His Last Rodeo

by Claire McEwen

  “That’s great,” she said, turning to face him. He heard the quaver in her voice, saw the tremble in her lip. “That’s really nice of you.”

  “Hey,” he said, reaching with his thumb to brush at a tear that spilled down her cheek. “What’s the matter?”

  She stepped away and ran her knuckles roughly under her eyes. “It’s just, I’ve been coming out here, day after day, ever since your dad fired him. Trying to get him out of his damn pajamas. Trying to get him to take an interest in this house, do his dishes, eat right. Nothing’s worked.”

  She waved her hand toward the porch. “I even helped him build those porch steps. Me. Just because I was so desperate to get him to do something.”

  He looked at the unpainted wooden steps with new admiration. “They’re very nice.”

  “The point is nothing has worked. He won’t clean his house. He won’t get dressed. He’s quit all of his activities in town, and no matter what I say or do, nothing changes. But then you show up and he’s all excited and happy and running off to get dressed and make coffee.”

  “That’s a good thing, right?” Tyler studied her closely. What was he missing here? “Maybe he just needed a visit from an old friend?”

  “Maybe,” she said wanly. “Or maybe he’s always just preferred you over me.”

  “What? No... Kit...you’re his daughter.” He couldn’t stand the tears that were starting to slide down her cheeks.

  “You’re his rodeo protégé. That wins out.” She used her sleeve to catch the tears and glanced toward the door apprehensively. “I’m being stupid. I should be happy that he’s finally interested in something. I just wish, sometimes, that it could be me.”

  She turned away, but he caught her gently by the arm. “You’re very interesting. You’re smart and capable and funny as hell, and if your dad can’t see that, it’s a hundred percent his problem. Don’t take his rodeo obsession personally. He was a great rider in his day, and some guys have a hard time leaving it behind.”

  “And you? Are you having trouble?”

  The question took him by surprise. “Not right now,” he blurted out. “Not when I’m with you.”

  Her eyes went wide, as if she saw the feeling behind his words. A feeling so intense it surprised him, too. “Oh.”

  He wanted to kiss the pallor from her face. Replace the sadness in her eyes with something far warmer. But he wouldn’t overstep. He touched her hair, sliding the silky black mass of it behind her shoulder. “You’re special, Kit. Don’t doubt it.”

  He heard a sound from inside the house and stepped back, hoping he’d eased some of her angst.

  Her dad came through the screen door, dressed in jeans, boots and a flannel shirt. “I’ve got coffee,” he called. “Did you pick a color?”

  “We’ve got a few ideas,” he called. Kit eyed him and he gave her a smile he hoped would reassure. “Can I try out your steps?” he asked. “I’ve never climbed a Kit Hayes signature staircase before.”

  She gave a small giggle. “By all means,” she said, with a flourish of her hand.

  On the porch, Tyler had Kit show him her favorite color, a pale blue, and voted for it over Garth’s sage green preference. Then they let Garth have the green color anyway, because, after all, it was his house. And then Tyler offered Garth a position as barn manager, once he had a working barn. And they all toasted Garth’s hearty agreement with their coffee.

  As he waved goodbye, Tyler felt like he’d done something good today. For Garth, certainly, but hopefully for Kit, too. It had broken something inside him to realize that she felt so disregarded by her father, and that he might play a part in that. Maybe, with a job to look forward to and a sense of purpose, Garth would come out of his gloom. And give Kit one less thing to worry about.

  * * *

  “LILA, CAN I ask you something totally personal?” Kit looked up at Lila, who was perched on a ladder using clothespins to attach white fabric to a wire. It was Monday morning, and they were hanging a backdrop in Lila’s photography studio. Which was really the garage of the cottage Lila and Ethan shared.

  “Of course.” Lila glanced to where Kit held the fabric off the floor. “Anything.”

  It was hard to ask a question that would reveal such a flaw in her own nature. But she was desperate. “How did you move on from your past? From what happened to you?”

