And Then There Was Her

by Tagan Shepard

  “I’m sorry.” CS’s voice was like a cooling salve on her shattered nerves. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  Madison pressed the handkerchief to her eyes, feeling CS’s approach more than seeing it. She looked up at CS who appeared uncharacteristically hesitant and unsure. She and the horse she led by the reins hovered at a distance from Madison.

  “It’s okay. I just didn’t hear you come up.”

  “I can go if you want.”

  “No.” Madison rubbed the necklace again, trying to control her tears. “I’m sorry. I should have stayed home.”

  CS walked forward a few steps, and squatted, bouncing a little on the balls of her feet and leaning her elbows heavily on her knees. She was quiet until Madison looked up at her, then she spoke in a soft voice. “What’s wrong?”

  Madison held out the necklace and dropped it into CS’s extended palm. She studied the necklace for a long moment, flipping it over to look at the other side before saying, “I remember these from my days in California. They were very popular once.”

  “My brother got it for me when I was thirteen.” Madison smiled bitterly at the thought of him in those days. “He took a trip to Tijuana his sophomore year of college—the summer before I started high school.”

  CS held it back out to her, nodding at it with her chin, perhaps noting how worn the stone was. “It’s obviously special to you. To keep it this long.”

  Madison wrapped the cord around her neck and hooked it without difficulty. “He had a matching one.” She waited for CS to respond, and when she didn’t, she said in a watery voice, “He died a year ago today.”

  The horse—Madison recognized her as the preening Violet—nuzzled up to CS’s ear, snorting loudly and nudging her with her nose. CS wrapped Violet’s reins around a low branch before fishing something out of her pocket and feeding it to her.

  The horse munched happily on her treat and CS leaned back against the tree trunk next to Madison and looked off into the field. Madison followed her gaze, happy to not have to look at someone else. CS didn’t speak, just stood with her hands in her pockets, letting the silence stretch. It gave Madison space. Space to decide if she wanted to talk about it. Eventually, she decided she did.

  “He was my hero. My big brother who did all the clichéd big brother things. He stood up for me when people picked on me and danced with me at weddings. It was just the two of us against Mom and Dad all the time. We were troublemakers, but he always took the blame.”

  CS nodded, Madison could see it out of the corner of her eye, but she didn’t speak, just listened.

  “He was seven years older, but he always lived in town, even when he was out on his own. We stayed close. Our parents liked the idea of having kids, but I don’t think they actually liked us very much. Our grandmother was warm and loving, but she died when I was very young. It felt like all I ever had was Robert.”

  Violet tried to wander off, pulling on her lead and making the tree creak. CS reached for the lead, putting just the slightest pressure on it and Violet settled immediately.

  Madison dabbed at her eyes with her moist handkerchief. A light blue bandana appeared in front of her.

  “Take mine.”

  Madison held it to her cheeks. Pressed against her face, it smelled like clean cotton and the slightest hint of fresh mint. She held it back out to CS. “Thank you.”

  “Keep it.”

  Madison was dabbing at the wetness around her nose when she was nearly pushed over. Violet had wandered around the tree and nudged her face hard against Madison’s shoulder. The unexpected movement sent Madison sprawling at CS’s feet, as she collapsed into a storm of giggles. Violet nudged at her again while she tried to stand up and CS hurried around the tree to get hold of her bridle.

  “Violet!”

  “It’s okay.” Madison stumbled to her feet and walked over to the horse to pet Violet’s nose. She turned her liquid black eyes on Madison and they were the eyes of a playful dog. “Her nose is so soft.”

  “She’s just trying to find food.”

  CS pulled a sugar cube from her pocket and dropped it into Madison’s hand. Violet’s nostrils fluttered around happily and she gobbled it up, her lips curling around it and tickling her palm.

  “She’s sweet.”

  “She’s a pig.” CS patted the horse’s shoulder lovingly. “She’d be too fat to walk if she had her way.”

