“Well.” She paused and looked around. “Well, it’s like this.”
I chopped up some onion for the bean salad and waited. She was going to have to spit it out on her own terms, terms she could accept. I didn’t have the energy to pry.
“So, I was talking to—” She stopped, again. “Let’s not say who.” She sighed then rested her chin on clasped hands. “So, I guess I was thinking that my dad really likes you.”
I piled minced onions to the side of my board and started dicing celery. “I like him, too.”
Chloe grunted. “No, not like that. You know, really, really, likes you.”
I scooped the pile of diced celery into the bowl then added the onions in with the cannellini beans. The loss of words stupefied me. What was I supposed to say? Chloe’s exaggerated exhale released any butterflies she held hostage within herself.
“When we move here, he’s going to be sad ’cause you’re not going to be around.”
I sidestepped the whole like thing. “I’ll miss you guys, too.”
Chloe blew a strand of hair away from her face. “Maggie, Harry said—” Chloe stopped and covered her face.
I touched her hands when she didn’t surface. Peeling her fingers away from her eyes, I leaned closer. “What is so bad that you can’t say what Harry said? I won’t be mad.”
“Cross your fingers, hope to die, stick a needle in your eye,” she whispered through pursed lips.
“Yeah, promise.”
“You know that sounds really gross,” Chloe said.
“Yes, it does. Now what is bugging you?” I asked, trying to lighten her somber mood.
“He said that you two were in love.” Chloe covered her face again.
“Oh boy,” I said, tucking my hair behind my ears.
Chloe gawked through her fingers at me. Her green eyes filled with what looked like hope.
I waited for her to continue while squeezing limejuice into the bowl to fill the void.
“Aren’t you gonna say anything?” Chloe asked.
“I don’t know what to say,” I said, wiping my hands off. I did a look-see into the living room to see what Judy and Walter were up to. Judy was curled up at the one end of the sofa napping and Walter was curled up at the other end.
I took Chloe’s hand. “Let’s go outside,” I whispered. “They’re sleeping and we wouldn’t want to wake them.”
Chloe sat up, her eyes fixated on my hand touching hers. She covered my hand with her free hand, her fingers soft against my skin. She wiggled out of her chair and came around the counter. I reached out to her and she melted into me. It’d been a long time since I picked up a child, but instinct prompted me to scoop her up and carry her on my hip, so I did. She wrapped her arms around my neck, her breath brushed my neck like a lake breeze.
I set her down on the boulder next to the creek. “Why are you so sad?”
Chloe looked away and tucked her knees up against her chest, her toes each painted a different color.
I sat next to her.
“Are we telling the truth, or are we doing that thing where we fib so the other person doesn’t feel bad?” she said, tugging the hair tie from the bottom of her braid. Her fingers worked at her dishwater-blonde hair until it was loose enough for her to shake her tresses free. Blonde streaks fell over her shoulders like a crimped horse’s tail.
The corner of my mouth tugged downward. I leaned back on the palms of my hands. “I guess we aren’t fibbing.” I sighed, knowing I couldn’t have escaped the topic much longer. Chloe’s pensive profile captivated me.
She inhaled deeply. Her chest held the breath like a leaking balloon. “I don’t want my dad to be sad.”
“I don’t want him to be sad either.” I didn’t want myself to be sad. This unexpected conversation made my head zing with all the things I had to sort out, and not wanting to share it with Chloe added a whole new dimension.
“This is going to be a hard transition for all of us,” I said. The muscles in my chest tightened, leaving me wondering if suffocation could be induced by the onset of reality.
“This sucks,” Chloe said.
“Yeah, it does.”
“What are we gonna do?”
“I don’t think there is anything we can do.” A shadow drifted across Chloe’s emerald eyes as I spoke. I forced myself to breathe then pulled my legs up onto the rock, and crossed them like I was listening to a story when in all actuality, I was living a story, a story that I desperately wanted to have a happy ending, but didn’t know if that was possible.
Chloe took a deep breath. “Is Harry right?”
