Bluegrass Symphony - 6. Dissonance

There had to be something wrong. Caleb groaned. His head pounded and he sat up in the sleeping bag, straw falling from him as he moved.

Thursday dawned bright and clear. The happy sounds of birds singing around the barn announced the day, as did the rooster in the yard. Shafts of light, visible thanks to floating motes of dust slanted through the gaps in the old, weathered building and lit up the space.

The cheerful birdsong was a sharp counterpoint to the thudding in Caleb's skull. He looked blearily around and tasted the awful after-effects of drinking far too much rum.

Memory began to fire, and Caleb's face slid into a mortified, miserable expression. He closed his eyes and rubbed his mouth, then his gaze landed on the items carefully placed beside him. There was a folded piece of paper with two aspirin on it lying on the floor, along with a bottle of Gatorade.

He picked up the tablets, opened the Gatorade, and tossed back the medication. Caleb drank half of the bottle and washed the aspirin down a sore, raw throat.

Caleb sighed heavily. He knew he had to face his brother. He remembered their conversation from the previous evening, and there was no doubt in Caleb's mind that Charles would want to talk to him.

He picked up the paper and opened it to see a note in Charles's writing. Caleb set his jaw and began to read.

'Hey, bub. Come on down to the house when you're up and living. We'll have breakfast, talk a bit. Love you. Your brother.'

Caleb hung his head. There was no avoiding it. To delay a little longer, he sipped on the Gatorade. He breathed slowly and let his body gradually adjust to the waking world.

Caleb didn't want to talk about it. He didn't want anyone else to talk about it. He wanted it to go away. Yet that didn’t seem likely, so he finished the bottle and pulled on his boots.

Caleb pushed himself to his feet. 'No use draggin' it out. Just get it done.' He flinched at the little stab of pain through his temples as he stood, but the headache was bearable. 'Did it to myself.' He accepted the pain as punishment for both drinking, and for being what he was.

Caleb slowly descended the ladder from the loft to the ground in the bottom of the barn. The big man slipped his hands into the pockets of his jeans and shuffled toward the house, about a football field away.

It was light but still early. Caleb squinted against the morning sunshine and walked to the back door of the farmhouse. The little place had been his home with Charles, Tracy and their infant son, Oliver, for the last few months, and Caleb appreciated that Tracy and his brother seemed to like having him there. But right now, Caleb really wished that he lived alone.

He opened the door. After a little mudroom, the place opened into the kitchen. Tracy looked at him from her spot at the stove as she fried bacon, and she smiled. "Hey, Caleb." There was a lot in that expression. Caleb knew that she and Charles had talked and in a way he was oddly relieved - he didn't want to have to do it himself. She motioned with her head at the kitchen table. "Go on and sit. I'll get you some coffee."

Caleb knew she was trying to be nice, but he bristled. "I don't need help. I'll get my own coffee."

Tracy's smile faded. "Well, okay." She turned back to her bacon.

Caleb grabbed a mug and poured himself a full serving of dark, black coffee from the nearly-full pot. Then he sat with his beverage at the table. He stared down into the steaming depths of the ceramic cup and took a drink.

The liquid felt good as it slid down his throat. Caleb glanced up at Tracy. She still had her back to him, and the air hung heavy with an awkward silence. Caleb sighed. "I'm sorry." He took another drink and leaned back in his chair. "I'm just, I'm not havin' a good day."

Tracy pulled the bacon out of the pan and put it on a plate with a paper towel to drain. "Well, your brother will be in soon from down the hill." She wiped her hands on a towel and looked at her moody brother-in-law. "I know you don't want to talk about it, but…"

"I really don't," Caleb growled and wrapped his hands around the warm mug.

Before Tracy could respond, Charles stepped through the door. Charles pulled off his dirty boots in the mudroom. He grinned at Caleb as he came into the kitchen in his socked feet. "He lives!"

Caleb sighed. "Yup."

Charles stopped beside the stove and stole a kiss from Tracy. "Oliver still asleep?"

Tracy smiled at him. "Yeah. He fussed a lot last night. I think he'll sleep a little longer."

