The Grove

I had a dream someone was in the house. Then I thought it might not be a dream and I opened my eyes.

The light from the window was bright and drilled into my head. I was in bed, still dressed. My shoes were on, and there were streaks of mud on the sheets. I sat up slowly then heard footsteps in the hallway.

“Morning, Dex.”

Greg stood in the doorway, dressed for work. I smiled, not sure why. I was used to seeing him in his uniform, but this time something about the badge struck me as funny.

He had a cup in his hand, and he held it out to me.

“I went ahead and made a pot. Hope you don’t mind.”

“Why would I mind? It’s not like you let yourself in without being invited.”

“Suspicion of criminal activity,” he said. “If you like, you can file a complaint with the county on Monday.”

“There’s an idea.” I took a drink of the coffee. It was strong, and it burned when I swallowed. “So, what brings you out, Sheriff?”

“Just stopping by.”

I didn’t think a casual visit was the reason he was here, and I told him so.

“Well, maybe not.” Greg stepped toward the window and angled down to look out. “How you feeling? Doing OK?”

“Checking up on me?”

Greg made a low noise in the base of his throat then stepped back from the window and paced the room.

I set the coffee cup on the nightstand next to the empty Johnny Walker bottle. My .22 was there, too, but the clip was gone.

I looked up at Greg.

“You’ll get it back, don’t worry.”

“When?”

“Haven’t decided.”

I shook my head and went to stand. The floor shifted under me. Greg reached out, but I waved him off and staggered past him to the bathroom in the hall. I closed the door and leaned over the sink and stared at the mirror.

The reflection reminded me of my father.

I ran the water cold and tried to wash away the lines around my eyes, then went back to the bedroom and grabbed my coffee from the nightstand.

I walked down the hallway toward the kitchen. Greg was sitting at the table with the paper open. As I got closer, I saw it was the comics section.

I sat across from him, didn’t speak.

“Got a call from Liz this morning,” Greg said, not looking up. “Said she came by last night for a few of her things.”

“That’s right.”

“Said there was some kind of incident.”

I sipped my coffee.

Greg leaned back, stared at me. “Said you scared her pretty bad, Dex.”

I set the cup on the table. “Wasn’t my intention.”

“The way she tells it, you waved a gun in her face and told her the only good woman was one that wasn’t breathing.”

That sounded about right, but I kept quiet.

“You don’t see how that might’ve upset her a bit?”

“Jesus, Greg.”

“You still taking your pills?”

“What the hell does that have to do with anything?”

“You tell me. I haven’t had to come out here like this in years, and you and I both know it’s because of those pills. If you stopped taking them, it might explain your behavior last night.”

“What behavior?”

Greg crossed his arms over his chest. “Did you black out?”

I looked away.

“What do you remember?”

“I remember some.”

My voice came out harsher than I’d wanted. It made me sound defensive, and maybe I was. Greg was trying to rattle me, and it was working. He’s always known what buttons to push to get under my skin. He’s been doing it since we were kids.

Greg kept staring at me, silent.

“If you got something to say, say it.”

He paused. “Where’s your tractor, Dex?”

I didn’t want to—goddamn it, I didn’t want to—but I did anyway. I got up and crossed to the window and looked out at the spot beside the house where I kept the tractor.

It was gone.

“Liz said you threatened to plow your field under. You remember that?”

I shook my head and didn’t speak, just stared at the dark oil stains on the gravel where my tractor had been the day before.

Greg started to say something else, but I walked past him and out the back door.

In late summer, when the corn is at its highest, it’s impossible to see the entire field from the ground. This time, I didn’t need to. There was a wide break in the rows about thirty feet from the house.

I muttered under my breath and headed toward it.

Greg followed me to the break.

“Looks like you made it almost all the way to the grove before running the back end into the ravine. Good thing, too. You can’t afford to lose this crop.”

I stood at the edge of the corn and stared down the wide scar I’d cut the night before. The path curved a bit, but I only had to take a few steps to see my tractor sitting fifty yards down, tipped up, its back wheels planted in the ravine that ran alongside the cottonwood grove.

Liz had been at me for years to cut those trees out, but I wouldn’t do it. She called it wasted land, and I suppose she had a point. The grove cut into the edge of the field, creating a bend that was a hassle come harvest. It would’ve been much easier to dig it out and be done with it, but I liked it.

The field behind the grove was sheltered and quiet, the cottonwoods on one side and a low line of hills on the other. From back there you couldn’t see the house or the road, and better still, no one could see you.

I’d had to throw a few kids out of there from time to time, but I was never angry about it. Growing up in this part of the world was boring, and the grove was a perfect spot to have a couple beers or get high or do whatever else they wanted to do without being seen.

I didn’t blame them, but I didn’t need them stomping through my field and leaving beer cans and fast food bags behind to attract the rats, either.

I still remembered what it was like being a kid. I just didn’t care anymore.

“You gonna want help pulling her out?”

I shook my head. “I’ll get her.”

Once I said it, I regretted it. There was mud back there, and I knew that would make things tough. And if it rained, tough would become impossible.

“If you change your mind, you can give me a call. I’ll bring the truck by. Got a new winch. Wouldn’t mind trying her out.”

“Thanks. I’ll let you know.”

He nodded, and for a moment we both just stood there, staring at the tractor. Then Greg spoke.

“You ever think it might be for the best? Her leaving and all?”

He must’ve read the look on my face because when he spoke again he stumbled over his words.

“I was only thinking of the way things have gone since—” He held up his hands, stopping himself. “Look, Dex, all I’m saying is you two have been through things no couple should have to go through. Maybe a new start, for both of you, is the best—”

I walked away, leaving him alone.

When I got back to the house, I took a beer from the refrigerator then went out to the front porch and sat on one of the wicker chairs Liz had picked up from the county crafts show the year before. A minute later, Greg came around the side of the house and stopped at the bottom of the porch steps. He saw the bottle and shook his head.

“You know it ain’t even noon yet?”

“I got nothing planned today.”

He looked like he was about to say something else, but I cut him off.

“How about the clip to my gun?”

Greg smiled. “I don’t think so, Dex. At least not today.”

“When?”

He started toward his cruiser in the driveway. “You can get it at dinner this weekend, if you want to come. Julie would love to see you, same with the boys.”

“I don’t know.”

He reached into his pocket and held up the clip. “That’s the price I’m asking.”

“I’m pretty sure what you’re doing is illegal, Sheriff.”

Greg laughed and waved back over his shoulder. He got into the cruiser and backed down the driveway, then turned out onto the road. A thick trail of dust lifted into the air behind him and shone white in the sun before drifting over the cornfield and dissolving in the breeze.

I stayed on the porch and watched his cruiser crest the hill and disappear on the other side.