On Love Alone

On Love Alone

My heartfelt thanks to Shannon for the lovely awardicon!

People say love has no boundaries and knows little common sense.  I never knew how true that was until the first time I lost myself in Jackson’s eyes.  Those mercurial pools could be as soft as a blue summer sky or as hard and grey as flint.  His eyes held the power to erase all shreds of rational thought.  They hypnotized, mesmerized, healed, and destroyed.  One look and I was gone, head over heels, and certain I had just witnessed the eighth wonder of the world.  I knew in that moment I would give up everything I had to be with that man . . . and I did.

It didn’t matter that he didn’t have a job or any foreseeable future.  Love sustained me, even when persistent hunger pains were the only thing to fill my stomach.  It was a familiar ache and I grew to embrace it.  My daddy always told me that you either rebel against the pain life dishes out, or learn to accept it as a way of knowing you are still alive.  Despite the difficulty and struggle, any semblance of life without Jackson Farlow was not something I was willing to imagine.  Studying the rugged outline of his profile, I realize all that matters, all that has ever mattered, is us. 

His strong fingers wrap around mine, and I find myself wondering if that is where we went wrong.  Maybe we were foolish.  There was a time I believed our love for each other made us invincible, just me and Jackson against the world, against all odds . . . now I’m not so sure. 

“Hang on, Bailey.  We’re gonna make it.”

The pleading desperation in his voice pulls me from the morbid cocoon of my thoughts and rips my heart in two.  It is all I can do to keep from crying.  Pain and fear threaten to sweep me away in an unending undertow.  Hanging onto his hand for dear life, I give it a squeeze as a tear traces a forsaken path down my cheek.  It reminds me of the rare desert rain that fell this morning, and the dance we shared in the downpour before the heavens closed and, despite the sun, darkness prevailed.

“I’m sorry, baby.  I never meant for this . . .”

Jackson’s sensual baritone fades in my ears along with the rasp tainting it.  Dazed, I watch clouds drift above the jagged outline of mountains and cacti.  They undulate and stretch, reaching for each other like mournful wraiths trying to beckon a lover back into their arms.  It’s a sad, sweet ballet.  The beauty offers welcome distraction, and for a few moments, the sticky, hot pavement searing my skin is forgotten. 

Mere seconds pass before I find myself wanting to escape the dismal promise of my future and join them.  The carefree joys of childhood flash before my eyes in broken fragments: running through a field of dandelions, Mama’s dazzling smile, a myriad of firsts, each bringing their own bittersweet memories.  Who would have thought such an innocent and optimistic little girl would end up in my shoes?  I never saw it coming.  Even a mere hour ago, I had been oblivious to the perils that lie ahead.  Like a serpent coiled and poised to strike, they remained hidden until it was too late.

This morning, I had held Jackson tight.  The warm cascade of rain washed over us in a purifying cleanse as we danced.  His eyes held the promise of a million futures, but more importantly, a better tomorrow as he whispered his plans against my ear.  I believed in him, in us, in our ability to pull anything off as long as we were together.  As nice as his grandfather’s old ‘37 Buick was, I was willing to do anything after living in the back of it for four months.  Pulling me tight against the broad expanse of his chest, Jackson gave a deep chuckle.

“It will be fun, Bailey.  The old car, you and me, it’s all fate.  We’ll be a modern day Bonnie and Clyde.”

He looked so hopeful, so much like a child.  Still, skepticism rose along with the fingers of fear clawing at my gut.  After not eating for three days, I managed to convince myself that it was hunger, not some inner voice of wisdom.  Wrapping my arms around him, I met his gaze with a smile.

“Didn’t they have a sidekick?”

My teasing drew a gale of laughter from my lover.  Hitching a dark brow, he smiled down at me, his eyes dancing.  “We don’t need no sidekick, baby.  It’s just you and me.  Always has been, always will be.  I love you, Dimples.  I want to give you a better life . . . the one you deserve.  One hit and we can blow this town and start over somewhere better.”

“Just one?”

Jackson nodded.  His lips pressed against my head bringing both reassurance and a tingle of warmth in my core.  Pulling back, he spun me around until I threw my head back and laughed my delight.

