Chapter Thirteen

Cass's fight with Adam brings her closer to her family again, and closer than ever to Billy. 

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Some of this podcast has been recorded on equipment from the Billings Public Library Co+Lab. Thanks to Renee Barratt of The Cover Counts for the cover design. Music by Mikhail Smusev from Pixabay.

Transcript

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Welcome back to the serialized podcast production of The Scarring Underneath, written and performed by T. S. Dickerson. Chapter 13. Billy caught himself staring at the large bruise on Cass's face for what must have been the thirtieth time that night. He wanted to run his fingers over it, to cool it, to ask her if it hurt. He felt eyes on him and turned to see Cam watching. How's your face? Cam asked, bringing other conversation in their little dinner group to a crashing halt as all eyes turned to Cass. Billy had been near her all through the afternoon and evening, and no one except him, had asked her if she was okay before now. Her response to his own concern had been a terse, of course, and then an order to hold Cowboy steady while she checked on a crack in his hoof. For the first time since the fight, she smiled. Worried about me, big brother? she asked. I'm tougher than you, you remember. Trista laughed and Drew put on one of his goofy grins. Cam nodded, smiling, his gaze turning briefly back to Billy. Cam had been the one to haul his sister to her feet after the fight, with no show of concern whatsoever, but he'd kept to her side, and they'd talked extensively, too quietly for Billy to hear. I remember you being a hothead, that's what I remember. Why is my baby sister always the one getting into fist fights? I know, she said. She looked down at her feet for a moment. I shouldn't have done it. The silence grew oppressive. Then Cass sucked in a breath and cracked a half smile. I should have turned the other cheek. Trista chuckled, and Drew let out a snort. Cam chucked his apple core at Cass. She deflected it, and it hit Billy's bare foot. As she retrieved it, her arm brushed across his shin. Their eyes met in a flash of questioning. Brick ran up and sat in front of Cass, mouth open in a comical pant, tail wagging in the dirt. Cass tossed the apple core to the dog as the conversation turned to Trista's fishing prowess, which was apparently much greater than Drew's. The little group felt warm again. They'd reconciled without apology, and it was like no time or conflict had passed between those first stressful, exciting days of the journey and now. As he watched the four of them jibing one another, he missed the interactions of his own family. Why on earth would I name my baby after your childhood cat, Drew? Trista asked. Cam laughed beside her. He was a great cat, Drew said. I only suggested it because naming him Drew would challenge Cam's masculinity. Ha, Cam said, smiling around the bite of fish he'd just put in his mouth. I like Caleb, Trista said. Caleb's nice, Cass said with a shrug. If you want to stick with the sea names. So that's a family choice, Billy said. I wondered. They all nodded. What about Christopher? Billy trailed off, sensing the stiffening of everyone around him. Drew caught Billy's eye and gave his head a single shake. Uh or what was your uncle's name? Cass and Cam exchanged a look. Cam swallowed and said his middle name was Dallas, we're leaning toward that for a girl. But I'm not sure I want to break the sea tradition, Trista said, her voice sweet and hesitant. Cass's face was downturned as she said Maybe you should. Her tone was conversational but carried shades of meaning Billy ached to know. There's always Colin, Drew offered. Or Calvin, Billy said, and again the group froze. Trista turned to Cam and Drew turned to Cass, waiting for reactions. Brother and sister only shared another long, indecipherable look. There was already a Calvin in the family, Cass said. Billy's whole body felt flush with his embarrassment. Had he brought up the name of another dead relative? Two in a row? Feeling like a complete ass, he decided to keep his mouth closed for the rest of the meal. But it was too late. Cass stood and left without a word, leaving the rest of them to shift awkwardly in her wake. Sorry, Billy said, a bit of his accent trickling into the word. You couldn't know? Cam said. She hasn't talked to you about her father? Drew asked, earning himself a slightly shocked look from Trista. No, Billy said. Drew sniffed and took a swig from his canteen.

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She will, he said. Cass was grateful they'd decided to stay over another day.

