The Accident Curse Read online

  Dad reached his hand out to me and I supplied him with an apple.

  “Do we need to cut it up?” I whispered.

  He shook his head, then lobbed the apple into the yard.

  The deer froze for a heartbeat, then rushed to the apple.

  I gave Dad another. He threw it closer. The deer ventured nearer to the house.

  Two more babies appeared from the trees, joining their siblings—or their cousins—in the pursuit of the apples. Dad tossed all but one out into the yard. The last one, he set right on the edge of the wooden porch. He retreated a few steps, but stayed incredibly close to the apple. There was no way the deer would come for it.

  Once again, he proved me wrong. The doe approached the last apple. She didn’t even hesitate to take it into her mouth.

  I watched in awe, captivated by the beautiful sight of the playful animals. I doubted what I observed; wild deer wouldn’t come this close to people. Hadn’t natural selection taught them men were hunters? Where were their survival instincts? Did the prospect of an apple erase so much ingrained knowledge?

  “They come nearly every day,” Dad said softly. “I don’t think it’s always the same ones.”

  “They’re amazing.”

  “Look at those two.” He pointed to the fawns off in the distance. “They’re bucks. You can already see where their antlers are growing.”

  “So you might shoot them a few years down the road,” I said.

  “Maybe.”

  All the Lion King references to the circle of life popped into my head. Still, the logic of loving the babies but killing the adults didn’t make sense to me.

  “Let’s head back inside,” Dad said. “Dinner’s probably done.”

  Chapter 7

  It seemed we settled into an unspoken truce. The next two days were uneventful. I worked in the spare room and Dad sat in the recliner. I lent him my eBook reader and he downloaded a Western novel to keep him occupied. He bitched about the electronic device, but at least he wasn’t rushing off recklessly.

  A nervous excitement welled up inside me on Friday morning. I was looking forward to seeing Colten again. Dad was happy I had a friend visiting—he recounted a couple of tales of Colten that had me laughing once more—and he insisted we grill the venison steaks Fred had dropped off the day before.

  A part of me recoiled at the idea of eating deer. We had fed those cute babies, and now we dined on their relatives. Twisted. But deer meat was delicious, tender and lean. My stomach won over my morals.

  At seven o’clock, I heard tires pulling up the dirt driveway. The September air was starting to cool at night, so we wouldn’t be able to grill out here in another week. As it was, the heat from the fire helped warm the air. We’d eat inside, though.

  “Hey, Marty,” Colten greeted, walking up the porch. “Smells good.”

  “The buck that almost killed Dad,” I explained.

  Colten laughed and approached the grill.

  I flipped open the lid to the grill and stabbed at the meat with a two-pronged fork.

  “Almost done,” I informed him. “Go ahead inside. Dad’s fixing the veggies.”

  “I brought a twelve-pack.” He held up a box of Coors Light.

  “You didn’t have to. This was supposed to be a thank you dinner.”

  “I wanted to contribute. Anything I can carry inside?”

  “Nah. I’ll be right after you.”

  Colten went to the door and entered the kitchen. I heard him and Dad exchange pleasantries. I wondered how they’d get along. They knew each other pretty well in passing, but it was different once forced to delve deeper than small talk.

  And what the hell am I going to talk with him about?

  I picked up the chunks of meat with the fork and transferred them to a plate. I hurried inside so it wouldn’t get cold.

  “Colten,” I said, handing him the plate from the door.

  He took it and I hurried back to shut off the gas of the grill.

  Back inside, Dad had the table all set. The table. I’d figured we’d eat at the island, like normal. But apparently, Colten counted as company and that meant formal dining.

  Colten put the beer on the table while Dad moved the mashed potatoes and corn into serving bowls. It smelled delicious and I couldn’t wait to eat it. We settled around the table, Dad at the head, and Colten and I on his right and left.

  “We thank God for this meal we are about to receive,” Dad intoned with his head bowed. “May it nourish us, give us strength, let us grow. Amen.”