  “I always thought horses were scary. They’re so big.” She looked sheepishly at CS. “I have to confess I’d never met a horse before I came here.”

  Madison gave Violet one last pat on the nose and settled back into her spot between the roots.

  “Oh no. On your feet.”

  “What?”

  CS held out her hand. It was large and calloused in a few places, but looked soft up close. “I’m teaching you to ride.”

  Madison was all set to refuse. She had the “no” on her tongue all ready to go. Somehow, though, she found herself smiling. She slid her hand into CS’s and found that she’d been right, it was soft, but it was also strong as it wrapped carefully around hers. She nodded and CS pulled her to her feet.

  Violet was a mass of muscle, but surprisingly gentle. She fidgeted impatiently while CS described the proper way to get into the saddle, but she held still as a statue once Madison slid her foot into the stirrup. CS talked her through every step and never let go of Violet’s reins. It wasn’t nearly as frightening as Madison thought it would be with CS there to guide her. Before she had a chance to think about Robert again, they were riding down the hill toward the rows of pinot noir, Madison wobbly in the stiff leather of the saddle.

  CS led Violet in silence, but that silence was clearly an invitation. Words spilled from Madison. She stroked the necklace at her throat.

  “High school was the highlight of Robert’s life,” Madison began. CS slowed her pace, moving alongside Violet so she could look up at Madison occasionally. “He was popular in that way pretty boys are to young women. He wore those oversized flannel shirts and long bangs like Kurt Cobain. It totally worked for him.”

  “I miss late-nineties grunge culture,” CS replied with a laugh. “It worked just as well for us dykes as it did pretty boys.”

  Madison had a sudden, vivid mental image of a young CS in baggy clothes and scuffed Doc Martens. She guessed that CS pulled it off as well as Robert had.

  “In college he was even more popular. He grew into his lanky body and developed a genuine intellect to go with it. He went to Mexico over spring break and brought me back a woven poncho and this necklace.” She ran trembling fingers along the waxed, black cord looped around the flat, open-centered circle of onyx tied on both fraying ends to a cheap metal clasp. “I wear the necklace all the time, but the poncho’s long gone.”

  “You can borrow mine. Most of us nineties kids never grew out of that stuff.”

  She was trying to make Madison laugh, but it wasn’t working. The tears were back, hot on her cheeks. “The last time I saw Robert, we were both wearing our necklaces, drinking heavily, dancing in a downtown club, harmlessly checking out the same women and laughing about how Robert’s ex-wife and my soon-to-be television star girlfriend would roll their eyes at our antics.”

  For a moment Madison thought CS was going to reach out, her hand seemed to hover as if to offer solace. She didn’t reach out, though she did move closer. Each time Violet stepped on her left side, Madison slid a little in the saddle and sometimes her knee brushed against the denim of CS’s shirt. She never touched anything solid, but the heat of her body was close and somehow comforting.

  “He overdosed. Probably heroin, but he had a lot of drugs in his system. His roommate found him in bed. Thought he’d overslept for work but couldn’t wake him up.” Madison heard in her own voice the child Robert always allowed her to be. “I didn’t even know he used.”

  The more she spoke, the farther away the tears felt. She felt lighter than she had in months. Twelve months to be exact. She’d
talked to people about Robert, of course. Kacey, Jada, his ex-wife who wept about how she still loved him and always thought they’d work it out one day. No one had just listened like this. No one had let her tell the story without question or surprise. She probably should’ve gone to a therapist. That’s what this felt like, telling her deepest secrets to a nonjudgmental stranger.

  “I feel like I lost the person I knew best in the world and found out I didn’t know him at all. I hate him for that and I hate myself for hating him.”

  Still CS didn’t say anything, but she didn’t need to. Madison could never have told anyone close how angry she was with Robert. She needed the anonymity of this superficial relationship to allow that honesty. That she mourned him and felt betrayed by him too. That she felt guilty for every night they went out partying together, and there were a lot of those nights. She’d never used drugs and never seen him use, but they drank hard enough and did things neither of them was proud of. Madison couldn’t count the number of times she woke up in some stranger’s bed after a night out with Robert. Hell, that’s how she ended up in Kacey’s bed. When had he taken it farther than that? When he divorced? When he went to Tijuana at twenty years old? Could she have pulled him back from that brink if she’d known?