Charles nodded, then he turned his attention to Caleb. He pulled out a chair and sat across from his quiet brother.

Tracy served bacon, eggs, a glass of milk, orange halves, and toast to the men and got a plate for herself. She sat with them at the table.

Charles patted her leg. "Thanks for breakfast, hon."

Tracy smiled and nodded as she bit into a crisp piece of bacon.

They all ate in relative silence. When Charles finished, he wiped his mouth and his gaze lifted from the plate in front of him to Caleb.

'Here it comes.' Caleb clenched his jaw and raised his eyes to meet Charles's.

His brother smiled. "So, I talked to Wren yesterday, after the barn."

It was worse than Caleb had thought. He had believed, maybe, he could backpedal. Perhaps he could reel back this monstrous secret - one he didn't even know he carried. That looked unlikely now. Caleb gave Charles a short nod. "Yeah? What about?"

Tracy sighed, and that earned her a glare from Caleb. Charles held up a hand to keep the peace. "Caleb, Wren told me what he did."

Caleb slumped. There it was. He stared forlornly at the tabletop.

Charles continued. "He's real sorry too. And he should be." Charles shook his head. "If you didn't want him to kiss you, then he assaulted you."

Caleb swallowed. He studied his hands on the table. Caleb knew Charles was right - if Wren had kissed him, and Caleb didn't want him to, then it indeed was assault.

Charles gave him a moment. He picked up his coffee, took a sip and put the mug back down, every movement slow to give his brother time to think. He leaned forward. "Caleb, tell me, right now. Did Wren assault you?"

The big man closed his eyes.

"No." It was the barest whisper.

A baby's cry emanated from the back room. "Shit!" Tracy swore, and the men looked at her, both surprised. She put a hand over her mouth. "Well!" She got up. "You know I'm nosey. Wait for me!" She hurried through the house into their bedroom where the crib sat.

Charles watched her go with a chuckle.

Caleb shook his head. "I don't know what happened. But, at that second, I wanted him to kiss me. He knew it, and he did."

Charles observed him, an inquisitive quality in his gaze. "Well? How was it? Did you like it?" He shook his head. "I know you have had a bit of trouble with the ladies. Was it the same with Wren?"

Tracy reentered the kitchen, Oliver over her shoulder. She frowned. "Y'all didn't stop."

Caleb shook his head and chuckled. He sighed. "It wasn't the same as kissing a girl." Caleb could admit that much. "Not even close."

Charles exhaled as if that confirmed what he had already thought. "Well, what are you gonna do about it? Because Wren thinks you hate him, and that you never want to see him again." He nodded. "He said as much this morning when I tried to get him to come up to talk to you."

Caleb was all twisted up. "I don't hate him." He clenched his jaw. "But it was a mistake." He shook his head. "I'm not gonna do that again."

Charles and Tracy both frowned slightly. Caleb looked back and forth at them. "What?"

Charles glanced at Tracy, then he shook his head at Caleb. "Nothing. An' just tell him that. Wren will respect that, Caleb." He reached and squeezed Caleb's shoulder. "But you gotta talk to him. He's down at the house right now, tearing the siding off of it with a claw hammer and a crowbar."

Caleb grimaced. "It's still full of stuff! What's he doin'?"

"If I had to guess, tryin' to forget a kiss." Tracy smirked at Caleb's reaction. Charles made a noise of agreement and nodded.

"Lord. All right." Caleb stood. "I'll go talk to him."

"Good." Charles rose with him. "I'll drive you down. I need to borrow your truck to haul those fence posts and wire."

Caleb instantly felt guilty. "Shit. I was supposed to help you with the fence today." About three hundred feet of posts and wire needed replacing on the northern edge of Charles's property. It was a big job.

"Yeah." Charles grinned and put on his ballcap. "But you got something more important to do."

⤱

Wren cranked hard on the crowbar. Finally, the board came loose with a squeal of the metal nails' forcible removal from the wood of the house. He pulled it the rest of the way off and tossed it onto a haphazard collection of old, weathered siding.