  “Amen,” Colten and I echoed.

  “Thanks again for the invite,” Colten said as I forked a hunk of steak onto his plate. On the other side, Dad was heaping a pile of mashed potatoes. “I don’t often get out.”

  “There’s not much to do around here,” I agreed. “At least in school we had parties to go to. Probably not much of a party scene now, huh?”

  Colten chuckled. “Not that I’m aware of. The only thing getting me by is Netflix.”

  “Maybe we should get it for you, Dad. Especially if you’re gonna be laid up for a bit.”

  Dad harrumphed. “No thanks.”

  I stage whispered to Colten, “I bet he doesn’t even know what it is.”

  Dad grumbled a bit more, then turned to Colten. “So, how are your folks?”

  “They’re fine.”

  “And your cows?”

  “They’re fine too.”

  “I heard you’re going to enter one in the Western Maryland Expo in November.”

  “Yeah, my Jersey heifer, Lola Belle. She’s a beauty.”

  Colten launched into a detailed analysis of his cow, highlighting all her good points. Dad nodded in understanding. I had no idea what a topline was, but Lola Belle’s was straight and level.

  I surprised myself by leaning forward as he continued. The passion in Colten when speaking drew me in. He moved his hands animatedly, as if he were conveying his words visually. From the description, I couldn’t wait to see the cow.

  “What about your tractor? Is it still holding out?” Dad asked.

  Colten answered, “No, we finally upgraded. We got a good deal on a used 5075E. We thought of buying a 5100E, but it’s double the price. The smaller model works for now, even with the additional sheep.”

  “I’ve always preferred New Holland over Deere’s.”

  “Yeah,” Colten agreed. “The New Holland models are amazing. But Dad wants to buy from American companies.”

  “That’s looking at it the wrong way,” Dad argued. “All the companies have foreign factories.”

  “Well, my dad doesn’t agree.”

  “You got three-cylinders?”

  “Yeah, which is a step up from our old one.”

  “Had a cousin who used a black-bellied 5103 model for pulling. He modified the engine, of course. He competed with it for several years. This was back in the nineties, though. They have better looking bodies nowadays.”

  “My little brother is starting to get into pulling. I don’t know much about it, but it seems competitive.”

  Dad grinned. “I did my fair share of pulling when I was in high school. Kept me out of trouble for a little while.”

  They laughed together, good-natured and comfortable.

  I tried to join in, but it must have seemed forced. Tractor humor was outside my comfort zone.

  Colten’s laughter cut off. He glanced at me sheepishly, then asked, “So, what’s it like in Arizona?”

  “Beautiful,” I answered immediately. “Hot. Convenient. I’m actually in Tempe, a suburb of Phoenix. I’ve got everything I need within a two-mile radius.”

  “I bet it’s depressing coming here, then,” Colten observed. “Nearest anything is thirty minutes away.”

  I shot Dad a meaningful glance. “Exactly.”

  “And what do you do there?”

  I returned to eating. Dad wasn’t picking up on my silent messages anyway. “I’m an editor. I edit training videos for companies. Mos
t are local, like the school districts or whatever, but some are out of state.”

  “Sounds interesting.”

  “It’s fun to edit, but the content can be uninteresting. I’d like to get on with one of the news stations before too much longer. There’d be better opportunities.”

  “And you’re taking all this time off work?”

  “No. I’m able to work from here. Though Dad’s internet is giving me a hard time.”

  He laughed. “I’ve got broadband at my house. If you’re ever in need of a reliable connection, you can come over.” He smiled sweetly.

  My insides gave a pleasant squirm. He’d almost sounded…flirty. No, not possible. There was no way Colten had an interest in me.

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Off the corner of my eye, I thought I saw Dad smirk. When I turned to him, he was only glaring. “Why is everything an attack on me?”