“Just one.  I promise.”

Mama once told me one time was all it takes.  I’m pretty sure she had boys in mind at the time and not banks, but I would have been wise to take those words to heart.  One time is all it took.  I remember shaking like a leaf, shivering from a combination of nerves and the cold steel clutched in my hand as Jackson barked his demands at the teller.  My eyes never left that old burlap sack we had kept our few changes of clothes stored in as the shaky old man stuffed it full of money.

It was a thrill.  Part of me rejoiced at seeing so much cash, knowing it was all ours.  The other felt a wild rush of adrenaline and desire.  Odd how one act of defiance brings out the best and worst in a person all at once.  It was as if the angel and the devil warred within me and the devil won.

Being a small desert town, there had been no other witnesses to our crime, and once in the car, I could barely keep my hands off Jackson or the money.  My cheeks ached with the force of my smile as he sped out of town and hit the long, open stretch of road heading south.  That old Buick roared, its motor purring like a contented lion as the miles rolled by.  Jackson had never looked so handsome, a satisfied smile inching across the angular planes of his face, his broad shoulders accented by the rough leather jacket I loved so much.  We had the world in our sights, if only for a moment.

After escaping the little Podunk town without a trace of the law, it came as a shock to see the open maw of road near the valley filled with flashing lights.  Turning to Jackson, I saw my own panic reflected in his darkening blue eyes.  Each thunderous beat of my heart hammered in the hollow of my throat.  Drawing air into my lungs became an impossible feat; I forgot how to breathe.

The overturned SUV and array of emergency vehicles and law enforcement ensured we would not pass without making a scene.  I reached for Jackson’s hand, certain I would lose the bile eroding my stomach as a tall sheriff emerged from the fray.  Wide-brimmed hat shielding his face from the Arizona sun and obscuring his expression, I could do nothing but sit with churning insides as he approached.  Visibly tense, Jackson rolled down the window.

“Hope you got water or something.”  Officer David’s gaze moved over the inside of our car in slow assessment.  “It’s gonna be a while before we get that mess cleared.”

“No, sir.”  Jackson gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white.  I wanted to tell him to relax, but bit my tongue.  We both squirmed as brown eyes filled with intensity roamed over us.

“Nice car you got there, son.  You don’t see many of these nowadays, especially not in that good of condition.”

“Thank you, sir.  It was my granddaddy’s pride and joy.”

“I can see why.“  Officer David’s hand ran a reverent path over the driver’s side.  Squinting, he turned his attention to the backseat.  “What the--”

His words were cut short as Jackson’s .45 exploded with a deafening roar, the echo resounding throughout the desert basin.  The sheriff staggered backwards, one hand fumbling for the weapon holstered to his side, the other clutching the crimson stain spreading across his uniform.  It took a second to realize the mad screams piercing my ears bubbled from my own throat.  Shock and terror took hold and rapidly gave way to one’s base fight or flight instinct.  Lawmen swarmed from around the accident scene like an enraged hive of killer bees, their stings just as lethal.

Bullets flew through the air in a heavy exchange.  They riddled the car, filling the air with the jarring clang of metal.  The tires popped in chilling succession before the gear shift hit reverse.  I barely remember squeezing the trigger, let alone stumbling out of the car to be by Jackson’s side where we both collapsed against the pavement.

Everything feels like a bad dream from which I cannot wake.  The only escape now is death or life behind bars, a life devoid of the one thing I refuse to live without.  Fear is what keeps me from looking at him.  I’m afraid to be left alone, if only for a second.  Instinct warns the sticky pool congealing beneath me is a mixture of the best and worst we have to offer.  Even in these final moments, our bodies strain to be one and I pray I will not be left behind.  My hand grips his in a savage vise, as if that mere gesture can ensure he will not leave without me.  It is the last bit of security this world has to offer.

It was love that led me down this desolate path.  Love, and perhaps foolishness.  Jackson and I lived for each other, and now we will die in the same manner.  My pulse slows, drawing the last of my strength, until the languid beat forces my eyes shut.  His name tumbles from my lips, a final whisper too soon hushed and carried away by the wind.  I thought that love could see us through anything, but one cannot survive on love alone.


WC~1757
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