He started immediately on the next one. Wren wedged the chisel-shaped head under the wood and pulled.

Wren heard wheels on gravel. He frowned. Last night and that morning both, Charles had been down to try and get him to talk to Caleb.

"Caleb doesn't want to see me. He doesn't want anything to do with me," Wren had told him.

He didn't blame Caleb. Wren knew he shouldn't have kissed the man. Even if Caleb had wanted him to at that moment, he knew it. Wren had caved, and now he had lost his friend.

Wren stubbornly refused to walk out to the vehicle. He knew it was Charles again, trying to get him to talk to his brother. He wouldn't. Deep down, Wren felt that he deserved the pain that burned in his own chest.

A door opened and closed, then the vehicle crunched away on the gravel road. Wren worked his jaw and went back to his efforts.

He leaned back to try and rip the latest board away from the old house and saw movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned his head to look.

Caleb stared at him from the edge of the house, a few paces from Wren.

Wren's hand dropped away from the crowbar, leaving the metal tool wedged in place - stuck to the side of the house. Both men looked at one another.

An enormous amount of guilt washed over Wren. He shook his head. "I'm sorry." He looked down, away from Caleb's clear, blue eyes. "It was selfish, and I fucked up. I shouldn't have done it."

Caleb walked to him. Wren hated himself for it, but he began to cry. "God damn it." He wiped his face, angry and upset that he was unable to control his emotions.

Caleb cleared his throat, and with a lot of hesitation, Wren looked up.

His friend gazed at him. A light dusting of stubble made Caleb's skin a little darker and softened the line of his wide jaw. His short brown hair was a little messed up, but it looked almost as if it were on purpose. His dark eyebrows framed those soulful, expressive eyes. Wren could only stare at him.

Caleb's tongue ran over his teeth, then he looked at the siding lying all over the ground. It was a hazard - nails sticking out of wood, ready to spear an unwary fellow's foot at any moment. He jerked his head at the siding. "Why don't we get this in a pile, so it ain't such a mess, and then we'll go in - start takin' out all the furniture. You can decide what you want to keep or throw away."

Wren stared at him. 'He wants to help me? He still wants to help me?'

Apparently, Wren took too long, and Caleb started to gather the boards strewn about. He had about a half dozen, and he looked at Wren. He motioned at a spot nearby but out of the way. "Here good?"

Wren blinked. "Ah, yeah." He nodded and wiped his eyes. "Yeah, that's good."

Caleb tossed them down with a clatter of dry, old wood, then he began to collect another armload. After one more second to convince himself that he hadn't lost his friend, Wren dared to hope things between them were salvageable. He joined Caleb in collecting the boards. Soon they had finished, the boards in a tall pile of dry wood.

Wren didn't want to break the spell. He was afraid that if he called out the moment that it would simply evaporate - that Caleb would leave.

"Wren." Caleb's voice jarred Wren back to reality. The broad-shouldered Shaw stepped close to him. The sun had risen a bit more, and it had heated up some. Caleb's forehead was beaded with sweat, and so was Wrens.

He looked up at Caleb. "Yeah?"

Caleb crossed his arms over his chest. "No more… no more of what happened. Okay?"

Wren saw the unsure way Caleb's eyes met his own. He inhaled. "Yeah. No more." Wren nodded. "I promise, I won't touch you again, Caleb."

Wren expected to see relief. Instead, Caleb flinched. It was so slight Wren nearly missed it, but it was there. Caleb nodded once. "Good. No touching." He looked at the house. "Let's see what's worth keeping. There's probably room to store most all of it in the barn."

Wren agreeably followed behind Caleb as they walked up the steps onto the porch. They began the process of splitting things into a 'keep’ and a 'dump' pile. They kept themselves very busy for a few hours. Even though Wren was undoubtedly happy that Caleb was back, and that they had patched things up, there was something that still bothered him about that moment, tangled and passionate, with Caleb yesterday. No matter what, he couldn't get it out of his mind.

'You kissed me back, Caleb.'

