Grandpa leaned back in his chair, folding his hands over his stomach with a satisfied expression on his face. “That was delicious,” he said.
“Yes, thank you Mrs. MacKenna,” Liam said. “This was great.”
“You’re most welcome.” Grandma smiled. “And please, call me Evelyn.”
Almost mechanically, I slid my chair back from the table and took my plate to the sink. It was all I could do to keep from rolling my eyes.
“Darcy, while you’re up–could you get the pie out of the oven?” Grandma asked. “I made a fresh one earlier today.”
“Sure,” I said, bending to retrieve the pie. The oven door squealed as I opened it, and inside sitting on the top rack was a cherry pie. The crust was covered in tiny hearts, while larger and medium sized hearts overlapped one another at the center. I sat the heart shaped pie down on the center of the table, and retrieved pie serving plates from the cupboard. Grandma cut the pie into equal portions, and then scooped the slices onto our plates.
“Did you know that the majority of your pies are all sold before noon at the coffee house?” I asked her.
“Is that so?” She seemed surprised.
“That’s what the girl at the counter told me,” I said. “Apparently you’re quite the icon here in our sleepy little town.”
“Oh it’s nothing to be sure,” she said, dismissing the compliment.
I severed one of the hearts with my fork, digging in to the fruity goodness. Though it had been a while since I had eaten one of my grandma’s pies, it was still just as good as I remembered it to be–if not better. I listened while Grandpa and Liam discussed upcoming projects for the horses and things that needed to be done around the farm. After everyone had finished with dessert, I collected the dirty plates and took them to the sink.
I was gathering leftover scraps from dinner to add to Radar’s bowl when Liam appeared beside me at the counter. “Can I help?” he asked.
I glanced behind me. Grandpa had already made his way to the living room to digest his food in his favorite blue recliner while watching the evening news. Luna was snuggled up on his lap, and Radar was resting at his feet. Grandma, who usually took charge of kitchen clean-up beside me, was ironically nowhere to be found.
“You don’t have to,” I said with an apathetic tone, hoping he’d decline.
“I’d feel useless if I didn’t.” He smiled, raising the corner of his mouth into a rather charming grin.
“You wash?” I figured it would be easier for me to dry since I knew where everything needed to be put away, but truthfully I preferred doing the washing.
“Sure,” he said. I handed him the dishcloth, and took my place beside him, picking up the towel.
There was a small, overhead light that glowed warmly in the nook above us, illuminating the sink below. I could see our translucent reflections in the window, but if I looked hard enough, I could also see the snow still falling outside. Liam rolled up the sleeves of his charcoal sweater, exposing his forearms.
He reached forward, lifting the nozzle on the sink and adjusted the temperature before starting on the task at hand. I waited patiently beside him, watching as he cleaned the first plate, rinsed it, and handed it to me. He smiled warmly at me as I took it, and reached for the next dish beside him.
I liked that he was so tall, my head just grazing his shoulders. I’d never really had to look up at anyone before, being that I was considerably tall for a girl. Luke was taller than me, but only by an inch or so. Liam actually made me feel small.
“So, art history, huh?” he said after a while. I was reaching up into the cupboard, stacking a clean pile of plates.
“Yeah,” I said, returning to my place beside him. “My mom made it mandatory that we go to college. She didn’t care what we went for as long as we picked something. I guess I was so undecided that I picked an array of classes that held my interest, even if I didn’t think they would actually get me anywhere.” I shrugged.
“We?” he asked, handing me another clean dish.
“Oh.” I hadn’t even realized what I had done. It had come out so naturally–so freely. Liam was looking at me now, waiting for a response. His hair was hanging in his eyes with the way he was angling his face to look at me. “My brother, Gabriel,” I said at last.
Liam nodded. I studied him for a minute, waiting for him to say more but he didn’t. I wondered if my grandparents had told him about the accident.
“What’s your favorite thing about art?” he asked me after a slight pause.
I sucked in a deep breath and blew out slowly. “That’s a tough one.”
“I’ve got time,” he said. Liam had a storyteller voice, the kind of voice that was distinctly appealing in a very masculine yet articulately dulcet kind of way. He had the kind of voice that made you want to spill all of your secrets. I’d have to be careful with that, I thought.
“Well,” I began, “I like painting.” I reached forward, drying a bowl methodically as I gathered my thoughts. “I like that there are no rules. No right or wrong way of doing things, necessarily. I like that art can tell a story without ever saying a single word.”
He looked at me then, his brilliant emerald eyes locking on to mine. For a minute, I felt like he was looking right through me.
“No rules, huh?”
“No rules,” I replied.
