From Here to There

by Rain Trueax

  "Already crossed over," Helene interrupted. "Write that in your records."

  "You knew?"

  "That's where Phillip is. Trying to find out what's going on with Derek and what kind of mess he's gotten himself into. Any information on Phillip’s family, their poverty, the lack of a father, save your breath. You aren’t welcome here."

  "I was just trying to protect you." He moved closer, reaching out as though to take her into his arms.

  Helene backed away, her fists clenched. "You know I once told Phillip how wonderful Western men were, how they had qualities I wished he had. I now see a louse is a louse from wherever he comes."

  "Now, Helene."

  "Don't now Helene me," she snapped. "I want you out of here." When he advanced on her, she raised her fist. "You try anything and I'll break your nose. I took enough self-defense class to know just how to do it."

  He backed off. "All right," he said defensively. "I thought I was helping."

  "I doubt that. You know something, Wes, people are who they are, not who their parents were. Whether it's ancestors who pioneered big ranches or welfare mothers. You might keep that in mind for yourself."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Just what you thought."

  #

  Amos and Hobo walked into the kitchen. As Amos brushed snow from his coat, Hobo wiggled all over, dumping his own light dusting. "I saw Wes driving down the highway."

  "He stopped in." She didn't feel like rehashing their conversation. It only left her depressed to think about his disgusting way of trying to undermine her confidence in Phillip. Was there nothing to which he wouldn't stoop?

  "Looked like he had a bee under his bonnet."

  Helene smiled faintly. "I don't know about that but hopefully he got the idea he's not welcome here. Did you get the supplies in town?"

  "Yeah. We'll be set if she really blows. Phil call?"

  "He’s not likely there yet, but I don’t think he will be calling," Helene said, less than honestly.

  "You got a phone number where you can reach him?"

  "I wouldn't feel I had the right to call him short of an emergency which I can’t imagine right now. Whatever he’s going to do, he has to do it." She swallowed back the urge to break down and cry.

  Her uncle poured himself a cup of coffee. “You been reading Chelle’s journal?”

  “Yes.”

  “Figure out why she wanted you to have it yet?”

  “Not really. It’s about... well when she first got here in the valley.”

  He smiled. “Ah before I convinced her she wanted me.”

  “More or less.”

  “She didn’t see me as a likely prospect. Well I didn’t see myself that way either where it come to her.”

  “I am to the point where she found out you had a girlfriend.”

  He chuckled. “Beth.”

  “Does she still live around here?”

  “No, she married a guy from Idaho and last I heard was still there and very happy.”

  “She wrote that you and Beth were pretty serious.”

  “Beth told her that, I guess. That wasn’t why I hadn’t been trying to make time with Chelle though. Beth wasn’t someone I was going to marry, and I had never let her think otherwise. We just did things together sometimes. Kids today would call it hooking up, I reckon. When she met Chelle, she got jealous. Silly women sometimes. Evidently she wanted her out of the competition.”

  “I haven’t read yet but did it work?”

  “What was against me with Chelle wasn’t Beth whatever Chelle or Beth thought. I was not in Chelle’s league. I never saw it as even something to consider. She was a beauty, come from that rich family, had gone to the best schools. She’d never want a man whose nails were dirty, who come home at night dripping in sweat. The ranch here was barely making a living. I had nothing to offer her besides being a friend.”

  “Sometimes that’s all a person wants.”

  “Well, it wasn’t all I wanted but didn’t matter because I knew she’d never want somebody like me. I wasn’t rich, wasn’t polished, and didn’t have the looks to make a woman forget all of that.”

  “You had something though. Must have. I mean she married you.”

  “Marriage is a funny thing about why we choose what we do, what we make out of it.”

  "That’s for sure. If it hadn’t been for you and Aunt Rochelle, I wouldn’t have ever thought marriage could ever work. You were my example of it being possible for more.”

  “Maybe that’s why she wanted you to have this journal then.”

  “And the reason would be?”