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She slept into the afternoon the day after the fight, then followed Doc to ask about Adam. When she learned he was fine, she set out to take stock of the condition of the horses and supplies, but as she rounded a large boulder that had fallen from a ridge above, she nearly ran into Hank. Her blood pumped double time. She'd hardly been able to speak to him since the kidnapping, so great was her guilt. He apologized for the near collision, and moved to step around her. She built up her courage as quickly as she could, like filling a pitcher from a fire hose until it overflowed. I'm sorry, Hank, she said. She stared at the dark skin of his collarbone. For what? Cass swallowed and fumbled, but Hank reached out and touched her good arm. In his eyes she found the forgiveness she'd never hoped for. You said you'd make an effort. And you did, he said. He gave her a melancholy smile and walked away. For a while Cass stood there by the boulder, but soon she felt the need to talk to someone. It was such a new sensation, wanting company. A good portion of the camp was at the creek, washing clothes. Cass gathered her own laundry and went to join them. She was surprised to find Lena and Billy working side by side in silence. She sat down with them, which caused Lena to make a hasty exit. Shaking her head, Cass set to her work. I'm sorry I left so quick last night, she said, after a few moments of silence. I'm sorry, Billy said, for putting my foot in my mouth. I was just tired and sore. She indicated her puffy cheek, which she knew was at its ugliest today. She'd been getting stares everywhere she went. I hated seeing you fight him, Billy said. Cass nodded, giving him a long look before changing the subject to Hank, and then on to a hundred less serious topics. The stiffness and hesitation between them were forced out by the flow of conversation. That evening, after another hefty meal at sunset, someone started a fire, and people began to gather around it. Some danced, but it wasn't the raucous affair that had taken place after the wine drinking. Even after the day's rest, the group was still drained from the events of the past weeks. The guitar wound down into a soft, subdued melody. Cass felt alone. As the group around her was waning, she was buzzing. She and Cam were speaking again. Lena seemed to be easing up on her hatred of Billy. It seemed that Billy's interest in her matched her own and him. They'd spent the day together, only splitting up after dinner when Drew had pulled Cass off to dance for a bit. Cass spotted Drew now helping Cam to lift a sleeping Trista and carry her away from the fire. Several people had fallen asleep, leaning against rocks, luggage, and one another. Talking had ceased, and some had begun to filter away to their tents. She let her gaze lift cautiously across the fire to Billy. He was leaning forward, chin resting on his hand as he watched the guitarist play. His expression was quietly hungry. He didn't look tired, she reflected, and then banished the thought. Cass stood, careful not to disturb the woman leaning against the tack trunk next to her legs. Marie offered up a sleepy smile, and Cass's eyes widened as she spotted Weyland asleep with his head cradled in her lap. Cass was a bit stunned to see a relationship progressing between them. She felt guilty for any passing judgments she'd made. Once free of the circle of people, Cass crossed the stream at a narrow spot where a log had been placed as a bridge. The horses grazed in an open area on the other side. A few heads lifted as she approached and then dropped back to their grazing. Cass stretched as she walked and stared up at the full moon, so bright it dimmed the stars. Suddenly she felt weighed down. She shrugged out of her jacket, letting it fall behind her. With practiced ease, she dug a toe into the opposite boot heel and pulled her foot free. She did the same with the other boot, reached down for her socks and jerked them off her feet. She wiggled her toes in the lush, cool grass, and as she walked, her steps took on a familiar rhythm. She was far enough from camp that the guitar was just a soft hum on the breeze when she began to dance. She let her memory conjure up the song that had been drifting in and out of her mind since Utah. And why not? Alone here in the open, with a freshness in her mind and no audience but animals? She closed her eyes and let her head fall back, but the song stalled. With a small smile she let herself picture Billy's face and the melody she'd been repressing, burst forth eager for her voice. She began to spin and hum, swaying her arms and her hips. She cut herself free of consciousness and simply moved to the sound of a guitar in her head, more real to her than the one she'd just heard at the campfire. With each breath she took in the musk of horses and the secret clarity of night