We went on in silence, finishing the remaining dishes. I could hear the hum of the evening news behind us, and an occasional crack or snap of a log in the wood burning stove. The water flowed rhythmically from the faucet, and if I focused on it, I knew I could take myself to an in-between. But something stopped me. It was the cool and steady presence of the guy standing beside me. He seemed to emanate a sense of calm that spread through the atmosphere and surrounded me. For once in my life, I felt like I was standing still, and I didn’t want to run.
Liam handed me the last dish, and shut off the water. I dried the saucer and handed him the towel so he could dry his hands.
“Thanks,” he said.
“Thank you, actually,” I said. “You didn’t need to stick around and help, but I appreciate it.”
“It was the least I could do after getting a free meal.”
I glanced into the living room and saw that my Grandpa had fallen asleep in his chair; he was snoring softly with the remote in one hand. Grandma was still missing from the scene.
“The horse,” I said, thinking I should probably wake Grandpa so he could go take care of him.
“Don’t.” Liam stopped me, gently reaching out to take hold of my arm at the elbow. I froze. “I can take care of him,” he said.
“I’ll come with you.” I don’t exactly know what made me say it, but the next thing I knew was that I was following Liam into the mud room, and zipping up my winter coat. He held open the door for me as I stepped out onto the porch, the sound of our steps clanking against the wooden planks.
The snow had stopped falling, and the whole world seemed to be alive in the light of the electric silver moon. It was a perfectly clear evening, cloudless and bright. I followed Liam across the drive, making tracks in the snow as we crossed over to the corral. The gray horse was standing near the railing, and turned his head as we approached.
“Do you know his breed?” I asked.
“I’m pretty sure he’s an American quarter horse,” Liam replied.
“I’ve never seen one with eyes like that.”
“Blue-eyed horses are rare,” Liam said. “It’s actually caused by a lack of pigmentation in the iris. Light reflects differently in their eyes.”
“Really?”
“Oh yeah. There are all sorts
of myths and legends out there about blue eyes on a horse, and what they represent.”
“Like what?” I asked.
“Well,” Liam said, stuffing his hands into the front pockets of his jeans, “some people believe that a horse with blue eyes can have an uncontrollable temperament. Some legends say that the horses spook easily, or are dangerous to be around. Of course, there are other legends that say the fair-eyed horses are ‘great holders of wisdom.’ There’s not any scientific evidence that supports any of those theories, but, it’s kind of interesting to think about,” he said.
“Intriguing,” I said.
“I don’t put a lot of stock in myths, but, this guy sure seems to fit one of the descriptions. He’s a stubborn thing,” Liam said, disappearing into the barn. The lights flickered in the loft and then settled, and Liam returned with a lead for the horses halter.
“Is he really that bad?” I asked.
“Define ‘bad.’” Liam challenged, he lifted the latch, and stepped into the corral. He clucked softly, letting the horse know he was approaching. The horse turned his head, looking directly at him. Liam walked slowly, but as soon as he was within a foot of the horse, the horse bolted in the opposite direction.
I laughed.
“Oh, you think this is funny, do you?”
“I like his attitude,” I said, grinning.
“Yeah? Well, you’re probably the only one. I’ve been doing some basic confidence building exercises to try and gain his trust, but, he doesn’t really seem to like men.”
“Maybe he was abused by one,” I suggested.
“Maybe,” Liam said, gazing in my direction. “Do you want to try something crazy?” he asked after a minute.
I lifted an eyebrow, feeling my lips twisting upward into a smile. “That depends,” I said. “What are you suggesting?”
“I’m testing a theory,” he said. He tilted his head, gesturing for me to follow him into the barn. We made our way to the small tack room on the left-hand side. It was where Grandpa kept the feed, and supplies for the horses. Saddles draped over wooden beams while bridles, leads, and halters hung from pegs on the walls. Various grooming tools and bottles of supplements lined a dusty shelf, and I watched as Liam reached for a glass Mason jar full of peppermints. He grabbed a handful, and started back for the arena. I followed behind him.
“Are you going to fill me in on this theory of yours?” I asked.
Liam said nothing at first; instead, he looped the lead rope over my shoulders, and handed me a couple of peppermints. “Okay,” he said, “let me see what you’ve got.” He opened up the swing gate, the hinges moaning as he motioned me in.
“You want me to try and bring him in?” I clarified, jabbing a thumb against my collarbone.
“Unless you’re scared,” he razzed.
I snorted, and walked a few paces toward the gray horse. He was standing at the center of the ring now, pushing his muzzle over the snow covered ground. I clucked my tongue like Liam had demonstrated before, and crinkled the peppermint wrappers in my hand. To my surprise, the horse looked up in my direction.
“Hey, boy,” I said softly, continuing in his direction. Once I was standing about two feet in front of him, I discarded a peppermint from the wrapper and held it out in my flat palm, slowly extending the offering. The horse snorted, his breath snaking through the air as he breathed out. “Come on, boy, it’s a tasty treat.”