  “Because nobody really has it all, hon. Chelle and I didn’t find it easy starting out and had our tough times. We didn’t go telling folks when we had troubles, but no marriage is always smooth sailing.”

  “You must have wanted the same things though. The thing is I don’t think that Phillip and I do.” She pressed her lips tightly together.

  "You know most men need a woman to teach them what they want. Women are the civilizing influence on life. Woman tells a man what she wants and he goes out and cuts down whatever stands in the way." Amos lifted the towel off the bread dough. "What's this?"

  "Cinnamon rolls... if I didn't beat them to death."

  The phone rang. Helene stared at it as Amos reached for the receiver. "Yeah... Yeah, she's here." He handed it to Helene. "It's Nancy."

  Helene tried to smile brightly, to respond to Nancy's questions with answers that made sense but all she could think about was Phillip and her desire to hear his voice. When she'd hung up, she made a decided effort to sound excited. "The baby's put on a pound since he was born."

  Amos chuckled proudly. "One of the few times a man likes putting on weight, when he's growing into a man."

  "She said they decided to call him Amos Phillip, but I think the real reason for the call was they want us to baby-sit him tonight."

  Amos got a look of concern on his face. "I don't remember much about babies... in fact with our own two, Chelle was the one changing diapers and such."

  "Well, I don't know much either, but I think Nancy and Emile need a night out, just the two of them. It's got to be a hard adjustment to go from being two to three... especially when the third person is so needy of attention. She wanted to get checked out by Doc and then have dinner out."

  Amos shook his head. "So what time they bringing him by?"

  "I think late afternoon, unless the weather forecast gets worse." She grinned at his scowl. "Don't worry. They'll tell us what we have to do before they leave him. She’s breastfeeding; so it can’t be for too long."

  "I guess you're right." Amos sighed as he grabbed the pile of mail from the day before and began opening envelopes and reading letters.

  "Your mail's not making you very happy," Helene said. It was impossible to ignore the deepening furrowed lines in the old man's forehead, the tight set of his lips.

  "I warned you before you came out that I was having a hard time hanging onto this place," Amos said, throwing the remaining bills back onto the counter.

  "I remember. Are those all bills?"

  "Too many of them," he said noncommittally. "It ain't your problem to worry about though."

  "It is if it means you might be forced to let go of this ranch. Can't you talk about it?" What was it about men that made them bottle up all their concerns? Did they think it was weak to share their worries with a woman or that women were useless in a crisis?

  "It's not right burdening you with my troubles," he growled.

  "Right now, the way my life's going, I'd rather be thinking about somebody else's problems."

  Amos smiled faintly. "Mostly it's loans, some I took out almost twenty years ago. Seemed like in them days the banks wanted a man to borrow money, improve the place, add purebred livestock to the herd. They made it look mighty attractive and maybe just a little too easy. Those loans haven’t been so easy to pay off."

  "How much do you owe?"

&n
bsp; He snorted. "About what I did when I borrowed it. The cattle market wasn’t good some of those years. One year I lost a lot of the calves between pneumonia and predators. Interest payments being what they've been, there hasn't been much way to pay down on the principle. Then came Chelle’s illness. We did all we could to keep her but that cancer beat us. It’s just been hard to catch up."

  He stared out the window at the white landscape. "My great-grandaddy came out here, built a cabin, staked a claim to the land and made it into a ranch. My grandaddy grew it even more, built the big house. Even my daddy, he wasn't much of a rancher, but he kept it together. I inherited a place that was free and clear and... put debt on it. I reckon I'm getting what my grandaddy would've said I deserved."

  "I could loan you some money," she offered, impulsively reaching out to pat his shoulder.

  "I think it’d take more than you have, girl. I haven’t given up yet though. I got a few ideas."

  “Are you thinking of selling to somebody like Wes Carlson?" she asked, not wanting the hear the answer.

  "No, and I won’t give it all up even if I need to sell part of it to save the rest. There's still fight left in this old bird. Don't ask me about tomorrow though." He grinned. "How soon’s them rolls going to be done?"

