Val’s laugh echoed through the speakerphone. “Thomas, you are the most respectful man I’ve ever known. I’m not worried. I’m glad you’re reconnecting with her. Besides, she probably needs time with you to see how awful her husband was.”
Thomas shook his head just thinking about that no-good Hunter Dean Lawrence. Even his name sounded pompous. “You can join us, you know.”
“I know, but I’d like to watch that new action movie. You on tomorrow?”
“Yeah. You?” He opened the cabinet beneath the sink and pulled out the trash bin. He turned the sheet pan over, but the cookies had adhered themselves to the surface.
“Yep. I’ll see ya then.”
After the call ended, Thomas abandoned the sheet pan in the sink and moved over to the cutting board. He cut the bread into thick slices. Thankfully, he’d bought the loaf at the store. No baking required. He took the heel and fed it to Molly where she lay on the floor, blocking the refrigerator, like always. “I gave you some bread. Now, move so I can get the butter out of the fridge.”
The dog licked her lips, and her tail thumped a rhythm on the floor, but she did not move.
“Are you telling me butter is unhealthy, and I shouldn’t eat it?”
Again, her tail thumped.
“Fine. No butter.”
The doorbell rang. The front door? Blue hadn’t used the front door since the first day she’d moved in and asked him to play. Molly struggled to stand on the tile, a low growl emanating from her dense chest. Thomas bent down and scratched behind the dog’s ears. Her fur still held the moisture from her visit to the creek earlier. “It’s okay, girl. It’s Blue. She’s a friend.”
Was that loaded or what?
Once she got to her feet, she ran ahead of him. She sniffed at the gap between the door and the frame, then whined. Her tail wagged wildly enough to shake her whole body.
“Sit.”
The dog groaned but obeyed, taking a seat on the rug.
With one hand, Thomas held a fist out toward her, commanding her to stay. He grabbed the handle. It’s just dinner. He took a deep breath and opened the door.
Blue stood just beyond his welcome mat. She wore an oversize USC sweatshirt, zipped to her collar, over black yoga pants and tennis shoes. Her shoulder-length blond locks hung in waves around her face. For a third time, the urge to welcome her with a hug was strong enough to bungle his thoughts. He pinned his arms to his side and stiffened. “Come in.”
She stepped inside the entryway, and Thomas shut the door behind her. Molly’s excitement overwhelmed her good manners at the sight of Blue. She broke from her seated position and ran to Blue, scurrying in circles around her legs.
“Hi, Molly. Aww, I’m happy to see you, too.”
His dog disappeared for several seconds, then returned with a pot holder in her mouth, prancing about as proud as could be.
“She’s a counter-surfer. Obedience isn’t her strong suit.”
“Eh, obedience is overrated.” Blue’s gaze wandered around the foyer. “Wow, Thomas. What a change! When did this get remodeled? It looks incredible.”
Pride surged in Thomas’s chest. “This year.” He nodded for her to follow him into the family room and kitchen area.
“Did Robbie do it? With his new business?”
“I did it myself. But he taught me everything.”
“I’m impressed. I love the stone and wood. And that hearth is amazing. It makes me want to curl up in front of it with a good book. Oh, this painting is lovely.”
Thomas joined her in front of the canvas. Wild horses raced over prairie lands, their strength emanating through the watercolor brushstrokes. “I got it from a local artist last summer.”
“Let me guess. Was his art funding a women’s and children’s shelter? An organization to support veterans?”
He rolled his bottom lip between his teeth. “Are you teasing me?”
“Not at all. It just seems that everything you do is intentional. It serves a purpose and helps someone. So what did this purchase support? Don’t play humble with me. I know you.”
The sentiment both warmed his insides and ate him through. “The profits went to a college scholarship fund for homeless teens.”
Blue rocked to the side and bumped him a bit.
“Come on. Dinner’s ready.”