  “I’m talking about your internet, not you personally, Dad.” God, he could be so self-involved. “Besides, don’t you want to have a more reliable connection? It would make looking at porn easier.”

  Colten snorted, and tried to cover it up.

  Dad, though, turned to scarlet. “Marty,” he scolded. “Don’t talk about those things in this house.”

  “Sorry, sorry,” I said, knowing I’d won that round at least. I turned back to Colten. “So, I hear Dale Thomas has a mushroom farm.”

  Chapter 8

  After dinner, Dad washed the dishes while Colten and I finished our beers. We’d stayed to neutral topics for the rest of dinner with Colten filling me in on what most of our classmates were up to. A surprisingly large number of them were still here. I couldn’t believe they hadn’t all run like I had.

  “Well, I better get going,” Colten said finally, and reluctantly.

  “I’ll walk you out.”

  Colten shook Dad’s hand, then we headed to the back door. The air was cold now. Back in Arizona, it’d still be ninety degrees this late at night. I shivered, wishing I had on a jacket.

  We stopped at Colten’s truck, and Colten leaned against the door.

  “Thanks again, Marty. It was good catching up.”

  “No, thank you. I appreciate your help the other day.”

  “It was no problem, honest. There’s not enough of folks helping each other out nowadays.”

  “That’s true.” I thought to my life in Phoenix. You hardly ever glanced at anyone else, there. I knew my neighbor’s faces, but not their names. I never socialized with anyone outside my circle of friends. I had no desire to. Which was sad, when you thought about it.

  “So, you’re hanging around the house all day?”

  “Yeah, not much else to do.”

  “If you feel like it, you can swing by the farm. I’d love to show you around.”

  I cocked my head to the side, but smiled. “Sure. This Lola Belle sounds intriguing. I can’t wait to check out her topline.”

  Colten laughed.

  “You know,” I said, suddenly having a thought. “I probably should rent a car while I’m here. With Dad being so unpredictable, it’s no good to be stranded.”

  “I wish you wouldn’t.”

  Though the porch gave off streams of light, it was hard to read his face though the darkness. “Why not?”

  “Cause then I don’t get to be the valiant hero who comes to the rescue.”

  “Hero?” I asked.

  He took a step away from his truck, coming closer to me. “I gave you my number in hopes you’d ask me out on a date.”

  My face must have shown my shock, because Colten chuckled.

  Then, he was leaning forward and pressing his lips to mine. I stood frozen before his warm lips thawed me.

  I kissed back.

  It was light, playful almost. Then he pulled away.

  I looked quickly over my shoulder to make sure Dad wasn’t looking out the window.

  “Tomorrow?” Colten asked, drawing my attention once more.

  I nodded, not trusting my words.

  “Perfect. I’ll see you then.”

  He moved away from me and I shivered again, but not from the cold. He got into the truck and waved once more before backing out of the steep driveway.

  I stared after him a moment, trying to get my head around what had happened.

  He did like me, it seemed. I tried to recall memories from high school, forcing my mind to relive those times in math class. How had he been, then? Was it possible he’d been gay too? Staring at his bedroom ceiling, wondering why he didn’t fit in? I’d always thought I was the only one. Especially since he chose to stay here. How did he get along with everyone? Was he an outcast?

  I went back inside, wondering if I liked him. The country bumpkin hadn’t been my ideal while growing up. Even if I could have found a boyfriend here, I would have stayed away from the farm boys. But why? Colten had shown me nothing but kindness since we ran into each other at the fruit market. He spoke with such passion, it was easy to get caught up in his love for his animals. Those weren’t bad things at all.

  Dad was sitting at the island, sipping another beer. We’d finished eight of the twelve between us—Colten only had the one since he had to drive home.

  “He’s a good kid,” Dad said without preamble. “He’s a regular at the shop, you know. A loyal customer.”

  “Yeah, he mentioned it.” I sat down too, but didn’t reach for another beer. I’d had enough for one night. “Dad, does he have any friends?”