  "In a couple of hours. Go find something else to do. You know what they say about a watched dough."

  He sighed. "It's going to be a hard wait." He looked at her, saw the tears at the edge of her eyes. "You crying, girl?"

  "I never cry. My skin gets all blotchy, my eyes swell up and I look like a frog," Helene said, trying to smile through blurry tears.

  "Well, ain't nobody important going to see you. So let 'er rip. Always used to make Chelle feel better. It about killed me when she'd cry, but she said she needed a good bawl sometimes." He looked away then and said, "I shouldn't have told you about the ranch's problems."

  "It isn't just that. It's... so many things. I came here trying to sort out my life but it doesn’t seem I have had much luck with that."

  He chuckled. "Maybe the tears are comin’ because you are sorting it out.”

  “Maybe.” She forced herself to stop crying.

  “You know, life ain't that dependable. The only thing a man can really count on is himself, a few close friends, and once in awhile, family."

  She smiled through her tears.

  "Is this about Phil?" he asked.

  "Some. I don't know if he'll come back and if he does, I don't know if I want him back. Except I'm lying to myself. I do want him. I just don't think he wants the same life that I do. I want a real marriage, a real life with old-fashioned values. Sometimes I think that's what Phillip wants. Then I see a look in his eyes and I know he's scared to death at the very idea of a loving relationship with me. He looks at me as though I'm a stranger. I'm not sure I can handle his mood changes." She sniffled. "I am running on here. I know I'm not making much sense even to myself."

  Amos smiled and pulled her into his arms. "You keep trying with that boy. There's solid steel there."

  "Maybe." Sniffling, she wiped her eyes. "When we got married, we were strangers. Recently, I thought we were working toward something more but then... I don't know."

  Amos poured himself more coffee, adding a spoonful of sugar and stirring it thoughtfully. "A good marriage is worth working for, and it does take work. Nothing good comes cheap."

  "I know how happy you were with Aunt Rochelle."

  "I still miss her. Most I miss coming in from the pasture and seeing her here waiting for me, telling me what she'd been doing, anxious to hear how my day went. That's maybe what I miss the most." He exhaled loudly. “After her, it didn't make sense to go looking for another woman, but I have missed what a woman brings to a home... until you came back this summer."

  She hugged him. "I've loved being here. In fact, I think Montana is where I want to make my home, but that's another problem. I can't see Phillip living here long-term. If we could work out everything else, he'd want to go back to Boston."

  "Boston's a pretty place," Amos said, obviously trying to be helpful.

  "Yes, but it's such a big city. Everything there is so close together, so crowded with people. I like that sometimes. I mean it's nice to be able to get to a bookstore without driving twenty miles, but I also love looking out the kitchen window and seeing the Absarokas with snow covering them. I like being able to drive down to the Yellowstone River and sit, watching the water, just thinking. I like knowing I could cross-country ski out my backdoor. There's so much I like about living up here. I'm not sure I could be really happy anywhere but here." She turned and looked at her uncle with determination. "Somehow we have to figure out a way to make it possible for you to keep this ranch. I can't stand the thought of any other man working this land, living in this house."

  "Well," her uncle said with a faint smile, "might be it'll have to be another man, whether you like it or I do, but it's just getting the right man. Like I told you, I got a few irons in the fire. We'll see what happens. You don't worry about it none. You just concentrate on getting things fixed up with that husband of yours."

  She sniffled again and dabbed at the corner of her eye with her sleeve. "If I can."

  "When he comes back, set him down and talk to him. Tell him what you want. Give him a chance to tell you what he's dreaming about. Might be you're not so different as you think."

  "I don't know. Maybe. If he comes back." She stared out the window at the snow, wondering again if he would return. Would he find it easier to just stay away? He had made her no promises. When he left, she had known he wasn't happy. Although she'd half expected him to come to her bed that last night, he hadn't. Maybe he'd changed his mind about needing even that from her.

