Saturday Musings: A Brett Mccarley Locomotive Engineer Story Today, Saturday, a cool, clear, beautiful day in the high desert, Bret McCarley knew he loved Laurie Henson. At 9:00 AM, the dark oaken table spread with his just finished breakfast, cereal, fruit, bacon, a coupl of plates and some used napkins, He sat against the wooden back of his chair listening to Laurie’s voice on his silver cell phone. It came to him, confident, gentle, a little sleepy, definitely unhurried. He pushed the sports section of the newspaper away from him, his eyes drifting from the baseball stats to the ceiling, a quiet smile played at the corner of his lips. his right hand circled the cup of strong black coffee on the table. “What are you doing?” Her voice was like cool water gently caressing a parched desert. Its musical quality made him sit up and listen. “Sitting here.” “Working on your race truck today?” “Mike’s truck? No. You know that.” His voice scolded her gently. “Well I don’t know everything.” Brett laughed his rich, soft laugh, a smile curved onto his lips. Out his window in the kitchen a little speckled hummingbird nervously approached the feeder, he watched the bird peck at the little opening. “You?” “I don’t have a lot of things to do today. I’m mostly caught up. Just have time on my hands and chores to do.” “Me, too. Yard work. It’ll be waiting for me after my safety classes next month but I might work on it today” “Want some help?” “You want to rake leaves?” “Sure.” Brett grew quiet, his fingers played absently with a steel handle on the spoon he used to stir the coffee. he gave it another stir and let it clink against the glass mug, the sound accentuated by the pleasant silence in the room. . It would be nice to have her here today. It was going to be a quiet day. The house sprawled out, the kitchen empty, the smell of rich ground coffee lingered in the air. Brett took a deep breath, letting out the week’s tensions in a long, contented sigh. Debbie and Randy were gone for the day. They were house hunting they said. He hoped so. But how were they going to make the payments? “Brett?” Laurie’s soft call brought him back to her. “sorry” he murmured distractedly. “Are you thinking about Debbie and Randy again?” “Yeah.” He lifted the strong coffee to his lips, watched the bird in the feeder fly away, tiny wings catching glimpses of the sunshine, reflecting off their golden tips. “they are a worry to you. Children always are I suppose.” “They are good kids,” he said mildly. “I get over anxious sometimes.” At her end Laurie sat in her chair looking at her pile of laundry. It needed to be done. “You wanted to come help?” Brett now asked, returning to her. “You can. I’ll probably go out there about noon.” “I’ll come over there as soon as I do my laundry.” “Bring it here.” “Bring it here?” Her voice rose a little on a surprised note. “You’re sure?” “yeah. You may need to do more laundry once you get here. It’s kind of messy out there.” “Alright,” she said. “Can I come now then?” “Any time you want,” he assured. “Any time.” The breakfast dishes were done, Brett had cleaned up a little around the house, put things in order. The railroad engineer passionately involved in his work was a meticulous man. He didn’t have time to look for things or deal with the stress of a cluttered environment. He barely got through the door some nights with time to grab a few hours of sleep and do it all again the next day. The last thing he needed was a mess to deal with on the weekends. If he could control the external trappings, pay the bills, work on the railroad, pick up after himself, he had to admit that Laurie Henson had finally dislodged the part of him that thought he had his feelings all figured out. What to do? Would he tell her? Could he keep the truth from her? Now he got up from the recliner where he had been resting as the gentle chimes signaled the arrival of a guest. A guest? It was his love? Maybe he had never felt this way about Carol? Maybe that had been a marriage out of necessity? He bit down on his confusion and deliberately walked through the high ceiling living room to the sprawling entrance. His hand found the lock, he looked out through the peephole. His heart leaped, her cheerful smile beckoned him, his love called, his confused head told his kind and sure heart to let her in, not only to his house, but into his life. The seeds of interest planted long ago, the first time she had waved to him from the ground as he sat high up in that locomotive cab had flourished. He swung open the door. Laurie looked up into Brett’s face, he stood there watching her. Her summer straw purse, her blue jeans and t-shirt spoke of comfort, easy grace, a kind of peace that Brett in his rush to fulfill his promises and obligations wasn’t sure he had ever experienced. His eyes appraised her auburn curls, little ringlets framing her face, accenting her cheeks, her soft green eyes. His heart clenched