Damn him. “I don’t know.” That was as honest as I could be. Gravity wrested at the corners of my mouth and my shoulders fell forward. Chloe’s stare riveted me. The air went into and out of my lungs like it might be my last breath. The babbling creek muted the world around us.
“I think he is,” Chloe said under her breath.
John strolled toward us, his physique defined and brooding. Chloe rested her chin on her knees. John’s boots scuffed across the rocky path, his face mirrored our melancholy. He unbuttoned his plaid shirt, took it off then flipped it over his right shoulder. His white tee clung to his body in all the right places. I studied Chloe face as she stared through him. Her eyes connected with mine briefly, but her attention focused on the man who’d gone country.
“Boy, you two look like a sorry bunch. What died?” John asked, crossing the quaint bridge.
“Nothing,” Chloe said, her tone flat.
Concern twitched in his temples. I tried to smile. Harry brought this on and now it was me who wanted to dunk him into the creek.
“You mad at the boys?” John asked.
Sitting quietly like the stunned passenger in a skidding car, I wondered if the invisible guardrail I careened toward would give way.
“Nope,” Chloe snapped.
I raised an eyebrow in response, letting her know it was her move.
John lifted her chin with his pointer finger. “Then what gives?”
Chloe held steady. “I don’t really think I should say.”
“Well, if you don’t say, I can’t help you.” John cupped her chin in the palm of his hand. “I think Maggie might agree.”
Holding my breath, I wasn’t so sure this time. If he only knew.
Chloe stretched out her legs in front of her. “It’s nothing, just girl stuff,” she said, picking at the fray in her jeans.
I’ve seen those eyes before and I knew that John wasn’t buying what she was selling. He stared through me. What did Chloe want me to do? “Maybe we should finish dinner. A little food might do us all some good. I bet your dad is hungry.” I wiggled off the rock then faced Chloe.
Her eyes had gone pale and drooped, and then she reached out for her dad. John gobbled her up and we went inside.
Giving the bean salad a stir, I drizzled salsa over the colorful mixture to give it zip. Chloe picked up her book and stared at me. Her expression reminded me of Bones and the way he pouted when I didn’t walk him before settling in for the night.
Chloe finally meandered out of the kitchen. “I’ll be outside reading,” she said. “Let me know when dinner ready.”
John scrubbed his hands in the sink. “What is going on?” he asked, eating a spoonful of beans.
“I’m not sure you want to know, and I’m not sure it’s my place to say anything.”
John tossed his spoon into the sink. The thud startled me. “Well, I can’t help if you don’t tell me,” he said, slumping against the counter.
I rubbed my temples. “True, but—” I rinsed out the empty salsa jar and sprinkled the bean salad with cherry tomatoes and avocado.
John took off his cowboy hat and fidgeted with the rim while I cleaned the counter, covered the salad, and put it in the refrigerator. The blast of cool air slowed the oncoming hot flash. I wiped my forehead with the back of my hand before shutting the fridge door. “We just need to put the chicken on th
e grill and brush it with some sauce.”
“Fine, have it your way, but it’s going to come out sooner or later and probably when we’re at the dinner table with everyone watching.”
I glared at him while imagining the uncomfortable scene. “Why do you have to be so difficult?”
“Me? I highly doubt this has anything to do with me.” John opened the refrigerator and popped open a beer. “Want one?”
I shook my head. “No, but a needle in my eye right now might hurt less.” We were bickering all ready and I hated that.
“What did Chloe do to you? Does it involve blackmail?”
“I wish it did. That would be easier to deal with. And just so you know, it has everything to do with you,” I said, helping myself to his beer. “I changed my mind. You might want to get yourself another beer.” I showed him my teeth.
John groaned. “I hate that fake smile. Nothing ever good comes from a face like that,” he said, twisting off the top to another frosty beer. “You’re not going to take this one, too, are you?” he asked. “Can’t picture you being a double-fisted drinker.”
“I’m not, although that sounds like a great idea.”