air. Finally the song came to a close in her memory, and she opened her eyes to stars and treetops whirling in her vision. With a dizzy smile she gave in and folded to the ground, burying her fingers in the grass. The snorting of a horse broke through her bliss, and she looked up to see Billy standing at ease a few yards away. Smoke had gone over to greet him, and he absently offered the horse his hand to sniff while he smiled at Cass. There was something sad in his expression. She allowed herself a moment of embarrassment, then chose to let it go. She chuckled, falling backward once more. Billy approached and stretched out on the ground beside her. The intake of breath before he spoke was startlingly close, so she was prepared when his voice resonated directly beside her ear. I bet you haven't done that since before. Done what? Cass replied, and swallowed away her hoarseness. Made a fool of myself when no one was supposed to be watching? His laugh was all breath, and she could feel the warmth of it against her cheek. Danced barefoot in a pasture after dark, he answered. Cass risked a minuscule turn of her head to look at him. His face was close enough she could watch his pupils adjust as a cloud covered the moon, stealing away the brightness. Cass lost track of time as everything inside her body decided to defy gravity and float weightless within her. It seemed the only thing holding her down was her right hand, flat against the earth and millimeters from his left hand. She wasn't sure how she knew this, as she'd never torn her gaze away from his to check, but there was no doubt in her mind it was so. It could have been seconds or hours, but neither of them moved. Billy remained silent, never prompting her to answer. When she finally did speak, it seemed a lifetime had passed between them, but she remembered the question without struggle. I never did that before you. Billy missed a breath or more. Her lungs were burning too when he finally let out a soft gasp of air and breathed in again. His pinky finger fell across her own. Her lips parted in wonder as she tried to sort out why that tiny touch was so much more intimate than anything she'd experienced in her life to date. More intimate even than the kiss in the wine cellar. Eventually her breathing steadied, and she relaxed under his gaze. She shut her eyes and twined her little finger tighter around his. Billy's thoughts grew heavy as he watched Cass fall asleep beside him. He'd followed her out here to tell her so many things, to ask her things too. He wanted to tell her he'd realized who had hurt her. Last night in his tent as he thought about everyone's reactions to his name suggestions at dinner, it had become painfully and disgustingly clear to him. He wanted to tell her he was glad her father was dead. He'd have wanted to kill the man who'd harmed her before she could defend herself. Because he loved her. He loved her even if it seemed crazy. He had to tell her who he was, the stupid reason she had recognized him and the stupid life he'd lived before. He needed to tell her and hoped to heaven and hell she would understand why he'd hidden it. But when he'd seen her dancing out here in the moonlight, singing his song, he'd been so stunned. Even though it had been the perfect time to confess, he couldn't bring himself to do it, couldn't bring himself to do anything but be near her and touch her in whatever small and pathetic manner they could both tolerate. Billy's eyes stayed locked on her face, memorizing, until the lids closed heavily over them. Even then he dreamed of her. Cash shivered as she drifted into consciousness. Her back and shoulders were chilled while her arms and the front of her body were warm. She was just wondering what had happened with her sleeping bag when she was wakened further by a horse's snort. With a jolt she remembered the night before, dancing in the pasture, falling into the grass, and Billy. Her eyes flew open and struggled to adjust in the fuzzy pre dawn light. Her hands were the first things to come into focus. They were pressed against the grey cotton of a t-shirt and warmed by the rhythmically expanding chest beneath it. One hand was spread, her palm flat, the other was loosely fisted in the shirt. Billy's jacket enclosed much of the both of them. One of his arms rested under her neck, and the other was draped across her upper body. She took stock and realized their legs intertwined in an impossibly comfortable way. She lay still, dealing with her surprise. She had somehow managed to sleep beside him in the truck bed at the orchard, but Drew had been there, just a few inches away on the other side of the window glass. She'd drifted in and out of consciousness in the back of the wagon with him and Doc, but it hardly counted when she'd been concussed. And this was vastly different. They were holding one another, an intimacy she'd never known. She couldn't believe