⤱

Caleb drank his second glass of milk and looked out over the field. It was now a bit after five p.m. He and Wren had been at work on the house, emptying the contents almost all day. That included the innards of Beecher's fridge. Luckily, electricity was still running, and that's where the men had scrounged up lunch and dinner - gobbling up ham and cheese sandwiches, and milk.

They had already hauled a lot of stuff that they planned to keep to the barn for storage. There was plenty of space below the loft on the ground floor, and now there were dressers, chests of drawers, a pulled apart bed frame, and all the appliances Wren wanted to hang onto stored. Wren also realized that he could wear his papaw's clothes. He saved a few of the better work shirts and even a couple of pairs of Carhartt pants.

Wren wiped his mouth as he finished the last of the milk in the fridge. "Once we get everything out, and everything we can salvage, then it'll be time to rent some heavy equipment." He gazed sadly at the house. "A lot of memories here."

Caleb put the wet glass on the porch railing and stood with Wren. "Yeah." Then he clapped a companionable hand on Wren. "You'll just make more."

Wren looked at him. Before Caleb could figure out what the expression meant, Wren stepped away, and Caleb's hand slid off of his back. "Yeah. Thanks," Wren said, his tone a bit short.

Caleb realized he'd violated his own rule. 'No touching.' He glowered at the thought. He knew it was only fair, but it didn't feel very good. Caleb sulked as Wren gathered their glasses and took them inside. Caleb sighed and followed Wren into the crumbling house.

They were nearly done with their day, but Caleb wanted to check Beecher's old tractor and the rototiller. Those were both two of the most essential pieces of equipment on any farm. He knew that Beecher had used the tractor and the attached disc plow to get his garden prepared for planting only a week ago. Still, it never hurt to ensure your equipment was functional, ready, and maintained.

Caleb and Wren pulled off the tarp covering the tractor. It was a 1980 John Deere, the 2440 model. Caleb had always admired the compact, efficient tractor, and he smiled as they looked over the machine.

Both he and Wren sniffed the odor of diesel at the same time. A little was typical - those engines smelled of fuel, grease, and oil. What they now scented was pronounced. Caleb bent and looked closely at the fuel line, Wren right beside him.

"Son of a bitch." The line was cleanly cut. Caleb's callused, thick fingers held the two ends of the fuel line. "What the fuck…" He inhaled in realization and looked over his shoulder at Wren.

Wren slowly straightened, his hands balled into fists. "Those fucking bastards. Those bastards!" A red flush spread up Wren's neck to his face. His anger was palpable. "I'm gonna take a trip."

Caleb fell into step behind Wren. "I'm comin'."

Wren clenched his jaw and nodded. They got into the truck and Wren pulled around the turnabout, on the way to the road above.

"Which one do you think it was?" Caleb held on to the handle above the door as Wren turned onto the blacktop and started up, deeper into the holler.

"Wade. If not him, then he knows which one did it." Wren's fingers opened and closed on the steering wheel. They passed the turnoff for Charles's farm and drove on. Wade's place was the deepest - nestled amongst the higher hills which bracketed the whole area.

Another few minutes of driving and Wren pulled up in front of a big, three-bedroom farmhouse. It was at the very end of the road - the blacktop literally stopped at Wren's uncle's home.

Wade's place was fenced completely, creating a private yard in front of the house. His two dogs barked furiously, running back and forth along the fence as the truck stopped.

Wren got out and marched straight to the gate. Caleb had to hurry to catch up. He'd only had a reason to be at Wade's house a few times over the years. Most of the time it was a place to avoid.

Wren fearlessly opened the gate, and the pair of hounds went crazy. "Shaddup!" The dogs stopped barking and hunkered down as if he had struck them. Caleb followed with a shake of his head.

Wren banged on the closed door, and the glass rattled in the frame. "Wade! I know you're home! Open up!"

A shadow passed behind the window in the door, then it opened. Wade Hambrick eyed Wren, animosity in his gaze. "Yer lucky I didn't shoot you, nephew." He looked past Wren. "What'd you do to my dogs?" They still slunk around as if they had been beaten.

