Ginger's Heart (a modern fairytale) (7 page)

Which meant he needed to find Cain.

***

Although Woodman wasn’t a stranger to the distillery grounds, he hadn’t treated the crumbling, overgrown complex like a debauched combination of the local brothel and bar in which Cain had indulged over the past three years.

From time to time, his Aunt Sarah would call him and ask him to find Cain—generally after he’d skipped a night at home—and Woodman always ended up finding his cousin at Glenn River. He wasn’t alone there, either. There was a whole crew of Apple Valley kids who frequented the distillery grounds, holding loud, raging parties on Saturday nights and hooking up in the shadows of the many outbuildings. Since Cain was a regular, it was never too tough to find him.

Woodman parked his car by the brush near the abandoned gates and walked purposefully along the chain-link fence to one of the many places where there was an opening. Slipping through it, he heard music on the breeze, likely coming from the old peristyle on the far left side of the property. Woodman circled the main building, built to resemble a castle back in the 1930s. He knew the way like the back of his hand, walking over crumbling concrete overgrown with weeds, through the well-trod dirt path into the high grass, taking a right at the rusted water tower, until he found a bunch of his former classmates gathered in one of the distillery outbuildings.

“Hey, Woodman!” cried Kim Nadel, one of his friends from senior trig. She slipped under a metal bar and ran the few steps to meet him, wrapping him in a big hug before he could even say hello.

“Hey, Kim,” he said, patting her back.

They’d gone out a couple of times, but Woodman had never let himself get very serious about anyone. He’d given his heart to someone else a long time ago, and he didn’t mind waiting for the girl of his dreams to grow up. Drawing away, he grinned at his friend. “Thought you were at Kentucky Wesleyan. What the heck you doin’ here?”

“Just home for the weekend,” she said, smiling back at him.

Kim, with her curly brown hair and bright blue eyes, was a pretty girl, and the way she checked him out told him she wouldn’t mind spending a little time with him on his last night in Apple Valley. “Heard you’re headed to boot camp tomorrow.”

He nodded, placing his hands on his hips. “That’s right.”

“Chicago?” she asked.

“Town’s called Great Lakes,” he said. “Real near Chicago.”

“Surprised everyone when Cain enlisted, too.”

Woodman’s eyes narrowed at the mention of his cousin, his anger rushing back quickly and crashing over him like a wave. He looked over Kim’s shoulder but didn’t see Cain’s jet-black hair in the crowd of partying teens.

“You seen him around?”

“Cain?” she asked. “Uh, yeah. Sure. He just got here a little while ago. Saw him talkin’ to Gina and Nicole over there by the lower pool.”

She gestured to the rounded end of the peristyle, then turned back to face Woodman, placing a hand on his arm. “But don’t go runnin’ off. Knowin’ Cain, he’ll still be here an hour from now. Why don’t you and me . . . catch up?”
The problem was, if Cain was still here an hour from now, he’d be standing up Ginger, a circumstance Woodman couldn’t bear if there was any way for him to intercede on Ginger’s behalf.

Woodman shrugged and gave her a sorry smile. “Got plans tonight. Sorry, honey.”

“Always liked you, Woodman,” she said, taking a step closer to him, her hand squeezing his arm.

Gently Woodman removed her hand, bringing it to his lips and kissing the back of it before letting it go. “You’re a sweetheart, Kim. But I gotta go find Cain. Another time?”

Her eyes were cooler as she put her hands in her pockets and took a step back. “Sure, Woodman. Good luck. You know, with everythin’.”

“You too, Kim.”

Turning away from her, Woodman sidestepped into the crowd of bodies drinking, smoking, and dancing in the peristyle. The building was a thirty-foot-long rectangle with a large circle at the end, not unlike the shape of a white dandelion puff on top of a thin green stalk. The middle of the rectangle had a long pool of water, and it was flanked by large, once-white marble columns, like something out of ancient Greece or Rome. In the rounded area, there was a vaulted ceiling over a circular pool, and rusted railings where girls and boys leaned beside one another drinking and talking. Two sets of stairs on either side of the pool led to a lower walkway closer to the water, where more kids drank, smoked, and gyrated against each other to the beat of the music. And there, on the lower level, by the water, Woodman spotted Cain.

