“Yeah, that decision to stay on or get off can be a bitch.”
John raised his eyebrows at me.
“What?”
“We should take that sass out to barn and see those kittens Chloe’s gonna want to keep.”
“Thought you’d be with Winston today.”
“Nope. He has Trout and Justin. I said I’d stay here to help with the kids. Besides, we never got around to seeing those cattle yesterday. I’ll drive you out there later.”
“I’d like that,” I told him.
John closed the dishwasher and wiped down the counter. “Chloe says the girls are fly-fishing today.”
“Yup. Pretend you’re cracking that whip from ten to two, and you’ll do just fine.” John flicked his wrist in midair pretending he was casting.
“Yeah, okay. We’ll see about that.”
John stepped closer to me, and I tucked my hands in my jean pockets.
“Have a little faith, Maggie.”
The hair stood up on the nape of my neck. “And a lot of balance.”
“And a little bit of balance.” He tucked his fingertips into his back pockets.
His suddenly serious nature rattled me. “What is it?”
“I’ve had an offer on the house.”
“That’s good, right?” Damn it.
“Yeah, but it makes this all a bit more real,” he said.
“Not sure I understand what you’re getting at.” I shifted my weight and crossed one leg over the other as I leaned against the counter.
“Damn it, Maggie, how hard are you going to make me work?”
I held my breath, thinking that we’d never actually be having this conversation. John’s tone was gruff and impatient. It hurt to even think that we’d go our separate ways. And yeah, if he wanted something more from me than what we had, he was going to have to lay it on the line. “You’re going to have to be a bit more specific.” I narrowed my gaze and averted my stare out the kitchen window. The kids knelt beside the stream, plucking rocks from the cool mountain water. Chloe’s hair fell around her shoulders as she tilted her head back to check the horizon. I wondered what she was searching for.
“Maggie, I think you know what I’m asking you. Is there any way you can be a part of our lives here, too? I want to be with you.”
My insides quivered. John’s emerald gaze focused on me.
“I’m not sure how. Montana is a hell of a long way from Michigan. Not to mention, I really want to finish my career.”
John’s shoulders slumped as he stuffed his hands deeper into his jean pockets. We’d had this discussion before. What didn’t he understand?
“Long-distant relationships never work out,” I said, not sure I believed my own words. His stare questioned my line of bullshit.
John faced the window, his profile almost identical to his daughter’s. I touched his forearm.
His eyes filled with hurt as he turned in my direction. “Please, Maggie. I think we belong together. I think you’d be happy here ’cause you sure as hell aren’t happy living in your stone house working like a dog day in and day out. Dreams change.” His voice trailed off.
Stepping closer to him, I took off my Stetson, touched his cheek, and then kissed his lips hunting for certainty. It was there. I just didn’t know how to harness it, how to admit I needed him, how to say goodbye to the place I knew as home. This was one of those moments when I wanted to veer off the highway of life, but was petrified of crashing. “I think I love you,” I whispered.
John’s fingers caressed my cheek, our connection held strong and fierce.
“I have to come back to Michigan to finalize the paperwork and clean out the house,” John said. “I’ve given official notice to my partners. I’ve actually spoken to the guy who runs the local clinic. I can practice here if I want and work with my dad.”
“Sounds like you’ll have the best of both worlds. Does Chloe know yet?”
“No.” His eyes dimmed. “Sorry, I was going tell you when I came back to Grosse Pointe, but it’s been eating at me. I didn’t want to ruin your trip.”
Trying to wash away the lump at the back of my throat, I swallowed. “It’s okay. It was bound to happen sooner or later, and to be perfectly honest, it’ll make the time we have left sweeter. I’m glad you told me.”
“You lie,” John said.
The corner of my mouth curled up. My eyes met his. “Yeah, you’re right. I was just trying to make you feel better.”
“Well, it didn’t work. Your eyes give you away, along with those creases in your forehead.”
I rubbed my forehead as Chloe’s words replayed in my mind. “Damn it. Maybe we should quit standing around here feeling sorry for ourselves and go see those kittens.”