“Come on, neighbor lady, let’s go sit on the front porch.”
Chapter 20
The rocking chair anchored me to the porch as the story unfolded. John sat beside me, jaw slightly ajar.
“Yeah, it’s all about you,” I said. “Chloe doesn’t want you to be sad.” The pang in my heart stung. “Remind me to thank Harry before he goes to bed.”
“Forget about Harry.” Disgust crossed John’s mouth. “You know what I mean, Maggie. At least there is one honest person on this ranch.”
Oh my God, John really loves me. I sucked down a long draw of beer, my nerves bristled at the truth. Unable to handle the truth, I drained my bottle and set it on the floor of the porch. Rocking deliberately, I caressed the smooth arms of the chair. My heart skipped a beat when he reached over and wrapped his fingers around mine. John stared across the pasture and into the mountains, squeezing my hand. “She loves you so much,” I whispered, shrugging off my own feelings, my throat raw.
“I know, but I can’t make you do something you don’t want to do.”
“It’s not that I don’t want to do it. I just don’t know how to do it,” I said as the beer penetrated my veins, calming my nerves.
“People live crazy lives all the time,” John said. “I’m hoping like hell that you come to your senses.”
Hot tears brimmed. You have no idea. The words haunted me as I sat in silence feeling his warmth in our innocent touch, electricity raging between us. He stood, leaned in my direction, and kissed the side of my head. I closed my eyes memorizing the touch of his lips. The aroma of mountain air and every day grit consumed me.
“Judy and I will finish dinner,” John said.
I closed my eyes as I bantered with myself. In silence, the obligations I’d committed to nagged at me. I peered into the future, to a time when I’d be retired and then what? I imagined my world without rift and hurt. I imagined a world with John, and Chloe. I reminded myself that things change and with usual predictability comes complacency.
Boots shuffling up the porch steps jarred me from the plight within.
Winston greeted me with a nod and sat down in the chair beside me. “If you’re out here, who’s in there making dinner? You didn’t leave it up to J.P., did you?”
I smirked. “No, he’s got Judy. I was just going inside to help.”
“Good, ’cause that boy needs some direction.”
I could use some, too. Smiling at Winston, I fidgeted with the hem of my shirt.
“It sure did get warm today,” Winston took off his cowboy hat. He set it on the chair next to him and mopped his brow with a bandana from his shirt pocket.
“Sure did,” I said. “I better go help with dinner.”
Chloe opened the front door and peeked out. Her eyes brightened as she made eye contact with her grandpa. She scooted through the door and hopped into his lap.
I went inside, feeling the pit in my stomach expand. Walter moped past me as I made my way to the kitchen. “What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Mom told me to go wash up. I’d rather stay dirty. It’s easier.”
I mussed his crown of soft curls. He had a red mark, the size of a summer peach on his cheek from sleeping. “She didn’t think your swim in the river was good enough?”
Walter narrowed his gaze at me.
“You didn’t fall in the river, did you?” I asked.
Walter shook his head and frowned.
“Harry pushed you, didn’t he?”
Walter shook his head no, but his eyes said, Yes.
“It’s hard, isn’t it?” I asked, sitting on the bottom step leading upstairs. Walter sat beside me.
“Yup.” His lips popped.
“Is Harry still mad at you?” My shoulders slumped forward as I thought about my own problems.
“Nope.” He sighed, mimicking my sad posture.
“That’s good.”
“I guess so.” He smacked his forehead with the palm of his hand. “Sure wish I didn’t have to do stupid stuff to get him to forgive me.”
“Dinner will be in a little while. You’d better get going. Do you want me to help you?”
Walter’s dark eyes peered through me as I spoke.
“No, but it’s nice of you to ask.” Walter tilted, then shook his head. “I think I got water in my ear.” He grabbed his earlobe and jiggled it like an old man. “Brothers,” he said quietly.