Leaning against the railing, he was talking to two girls, both of whom appeared utterly enraptured. Woodman set his jaw and made his way down the stairs, stopping alongside Cain with purpose.

“Cain.”

“Cuz!” exclaimed Cain, his face denting from his goddamn dimples as he pulled Woodman into an enthusiastic embrace. “Hardly ever see your face here! What the fuck you up to, son?”

Cain smelled of cigarettes and beer, and his over-cheerful demeanor suggested he’d already had a few beers in the twenty minutes he’d been there.

Woodman, who’d remained stiff throughout Cain’s warm greeting, pushed his cousin away, willing himself to control his rage. “We need to talk.”

Cain leaned back slightly, his eyes scanning Woodman’s face. “We do?”

“Yeah. Not here.”

“Here’ll do for me,” said Cain slowly, crossing his arms over his chest. “Ain’t you noticed I got company?”

Woodman shot a quick look at Gina and Nicole, whom he recognized as seniors at Apple Valley High. “Ladies, would you excuse me and Cain?”

“
Excuse
you?” asked Nicole flirtatiously. “Honey, we’d rather you
stay
. We’d like to show you
both
a good time the night before you head off to war.”

“We’re not going to war,” said Woodman, working to keep the edge out of his voice.

“Boot camp. Whatever,” said Gina, shrugging as she licked her red-painted lips. “It’s so hot that y’all are headin’ off to defend America. Hashtag DoubleDubHeroes.”

Woodman rolled his eyes and turned back to Cain. “I need to talk to you. Now.”

Cain scoffed, raising a brown beer bottle to his lips and chugging it slowly, his eyes on Woodman’s the whole time. Woodman knew what his cousin was doing: he was trying to figure out why Woodman wanted to talk. He knew from experience that if his momma wanted him home, Woodman would have just said so by now.
Why does he need to talk to me?
Woodman could practically hear the question humming in the air between them.

Finally Cain lowered the bottle, his eyes widening as he nodded almost imperceptibly. “You saw. With the princess.”

Woodman flinched, his nostrils flaring as he clenched his teeth and swallowed. He felt his fingers curl into fists by his sides, and he willed them to be still, though they longed to fly from his sides of their own accord.

“I did,” he bit out.

“Didn’t mean nothin’,” said Cain, looking down at the ground, a hint of pink coloring his freshly shaven cheeks. “Forget it.”

“Can’t.”

“Try, Josiah.” He looked up at his cousin and shrugged. “It just . . . happened. Didn’t mean a fuckin’ thing.” When his cousin didn’t answer, his eyes narrowed in annoyance. “Get over it.”

“What’d you promise her, Cain?” asked Woodman, his voice a low, focused growl.

They had attracted a small crowd. In addition to Gina and Nicole, who were still standing across from them, in fascinated silence, two or three other kids had quieted down to see what was going on between the Dub Twins.

Cain tilted his beer up again, finishing the last of it. “None of your fuckin’ business, cuz.”

Woodman moved fast as lightning, his reflexes faster on account of his sobriety. His fist slammed into his cousin’s cheek, as good as a sucker punch and twice as hard. Cain’s neck whipped back, the empty beer bottle falling from his hand and smashing onto the narrow concrete walkway under their feet. A few chips of glass slipped into the water, splashing before gurgling into the greenish murk.

It took Cain a few seconds to recover, but he swung at Woodman, missing him with one fist, but connecting to his ribs with the other, and Woodman groaned from the impact.

“Fuck
you
, Cain!” he yelled, wrangling the back of Cain’s neck with his elbow, his other fist smashing into Cain’s nose with a furious undercut. “What . . . did you . . . fuckin’ . . . promise her?”

Cain reached forward and grabbed his cousin’s legs in a giant bear hug, pulling Woodman off balance, and they both fell to the ground, Cain landing on top of his cousin and straddling him with strong thighs that had seen a decade of manual labor on McHuid Farm.

“Stop fuckin’ hittin’ me, Woodman!”

