The Same Place (The Lamb and the Lion #2) - Gregory Ashe Page 0,101
heard the roughness in his voice.
“She was a bitch. She was a selfish, spoiled, entitled, privileged, egocentric bitch.” Zalie shook her head. “I knew she was fooling around. I knew she wasn’t interested in me anymore. I knew it was over, and I was ready to fight her for the farm. She could have the rest of it, but the farm was mine, and I wasn’t going to let her take it.” She raised her head to stare at Jem. “So why does it hurt so much?”
Jem was looking at Zalie, meeting her dark eyes, considering the heaviness in them. But he was also still underwater, looking up through something like glass, something like an ocean, at Tean. Tean and Ammon. “Maybe we never stop loving some people,” Jem said. “Maybe we keep loving them, but we pile all the hurt and pain on top, and we have to carry it around forever.”
Zalie didn’t blink. She didn’t even seem to breathe.
A raucous laugh broke out, and Jem glanced over to see an old man in a tank top and jean shorts, grinding against a younger girl, his belly flattened between them.
“At least I’m not making a fool out of myself,” Zalie said. “Just like his daughter, doesn’t have the sense to know when he’s too old for a girl.”
Jem did a double take and realized that the old man in the tank top was Leroy Erickson. His shaved head looked flushed in the flare and fall of the firelight. He was laughing again, the tattoo on his neck—Roger? Was that the dog’s name?—stretched out when he threw his head back.
“He doesn’t seem too upset,” Jem said.
“He didn’t look too good earlier,” Zalie said, “but then somebody offered him a bump. The horny old goat probably thinks he’s going to get laid. Just like his damn daughter.”
Tean touched Jem’s leg.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Jem said, leaning in so he wouldn’t have to shout over the bluegrass. “Thanks for taking the time to talk to us.”
“I don’t even know why I’m here,” Zalie said, looking around as though surprised to find herself in the midst of the dancing and shouting and drinking. “I don’t know what I’m doing half the time anymore.”
“You’re grieving,” Jem said.
Zalie nodded slowly, her gaze already drifting into the flames again.
“He’s moving,” Tean said, tugging on Jem’s arm, and then the doc was sliding through the crowd of grinding bodies. The wild rhythm of the bluegrass had gotten inside Jem’s blood, and now he felt himself bouncing with it, wanting to grab Tean, wanting to spin him along in some sort of foot-stomping, hell-raising jig—never mind that Jem didn’t know anything about dancing to bluegrass.
They emerged from the press of bodies, and the night air was cool on Jem’s face, making him aware of the sweat on his chest and back, the heat of Tean’s shoulder under his arm. The smell of beer was a whisper, and the smell of pine resin, and the smell of sweating bodies. Leroy was pumping one of the kegs. He had lost a boot, and his bare foot was dirty from dancing.
“Mr. Erickson,” Tean said. “My name is Tean Leon. We met a few days ago.”
“Damn thing,” Leroy said, still trying to pump the keg.
“Here you go,” Jem said, bumping Tean, and the doc stepped forward and offered the second cup of beer.
“God bless you, son,” Leroy said. He put his head back and drained the cup in one go, some of the beer escaping to trickle down into his beard, down his neck, staining the tank top. When the firelight brightened, Jem could see where the white cotton had been stained before.
“God damn,” Leroy shouted, throwing the cup down and stomping on it with his remaining boot. “God damn, that’s good.”
“Mr. Erickson, we just wanted to extend our condolences,” Tean said. “We’re so sorry for your loss.”
“My loss?” He blinked at them, wavering on his feet. Through the denim shorts, the outline of a partial erection was visible. He scratched one armpit.
Jem waited. He knew Tean would do the next part without any prompting.
“Joy,” Tean said. “We’re so sorry about Joy.”
The transformation was so sudden that it was almost funny. Leroy’s face seemed to collapse, and he wailed, “My baby girl. They took her. They took my baby.”
Tean shifted under Jem’s arm, offering a quick, sidelong glance.
“Oh God,” Leroy sobbed. “She was my baby. She was the only thing I ever loved.”