Once they rounded the kitchen island, Thomas’s focus went straight to the scorched cookies on the pan, jutting out of the sink. He scrambled to block her view.
“Oh. Wow. It smells, uh, delicious?” She peeked around him. “Are those hamburger patties? I thought we were having soup.”
“I tried making cookies.” He lifted the pan out of the sink. “They didn’t turn out.”
“Well, you get five points for trying.” Blue reached into the bag she carried on her shoulder and pulled out a pack of Chips Ahoy cookies. “Great minds think alike.”
“Did you have those sitting around?”
“Yeah. So?”
“First, Bagel Bites. Now, cookies? I figured a woman from LA wouldn’t eat those.”
“I may have been born in LA, but I’m a Montana girl.”
Thomas eyed her with suspicion. It would take more than a pack of cookies to prove that.
A few minutes later, they sat at the table and ate the meal he’d prepared. Chicken soup and French bread. It wasn’t fancy. Certainly not as elegant as what Blue was likely used to out in California. But it was all he could offer.
She didn’t seem to mind. In fact, she asked for seconds. With her knee pulled up to her chest and her foot resting on the chair, she still looked like high school Blue. Except for the hair. In high school, her hair had always been long and pulled into a high ponytail. Thomas could still see it swishing in the wind when she ran, or catching grass when they played football in the field behind the barn. She’d been cute back then. This shorter do made her beautiful. The cowlick she’d always complained about gave her an off-center part. And whenever she flipped her hair against it, the strands looked wild, untamed, and more Montana than California in the best possible way. And when she tucked it behind her ear and let her fingers trail down her neck, Thomas nearly tipped backward in his chair.
“I have a question. Why didn’t you ever go to school?”
He grabbed the pitcher of iced tea and refilled her glass. “It wasn’t important.”
“Liar. From what I remember, you pretty much forced me to go,” she said.
“College wasn’t for me.”
“Then why did you work your tail off to get into USC? Why did you tell my parents you’d take their scholarship if you didn’t think college was important?”
Cassie’s young face flickered through his mind. His sister might be a hotshot lawyer now, but there was a time when she’d needed Thomas, even if it had changed everything. “My priorities shifted. You know that. My mom didn’t want Cassie around anymore, so I needed to finish raising her. She was the one with big career plans anyway—to be a lawyer and all that. By taking a job at the dam straight out of high school, I could send her to college four years later.”
Blue sipped her tea. “You were at the dam for what, ten years?”
“Yeah.” He gathered their empty bowls and plates and brought them to the sink.
“So why did you leave the dam?”
He dropped the bowls a bit too hard. “I wanted a change.”
“Why firefighting?”
These questions . . . “One of the firemen retired. I stepped in to take his place.”
“Why did it have to be you, though?”
“Why not me?” Thomas switched on the faucet as hard and hot as it would go. Why’d Blue always have to talk so much? Whenever Val was over, she didn’t pepper him with questions. Of course, when Val came over, she also didn’t stay long. And most of the time when she did, her eyes
started to swell, and she’d get itchy.
When Thomas finished rinsing the plates and silverware, he placed them in the dishwasher. Meanwhile, in the family room, Blue sat on the couch. Molly lay on her back with her head in Blue’s lap, enjoying a belly rub.
“Molly, down,” Thomas ordered. “You know you’re not allowed up there.”
The dog looked at him, then closed her eyes in pleasant disobedience.
“Great. You’ve been here for an hour, and you’ve ruined my dog.” Thomas took the only open seat left on the sofa.
“Oh, come on. You don’t let her up on the couch? Meanie. It took extra effort for her to jump here, too. Don’t make her get down now.” Blue jutted out that bottom lip that had the power to make him do dumb things, like sled off of her parents’ roof and agree to kiss frogs.
“When Val’s here, she sits in that spot. She’s allergic to pet dander, so I don’t—”
“Get down, Molly.” Blue helped the dog onto the floor, but rather than leave her there alone—like a dog—Blue sat down on the floor with her, and they resumed cuddling. “I’m sorry. I can pay to get it cleaned.”