Woodman struggled under his cousin, but when Cain took him down, he’d pinned his cousin’s arms against his sides and a piece of broken glass was gouging into his arm.

“Admit it!” yelled Woodman, fury making him writhe beneath Cain to no avail. “Admit that you promised to take her tonight!”

Cain swiped at his nose, which was bleeding, though it didn’t appear to be broken. “If I let you up, don’t you fuckin’ hit me, Josiah. I fuckin’ mean it. You hit me, I’ll hit back. And harder. You hear?” Woodman nodded once. “I’ll let you up, and we’ll go talk.”

Cain gave him one last meaningful look, then rolled off him, springing to his feet and offering his cousin a hand from a safe distance. Woodman ignored it, standing up and pushing through the assembled crowd like a bull, up the stairs and into the upper level of the peristyle. He stalked down the long rectangular alleyway flanked with mossy, once-elegant columns until he came to the end, then he took a few more steps into the tall grass and stood with his back to the building, silently fuming, waiting for Cain to join him.

A moment later, he felt a hand on his shoulder and shrugged it away, turning to face his cousin.

“You
knew
,” he whispered, unable to keep the deep hurt out of his voice. “You fuckin’
knew
how I feel about her. How could you fuckin’ make a move on her? On
her
?”

Cain flinched, hanging his head as he stared down at the ground. When he looked up again, his expression was sorry. “It didn’t
mean
anythin’.”

“You say that one more time, and I will break your fuckin’ nose.”

“You are too tightly wired, Josiah!” yelled Cain. “Fuck me! I’m
sorry
I kissed her. I shouldn’t’a done that, but it’s over and done, and I can’t take it back.”

Woodman took a deep breath, trying to calm down. “Why are you takin’ her to the fuckin’ dance in the first place?”

“Her date got sick or somethin’.”

Woodman tried desperately not to flinch. “So she asked
you
to take her?”

Hell, he’d only gotten her a date in the first place because he didn’t think she’d want to be escorted by someone like him, who’d already graduated. He assumed she’d want to go with someone her own age. Fuck, if she’d been fine going with someone not still in high school,
he’d
have fucking offered to escort her. As it was, it hurt like hell that she hadn’t come to him when things fell through with Robby.

Cain shrugged. “I offered. She was all sad and cryin’ . . . and . . . Fuck, Josiah. What the fuck do you want from me?”

“
What the fuck do I want from you?
” Woodman repeated, his voice stuffed with incredulity and anger. “There is a girl who we have known all our fuckin’ lives, and today you kissed her like the world is endin’. And fuck, that sucks, Cain. That sucks for me because I love her, but there’s a bigger problem now. She is
expectin’
you to take her to a goddamned high school dance tonight, and I will be
damned
if I let you stand her up. So you tell me, Cain, are you plannin’ to head back to McHuid’s and fuckin’ take her?”

Cain’s face was stone as he stared back at his cousin. “No.”

Josiah ran a hand through his hair, his face twisting up in frustration and anger. “Did you or did you not say you’d take her to the fuckin’ dance?”

Cain ran his thumb over his lower lip and shook his head. “She was so fuckin’ sad . . .”

“So you said you’d take her to a dance.”

Cain nodded curtly.

“Then you better quit drinkin’ because you’ve got a fuckin’ date tonight and you’re goin’ to fuckin’ take her to homecomin’, Cain, or I will beat you bloody until I can’t stand up no more.” Woodman trembled from the conflicting mess of feelings inside. Betrayal. Hurt. Anger. Sadness. But his love for Ginger trumped all other feelings. He concentrated on her lovely face in his head as he added, “You are
not
standin’ her up while I got breath in my body.”

Cain’s eyes were wild and cold as he looked at his cousin. His expression was fierce but inscrutable, even for Woodman, who knew him so well. He read a mixture of frustration and sadness, anger and regret, but there was so much more—and for a moment, Woodman felt like he was seeing the root of the deep conflict between them. The distance that Woodman had felt for years now was simmering and seething just beneath the surface of all the commonplace emotions Woodman could identify. But before he could figure it out, Cain dropped Woodman’s eyes and looked down at the ground, muttering, “You take her, Josiah.”