  Lila turned and sat on the top step to face Kit. “You mean with Dale?” Lila had moved to Benson to hide from her abusive ex-boyfriend. Last fall he’d found her and almost killed her. He was in jail now, thank goodness, and Lila seemed completely happy, like she’d moved on from the trauma with ease.

  “I’m sorry, maybe I shouldn’t bring it up,” Kit said. “I wouldn’t, if I didn’t need your help so much.”

  “Is this about Arch?” Lila asked.

  “It’s more about me. And all these bad feelings I can’t get rid of. I was so jealous of Mandy when Arch fell for her. And I was so jealous when Tyler bought the bar. But I was starting to accept it, you know? I was starting to be okay with it all.”

  “So that’s great. It’s progress.”

  “I thought so, too. But this weekend, Tyler offered Dad a job at his barn, once it’s running. They were close when we were young, and the moment Tyler showed up, it was like Dad was suddenly cured of his depression. And of course I’m relieved about that, but it bugged me that Tyler could help him and I can’t. I went right back to that jealous place. And I hate it there. I don’t want to feel like that.”

  Lila nodded sympathetically. “But it makes sense to me. Ever since your mom left, you’ve devoted a lot of your time and energy to trying to make your dad feel better. And you’ve been there for him almost every day since he lost his job.”

  Tears threatened, but Kit blinked them back, needing to say what was haunting her. “I realized yesterday that even though I’m his daughter, I’m not the person who brings him joy. Tyler is. They have this bond over bull riding and rodeo. They’ve had it since we were kids. And it’s way stronger than any father-daughter thing.”

  “You’re a great daughter, Kit. And it’s not your fault if your dad doesn’t find joy in that.”

  “But I want to stop caring about it, you know? And instead I feel like I’ve got one foot in this quicksand of resentment and I can’t get out.”

  “You will. But it’s a process. It’s not simple to get over stuff.”

  Frustration clenched Kit’s hands into fists around the cloth. “Do you know what I hate the most? Is that I sound like I’m whining. Poor me, Arch didn’t love me anymore. And I couldn’t buy the bar, and my dad likes someone else better. I can’t stand myself when I feel like this! That’s why I need to know how you moved on.”

  “I hate to break it to you,” Lila said gently, “but I don’t think it’s possible to completely move on from some of the big stuff that happens in our lives. I think you learn to live with the feelings and not let them take over everything. I’m still afraid. I know they’ll let Dale out of prison at some point. But I can’t let that fear ruin my life, so I try to keep it in one part of my mind while I focus on the good stuff.”

  “Ugh. I was hoping you had some magic words. Or magic beans. Or anything.”

  Lila giggled. “Nope. No beans. Sorry. Just stay in the present moment. Appreciate what you have. Try to be grateful that your dad has Tyler in his life. Because Tyler understands him in a way you can’t. Unless—” she grinned “—you’ve developed a secret love of bull riding.”

  “Not likely.” But Kit felt her cheeks flush because, while she wasn’t fond of the sport, when a certain bull rider had tried to give her comfort the other day, there had been an unexpected sweetness that she couldn’t forget.

  Lila climbed down the ladder. “Do you still want to do this photo shoot?”

  “I’ll do it,
but like I warned you, I’m terrible at posing for photos.”

  “Not true,” Lila said. “I’ve taken a zillion great snaps of you on my phone.”

  “But this is different.” Kit eyed the white backdrop, the tall lamps and Lila’s camera, perched on a tripod. “This is serious stuff.”

  “I take good photos and you’re gorgeous. How bad can it be? Now, will you sit down?” Lila pointed to a bench she’d draped with a black cloth.

  Kit shuffled over. She felt silly now that she was here. When Lila had first asked her to pose it had sounded fun. Something different to try that might help her friend. But she had no idea what to do. It didn’t help that Lila had the big lamp on and was studying Kit’s face under the light with a concerned expression.

  “Tell me about your makeup.”

  It wasn’t at all the question Kit had been expecting. “What do you mean?”

  “Well...it’s hiding your eyes. Would you consider taking it off for the photos?”

