Touching Scars (13 page)

By the beginning of the next week though, I could no longer hold myself back. I told myself that I was just going to make sure that he was okay, nothing more. I went to the A&S Emissions oil field to find him. I had no idea what I was going to say when I got there, but I figured it would come to me when I saw him. When I drove up to the trailer that my uncle worked in, I noted that I didn’t see Timber’s motorcycle anywhere. Getting out of my car, I walked up the metal steps and stepped inside the cool building. Cindy, the receptionist, greeted me with a warm smile.

“Hey, Kat, what brings you out here this afternoon?” Her accent was very strong and rich.

 I shrugged my shoulders, trying to play it casual. “Just thought I’d surprise Uncle Roger. Is he in?”

“Aww, that’s sweet honey, but actually he’s out having a meeting with the big wigs.” She leaned over the desk and lowered her voice to a whisper. “Between you and me, I think the big bosses are here in town to check things out and make sure we’re still on track.”

I nodded in understanding. “Oh, okay. So Roger isn’t here. How about Slim?”

She sat back in her seat. “Sure, he’s right back there. Go on back and give him a visit. He’d be happy to see ya.”

I grinned
at her. “Thanks, Cindy.”

I walked into the back room and opened the door. Slim was leaned back in his chair, his head resting on the high headrest. I almost laughed at the man’s gaping mouth and loud snoring. Tip- toeing over, I stood right in front of his desk and brought my hands up high before I slammed them down hard on the wood. It made a slapping sound so loud that I think I even startled myself. Slim shot straight up in his chair looking like he’d just had his hand caught in the cookie jar. He was looking all around his office, his eyes unfocused while he searched for the offending sound. I started laughing at his confused expression. He brought his gaze over to me.

I was still giggling when his eyes lit up. “Busy on the job, Slim?”

He chuckled, a deep belly sound. “Pipe down, kid, I didn’t sleep much last night. The fellas that run the company are here and they kept me up checking our log books and drilling records.” He scrubbed his hand down his face. “Whatcha doing here, princess? Your uncle isn’t here, ya know.”

I sucked in my lower lip. I knew that if I could be honest with anybody it would be Slim. I’d had many talks with him about things that I’d never shared with Roger. “I’m not really here to see Roger.”

I was wringing my hands in front of me, and Slim took note of it. “Okay, well, if you aren’t here to see him, and I’m more than certain you’re not here to see my ugly mug, I could take one guess who you’re here for.”

Was I that transparent? It’s not like Slim had been around Timber and me other than at my birthday celebration, so how else would he guess… unless Timber had spoken to him about me? Was I just jumping to conclusions? I could be here for anybody else. This field is full of men, so technically I could be here for just about anybody, right?

He watched me skeptically. “Timber isn’t here, kid. He’s not been here for over a week.”

Damn… busted
. “What makes you think I’m here for him?”

“Kat, I’ve known you for quite some time now. I can see the disappointment in your face when I said he hasn’t been here. Now, care to tell me why you’re looking for him?”

“You’re an observant bastard, you know that?” He laughed, but waved to the chair in front of the desk, gesturing that I sit down. Sighing, I took a seat and began talking. “Slim… I know Timber.” His eyes perked up with interest.

“Know him how?”

I looked down at my hands resting in my lap. “Timber and I attended the same high school. We didn’t run in the same crowds or anything like that, but we knew of each other.” I didn’t want to share anymore about it than that. He’d ask more questions that I wasn’t willing to answer. “Anyway, it was a bit of a shock when you and Roger brought him into the bar the other night. I hadn’t seen him in nearly six years.”

“Okay, but that doesn’t explain why you’re out here lookin’ for him.”

“Again with the observations, Slim. Cut it out.” He rolled his eyes. “Alright, well, he showed up at the beach a couple of weekends ago. He expressed some interest. He invited me over for dinner, but I declined. Instead I told him he could come over to The Hole and play cards.”