she was experiencing it while lying in the grass somewhere in Missouri with a man she'd only known a couple of months. She wished she could see his face, wondered how he looked when he slept, but her head was tucked under his chin, the scar on his neck at the level of her eyes. She let out her breath in an unintended gush. Billy stirred and stiffened, and she knew she'd woken him. She waited for his reaction. His hand flexed on her arm as he breathed out with exaggerated control. She felt the muscles of his forearm beneath her neck as he moved that hand in the grass. Slowly he pulled away, his jacket slipping and exposing her bare arms to the cool air. She wasn't sure if the following shiver was caused by that chill or by meeting his eyes. The blue of those eyes stood out like she'd never seen it before, against his pale skin and hair in the washed out gray light. They were wide, and his mouth was open like he had started to say something and lost the will. He blinked a few times as the two of them shifted and disentangled their legs. He rolled onto his stomach, but not before Cass had realized why he'd want to. The evidence of his arousal had been pressed against her. She flushed. He propped himself up on his arms, and Cass folded an arm beneath her head, trying to find the appropriate words. In the end, it was Billy's hoarse voice that broke their silence. Good morning, he said. Are we okay? Cass searched his face for more information. He was staring at her like an animal tamer, trying to calm a frightened creature. Wasn't he the one who should be frightened of this? Okay that we fell asleep out here? Okay that we woke up like that? Or are you asking if we should sneak back to camp before anyone sees us like this? Billy raised his brows. Yes. All of that? Are you okay? she asked, looking away and propping herself higher on her arms, scanning their surroundings. It seemed a very long time before he replied. I've been wanting to hold you. I guess I needed to be asleep to do it, but yes. I'm okay. Cass felt a shy smile spread across her lips, unbidden, as she met his hopeful gaze. Her heart thudded in her chest and she rolled onto her own stomach, almost as an excuse to turn away from his affection for a moment. Hoofbeats approached, and they turned as smoke sauntered up. She snuffled the Billy's back and the top of his head, bringing about welcome laughter, and then wandered off again to graze. She likes you, Cass said. She always had good taste. Cass was pulled into memories of smoke. The horse would put up with any number of balance issues or clumsy cues in exchange for kind hands and good judgment. She'd act like a lazy sow for the first couple of rides with anyone, but if she liked a rider, she'd come to respond. If she didn't like someone, they might as well find a new mount. The horse had loved the man who'd died on her back, the patient first boyfriend who had handled Cass with the same sort of care he'd shown the gray mare. Cass tried to recall his face, but this scene was far away from anything she'd known with him. She'd never slept with him, even after sex. She'd never opened herself to that with anyone. Billy was the first. He tossed his head, flicking back a long strand of hair that had fallen into his eye. It was a gesture of long practice. He was used to his hair being this long. More important, the gesture forced guitar chords into Cass's mind again. The familiarity was overwhelming right now when she was so open to her feelings. Who are you to me? she asked, thinking the wonder in her voice sounded a tad dramatic, though not unwarranted. Billy cast his eyes down at the grass and shook his head. Whoever you want me to be, he said. She searched his face for more recognizable features, frowning. You just still seem so familiar sometimes. Billy reached out and ran his thumb over the scar on her arm as he had done once before. Her body reacted almost as intensely as it had then. Her skin tingled as all the tiny hairs lifted, and her breathing grew shallow, as if even her lungs were afraid of breaking the spell of his soft touch. It was your father, wasn't it? Billy asked, still staring at Cass's scar. He was the one who hurt you. Cass had the uneasy sense that the world was dropping out from under her. Her fingers dug into the grass before her, tensing her whole frame, but Billy went on. Did he give you this? When Billy saw her face, he jerked his head back and dropped his hand. Cass felt a tremor in her shoulders. Billy shook his head, mouth agape, and started to reach out to her. Cass pushed herself to her feet and moved away. We should go, she said. She hurried over to her boots and coat where they'd been discarded the night before. She picked up a jog and leaped the creek without hesitation, refusing to look back. Learn more about me and my work on my Facebook, Instagram, and Blue Sky pages. Links are in the podcast description.