  “I can’t take pictures with no makeup,” Kit protested. “I’ll look terrible.”

  “You’re pretty with no makeup,” Lila insisted. “You don’t wear much when you go running and you always look awesome.”

  “That’s running. What if you put these photos in your exhibit? And there I am, no makeup?”

  Lila laughed. “You can have final approval. I promise.”

  Kit knew it was silly. “I’m sure I sound like the most shallow person ever. It’s just that my makeup...” She searched for the right word. “It’s...”

  “...a layer between you and the world,” Lila finished for her.

  Kit wasn’t sure. “I never thought of it that way.” Was it a mask? She’d always really liked wearing tons of makeup. She hadn’t analyzed it.

  Lila came to sit beside her, taking Kit’s hand. “Hey, please don’t get me wrong. I think you look amazing. Always. But I wonder...this is the look you adopted when you started dating Arch, right? Kind of tough, Goth rocker chick. And it’s a good look for you, but I’d like to photograph you the way I see you. The person I see isn’t Arch’s ex-girlfriend, or the town tough girl. I see Kit. My sweet, funny, smart, beautiful, kind friend.”

  Kit didn’t quite know what to say. On one hand her pride was bruised, because no matter how gently she said it, Lila was suggesting Kit’s look was outdated. On the other hand, Lila was right. Kit hadn’t dressed like this until she started going out with Arch. All the black eyeliner and thick mascara seemed to fit who she’d become when she fell in love with him.

  This whole past year she’d wanted, so badly, to move on from that. But change was scary. If she changed, was that admitting her old ways were a mistake? “I guess the makeup shows the side of myself that I want people to see.”

  “What’s wrong with them seeing you? Aren’t you enough? Just as you are?”

  The question sat between them, heavy with meaning. Lila had nailed exactly what ached deep in the raw center of Kit’s heart. She hadn’t been enough, for her dad, for her mom, for Arch. Her throat was almost too tight for speech. “I’m not sure.”

  “What if we try it?” Lila asked gently. “Let me give you a makeover. Or, I guess, a make-under.”

  Lila was right. It was time for something different. “Okay,” she agreed. “Go for it.”

  Ninety minutes later, Kit looked at a softer version of herself in Lila’s bathroom mirror. Lila had cut a few layers into Kit’s hair and convinced Kit not to straighten it, so it had dried in gentle waves. Kit’s makeup was a delicate palette of browns and pinks that made her eyes look huge, but way more accessible without all the black ringing them.

  “What do you think?” Lila asked.

  “I’m not sure, honestly.” Kit tilted her head. “I’m not sure I look like me.”

  “Or maybe you look more like you. Or an alternative version of you.”

  Kit made a few faces. And realized she liked who she saw in the mirror. Lila was right. The black eye makeup, the red lipstick, was something to hide behind. Because if she hid who she was, then when she wasn’t enough, when people chose a new life, or a new love instead of her, it didn’t hurt quite so much.

  But right now, she was all about discovering who she was. Not hiding it. “Thank you,” she said. “I actually feel really pretty.”

  “You look beautiful.” Lila grinned. “Ready to be pretty for the camera?”

  Kit didn’t feel as nervous now. This might even be fun. And maybe today could be a start. The day she finally trusted that she was good enough, no matter what choices her mom or her dad or Arch or anyone else made. “Yeah. I’m ready.”

  * * *

  MONDAY AFTERNOON WAS shifting toward evening when Tyler climbed the worn granite steps of Benson Elementary. He opened the wood and glass doors and inhaled the paste and chalk-dust smell. With time-warp speed he was that little boy again, squinting at the page, words tangling on his tongue every time a teacher uttered the dreaded “Could you read that out loud, please?”

  But he wasn’t that little boy now. He was a grown man, looking to improve himself, and that was an honorable thing. He wished it didn’t feel so damn embarrassing.

  The hallways were empty. His work boots clomped on the tiles.

