“You’re right about one thing, Mr. Taggert,” Sheriff Dawson called out his window. “Everybody knows everybody. And everybody knows all about Georgia and Eli. And Georgia deserves a whole helluva lot better.” He met my gaze through his windshield, shook his head as if he couldn’t believe I’d had the gall to return, and drove away.
Moses
THE CLEANING LADY—who turned out to be a cleaning girl—couldn’t come until the next day, though I tried to bribe her with more pay. She was seventeen, and her boyfriend had a football game she didn’t want to miss. I’d torn her name from a flyer hanging on a bulletin board in the country mall, the little gas station that sat at the crossroads where the old highway forked, one road leading south to Gunnison, the other leading west to the old coal mine and a dozen other little spots on the map that could hardly be called towns anymore.
We threw our sleeping bags on the new carpet in anticipation of spending our first night in the house—and last night if things went as planned. We’d slept out on the grass the three previous nights, and it had been a little colder than either of us liked. Tag had made a teasing comment about us sleeping in Georgia’s barn to keep warm, but the look I’d sent him had shut him up immediately. I’d told Tag about the morning my grandmother died. He knew I’d spent the night with Georgia in the barn that final night. He knew I’d come home and found my grandmother dead on the kitchen floor. The night in the barn had been the last moments of Before. They’d been my last moments with Georgia. Sleeping in the barn was no laughing matter.
It was after we’d eaten a couple cans of soup and almost a loaf of bread between us that the doorbell rang, clanging through the empty house and jarring us both. I almost expected Sheriff Dawson to be standing outside with assorted townspeople armed with torches, but Georgia stood on the doorstep, her face drawn with indecision, clutching a big book to her chest.
“I thought . . . thought . . .” she tripped over the words and stopped. Then she took a deep breath and met my eyes. She said each word crisply, not allowing herself to stumble again.
“I have pictures of Eli. I thought maybe you’d like to see them.” She held out the big book, and I realized it was a photo album. It was at least five inches thick with the pages overflowing and the binding bulging around them. I stared at it, not taking the book, and her arms slowly lowered. Her jaw was tight and her eyes were hard when I finally lifted my eyes. She thought I was rejecting her. Again.
“I do. I would like to see them. But will you look at them with me?” I asked softly. “I want you to tell me about him. I want stories. I want details.”
She nodded and took a hesitant step inside when I opened the door wider and ushered her in. Her eyes took in the bare walls and the new carpets and she visibly relaxed.
“I wanted her clock,” she said.
“What?” I was staring at the smooth length of her hair and the way it fell from her shoulders, down her back and ended only a few inches above her waist.
“That cuckoo clock she always had in here. I loved it,” she explained.
“Me too.” I wondered where it had ended up. I hoped it wasn’t in a box somewhere.
“Was there anything left in the house?”
I shook my head. “Just the paint.” As soon as the words left my mouth, I wished I hadn’t spoken them. I don’t know what it was about Georgia, but she’d always had that effect on me. She breached my defenses and my truths started spilling out with all their warts and garish colors.
Georgia just looked at me in that same frank way, as if trying to peel back my layers. But then she shrugged and let it go. We traipsed through the kitchen, and I apologized for the lack of furniture. We ended up sitting with our backs to the wall in the dining room, the book on our laps. Tag busied himself in the kitchen and greeted Georgia with a smile and a question about Cuss.
“You get thrown today, Georgia?”
“Nah. I rarely get thrown anymore. I’ve gotten better at waiting them out.”
“It won’t be long until he gives you his head,” I murmured. Georgia looked at me sharply and I cursed myself silently once more.
“I’d like to watch you sometime. Moses and I have seen the world, but it’s been too long since I’ve spent any real time with horses. Maybe you’ll let me have a ride before we leave.” Tag smiled and winked at her again before excusing himself and heading for the front door. I hadn’t missed Georgia’s flinch when he mentioned us leaving.
“I’m heading into Nephi for a little refreshment and possibly a game of pool. That honky-tonk is still on Main, isn’t it?”
“Yeah. We don’t call it a honky-tonk though, Texas. That’s stretching it a little. We call it a bar. But there’s a pool table in the back, and if you’re lucky, someone to play with who can still stand,” Georgia said dryly.
“Did ya hear that, Moses? She’s already given me a nickname. Tag 1, Moses 0.” He cackled and let himself out the front door before I could respond.
Georgia laughed, but I wanted to follow him out and throw his ass to the ground. Tag didn’t always know when to shut his mouth.
But as soon as he was gone, I would have gladly welcomed him back.
The house was far too quiet without him, and Georgia and I were stuck in an empty room with everything and nothing to say. It felt oddly right and horribly wrong to be sitting beside her, our shoulders touching, our legs stretched out, side by side. With a deep breath and a shaking hand, Georgia opened the book and filled the silence with pictures.