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“You know it.” Duke ran a hand through his hair and eyed the man who’d avoided all relationships for so long he could be labeled a hermit easily.
“I go into town on occasion.” Ramen grabbed the bag. “I don’t have a reason to go in town every day anyway. Not like you. How’s Scarlet?”
Duke leaned back against his truck and crossed his arms. “How’s a recluse able to get intel from town?”
“Gossip travels on the wind ’round here. You know that.”
“Maybe you should get a woman in town; then you’d break everyone’s assumption about you.”
He took one hand and jimmied his hat a little lower on his head. No matter how far he tugged the hat down, it wouldn’t cover the scars along the side of his face. “Only way I’m getting a woman is if it’s Halloween and I can wear a mask.”
Duke thought about all the right things to say. Words dozens, if not hundreds, of people had already used to try to bring him out of his self-imprisonment. None of that would work, though. Like nothing anyone told Duke after his failure would change his mind about himself. “Nowadays, you don’t need a pretty face. Women are all into broad shoulders and strong arms. You got that in multiples.”
Ramen laughed. Good. That’s what the man needed in his life. “Thanks, man. I’ll keep that in mind.”
Duke’s phone buzzed so he slipped it from his pocket to see a text from Scarlet.
Meet me at the café in the morning.
His heart beat faster than the woodpecker burrowed into the tree.
“I know that look. I’ll let you go.” Ramen dared a glance up, startling Duke for trusting him with eye contact. His scars had faded, and they weren’t that bad anymore. The skin had been grafted, but his features were still off a little, and one eye was white like cloudy glass. Duke didn’t blame him for hiding out here far from the paparazzi since the accident that took him from his famousTruth or Legendshow and his fiancé.
“Thanks, man. I’ll bring you a load again tomorrow.”
“Don’t go out of your way.”
“No trouble. But you ever want to stop by my farm and pick up anything, feel free.” Duke didn’t want to give him an opportunity to refuse. Not when he understood falling from grace in the eyes of the town. But Ramen fell from grace in front of the eyes of the world.
Ramen didn’t stand around to say goodbye. He disappeared into the barn leaving Duke to realize that no matter how much trouble he thought he had in life, he could always meet someone else that had it worse.
He shoved his truck into gear and bumped and bucked the old truck down the long, rocky driveway until he hit the main road.
He’d be meeting Scarlet tomorrow morning. Perhaps she’d read what he’d written and wanted to see him. If not, he had another way to remind her of what they once shared. He swung a U-turn in the middle of the road and headed out to the creek near the lake. He shot down East and West Main Street and didn’t pull over until the secret trail beyond the dip in the road.
The snow covered their trail, but he’d been down it so many times when they were younger that he knew the way. It had been ten years since he’d visited their spot. It never seemed the right time. That’s a lie. He never wanted to see it again without her.
He climbed over a fallen tree and pushed back some brittle brush and skidded down the embankment landing at the water’s edge. Once he found his footing, he about-faced and looked up the hill to find bottles and cans and waste scattering the once-beautiful spot under the big oak tree.
His heart skipped and slid into a damp spot. How could this happen? He couldn’t let Scarlet see this. His hand rubbed the ache from his chest, but he tightened his coat around his neck, trudged up to their spot, and dropped to his knees.
The sound of rushing water provided nature’s music for his work. He tugged his gloves up, splayed his fingers, shoved garbage toward the tree, and then moved around to another spot and bulldozed more toward the tree.
An owl hooted his displeasure at the noise, but Duke didn’t stop. He worked and worked and worked until sweat beaded on the back of his neck despite the icy chill in his fingers.
The debris became a junk pile, but he didn’t have anything to put it in, so he’d have to go rummage through his truck to see if he had any bags or crates left. He got to his feet and shuffled back to his truck where he found one small crate.
This was going to be a long night, but he couldn’t walk away from this. It was time for him to clean up the mess. The way he needed to clean up the mess he’d made out of his life. If there was even a chance the legend was true, then he’d work all night to make this place special again. Special enough to bring Scarlet tomorrow night. He’d leave her a note to meet him here like the old days. And when she arrived, he’d be ready with candles and wine and kisses.
He'd once and for all tell her how he felt, but he wouldn’t ask her to stay. That would be her decision. If all this only ended up with her not marrying the wrong man, he’d have to live with that.
For now, all he could do was work. And work never frightened him.
Twenty trips and three cuts later, he managed to dump the last load into the truck bed. He went back and pushed around the snow to get rid of any stains from soda and beer.
Still not special enough. But it would be. Candles, lanterns, blankets. By the time he finished, it would be the perfect replication of a fictional setting.
When he stepped back, he could see it again.