Slim’s eyebrows went up. “Kat, you’ve never asked anybody to play cards with you three. Am I to assume that there’s something different going on here?”

“No, it’s nothing like that,” I lied through my teeth. “I was just trying to get him to feel more at home here.”

“Uh-huh.” He wasn’t buying it.

“Anyway,” I said in an aggravated tone, “I noticed that he hasn’t come around since that night. I’m getting a little worried about him is all. I figured I’d come out here to check on him, to see if he was alright, but I didn’t see his motorcycle out there. Any idea where he might be?”

Slim leaned forward, steepling his fingers under his chin. “Kid, I have to say, I don’t think it’s a good idea to get involved with that one. He’s a bit rougher on the other side since being in the Army.”

“Slim…” My voice was slowly rising. “Even if there was any sort of involvement, it’s frankly none of your business.” I didn’t mean to be harsh towards him, but it made me angry that he would try to push me away from someone that was struggling. After all, I had my own demons I was dealing with, and he knew it.

He blew his breath out through his nose. He didn’t say anything for several beats, obviously trying to decide if he was going to answer my question. When he finally spoke, I too blew out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. “He lives over in those apartments just off Haddock Lane.” I was already standing up before he finished. “Kat, wait.” I paused with my hand on the doorknob. “I need you to be careful with him. I’ve seen the haunted look in him, and I don’t want you to get hurt. Promise me you’ll be careful.”

I looked over my shoulder. “I’m not trying to save him, Slim. I’m just trying to make sure he knows he has a friend.”

He nodded, and I turned to walk out. I was halfway down the hallway when I realized I didn’t know the apartment number. “Slim, what’s his number?” I shouted.

“4C.”

I walked out of the building, got in my car and made my way to Timber’s place.

When I got there, I saw his Harley parked in front of his door. As soon as I got to the porch, I placed my ear on the cool wood of his front door and tried to listen to what was on the other side. My ears were met with silence. I assumed I would have heard the television or something running, but nothing. My heart was beating wildly in my chest and I questioned my sanity for coming here. Would he think I was crazy for showing up at his place? Would he ask me how I even knew where he lived? Would he slam the door in my face and tell me to take a hike? I felt like I was being presumptuous for showing up here out of the blue, but my gut was telling me that something wasn’t right. The man had come around every single day to the bar, and then all of a sudden, just stopped. And I didn’t think it was coincidence that it just so happened to be right after what took place in my apartment. If he thought he’d hurt me, I’d set him straight. He needed to know that he did nothing wrong, and I was okay.

Gaining my resolve, I straightened my shoulders and placed a firm knock on the door. Nothing. I waited several moments before I knocked again. Still nothing. I didn’t even hear footsteps coming to the door to open it. The longer I stood there, the deeper a sinking feeling settled in my stomach. This wasn’t right. I knew he was here, so why wasn’t he opening the door? Going against my better judgment, I put my hand on the knob and twisted. Surprisingly, it wasn’t locked. Strange. Timber struck me as the type that would have everything sealed up tight. Pushing it open, my nose was immediately assaulted by the pungent smell of alcohol.

“What in the hell…” I said quietly to myself.

It was completely dark in the place except for the light from outside the door streaming in. From what I could tell, the place was trashed. There were beer cans, bottles of Crown three quarters of the way empty, and take-out bags all over the place. Clothes littered almost every inch of space that wasn’t being taken up by trash.
Holy shit, who lives like this?
I walked a few steps inside, the odor only getting worse.

“Hello?” I thought I heard the shower running from behind a closed door. “Timber, are you here? It’s Kat.” There was no return greeting.

Kicking aside a few pizza boxes and a pair of boxer briefs, I stepped over a trash bag and up to the closed door. Yep, definitely shower water was running. I knocked again, this time more forcefully than I did when I was outside.