“Maggie, you don’t have to pretend.” John’s touch was warm.
“Unfortunately, that’s one thing I’m pretty good at. I did it for over twenty years with Beckett. Practice makes perfect.” Sarcasm trickled from my tongue in eloquent fashion.
John held my hand. “I’ve spent a lot of my life pretending, too.”
My cheeks went hot and my eyes welled. I begged myself not to cry. This was not the time, nor the place.
John sighed. His burly chest heaved with hope.
Chloe skipped into the kitchen with a handful of pebbles. I turned my back to her so she couldn’t see my eyes and put my Stetson back on. John lifted her up and sat her on the counter.
“Hi, Dad, can I have something to put my rocks in?”
“Sure, peanut.” John searched under the counter in a cupboard overflowing with plastic containers. “Here, this looks just about right size. Do Walter and Harry need one, too?”
“Yup.”
I inhaled, held my breath, and then counted to ten, trying to find my courage. Forcing a smile, I faced Chloe. “I think I’m ready to see those kittens,” I said happily, but my heart ached when I saw the expression on John’s face. How was I going to leave him behind without regretting what just might be the most monumental mistake of my life, even bigger than marrying Beckett?
Chapter 10
Cocoa and her kittens nestled in the hay, in the exact spot where she’d curled up yesterday. The morning sun peeked into the barn, making Chloe’s green eyes sparkle. She knelt beside the family of cats, her hands on her knees with her feet firmly planted and her balance impeccable. She lowered her chin so it touched her knees. “Look at them,” she whispered.
Emotion flooded the air, and a wave of tears escaped from the corners of my eyes. Lowering my gaze, I hoped my cowboy hat would disguise the sudden rush of foolishness. I swiped at the corner of my left eye then tried to smile as John’s stare caught my attention. I knelt down to count the tiny bodies woven together like one of Mom’s hats she made for the babies at the hospital. Pink noses dotted the pelts of gray, white, burnt sienna, black, and tan. They suckled at their mother’s tummy while she dozed, not minding the spectators.
“How many are there, Chloe?” I asked, not wanting to disturb the bond.
Chloe tilted her head in my direction, her gaze sent chills down my spine, and another unexpected wave of emotion through me. My level of sensitivity rattled my nerves. This unusual reaction made me wonder if my inner core of strength that I prided myself on was deteriorating. Chloe possessed a wholesomeness that was crushing me. Something I was unprepared for.
“Six, I think.” She peered up to her dad.
He nodded. “Pretty exciting stuff,” he said. “Maybe we should let them have some time.”
Walter rested his hand on my shoulder then leaned over for a better look. “Wow,” he said. “I’ve never seen anything like that. They’re so tiny and squirmy. Was I like that when I was a baby?”
Judy knelt beside me. “Yup, pretty much,” she said, winking at Harry who was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest, trying to fit in with John, Justin, Winston, and Trout. He was a man trapped in a boy’s body.
“Was Bradley
wiggly?” Chloe asked.
I smirked. “Yeah, really wiggly, but I held him tight.”
Walter leaned closer, his cheek skimming mine like a smooth stone skipping across the lake back home. Chloe’s smile penetrated my guarded heart. Walter’s touch imbedded her passion for life deep below my surface in that magical way that children sometimes do. All without saying a word. Soft patches of tingles bubbled to my surface, reminding me that I was once a child, too.
John’s rested his hand on my shoulder, sending me his own message. We were no different than the helpless kittens matted together fighting for that one thing to fill us up and keep us warm. I pondered the scene around me as if I were studying the world through the viewfinder of my camera. Frame-by-frame, images linked to tell a story, a story that I desperately wanted to finish, but feared the ending. The smell of leather, horses, and hay drifted past. The barn had become a sanctuary.
Walter leaned against his mom and I stood up next to John, our elbows touching. I pursed my lips as his eyes beamed with prospect. I glanced back at Chloe who had mumbled in her sleep, “Maybe you could be my mom.” A familiar pang nipped at the seams of my heart.