  The office door was on the right and the time-warp feeling continued as he stepped inside. There was the same row of chairs where he’d waited countless times for a lecture from the principal and the dreaded phone call home to his dad.

  In those same chairs, he’d waited when his dad had come to get him, white-faced and instantly aged. To take him to the hospital to say goodbye to his mom, in those last moments before cancer stole her from them forever.

  He swallowed hard, pushing that memory back. An older woman wearing a bright blue pantsuit bustled in carrying a stack of file folders. “Can I help you, sir?”

  Unnerved at being called sir in a place where he felt all of ten years old, he cleared his throat. “Yes, I’m looking for a tutor.” When her eyebrows went up in surprise he added a lie. “It’s for my nephew. I was wondering if maybe the school had a list of people who offered tutoring.”

  She set her folders down and looked at him thoughtfully. “Benson is a small town. We don’t have any tutoring centers. And we don’t keep a list, though I suppose we should.” She scribbled a note on a piece of paper, as if to remind herself of that idea.

  Disappointment and relief were a strange mix. He wanted help. But he didn’t want to share the extent of his inabilities, so it was a relief of sorts that she couldn’t help him.

  “Well, thank you for your time.” He turned to go, wondering if it might be better to get help online. Anonymously.

  “Hang on,” she called, and he turned to see that she’d followed him into the hallway. “Why don’t you see Mrs. Lopez in room eight? She teaches second grade, and she helps kids after school. Maybe she could find some time for your nephew.”

  Coming here was a bad idea. “Okay, I’ll look her up another day. Thanks.”

  “She hasn’t gone home yet. I’ll walk you to her room.” The woman beckoned, a gesture so full of command Tyler’s feet obeyed before he’d even decided to follow. She led him down the hall and around a corner. “I’m Mary Kennedy, the principal here. Who is your nephew?”

  Tyler cast around frantically for a name. “He actually doesn’t go here. He’s homeschooled.”

  She glanced at him, clearly puzzled, and stopped at a classroom with the number eight painted on the door. Anxiety twisted his stomach. He’d spent third grade in this room. The year all the other kids had started to read chapter books. And he’d been still trying to keep track of the alphabet.

  “You should probably contact the district homeschooling outreach teacher if his parents are having trouble guiding him in his studies.”

  “Will do, Mrs. Kennedy
,” he said. “And thanks for your help. I’ll take it from here.”

  “You look so familiar. Do I know you?”

  She probably did, if she ever read the local paper, but he needed anonymity right now. “I don’t think we’ve met. But good to meet you now.”

  “Yes, nice to meet you, too. Good luck with the tutoring.”

  He watched her walk back down the hallway, waiting for her to turn the corner before he knocked on the classroom door. A woman with dark hair and brown eyes opened it. “Can I help you?”

  “Mrs. Lopez? My name is Tyler. I was hoping to speak with you about tutoring.”

  She smiled with a gentle kindness that he didn’t remember from school. “Come in.”

  The classroom was decorated with bright colors. She offered him an impossibly tiny chair. He lowered himself carefully and she sat, with much more ease, in another. “I’m so sorry I don’t remember you. What grade is your child in?”

  Here it was. The moment he dreaded. He thought of Kit’s face when she’d realized he’d messed up the ordering. The huge bill he’d paid to purchase supplies from the local liquor store afterward. The frustration on his employees’ faces when he’d scheduled them wrong. Kit wouldn’t be around to save his butt forever. He had to do this. “I need a tutor for myself.”

  Her eyes widened. “Oh.”

  “I went to this school years ago. But I didn’t really learn to read or write that well. Or do math. They said I had dyslexia and dyscalculia. Eventually I just quit school.”

  “What have you been doing?”

  “I joined the army at first. Then I became a professional bull rider.”

  Mrs. Lopez leaned forward and clasped her hands together. “I’ve heard of you.”

  “I’m Tyler Ellis.”

  “Well.” She studied him a moment, as if trying to absorb the news. “Nice to meet you, Tyler Ellis.” And that was it. No judgment that he’d quit school. No questions about his rodeo career.