest so, here goes: I moved home with a plan. I’m back with my parents and teaching at the school, but that’s all temporary. I’m here, in Green Valley, for less than two years, tops. Just long enough to pay off my loans and save enough money to move on. I’m not ready to settle down, I don’t think I ever will be. I want to see and experience things. I have wanderlust and it consumes me. If I had the money, I’d leave tomorrow. I thought…I guess I didn’t really think. I just like you so much and I…” I couldn’t finish my thought because my voice caught.
As I spoke Duane’s eyes widened, then narrowed; their usual internal brilliance seemed to dim, fade, as it was replaced with a severe disappointment that completely pierced my heart. Then his expression hardened into understanding; and finally bitter, guarded withdrawal.
For the first time ever I wished I wasn’t this girl. I wished I wanted to live in Green Valley and be content as a small-town teacher, a wife, a mother, a member of the community. But that wasn’t what I wanted, that wasn’t who I was.
I had no illusions my dreams were bigger. My dreams weren’t bigger, they were just different. I’d chosen my profession because it meant I could move anywhere; no matter the city, science and math teachers were needed. And I wanted freedom from possessions—owning them and being owned by them—I wanted to experience the world, not just one tiny corner of it.
Duane nodded, slowly at first. His eyes fell away before he turned and sauntered back to the blanket to retrieve his shirts. He pulled on the white undershirt, but didn’t bother with the button-down; instead he stuffed it into the backpack. I didn’t know what to do, couldn’t read what he was thinking, so I stood by the log and waited for some sign.
Some selfish part of me wished I hadn’t told him the truth. After all, I had two or three years left in the Valley. No one understood my desire to travel the world, why would I expect him to be any different? I’d always been the odd one in my family, feeling like I didn’t quite belong. I’d learned to hide this side of myself, and almost all of my other crazy instincts, from my parents years ago.
Duane and I could have dated, had fun together—me knowing it was temporary, him thinking it was leading to something permanent. I could have kept my dreams to myself, planned my trips in secret.
Then, when the money was saved and the time came, I could’ve just broken things off. Hell, we might not have even lasted that long. Maybe we weren’t suited. Maybe it would have only been a few weeks or months.
… No.
I heard the word in my head as though it had been spoken out loud. I knew with a rare certainty that Duane was right. We were suited. Withholding the truth of my dreams would be withholding myself, and that was exceedingly unfair to him. It was one thing to pretend with my folks, because they could handle me being zany from time to time, and assume my wanderlust was a phase.
It was quite another matter to keep my true self from Duane. He didn’t deserve that.
At length, he lifted his gaze to mine and I was saddened—but not surprised—to see it was completely shuttered.
“Are you hungry?” His tone was flat as he indicated to the cups and covered bowls with a tilt of his chin. “Because I’m hungry.”
I tried to apologize with just my eyes and my chin wobbled; I managed to answer, “Yeah, I’m hungry.”
He nodded again then turned, dropped to his knees, and gestured me over with a wave of his hand. “Then let’s eat.”
CHAPTER 10
“One's destination is never a place, but a new way of seeing things.”
― Henry Miller
~Duane~
“So, how was your date with Catastrophic Engine Failure?”
I wasn’t expecting the question because I wasn’t expecting my brothers’ return until later in the afternoon, so I couldn’t hide my automatic grimace.
I lifted just my eyes from the wood pile, found my brothers nearing the chopping block and watching me expectantly. Then, to my chagrin, Beau and Cletus shared a concerned glance when I remained silent.
“That bad, huh?” Beau scratched his beard.
“I don’t want to talk about it.” I picked up a new log, set it in place, and brought the axe down, splitting it with one stroke.
“Okay.” Beau nodded, letting the matter drop.