Behind me, Liam was snickering.
I clucked again, and took another step in his direction. I watched as his nostrils flared, testing the air, and smelling the mint. After a few seconds he decided the offer was too good to pass up, so he made his way to me, and I smiled once I felt his muzzle on my hand. He took the peppermint, and I felt his breath warm on my skin. “Attaboy,” I said quietly. I let him have another mint before I reached up, calmly, clipping the lead to his halter. I touched his neck beneath his mane, feeling the warmth of his skin thawing my fingertips. His coat was soft, and slightly damp with sweet smelling sweat.
“Well I’ll be,” Liam said in a disbelieving tone behind me.
“I did it,” I said. Even I had a hard time believing it.
Calmly, I led the horse out of the corral, and back into the barn. Liam opened his stall door while I released the lead from his halter, and closed the stall door behind him with a little click.
“That was incredible,” Liam said.
“Did it support your theory?” I asked.
“I haven’t entirely decided yet,” he said, “but I’d like to run a few more tests. Would you like to help me with him?”
“What? You mean like with his training?” I asked.
Liam nodded.
“Uh, sure,” I said, surprised.
“Good. If he keeps responding to you, I think we could really get somewhere with him.”
“I’d like that,” I said.
Liam grinned. “Well,” he said, “I should probably get going, it’s getting kind of late and I have a test in the morning.”
“Oh, what fun,” I said, following him out of the barn. We turned off the lights, and closed the heavy doors behind us.
“Tell your grandma I said thanks again for dinner.”
“I will.”
“See ya’ around.” Liam turned and headed for his truck. I started for the porch, feeling the cold seeping into my right leg as it began to ache with each step. I lingered there for a while in the dark, watching as his taillights disappeared down the lane and the world around me grew quiet. It was the first time in a long time that I didn’t mind the sound of it.
***
“There you are,” Grandma said at the top of the staircase. She was putting clean towels in the hall closet.
“Funny, I was just thinking the same thing about you.”
“What do you mean?” she asked in an all-too-innocent voice.
“I mean how you disappeared after dinner and left me in the kitchen with Liam,” I said as I walked by, pausing in the doorway of my bedroom. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to.”
“And what, pray tell, might that be?” She chuckled.
“Liam,” I said, as if his name in and of itself said all I needed it to say.
“What about him?” She continued to play coy.
I sighed, and decided to drop the conversation all together. This was a battle I’d have to accept defeat for, at least for now. “Goodnight, Grandma.”
“I’ll see you in the morning.” She smiled at me, closing the closet door behind her. She turned then, and disappeared into the darkness of her bedroom.
I changed into a pair of comfortable pajamas, and went through my basic nighttime routine before returning to my room. I moved my purse from the end of the bed, laying it on the small writing desk on the opposite wall. The corner of the blue envelope was sticking up, peeking over the zipper binding–taunting me. I removed it from my purse, feeling the weight of it in my hands as I made my way back over to the edge of the bed.
I could open it, I thought. I really couldn’t bring myself to care enough about whatever could possibly be inside… But, I couldn’t quite bring myself to throw it away, either. Instead, I pulled open the drawer of the nightstand and tucked the envelope underneath the safety blanket of pill bottles and closed the drawer.
I crawled under the covers, and thought back to a moment not too long ago, where the world had stilled beside me. I focused on the memory, the pull of the water in the sink, letting it take me to an in-between place, and closed my eyes. The outline of his body in the glow of the kitchen light was the last thing I saw before sleep took me.
Ch
apter Six
The snow had only lasted a few days before it melted off, leaving the world around me covered in a gray sludge. Today was the first of March, and though the temperatures were still dipping in the low forties, I was holding out hope that spring was just around the corner.
The sun was barely visible through the white haze in the sky as I headed into town. I had taken my grandpa’s old truck, and was on my way to deliver this week’s pie order to the Crescent Moon. A week had passed, and I was easing into a new kind of routine with life on the farm. I worked most days with Grandma, keeping my hands busy, which in turn was good for my mind. There wasn’t a lot of time to dwell on the ever-present emptiness, which was slowly making every day just a little easier.
Grandma and I had stayed up all day and half the night, listening to the oldies music station while we worked at crafting a dozen pies. I worked fluidly, while Grandma hummed beside me, cutting and dicing different fruits for the pies.
“Beck told me that the blackberry is always the last to go,” I told her, glancing up from the berry mixture I had been stirring in the simmering pot on the stove.
“Why is that?” Grandma almost looked bothered.
“Apparently the seeds get stuck in people’s teeth, and the color of the berries stains their lips.” I shrugged, thinking back to Beck’s Tim Burton comment.
“Oh.” she stopped working for a minute, letting this piece of information sink in. “I hadn’t really thought of that.” She went back to dicing.
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