  “Friends? I’m sure he has some. Why do you ask?”

  “I was only wondering,” I supplied vaguely.

  “He hangs around with the Davis twins. They go hunting together regularly. And I think he’s close to the whole Williams side of his family.”

  So not an outcast. At least, not on the surface level. But maybe no one knew.

  “He asked me to come visit the farm tomorrow.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah, it sounds kinda fun. I’d like to see his cows.”

  “They are beautiful. I saw Lola Belle at the Grantsville Days fair over the summer. She was part of the parade.”

  I laughed, imagining the cow sitting in a Corvette doing the princess wave. Probably not how it happened.

  “Is there any money in raising prize cows?”

  “Some. More in selling them off for beef.”

  I cringed. “Ugh. Having a pet cow and then eating it? So sick!”

  “Normal way of things, Mart. Once he retires his cow, he’ll probably have her butchered. It’d be a shame for it all to go to waste.”

  “I prefer to not have a personal relationship with my food.”

  “What about the vegetables we used to grow in the garden?”

  “You can’t compare the two. Vegetables aren’t living.”

  “Depends on how you look at it.”

  “That’s pretty deep coming from you, Dad.”

  His shoulders shook as he chuckled. “Sometimes I try.”

  Chapter 9

  I texted Colten the next morning to see what time I should head over. He replied that four o’clock worked, then I could stay over for dinner with his family.

  Family? I wasn’t too keen on seeing all of them. What little I remembered of Colten didn’t include his brothers or sister. I didn’t know much beyond the fact they existed.

  But, his kiss had left me breathless, and I was eager to see him again. So, I agreed and spent my day hard at work.

  “You’ll be okay on your own for dinner?” I asked Dad around three-thirty.

  He gave me a flat stare. “Mart, I’ve been on my own for ten years. I think I remember how to make dinner by myself.”

  “I’m just checking, Dad. You don’t have to be so grumpy all the time. I’ll be back later.”

  “Say hi to Donna and Craig for me.”

  “Sure.”

  I grabbed Dad’s keys and headed out to the Tundra. I pulled on a jacket, even though it was still mildly warm. Once evening came, it woul
d cool, and the damn Phoenix sun had made my skin thin and susceptible to the cold.

  I fired up the Tundra and backed out of the drive. I saw Dad peek at me through the curtains, so I waved.

  Colten’s parents’ house was right in Accident, off Pud Miller Road. Close to Dad’s, and accessible without getting on the 219. I took the back way, winding my way through the narrow road till it met up with Pud Miller. The foliage was still a vibrant green, but would begin to change when the weather chilled. The trees loomed over the road, blocking out the sun and sky. Though it initially felt oppressive, after a while it felt comfortable, like a warm blanket tucked around all your limbs.

  From here, the farm was almost directly south, though with enough curves in the road to make a person dizzy. Especially if said person was used to Phoenix’s grid-like layout.

  Colten’s folk’s farm was one of several in this area. I still remembered all who lived here. As I drove past, I named each family who owned the land. The Browns grew soybeans on their property. Next was the Smiths—distant relatives of Dad. They had acres of hay they sold wholesale at the feed store. The Martins, Hartmans, Kolbs. Passed down from generation to generation. On and on without end.

  I wondered how they could live such a life. Each doing the same as their father before them. It seemed horrifying to me, like the concept of eternity. No way to escape. No way for anything to change.

  A chill ran down my spine at the thought. That was one reason I shied away from religion. The other reasons were obvious.

  There was the Williams farm, a wooden arch spread over the entrance naming the place in case I forgot. I pulled the truck off the road and onto the dirt path leading up to the farmhouse. To the left was a field of corn, the green stalks looking close to harvest. To the right was a large field with woolly sheep scattered throughout. Off in the distance, beside the house, was a barn, a stable, and two other sheds.

  I followed the dirt road to the house and parked behind several other trucks. One I recognized as Colten’s Ranger.