  #

  By the time Nancy and Emile drove up, Helene was beginning to feel in a mild dither herself. All of Amos's concerns about caring for a tiny baby had transferred themselves to her. What did she know about infants? Absolutely nothing. Again, she wished Phillip was there. She didn't doubt he'd know everything necessary.

  Nancy came through the door first, smiling broadly, with baby Amos in her arms. "Isn't he adorable," she said as she tried to hand him to Helene.

  Helene backed away. "Wait! Don't I need to have some instructions on how to hold him or something?"

  Nancy laughed. Emile came inside a diaper bag in one hand, cooler in another and a small bassinet under one arm. "Man," he bragged, "I didn't think I could carry all this stuff in one load, but I did it."

  Amos came into the room. He walked over to where he could get a good look at his grandson. "He's bigger than the last time I saw him. So we call him Amos?”

  “Actually… mostly we call him little buddy. I guess that can’t hold on forever though.”

  “Lots of kids have nicknames. I don’t see why not.”

  “Buddy sounds like a pet dog to me.”

  “Amos is pretty old fashioned. Maybe use his middle name,” Uncle Amos suggested looking uneasily at the tiny mite.

  “We had a hard time even deciding on a name until we gave up and used yours and Phillip’s. I wanted Jerome. Emile said he’d be laughed out of school with a sissy name like that.”

  “And Emile wanted?” Helene asked surprised she was interested in baby names at all.

  “Garrett. But doesn’t that sound sort of the same.”

  “Either way it’d have been Jerry or Gary,” Helene teased.

  Nancy sighed. “Well for tonight make it Buddy. And to your earlier question. He’s growing fast. He's going to be big like his daddy. Come on, Helene, hold him. You'll have to eventually. Just support his head with your hand. That's all there is to it." She transferred the baby to Helene's reluctant arms. Nancy proceeded to strip away the extra blankets and coverings that had protected the baby from the cold.

  Helene looked down at the tiny face, the eyes closed in sleep, the rosebud mouth open, breath lightly passing his lips, mingled with an occasional milky sigh. "He is adorable," she whis
pered. He smelled like talcum powder, milk and something indistinguishable that she assumed was warm baby.

  "I expressed out enough of my milk for him to have a feeding if we don't get back in time. Also there's a bottle of water here if that isn't enough," Nancy said, opening the cooler and putting the bottles into the refrigerator. "I don't have him on a tight schedule yet or anything, but he ought to be hungry again around six and maybe eight if we aren’t back yet. He'll cry a little then. You change his diapers, feed him, cuddle him, pat his back to burp him and the next thing you know, he'll be asleep again."

  "Ain't how I remember it," Amos commented laconically.

  "We've had a few days when it didn't work quite that way for us either," Emile admitted with a sheepish grin. "He can get fussy but mostly it's just feed him, stroke his back a bit, walk with him, and put him back in bed. It don't hurt him to cry a little before he goes back to sleep."

  "I sure appreciate you two doing this for us," Nancy said. "I had to get into Doc’s and then Krista asked us to come to dinner. It’s kind of a birthday party and I wanted to go but not to take little Amos."

  "I think it'll all be fine," Helene said nervously, "but could we have the telephone number where you'll be--just in case." Her uncle nodded his vigorous approval of that idea.

  "I wrote it all down," the efficient Nancy told them. She pulled a sheet of paper from the diaper bag and put it on the table. "I also wrote down his schedule, but don't worry if he veers off. Also he might not take all his bottle. Just put what he doesn't use back in the refrigerator. We're still working out how much he wants."

  "Just go on," Helene said, taking a deep breath to convince herself this was a good idea. "Have fun." She watched as they walked out the door and bravely fought down the desire to yell at them to come back and take their baby.

  Looking down at the baby’s tiny face, she felt her maternal instincts crowding in on her fear. "He is perfect," Helene whispered to her uncle. "Look at those little hands." The tiny fingers were closed into little fists as the baby sighed deeply in his sleep.