I watched him trudge up the stairs like the world weighed him down. Resting my elbows on my knees, I cradled my head in my hands then squeezed my eyes shut, begging for the future to reveal itself, but I knew the only way to see the future was to open my eyes and step into it. I’d been born in control and loosening the reins made my heart beat double-time.
My chest heaved with lust for Montana living. Winston worked diligent long hours to maintain his dream, John followed in his footsteps with his heart on my sleeve, while I hid my heart up my sleeve. I wandered day-to-day, wondering if I had the guts to admit I even had a dream. Getting up, I went back outside and headed toward the barn, wishing I could saddle up and ride off into the sunset.
The barn door, barely ajar, captured my attention as I moseyed down the dirt road. When I peeked inside, sunshine washed over me from the opposite end of the barn. The menagerie of saddle blankets, saddles, and tack lined the walls just waiting for the next ride.
Nudging the door open just far enough, I went inside and sat on the bench where Walter and I had shared a Popsicle, closed my eyes, and prayed for answers. I ran my fingers through my messy strawberry-blonde hair, then grabbed it like I was making a ponytail and lifted it off my neck beading with sweat.
I squeezed my eyes tight as chills ran down my spine. A gentle hand rested on the nape of my neck. The touch grounded me and for a split second, I thought maybe it was my father. Tears welled and I pressed the palms of my hands into my eyes, trying to stop the longing I felt for my dad who’d left me years ago. I saw Chloe perched on John’s hip with her arms around his neck in my mind. It seemed like eons since I was that little girl in my own father’s arms.
Through the tears, I stared at my dusty boots. John ran his fingers up my neck and into my hair. I squeezed my eyes tighter, hoping this wasn’t a dream.
John knelt beside me, his hand on my knee, and his finger under my chin. “Saw you leave. Wondered if you were all right?”
I shrugged. Cocoa ran past, and then nestled in the straw at my feet and stretched out, letting her kittens suckle. “No, guess not,” I said.
“Anything I can do to help?”
I scooted over on the bench and John sat beside me. “I don’t think so.” I tucked my hair behind my ears.
“Well I think there is, but I’m going to let you solve your own dilemma.”
I wiped the corners of my eyes and watched the ki
ttens nuzzle up to their momma’s belly, safe from the world around them until she went out to hunt. “Probably best.” Locking my elbows, I rested my hands on my knees. I liked the feel of worn blue jeans, inside, and out.
“Dinner is almost ready,” John said.
Our gazes met. My stomach wasn’t the only thing growling. “I don’t know if I want dinner. I kind of like it out here.” The barn truly was a sanctuary.
“Well, you’ve got to eat, darlin’.” John wrapped his arm around my shoulder and drew me close, his green eyes trying to hide his own disappointments.
I couldn’t help but think I was one of them.
“A girl your age can’t live on s’mores and beer, ’cause that’s what we’re having later.”
“I beg to differ.”
John’s breath brushed up against my neck. His lips followed. Tension oozed from my shoulders like dripping wax, my guard giving way to the heat. He whispered in my ear, “Let me love you.”
I swallowed the temptation, but it stuck in my throat and lingered at the back of my tongue like bitter sweetness. “I don’t know how.”
Afraid, I prayed again. From under my lashes, I saw a man earnest and true, his eyes fixed on me yet not demanding, something I wasn’t used to. Flecks of passion danced in his irises.
“How the hell do you know what you want?” I asked.
“Because I know,” he said.
His strong hands held my face. His thumbs stroked my cheeks like he was settling a skittish filly.
“Let me ask you this, neighbor lady …”
“Why do you keep calling that?”
“Does there have to be a reason?” he asked.
“Isn’t there a reason for everything?”
“No. Sometimes things just feel right.” John kissed me as I took in his words, his breath in sync with mine. My stomach rolled over and I let myself kiss him back as if it were the very first time.
Chapter 21
After dinner, the kids headed to the pond to fish with Winston and Judy. With poles in hand and jokes on their tongues, John and I sat on the porch as they strutted away.
Maggie's Montana (Montana Bound Book 3) Page 13