Wren ignored the question. "We know what you did to papaw's… to my tractor, Wade."

With an exaggerated look of confusion, Wade put a hand on his chest. "What? What happened to daddy's tractor?"

Wren leaned forward. "Stay off my property, Wade. You and all the rest of the uncles. Hear me?"

Wade moved the wad of chewing tobacco from one jaw to the other, then his mouth slid into a smirk. "Oh, I hear ya." His eyes glittered dangerously. "You might be needin' our help though. I know how hard it is to keep things tidy. 'Specially when you ain't there. Be a shame if things kept breakin'. Expensive to fix."

"We never said the tractor was broken." Caleb glared at Wade. "Which one of you did it?"

Wade laughed. "You boys are playin' a game you ain't gonna win." His smugness made the hackles on Caleb's neck rise. "I'd suggest lookin' fer someone who can take that property off yer hands, Wren."

Wren stared at him, his green eyes hard. "I'd give it away before any of you boys get it, Wade." He turned on his heel. "Stay away from my land."

Caleb took a step back and followed Wren.

"You change your mind, my door is open, nephew." Wren stormed out the gate, and Wade yelled after him. "But not 'till then! Don't come back unless you got somethin' worth hearin'!"

Wren and Caleb were soon in the truck, and the dark-haired man glared at the gravel road as he drove. Caleb wet his lips. "I can fix the tractor, Wren. Pretty sure."

Wren let out a long breath. "Thanks. We'll go to town tomorrow." Wren spoke, blinked then glanced at Caleb, an uncomfortable expression on his face.

"What?"

Wren grimaced and drove past the turnoff to his farm. "I just assumed you'd be able to help me tomorrow. And that you'd still want to be partners on the farm." He bit his lip and shook his head. "Sorry. I know you've got your brother's place, and I know you've got to help him too."

It was true - Charles needed help on his property, but that need was episodic. The Shaw homestead was well-established, with a lot of infrastructure, outbuildings, and equipment that all helped with the necessary tasks of farm life. Wren's place didn't have much of that, and what was there needed fixed or replaced entirely.

"Wren, Charles sent me down the hill to you." He shrugged. "I'll help him an' Tracy when they need it, but I planned on gettin' you set up first." He smiled. "And, we already talked about us partnering up." Caleb nodded. "I'm still interested."

Wren appeared relieved and nodded. He turned onto the gravel drive that led to his mother's house. "I'm just gonna check on Mom. I want to make sure nothing's going on there." He sighed. "I think I'm going to have to stay at the farm. I don't trust any of them, and I don't think I can leave the property alone for any length of time."

Caleb made a face. "The second we catch those boys they're fucked. The county court doesn't tolerate vandalism, and they know it. But, yeah. If we're not there to catch 'em then they'll keep at it."

Wren smiled at him. "Thanks, Caleb." He had obviously noticed the 'we' tucked into Caleb's statement.

Caleb nodded. "I know it's early in the year, but we could get Charles's old mess tent - set it up. It's roomy. Be plenty big enough for us both." He narrowed his eyes. "It'd also let the uncles know that we're there and that we're planning to stay."

They arrived, and Wren put the truck in park. "If he doesn't mind, yeah." Wren smirked. "We can build that firepit I've always wanted, really ramp up the camping experience."

Caleb grinned. "Sounds like a fun project."

They got out. Rachel was in the kitchen and they smelled fried chicken as soon as they opened the door.

Wren stopped at the doorway to the room and smiled at Rachel. "Hey, Mom. Smells really good."

"Well, there's plenty. I figured you both might be by for supper." She wiped her hands on the apron she wore. "You boys been out at the property all day?"

"Yup." Caleb walked in and opened the fridge.

Rachel put her hands on her hips. "Caleb, you're about to eat chicken, green beans, mashed potatoes, and rolls." She pointed at him. "Don't you ruin your dinner."

Caleb cringed and shut the fridge. "Yes, ma'am."

Wren laughed at Caleb's chagrined manner. "Caleb, I'm gonna call Charles, see about the tent." Wren took out his cellphone.