“No worries.” Thomas couldn’t help but smile.
As they sat in silence, Blue played with Molly’s ears, caressing them between her fingers. It was strange, having his friend back in Montana and in his house. So many times he’d imagined her here and wondered how she’d changed in their eleven years apart. And now here she was, but something needled him.
“I have a question for you,” he said.
“What’s that?”
“Why’d you come back here?”
“That’s a loaded one, isn’t it?” Blue’s gaze fell. “To remember who I was, I guess. And who I wanted to be. I used to have such big dreams. Now, I have nothing.”
“Can I ask why you never wrote any more movies after Mississinewa Glory?”
“I started a few, never finished any. When Ella came along, I chose to devote all my time to her.”
“I figured you’d be in high demand after winning the Clyde.”
“Hollywood has a short memory of what a woman can do.”
“Do you want to keep screenwriting?”
“Of course, but no one will take a chance on me anymore. If it were up to them, I’d forever go down in the books as Hunter Dean Lawrence’s scorned wife.”
“So don’t leave it up to them.” Thomas searched for the right thing to say. “You, you have more talent than all of those people combined. And you’re smart. And, and probably the bravest girl that I’ve ever known.” Heat flamed his face, and he pinned his eyes on Molly.
“Thanks. You’ve always been my biggest fan, I think. And you’re right. I’m tired of others making decisions for how my life should go. I’m only here while the dust settles. But one day, I’ll find a way back to California and what I love—telling stories that inspire people. And this time, I won’t let a man, or . . . anything else get in my way.”
When Thomas finally looked up at her, she nodded as triumphantly as that Scarlett O’Hara lady, yet her chin still quivered slightly. If he had the power to make things right for her, he would in a heartbeat. Her career. Ella. Even that jerk Hunter. Anything to make her happy. “I’m sorry about your marriage, Blue.”
“Pssh.” Blue waved her hand.
“And I’m sorry about Ella, too. I wish I could have done something to prevent—”
“Like stop the river? Only God could have done that. And he sure hasn’t apologized, so why should you?”
The truth of that awful day scorched like fire on his tongue as they sat in silence. He needed to tell her. “Blue, I was working at the dam the day Ella drowned. There had been so much rain—”
“Thomas—”
“If I’d known—”
“Thomas, stop.” She shook her head a bit. If her words weren’t enough to shut him up, the plea in her hurting eyes certainly was. “I already know water was released through the dam that afternoon. And I know that the investigation cleared the dam of wrongdoing.”
“But it was my job—”
“Hunter claims he saw the river rise. He had an expert look into it. She said that amount of water, that far downriver, wouldn’t have been enough to, well . . . Hunter’s lawyer said a lawsuit wouldn’t stand. It was no one’s fault.”
“And you believe that?” The report was available to the public. If she’d seen it for herself, she’d know the truth. It was written right there in black ink, and it spelled his name.
Her face paled as she breathed in and out several times. “Thomas, it’s been a rough two years. And I’ve thought about the details of Ella’s death constantly. They haunt me. And now, staying so close to where it happened? I don’t want to talk about it. Can’t things be just like they were before I took off for college?”
If it would help her in any way at all, he’d swallow down those details—the ones she did and the ones she did not know—even if it burned him through.
As kids, Blue had been the master of distracting Thomas when sadness came calling. Had she learned how to do that for herself, unhealthy as that might be? “You don’t by chance still have the board game Sorry, do you?”
Yes, she had indeed learned self-distraction.
Thomas reached forward and lifted the top edge of the chest he used as a coffee table. Beneath a neatly folded quilt his grandmother had made, the torn board game box waited for them.
“You kept it. Through the remodel and everything. Now we have to play it. For the memories.”
