Queen of Men (King Maker 2)

One

Time had stopped, or so it seemed. It wasn’t just because my car had been the only one around. Or that the rustic and rural landscape held a few community members walking down a dirt path garbed in gear fit for Pilgrims. No, it was like time had skipped over Turner.

My fingers ached to disappear in his dark brown waves that danced in the light breeze. His hair, perhaps a bit longer than I remembered, framed his boyish brown eyes. In turn, he looked me over as if drinking me in.

“Bailey,” he said, a nail caught between his teeth and a hammer held at his side. He shoved his free hand into brown britches, which were a touch lighter in color than his hair.

Tall as he had been, he’d grown into his body, no longer the lanky boy I remembered, but a man who could easily carry me across the fields if he liked.

Regret laced his words and I had to glance down, feeling the weight of them.

“Your father’s not here,” he continued.

I wasn’t surprised to see him at our house, despite what my father had caught us doing. I’d been the sinner, the temptress.

Steeling my spine, I lifted my chin and met his lovely golden eyes as remorse grew heavy in my gut.

His pensive expression washed the wonder off my face. Most likely, he was remembering the past the same as I was and all there had been between us. If I’d guessed he would be the first person I’d see, I would have mentally prepared myself.

Words became a piece of paper balled up in my mouth that mentally were tossed down my throat. What could I say? Hi, I’m sorry I ran off and left you behind. Oh, and our wedding? Sorry I missed it.

“Can we go somewhere and talk?” I asked.

Wasn’t it better to rip the Band-Aid off and have the conversation I should have had years ago?

His hand came out of his pocket and removed the nail from between his teeth. “Sure. Give me a second.”

My heart clenched. Its staccato beats stuttered at the thought of what he would say. Although I’d seen him once since I’d left, we hadn’t said much then.

He turned back to the front of the house and began to hammer away.

“How long are you planning to stay?” Turner had spoken so casually, it didn’t feel like the beginning of an inquisition.

“I’m not sure.”

The sun had spun a halo over him like a golden fog. I looked into his eyes and was transported back in time to a memory that eclipsed our relationship.

* * *

PAST

Summer was in heat that long ago day, with sweat our only respite. The flies and gnats were particularly bothersome, swarming around in search of their next smorgasbord. I’d just cleaned up from breakfast when Turner came knocking. His presence at my door wasn’t unusual.

My being at home this time of day was. It was deemed a holiday, the annual reminder of the day our founders had gotten together and made a plan about what our community would one day become. My body was accustomed to the early morning rise, and this day was no different. We’d eaten and everyone had scattered. I was sure Turner would be sleeping in, not having the same rules in his household I did. As a boy, his chores differed from mine.

“Come on.” He smiled, holding out a hand.

My parents had gone for the prayer and state of the community meeting with all the other adults in town. The rest of us were set free, which wasn’t very often.

Stepping out onto the porch, I was greeted by a wall of humidity. “Where are we going?”

I was ready for any adventure he had in mind and a bit starry-eyed too. I’d told no one but my older sister Violet about my blooming crush on my best friend. He’d always been just a boy I hung out with every day. But the older we got, the more I realized he was a boy. With him standing there, I ignored how weak in the knees I felt by just looking at him. Instead, I put on a nonchalant air.

Shifting his weight a bit, he fidgeted. Turner was always full-on movement. Today, he seemed a bit nervous when he said, “You’ll see.” He took my hand and tugged me across the way into the awaiting trees.

Once we entered the cover of the forest, the shade from the canopy of leaves took some of the bite out of the steamy day. The encroaching darkness and temperature drop sent a shudder through me. Tales about haunted woods roved in my head. As if he’d sensed my fear, his fingers threaded through mine. Tingles, not having anything to do with being afraid, shot to my belly, sparking a giggle. There was no denying this wasn’t an ordinary day.