Rachel frowned and looked at Wren. "What's this about a tent?"

Wren sighed. "We're gonna have to stay out on the property, Mom." He wrinkled his nose. "One or more of the uncles messed with papaw's tractor." Wren shook his head. "And who knows what else."

Rachel was shocked. "What!?"

Caleb nodded. "Yeah." He pulled up a chair at the table. "We'll have to take the food with us, Miss Rachel. We don't want to leave things alone too long out there."

She looked just as mad as Wren did at Wade's house. "I can't believe those boys!"

Caleb and Wren agreed with her. What they suspected of the uncles was untenable. A man just didn't mess with another's livelihood. The rough part was that they couldn't prove anything, so all they could do was protect the place as best as they could.

Rachel finished with dinner. While she packed it up in a wicker basket, Wren called up to Charles's. Charles was all too happy to lend them the tent. Caleb noticed the conversation was a short one - his brother had studiously avoided asking Wren how things were going.

Soon they were on the way up to the Shaw farm, the torturous smell of fried chicken, rolls, and buttery potatoes filled the cab of the truck. Caleb held the basket on his lap, and his belly growled loudly as they turned in at Charles's and Tracy's.

Wren snickered. "Hold on, growly. We'll eat in a little."

Caleb smiled at him. He looked at his friend's face in profile and let himself really see this man he had known his whole life. Wren had expressive green eyes. Long, dark lashes, full lips, and a slightly protruding, narrow chin - all of which made him look sleek. Wren's black hair suited him perfectly. It was always full, glossy, and right now a bit long on his head. He was what Caleb imagined when he dreamed up an elegant man starring opposite a beautiful woman in a film.

'Movie star. Yeah. He could be a movie star.' Caleb's thoughts swirled.

Wren had said something. He now stared at Caleb, waiting for a response. Caleb had utterly missed it. He swallowed. "What?"

Wren raised an eyebrow. "I asked if you're ready." He frowned. "You okay?"

Caleb nodded, a bit too vigorously. "Yeah. Yep. Fine." He put the basket down on the floorboard of the truck. "Let's go get that tent."

Wren eyed him, but he let it drop. Together, they went to find Charles. It wasn't long before the folded tent and assorted poles were in the back of the pickup. During the process, the guys told him of the trouble with the tractor.

Charles stood at the tailgate of the truck and shook his head. "That is some sad shit." He sucked air through his teeth. "I'll keep an eye out. Wade has to drive past my place if he goes anywhere." He nodded at Wren. "I'll let ya know when he comes and goes."

Wren and Caleb both smiled. "That'd be great, Charles. Thanks," Wren said.

Charles smiled and patted the thick canvas. "You're welcome. Enjoy the tent. It'll keep the rain off your heads for a while, but eventually, it'll leak if it stays wet long enough. That happens, come on back, we'll get some tarps for you."

The pair thanked him, then they were on their way back down the hill.

They both had the windows down and enjoyed the oddly warm evening air. In the fading sunlight, Wren pulled into the gravel driveway beside Beecher's old house. They got out, Caleb carrying the basket with their dinner.

Wren let the tailgate down, and he hopped up to sit there among the tent parts. Caleb did the same. He sat the basket between them, and each man served himself from the little bounty Rachel had packed for them.

Caleb took a bite of a savory, juicy chicken leg and looked across the field at the barn. That time of day was so peaceful. Daytime critters were quieting down, making ready for sleep, while the nighttime ones were only just beginning to stir. It was his favorite time of day.

Wren sighed and chewed contentedly on a roll. He only had eyes for the view, and he too watched the evening gather over the field. "You know," Wren swallowed his bite and nodded, "I don't think I would rather be anywhere else right now." The tenor of his voice was awed - as if he couldn't quite believe how he felt.

Caleb wanted to look at Wren, but he forced himself to avoid it. Instead, Caleb looked down at his knees and nodded. "I'm glad, Wren." And In the quiet, as they ate, Caleb's own thoughts remained unvoiced.

'Me too.'