They set up the game board on the floor between the two of them, shielding Molly from walking across it several times. Of the original game pieces, only a few remained. The rest, lost decades ago, had been replaced by whatever trinkets they’d been able to find that slightly matched the colors. A Spice Girls key chain, a Connect Four chip, a green army guy, and various Pogs remained in the box, awaiting more friends to play.
With each turn, Thomas felt the tension between him and his old friend ease a bit. She still had that laugh that was far too loud, and that bossy way about her that once annoyed him. When he saw how it empowered Cassie, he became thankful for it. Likewise, he appreciated the concentration Blue gave to each strategic turn she took, considering every possible scenario. He appreciated it because it gave him time to study her without her noticing or thinking him a creep. She had a faint scar to the side of her nose that hadn’t been there before she’d gone to college. He’d been beside her when she’d scarred her arm on the tree branch the summer after sixth grade, and he’d welcomed her home after an ACL surgery gave her the scar down the front of her right knee. Man, he’d been the one holding her in his arms as she cried on the sixty-yard line during that football game. Up until that point in their friendship, she’d never shown vulnerability, so feeling her fingers grip and regrip his neck in her pain was one of the hardest and yet most rewarding moments of his life.
But knowing he hadn’t been there when she’d gotten this scar on her cheek made him want to tear the head off the mini Beanie Baby turtle sitting in the game’s box.
A quarter of the way through the Chips Ahoy package, Blue’s Polly Pocket was on the last stretch before joining the other pieces in the Home space and claiming victory. Thomas still had to circle the entire board before his Micro Machine and red barrette made it to safety. The card he pulled had a four on it. Without thinking, he placed his thumb and forefinger on the car, which currently sat four spaces in front of Blue’s tiny doll. Moving this piece would knock her back to Start and give him the chance to win. He paused. The only sounds in the room were Molly’s dreaming whimpers from Blue’s side and the logs crackling in the fireplace.
Rather than kick her piece over, he removed his hand and grabbed the barrette instead.
“Nope. Can’t do that. The piece you touch first is the one you have to move,” Blue said.
>
“That’s not a rule.”
“Whether it is or isn’t doesn’t matter. It’s how we’ve always played it.”
He relaxed back, putting space between the two of them. He hated to see her lose. “I don’t want to move that one.”
“Do it. Knock me back to Start.” Blue’s commands were just as strong as they’d once been. But the stakes felt higher now. “Don’t you dare pity me, Thomas. I can handle a lot. I have handled a lot. But I can’t go on with you pitying me the way you do.”
In her eyes, he saw the seriousness. He might not be able to fix her life, but he could do this one thing. He took hold of the car and drove it back four squares until it pushed the Polly Pocket off the board.
Blue pursed her lips so tight, the pink drained from them entirely. Then she looked up at Thomas. “That wasn’t so hard, now, was it?”
Chapter Five
The next week at the Gallatin County Harvest Festival, the woman running the coffee truck handed Blue a hot apple cider. In return, Blue gave her a fifty-dollar bill. “Keep the change.”
The woman tried to protest, but Blue spun away and nearly collided with Thomas.
“Oh! Hi.”
He glanced between the worker and Blue. One side of his lips tilted up.
“What?” Blue asked, her cheeks growing hot.
Thomas lifted his chin to the barista. “I’d like one black coffee and one caramel apple latte, please.” When the woman disappeared from the window to begin his order, Thomas returned his focus to Blue. “I was only going to leave a two-dollar tip. You’re showing me up.”
“Hey, you could leave a bigger tip if you got dumped by America’s highest-paid actor, too. I don’t recommend it, though.” Blue kept her gaze on Thomas as he shifted on his feet. She lifted the cider to her nose and inhaled the sweet scent of September.
“I didn’t expect to see you,” Thomas said.
“Keira and Ryann picked me up and forced me to come along. Nothing like being the fifth wheel.”
“You know how many times I’ve been the only single person with those couples? Then they start in with the public displays of affection, and it’s . . .”
Glory Falls Page 5