within him, he shivered a little and not from the gentle, balmy breeze that cooled his sudden ardor. He let it settle over him, pleasant, lingering there; it made her seem translucent, somehow, mystical. If he dared to reach out to touch her she would disappear. Laurie was very much not going to disappear, now he put his arms out, she came into them, let him hug her. She stepped back a little, returning his gaze. She said nothing as he pulled her to him, his mouth lingering on her’s. “You’re sure you want to do yard work?” “It does need to be done,” he said, quietly. “Do you want to do laundry?” “Yes,” she said, smiling into his face, letting her hand trail across his arm. ”I’m happy, Brett. Happy to do laundry. Happy to spend time here with you. Happy.” “I know you are. I know.” “We don’t have to do anything special,” she told him once as they walked along a busy thoroughfare, just spending time together. They had talked about it. “I’m not after fancy dinners or art museums. I don’t’ like art museums.” “Train museums?” Brett had caught her gaze then. “yeah train museums, sure.” She smiled back. “But laundry is fine. Cleaning up around the yard, grocery shopping, just hanging out, that’s fine, too. You on the computer in one room, me in the kitchen.” As they walked through the street looking for a place to eat, Brett had to smile. Laurie liked to cook, it was what was different about her. Well, there were many things that were different. Carol definitely didn’t cook. She was too busy arguing with him or the voices in her head, the children, the pets, or the neighbors. Many times Brett craved those early mornings when he dressed in the dark and drove to far off places to run the freight or commuter trains. It might have been what saved the marriage. But now as they spied a neon sign that advertised the world’s best hamburger, he squeezed Laurie’s hand and just smiled. He hated the computer. That would never change. That was the same as it had always been. She was teasing him. “I hope,” said the man she had loved for no reason at all, “you wont’ mind if I do take you to dinner.” Her kiss then had assured him that she didn’t mind at all. So much had happened after that meeting over coffee at Union Station. It had taken so long to occur. Once she had suggested it. He had never said yes, never said no. “did he think I was trying to pick up on him?” she had asked a friend once. “Maybe.” Funny when things changed; after the night they sat watching trains and he had fallen apart, after waiting a month, he was the one who had turned the tables, taken the chance. “All I want is information,” she told him and her friend. She got the information. Now after that, he got her. Now Brett held her on the porch, looking quietly over her shoulder. He turned his head and looked into her quiet eyes. “what is it?” She stepped close to him, putting her head on his chest and looking up at him. “I think you’re cool,” he said, almost shyly. “Cool?” Laurie laughed into that Ernest face. “Cool?” “Yes.” The sudden surety of his voice made her stand back just a little. He stood now, shoulders back, hands almost shyly in front of him. Laurie reached for them, held them, her eyes finding his, holding them. “I love you,” he said in a sudden rush, no romantic preamble, no special preparation, just standing here on his porch, a porch where he had held his cranky two year-old daughter and come to find his son when he was late for dinner, that was, when he himself was home for dinner. That didn’t happen very often. Laurie steadied Brett’s trembling hands. “You always have,” she said, “I’ve always seen it in your face. I love you, too, Brett McCarley. I do. We’re adults. We can admit the truth. I know it’s not always easy for you.” It seemed her laundry basket was forgotten. Did the sun climb just a bit higher in the sky? Laurie leaned against him, draping her left arm around his left side, rubbing the small of his back, turning so that she stood almost next to him. He rested a hand on her hair, let it stray quietly through her soft curls. She brought her face up to him, he brought his head down, placed his lips quietly over her’s, slipped his hands over her shoulders. He moved away slightly, let his hands rest midway down her back. She smiled. “No more,” he said. “I don’t want to…” “Make me want you? I know. This is okay. We have work to do.” Brett had been married; he knew how to make things happen and how to stop them. Now they would do laundry. Maybe later they would go to dinner somewhere. They would meet here again and he would send her on her way home, but he would make plans. He would marry her, soon. Today he knew he loved her. Tomorrow would take care of itself. He touched her arm, stopped her before entering the house. “Your basket,” he said. “I’ll get it.” “Oh,” her word was easy, quiet, secure. “I almost forgot!” they looked at each other and shared a smile.
Copyright © 2010 Shelley J Alongi |