  She probably should have known. After he died, she could see the warning signs. That meant she should have seen them when he was alive, but of course she was so wasted she wouldn’t have. One of the more frightening aspects of it all was how close she had come to the same fate. It hadn’t scared her totally sober, but it was enough to make her careful. A turn of events that Kacey didn’t like at all. They’d partied hard together the first two years. Kacey wasn’t ready to give the lifestyle up yet, but then she’d never gotten a phone call from the police like Madison had.

  They’d arrived at the stables without Madison realizing they were heading there. She’d been quiet for a long time, but this silence with CS felt comfortable. If it weren’t for the ache in her back and thighs, she might’ve thought they’d just met under the tree a moment ago.

  “Thanks for the lift, Violet,” Madison said. She turned to CS, something like concern in her gaze. “Thanks for the lesson.”

  “Any time.”

  “And for listening.”

  This time she said it more slowly and more earnestly, “Any time.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  The heat was finally dying off, making Madison’s walk through the vines much more comfortable than even just a week ago. September was about to give way to October, and Madison was thinking she could make a walk part of her daily routine. If the breeze blew gently like this and the air stayed this thin, she could enjoy the view without sweating through her clothes.

  The landscape was becoming more beautiful every day. The grapes seemed to have swollen overnight, and harvest had to be soon. Reaching out to touch the fruit, she was surprised how heavy they were. The skins felt like leather, firm and unyielding.

  The sun on this side of the mountain was unencumbered. When she crested the hill, leaving the main building behind, all she could see were grapes and more grapes. At the very limit of her vision was a small building that looked like her cottage, only slightly less grand, but it was the only man-made structure in sight.

  The sign at the end of the row labeled this patch as chardonnay, and the fruit was a vibrant yellow-green. As she watched, a cloud crossed quickly across the sun and then moved on.

  Madison saw the usual lavender and mint, though the mint was thinner here. Purple flowers swayed in the breeze, the lightest stalks anchoring them to the rocky earth. She reached out and grabbed a fistful, ripping at the greenery. She held the fistful of flowers to her nose and breathed deeply. A contented sigh escaped her lips before she could stop it. She kept her eyes closed and her senses open.

  “Feel free to take all you like.” The familiar, husky voice made her eyes shoot open, but Madison didn’t have to look up to know it was CS. “The mint too. They grow like weeds.”

  “Th…thank you.”

  Madison scrambled to stand, but her movements were lumbering and awkward. When she did reach vertical, she couldn’t move as pins and needles burst across her foot and calf. She had to do a funny little hop to readjust her weight so she wouldn’t fall before her leg returned to normal.

  She knew she looked foolish, hopping around on one foot, but CS wasn’t looking. Her focus was locked on a bunch of grapes hanging on the opposite row, giving Madison time to look at her. She wore the same work clothes as always, worn jeans, scuffed boots, and a thin, short-sleeve Henley shirt the color of Arizona limestone. Still, there was something different about the set of her shoulders and the muscles of her jaw. Usually she looked like she was chewing on rocks—today she just looked more disinterested than surly. Madison wondered if CS had warmed to her after the riding lesson last week. She had been unquestionably kind to listen to Madison’s story, but then she seemed prone to silence.

  After inspecting the cluster of grapes minutely, testing their weight and squeezing them gently, CS plucked one and held it to her nose. She squeezed until a bead of juice formed at the stem, spilling over the side of the skin and down to CS’s dry fingertips.

  She stood abruptly, ignoring Madison. She held the grape up to the sunlight, then bit into it, spat the contents on the ground and tossed the remaining grape half with it. She rubbed her hands together, smearing the stickiness over her palms where it stuck to the loose dirt, leaving little reddish-brown smears.