Wrapping my arms around my middle, I pressed my fingers into my flesh. “Maybe we should leave them alone.”
Harry smirked at me like a proud papa. Judy held Walter’s hand and led him out of the stall. John and I lingered a moment longer, our eyes focused on Chloe still crouched in awe, admiring the miracle of life.
“She’s a good momma,” Chloe said, cocking her head to the side and adjusting her cowboy hat. She stood, shook out her legs, sauntered over to us, and took John’s hand.
She held my hand, too then led us out of the stall. John glanced down, fine creases at the corners of his eyes conveyed the gentleness in his heart. I held tight, knowing I was like the tail, the end of a game I used to play on the frozen Michigan waters with my childhood friends called Crack the Whip. Nothing good could come from letting go.
Harry’s fifth-grade impatience seeped through his calm exterior. “Can we fish now?” His voice cracked.
Chloe held tight and squinted into the sun. The vast Montana sky washed over us. We each grabbed a pole from the bunch lined up against the fence. The image of Cocoa hovering over her babies gave me goose bumps.
John scuffled back into the barn to get the box of flies, a bucket, and a towel. “Somebody better catch some fish today. So far my luck hasn’t been so good.”
John was talking about me and Judy’s expression confirmed it. Sliding my sunglasses up to the bridge of my nose, I hid behind the dark lenses and strolled behind Chloe and the boys, pretending to listen to their banter. John caught up to them and Judy trailed in-between. I felt like that one lonely kitten unable to find her place in the brood. John stood with the kids on the bank of the pond, showing them how to maneuver the rod. Inspecting his every move, his fluid movement drew me in. Chloe and Walter stayed close to John, but Harry went to the far side of the water and Judy followed. I sat in an Adirondack chair in the shade, watching the brown mare with white socks and her foal meander across the field.
Chloe’s voice echoed in the still Montana air. “She’s coming this way.”
John cast his line into the pond. He and Chloe chatted as they swung their poles back and forth, and back and forth. Chloe hooked her fly on John’s hat. He dislodged the non-barbed hook and handed it back to her with ease. “Come on over, neighbor lady. Let’s see what you can do.”
I marveled at his casual tone. The conversation in the kitchen still stuck in my craw. Lowering my sunglasses, I got up from my chair. With pole in hand, I crinkled my nose, like Chloe did when she was unsure, and joined them.
“Show me again what I’m supposed to do.” I held the pole out. It seemed unusually long and the line was thick. The tiny threaded fly tickled my finger as I unhooked it from the reel. John’s muscles flexed in the golden glow from the sky as he reeled in his line.
“Watch. Ten and two, ten and two,” he chanted as he swung the rod with his right hand and letting out more line with his left. His line dropped onto the surface of the calm water. “Let it sit for a few seconds then tug then repeat.”
Chloe swung her rod and hooked the grass. She bent down to get the fly. “Dang it. I’m not ever going to get this.”
Swinging my pole from ten and two, I focused on the fly twittering back and forth while my eyes struggled to keep up with the sway of the line. Before I knew it, John’s arms were around me, guiding my movements. I extended the line then let it fall into the water. I could feel my tongue between my lips like a child struggling to reach that bag of cookies on the top shelf. John’s touch was more enticing than the summer sun, undeniably wanting more than I could give. I stepped away from him. “I don’t want to get you,” I said, reeling in my line, ready to cast again.
“You sure you haven’t done this before?” John asked.
I peered over at him, knowing that fleeting bursts of flirtations didn’t equate to lifelong relationships.
He smirked.
I smirked back as Chloe’s fly hooked the back of his shirt.
“Oh brother.” Chloe sighed. “Sorry, Dad.”