“Timber, are you in there? It’s Kat. I stopped by because I hadn’t seen you in a while and I wanted to make sure you were okay. So… are you okay?” Nothing. “Look, if you’ll just let me know you’re alright, I’ll leave you alone.” When I was met by the quiet again, I swallowed deeply. I knew this wasn’t a good idea, but I had to make sure that he was okay. I told myself that if I just put my eyes on him and ensured myself that he was indeed alive and breathing, I’d walk out of here and go back to my bar and life just like before.

Again, I opened another door. There was mist in the air and the water was running at full blast. The droplets that landed on my arms gave me the chills. This wasn’t steam from a hot shower, this was something else. Why would the air be cold instead of hot? I looked over to my left, where the shower stall was. There was a glass door that was translucent. I could see a figure huddled in the corner and it wasn’t moving.

“Timber?” He didn’t move. I walked through the space, got to the shower door and popped it open.
Oh Christ, if he’s hurt what am I going to do? What if it’s worse than him being hurt? He’s not even moving, for God sakes. What if I’m too late?
More cold air hit me as I swung open the glass. Sitting back against the tiles, with his knees drawn up, was Timber.

He didn’t even look at me when I opened the door. Timidly, I put my hand under the water. If water could be colder than ice, then this was, because it was positively freezing. No longer concerned about what he’d say about me being in here, I acted on adrenaline. I shut the water off and looked in the cabinet behind me, thankful that the man had clean towels. Grabbing one, I stepped into the shower with Timber and kneeled down beside him. He was shaking uncontrollably. Throwing the towel over his naked body, I wrapped it around his shoulders and began vigorously rubbing his arms, trying to warm him. He still hadn’t said anything about me being in here, nor had he looked at me. Instead he was looking over the top of his knees, and he seemed like he wasn’t even here with me.

“Timber.” It was a statement to get his attention, not a question.

He opened his mouth, and his teeth started chattering. He was trying to speak but it came out mumbled and incoherent.

“What? Tell me what you need? I’m here Timber, I’m here.”

“Th-they’re…alllll…g-gone,” he shook out.

I continued my rubbing. “Who’s gone?”

He finally looked at me, his eyes red and glassy. He was crying, tears mixing with the water on his wet face. I brought a hand up and tried to dry one side of his cheek. “My brothers. They are all dead, and I killed them.”

His shaking was subsiding some, but a new wave of tears came from his eyes. I knew he must have been talking about his time in Iraq. I was getting insight into what happened to him, and I knew that I needed to tread lightly. Timber was on the edge and I was worried that any wrong words from me would set him off. He wouldn’t hurt me, but wherever his mind was right now, it wasn’t a good place to be. I needed to think, quick.

Suddenly, I knew. I somehow and in some crazy way knew what he needed. I had heard that Timber’s mom had passed away while he was on his first tour. I’d read about it in the Bay City newspaper online. I maneuvered myself in front of him and sat down on my butt. The cold water saturated my shorts but I didn’t care. I put both of my hands on his knees and spread them apart to create a space for me to get closer to him. Wrapping both of my arms around his shoulders, I brought his head down so that he was resting his head on my chest. I let him feel me taking deep even breaths.

 Soon I began to feel his breathing rise and fall in the same tempo as my own. He relaxed into me, allowing me to soothe him. I rubbed large circles up and down his towel covered back and softly whispered, “shhh….” It was something that my own mother had done when I was upset. She held me close and quietly shushed me. It was her way of letting me know that she was there. He settled into me for a long time, so long that I’d wondered if he’d fallen asleep. His black hair was now dry, and I ran my fingers through it over and over. It was softer than I thought it would be.

Sometime later, his raised his head. His eyes still red from crying, he spoke to me without saying a single word. I knew what he wanted. Standing up, I grabbed his hand and pulled him up to me. I took the towel from around his shoulders and gently dried him. Nothing about it was sexual. When he didn’t have a drop of water on him, I grabbed his hand again and started to walk out of the shower. He tugged me gently back to him and I turned my face up to him in question.