Chapter 13: The Farmhouse
Chapter 13: The Farmhouse
Tennessee drove in silence as he cut through the long stretch of deserted country road, the sun already sinking behind the far off trees. He didn’t turn on the radio. He didn’t open the windows.
Izo’s voice still rang in his skull. “… or Audrey drowns in the Atlantic Ocean, Yvonne marries a dog.”
Tennessee tightened his grip on the steering wheel until his knuckles whitened. Every memory of Audrey crying stung his chest like knives. She had looked so small, hugging herself, broken, terrified and alone. He shut his eyes for a second and inhaled deeply. He didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want to think about her.
He turned into the narrow dirt road that led to his small farmhouse. The sky was now lavender, fading into deep blue. Fireflies blinked lazily around the old wooden fence. Chickens were already asleep. The entire place smelled of hay, warm earth, and the faint scent of lavender his girlfriend always kept in a jar by the kitchen window.
He parked the car and stepped out slowly. The chirping of insects filled the air, crickets, grasshoppers. The soft rustle of wind brushing through the cornfield behind the house. He took a moment to breathe, then he pushed open the front door.
The house was dim, lit only by the lamp beside the couch. The old wooden floor creaked under his boots. He walked deeper inside, and there curled under a thick quilt on the sofa was Gwen Stefani.
Her blond curls were scattered messily over the pillow. Her chest rose and fell softly. Her lips were slightly parted. She had fallen asleep waiting for him again, still wearing the oversized shirt he loved on her.
Tennessee’s expression softened involuntarily. His shoulders relaxed, if only a little. Gwen always did that to him. She had a way of pulling him out of the darkness without even trying, he stepped closer. She stirred, then her eyes fluttered open, blurry at first, then widening the moment she recognized him.
“Tennessee?” Her voice came out soft and sleepy, a whisper full of relief.
He barely had time to answer before she sat up quickly, the blanket falling to her waist and threw her arms around him.
“You’re back!” she breathed against his chest.
“Yeah,” he said quietly, resting a hand on her back. “I’m back.”
She hugged him tighter, as if she had been terrified he might disappear again. As if she sensed something was wrong. He pushed that thought aside. She pulled away just enough to touch his cheeks with both hands. “You were gone for two years. I was so worried.”
“I know,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
She simply leaned in and kissed him, slow, relieved. Tennessee kissed her back, letting her warmth press away the cold dread clinging to him. When they finally separated, Gwen brushed her thumb across his lips and whispered, “Come eat. I made dinner earlier. It’s probably cold now but… it’s something.”
He nodded. They moved to the small kitchen. The farmhouse wasn’t fancy, wooden cabinets, old tiles, a dining table that could only seat two people but it was peaceful.
Tennessee sat down while Gwen reheated the plate. The smell of potatoes, baked beans, and fried catfish filled the room. She set the food in front of him and sat across from him, chin resting on her palm as she watched him eat. He had taken three bites when she finally asked gently,
“So… are you going to tell me what the hell happened?”
Gwen smiled, but it wasn’t a playful smile. It was tight and intent. Her green eyes were searching his face.
“You came back two years earlier and married to your father's window..."
He sighed deeply, the word married echoed around the kitchen.
“Gwen...”
“No.” She leaned forward. “Talk. I can handle it.”
Tennessee set his fork down, he stared at the plate for a long moment before muttering,
“It was a game.”
Gwen blinked.
“A… what?”
“A game,” he repeated, rubbing his forehead. “A stupid, temporary game.”
“A game that got you married?” Her voice rose, hurt creeping in. “Tennessee, what are you saying?”
He didn’t look at her.
“It was in exchange for my freedom.”
The kitchen went so silent, he could hear the distant moo of a cow outside. Gwen frowned.
“What does Audrey have to do with your freedom?”
Tennessee exhaled sharply. “Gwen, please. Not now.”
“No.” She folded her arms. “I deserve to know.”
Tennessee closed his eyes, he thought of Izo’s threat, he thought of Audrey crying. He thought of Yvonne in slave uniform.
“I told you,” he said quietly. “It was just a deal I made to get released. That’s all. I’m home now. It’s over.”
“But how does marrying another woman get you released?” Gwen insisted, eyes narrowing in confusion. "Your father's widow for that matter."
Tennessee forced a smile, the kind that never reached his eyes.
“Don’t worry about it.”
She stared at him, heartbroken.
“Tennessee… am I losing you?”
“No,” he said firmly. “You’re not.”
“But you married her legally.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
Gwen swallowed.
“Do you… love her?”
Tennessee’s head snapped up. “Gwen. Stop.”
“Then why does your face look like that when I mention her?” she whispered.
He clenched his jaw, he hated that Gwen was perceptive. He hated that Audrey’s image kept creeping into the edges of his mind... her crying, her bruises, her fear the day they beat her up. The way she held onto him when he saved her. The way she looked at the ocean like it was swallowing her whole.
Stop thinking about her, he told himself. He dragged his fingers through his hair.
“It was for freedom,” he repeated. “Nothing else.” He didn’t say more, he couldn’t.
Gwen nodded slowly, even though she didn’t believe him. She reached across the table and touched his hand.
“Tennessee,” she whispered. “Whatever this is… whatever trouble you’re in… you don’t have to carry it alone.”
His throat tightened, he didn’t deserve someone like her. He didn’t deserve peace, not when Audrey was trapped in a prison surrounded by ocean. Not when Yvonne was being forced to scrub floors in a stranger’s mansion. Not when his father dangled their lives like toys.
Gwen squeezed his hand again. “I’m here.”
He forced himself to meet her eyes.
“I know.”
He stood abruptly, needing to escape the weight in the room.
“I’m going to shower,” he muttered.
“Okay,” she whispered, watching him carefully.
He walked into the bedroom, the one with the old wooden bed frame and two mismatched nightstands. Gwen had decorated it with dried flowers and little framed quotes about hope and healing.
Tennessee sat on the edge of the bed and inhaled sharply.
He thought of Audrey again, not her face, but the way she fell apart when the guards dragged him out of the prison.
“Tennessee, don’t leave me! Don’t leave me here!”
Her voice echoed painfully. He shook his head violently.