Gray skies floated overhead, and dense clouds drifted to the east. I took off my sunglasses and hooked them to the collar of my white T-shirt that matched Chloe’s. Drops of water fell like a leaky faucet. Chloe set her fishing rod on the ground. Her Stetson came lose when she tilted her head back, checking the sky. It hung from the chum hooked to the back of her shirt collar. She stuck out her tongue like she was catching snowflakes. Lost in her innocence, I studied the fly at the end of my line as I cast it over the pond’s surface. A fish flopped out of the water when John jerked his pole. He reeled it in, and then dislodged the hook from the fish’s mouth as I watched from the corner of my eye as not to miss my own nibble. Harry let out a holler as he too wrestled with his own catch.
John released the fish into the bucket. “We just might be having trout for dinner,” he said. “Looks like it’s your turn, neighbor lady.”
Harry trotted around the pond, holding his fish in one hand and his pole in the other. Judy’s line flew across the pond and landed with the plunking raindrops. Walter knelt beside the bucket trying to pet the fish.
Hoping to get a bite, I tugged at my line. The lazy drips from above doubled in size. John came closer to where I stood. “Um, are we going to get soaked?” I peered into the horizon that grew dark.
John pondered the skies. “Don’t know. You afraid of a little rain?”
I scowled at him. “No.” Though his smirk irritated me, I still found it humorous.
“Can’t have smooth sailing until you go through a few rough patches,” he said.
I rolled my eyes at him. My T-shirt stuck to my shoulders with the wetness. Chloe put on her Stetson and ran toward the ancient shade tree. The foal ran after her in what she must have thought was a game of chase. “Oh, my gosh,” I said, feeling light-hearted.
“Yeah, that’s Sunnyside Up. She’s like that about this time of day.” John rested his pole on the ground and cupped his hands around his mouth. “Chloe, Sunny’s right behind you. Head’s up!”
Sunny’s mom sauntered with her muzzle close to the ground nibbling as she neared the tree, the rain dripping from her withers. Chloe stood with her back against the tree trunk, the foliage her shelter while John and I weathered out the spurts of drizzle. I reeled in my line. “I reckon there’s no fish in my future.”
John’s dimples appeared. “Not so sure about that. There’s one standing right beside you.” He wiped the drops of water from the rim of my cowboy hat. “Why don’t you go stand with Chloe? It’ll stop soon.” He pointed to the west where light peeked through the clouds.
Judy jogged around the pond and stood with Chloe under the tree. I weighed my options, and then whipped my pole back and forth from ten and two, from ten and two. My fly landed like a droplet from heaven upon the water’s surface. John pa
tted me on the back then set his pole.
“That’s my girl,” he said as he moved his pole back and forth, back and forth, making the perfect cast.
“What’s Sunnyside Up’s momma’s name?” I asked, focusing on the task at hand.
“Sun Ray. Ray for short,” he explained as if she had a preference.
Ray slowly made her way to the tree then paced the perimeter while her charge nuzzled up against Chloe. Chloe patted her neck as Sunnyside Up nuzzled her black nose into Chloe’s belly.
“Chloe sure does have a way with animals,” I said, giving my line a gentle tug.
“She sure does.” John beamed with pride. “Probably kind of like the way you have with your students.”
The rain morphed into mist. I thought about my students and how each class came with its own make-up. There were always the handful of behavior problems, the kids in the middle who plugged along like blue-collar workers heading for the line at General Motors, the few who excelled, and the growing group of students with needs, not all special needs, but needs that they didn’t get fulfilled at home to bridge the gap between survival and conformity.
“Not sure about that,” I said. “But, I’ll agree with you there. Occasionally, some of my students are like wild animals,” I said. “They’re left to their own devices.” I tugged at my fishing line. “But everyone’s purpose isn’t defined in the early years. I think everyone has a calling.”
“I guess I never really thought of it that way.”
“It’s kind of like natural selection.” I glanced in John’s direction, taking my eye off my fly just for a second. “There are some who make it and some who don’t and no matter how hard you try to save them all, it might not be possible with the given circumstances. Those are the souls you pray for, right after you evaluate your competency as an educator.”
Maggie's Montana (Montana Bound Book 3) Page 7
