Leland looked down at his hat, where he swirled it around and around, one fist inside the crown, his strong fingers along the brim. Then he looked at Jamie, his grey-blue eyes perfectly serious, kind of like the first time Jamie’d seen him, when he’d been appraising Jamie up and down and finding nothing he saw he could approve of.
But it was different this time. He didn’t look away, didn’t frown and wave Jamie away. No, he took a step closer, his boots crunching in the grass, and then he stopped.
“I’d like to ask if you’d want to take care of that driver’s license and bank account today.”
“Today?” Jamie asked, feeling stupid. But there Leland was, plain as day, with answers to two things Jamie needed to take care of. “Why would you do that?”
“Because I said I would,” said Leland, quite steadily. “And because you can’t get a bank account without some form of ID, and you can’t get that ID without some form of proof of residence. I’m here to help you with both. Thought we’d drive into Chugwater today.”
Chugwater was thirty miles away. It was almost lunchtime.
“I need to eat first,” Jamie said, lifting his chin in a way that he hoped showed that none of this was affecting him. He lifted his chin so far that the sun was in his eyes, and he had to squint to see.
“Thought we’d get lunch,” Leland said in his quiet way.
He put his hat on, and Jamie noticed he was wearing a blue plaid shirt that made his eyes even more grey. And new blue jeans, so new, the color snapped in the sunlight. He was so handsome, standing there, so broad shouldered. Why not go with him and let him help? Then later Jamie would have the memory of their last day together to take away with him.
“Okay,” he said.
His mind raced ahead, refusing to land on any one thought, any one image. All of them were of Leland, the two of them in Leland’s shiny F150 Ford, barreling down a country highway with the windows down, the sun glinting off Leland’s smile. Which was stupid, way stupid, but Jamie couldn’t seem to stop himself.
“Maybe change,” Leland said, quite carefully, as though he was avoiding stepping on Jamie’s toes somehow. “Get cleaned up for the ID photo.”
“Okay,” Jamie said again, and then, like he was somebody he wanted Leland to respect, pointed his thumb at the last uncut swath of grass. “But I’ve got to finish this.”
“I’ll finish,” Leland said, reaching out to take the scythe from Jamie. “You get cleaned up and I’ll meet you by the supply barn in twenty minutes.”
They were so close. Leland put his hat on, took the scythe from Jamie, and they were so close, he could see the tension in Leland’s jaw, see the pulse beneath the muscle in his neck. Smell the soap from his shower, the scent of his hair. The warmth of him was all around, and Jamie wanted to bawl like a kid for not having any of that anymore. For losing him with no hope of ever getting him back.
“I’m on it,” Jamie said, trying to make sure Leland didn’t know what he was feeling.
But Leland knew. Jamie saw it in his eyes as his fingers curled around the thickest part of the handle of the scythe. And just before Jamie let go, their fingers brushed.
Jamie jerked back like Leland’d just asked him to hold hands, but really, his hand felt alive, like a million volts of lightning had gone into his body and jerked him awake from being dead.
This man had made such a difference in his life. It was going to kill Jamie to walk away from him, but he would. Leland didn’t want Jamie around, that much was plain to see. If he was keeping his promise to Jamie to help him with the paperwork, then that’s just the kind of man he was, and no indication that he wanted Jamie to stick around.
Besides, Leland was helping him get his driver’s license so he could leave. Right? That’s what he was doing, Jamie was sure of it.
Leland had the scythe. Jamie turned on his heel and waded through cut grass, and marched across the dirt road to the staff quarters. He would shower and shave, the fastest he’d ever done it, and be there at the supply barn before Leland. And in no way was he sprucing himself up for Leland, no way.
It was all about the license, and that was it. The license was his freedom from the ranch. His ticket out. And Leland was going to help him get it, even if Jamie wasn’t sure he wanted what it represented anymore.
29
Leland
The drive to Chugwater usually took about half an hour, if Leland went fast, which he usually did. With Jamie in the truck, he drove a little slower, enjoying Jamie being there sharing the drive, enjoying how he sat with his elbow in the open window, leaning slightly towards the open sky, smiling in the sun.
Leland guided the truck along the two-lane paved road, slowing down along the stretch where it was all gravel and scrub, and then sped up along the small paved rise to Chugwater. Everything was beautiful in the sunshine, the grasses damp-green from the rain shifting in the low breeze, rising the grass-scent in the air, the blue sky overhead. It was a gift, all of it.
None of this he deserved to be enjoying, but he was enjoying it all just the same, along with the memories of moments that felt like he’d stolen them from their rightful owner. As though what he and Jamie had shared between them had been borrowed, and he’d casually returned everything, every word, every glance, every touch, every caress, every kiss—only to feel the ache of loss churning into a downward spin of regret. By the time he pulled into the parking lot of the DMV in Chugwater and got out of the truck, he was sweating along the back of his neck, fretting like he had no more sense than a newly haltered colt.
Jamie followed Leland into the small, air-conditioned office, cautious, sticking behind Leland, as though he imagined they would throw him out, first chance they got. They walked up to the counter together, the only people in the small, linoleum-floored lobby.
“Pull out your license, Jamie,” Leland said, just to get the process started.
Jamie showed the clerk his old license. She tipped down her head and looked at him over the rims of her stern black eyeglasses and glared at him.