  “Not yet.”

  Madison couldn’t help herself. “What are you doing?”

  CS turned her bright blue eyes to Madison, who found her instinct to wither under that glare trumped by her curiosity.

  “Checking the grapes.”

  “Are they still grapes?”

  The quip was out of her mouth before Madison could stop and think. CS just stared at her silently for a moment while Madison held her breath, waiting for a rebuke. One corner of CS’s mouth went up in a smirk. The smile showed a single, sharp white tooth and made her look like a grinning cat.

  “Still grapes.”

  Madison swallowed hard. “That’s lucky.”

  CS took a few steps forward, slapping her sticky hand on her jeans. A little puff of dust came off them. She marched right at Madison, who stood perfectly still. The image of CS as a grinning tiger was harder to shake now that she was stalking toward Madison. When she was only a few steps away, she veered off sharply, heading toward the vines at Madison’s back.

  “I’m checking the sugar content.”

  CS passed over the obvious bunch, the one that Madison had held, and instead reached for one tucked away inside the leaves. It looked smaller, but the berries were plumper. Madison turned to watch her, bending close to the grapes like CS did.

  “Why is that important?”

  “They’ll tell me when to harvest.” She dropped the bunch without removing a grape and moved on down the row, her eyes on the fruit, and Madison hurried to follow as she continued, “The sugar is what turns into alcohol when they ferment.”

  “So the more sugar, the stronger the wine?”

  “The more sugar, the more concentrated the flavor. If it rains too much and the grapes swell with water, it dilutes the sugar and the flavor. If it doesn’t rain enough, the wine ends up too sweet with the same alcohol content.”

  “So you taste the grapes to see if they’re sweet?”

  “Most winemakers use a handheld monitor when they know harvest time is close. It gives the exact composition of the grapes.”

  “Not you?”

  CS shook her head, stopping to inspect another bunch. “I’m old-school.”

  “What do you use to test?”

  She dropped the grapes, letting them swing freely in the cooling air of late afternoon, and stuck out her tongue. She pointed to it and smirked before explaining, “Machines don’t drink wine—people do. I need to know what the grapes taste like, not their chemical composition.”
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  “But won’t the science help with your wine?”

  “You can use math and science to make wine, and it’ll be drinkable. Or you can use your heart to make it and it will be divine.”

  The poetry of her words surprised Madison, not least of which because CS had barely spoken a full sentence to her before this. Madison found herself relaxing in CS’s presence after the explanation.

  “It’s like your pottery,” CS said, shooting Madison a quick glance and then heading off up the row again. “There’s math and science involved in what you do. Angles and composition of clay. Things you have to know to do what you do, but there’s more to it than that.”

  They crossed a path deeply grooved with the marks of horseshoes and heavily laden cartwheels.

  “I guess you’re right. I had to learn all those basics in school.”

  “I can tell by looking at your work that the science is subservient to the art.”

  They started uphill, moving through the vines back toward the center of the estate.

  “You’ve seen my work?”

  “You sell it in my store.”

  “Oh, right.”

  For some reason, Madison felt self-conscious with the thought that CS had seen her work without her there to describe the pieces. She liked to see a person’s reaction when they first looked at her pots. Especially someone she knew.

  “When there’s anything left, of course.” CS stopped at a new row, checking the setting sun over her shoulder before turning her attention back to the grapes. “It’s selling well.”

  They walked for a long time without speaking. Madison was surprised how much she enjoyed the silence. She didn’t have much quiet in her life. Kacey never remained silent for long. The same was true of Jada and even of her budding friendship with Boots. None of them were the type to enjoy quiet.

  When they passed out of their row, Madison assumed CS would use the road as an excuse to part company if she wanted to. She didn’t seem to, only pausing briefly to pull a small, spiral-bound notebook from her back pocket and jot down a quick note before moving into the new area. The grapes here were different. Darker and larger with a different shade of leaf.