by Claire Adams
How in hell did this conversation go from training horses to inviting girls to barbecues? “It’s a little short notice,” I said. “Probably not going to find a girl to invite in the next five hours or so.”
Ryan turned from the fence and patted me on the shoulder. “If you want to, you will,” he said. He felt bad for me, I realized. “Look,” he said, the expression on his face relaxing a little, “I know you’re not from around here. So, it can be a little hard to integrate at first.”
“How do you know I’m not from around here?”
“I can just tell, I’m good like that. But I’m not from around here, either. I grew up on a horse farm in Upstate New York. Dressage and jumpers, mostly, which I have about zero interest in. Spent half my childhood begging my parents to get me a Quarter Horse instead of that ridiculous little Welsh pony they wanted me to ride. Took fifty bucks out of my dad’s wallet and bought this western saddle I saw in the window at one of the antique shops in town, and would ride the Welsh pony with that, even though it sure as hell didn’t fit right. I’ve been spending summers working various ranches for five years now. Someday I’d like to have my own. A place like this though, a real working ranch, not just some dude ranch.” He patted me on the shoulder again. “But I can tell you, when I first came out here, there was a little adjusting to be done. It wasn’t all smooth-sailing. Which is why I’m encouraging you to find a lady and come on down to the barbecue tonight. You don’t have to slink around here like an abused dog that’s afraid it’s about to get its ass kicked. Don’t be afraid to be social. You must have some skills, otherwise Garrett wouldn’t be putting you in charge of this horse here.”
I knew he was just trying to help out, in his own way, so I smiled and nodded. “I’ll give it a shot,” I said, though I wasn’t exactly sure what I was referring to. I’d let him think what he wanted of it.
“Good man,” he said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me . . . .”
He didn’t finish the sentence but pushed back from the railing and walked off. Ditto jerked his head up at the movement and stamped his hooves, but he didn’t try anything. I watched him for a few more minutes, and then I decided to go back to my cabin. The blisters on my heels were almost completely gone, but there was one that was still a bit raw and the Band-Aid I’d put on this morning had fallen off and had worked its way up under the arch of my foot.
There was someone sitting on the porch of my little cabin as I approached, a woman, I could tell, though I didn’t recognize her. Not at first, but as I got closer, close enough that it would be too late to turn around and walk away, I realized who it was.
Carolyn.
“Ollie,” she said, standing up. I watched the expression on her face as she took in what I looked like now, seven years since the last time she’d seen me. I never had gotten around to breaking up with her. She’d come to Reynolds several times that first year I was incarcerated, but I hadn’t come out to see anyone. Eventually, she stopped trying to see me. She walked over and stopped right in front of me, just a few inches separating us. I took a step back without thinking about it. “My sister said she saw you getting coffee the other day. I almost didn’t believe her. I didn’t figure that you’d be coming back here.”
Carolyn looked a little older, but she still looked good. In high school, she’d been one of the popular girls, the girl that the other girls wanted to be like, to be friends with. Her hair was cut shorter now, and there were fine lines at the corners of her eyes, but the years had been kind to her.
“Yeah,” I said. “That was me. And I wasn’t sure if I’d be coming back here either, but where else would I have gone?”
“Becca said you were with an older woman.”
“Just a friend.” I’d have to get back over there to see Paula at some point. “How have you been?”
“Been all right.” She reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear and the sunlight glinted off the gold band she wore on her left ring finger.
“You married?” I asked.
She shook her head. “No. Well, yes, but that’s going to be ending soon.”
“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Don’t be—it’s better this way. We gave it our best. It’s ending amicably. Although it seems like most people say that, whether it’s really that way or not.” She smiled sheepishly. “You’re not even going to believe who I’m about to be divorced from.”
“Who?”
“Jeff Salter.”
I smiled, maybe the first real smile since I’d gotten out. During high school, Jeff had been one of the “computer kids”—not a nerd, but almost. Despite his father being a sheep rancher, Jeff rarely ever went outside and was mostly glued to a computer monitor.
“I know, I know, have your laugh,” she said. “He’s actually done quite well for himself in the tech industry. We lived out in San Jose for a while but moved back here last year. Hey, you know, I’ve run into your brother a few times.”
“You have?” I asked, surprised.
“Yeah. We’d go up to San Francisco a lot, and even though it’s a city, I swear, it’s like a small town too, the way you’d run into the same people. Anyway, we’d gone up to Twin Peaks—the view is amazing—and I saw this guy with a group of his friends, they were riding bikes but had stopped to take a break. And I knew he looked familiar, and I asked Jeff and he said it was Darren. So, I went over and said hi. He asked me how you were doing, but of course I didn’t have anything to tell him.” She looked up at the sky, blinking, and I realized she was trying not to cry. She sniffed. “I told myself I wasn’t going to get upset,” she said, still looking up. “I told myself I was just going to come over here and see if it was really you, make sure you were all right, and then leave. My sister didn’t even think I should do that, but I had to.”
“I appreciate it,” I said softly. If she was trying to make me feel bad, she was doing a hell of a good job.
“Why wouldn’t you see me?” she asked. “All those times I drove out there to the prison. I’d sit at one of the tables in the visitor’s room and wait for you, so sure that this time, you’d come out. You’d see me. But you never did. So, I had to move on, you know? I had to. I didn’t know what you were thinking. I didn’t know what you wanted.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t see anyone; it wasn’t just you.”
“But didn’t you miss me?”
Had I missed her? I remembered lying there at night, not wanting to go to sleep, unable to stop the onslaught of memories about my old life, sometimes the most mundane shit: brushing my teeth, pouring a cup of coffee at my mom’s counter, driving over to Carolyn’s to pick her up. Of course, I thought about the other stuff, too: kissing her, the smell of her hair after she’d just shampooed it, the fact that I was going to break up with her but hadn’t gotten the chance, because I killed someone before I was able to.
“I did,” I said. “But I didn’t want anyone to see me like that. I thought it’d be better that way.”
“Better for you, maybe.” She was looking at me again, and it seemed like she wasn’t going to cry anymore. It seemed like maybe she was going to close this distance between the two of us real quick and give me a good slap across the face. Which I deserved, and if she’d done it, I would’ve just stood there and taken it.
“I am sorry I hurt you,” I said. “That wasn’t my intention.”
“I know it wasn’t. But it did all the same.” She pressed her lips together and took a deep breath. She started to say something but then stopped.
“What?” I asked.
She shook her head. “Nothing. Well, we don’t have to talk about it right now. Another time, maybe. Like I said, I didn’t come over here to make you feel bad.”
“I know you didn’t. And it’s good to see you.”
She smiled a little then, and there was something comforting about being around her, maybe because she was familiar, maybe because I knew she was someone that my mother had been so fond of. The silence stretc
hed, with neither of us saying anything, but it wasn’t awkward or uncomfortable. It was, in fact, easy to remember why I had liked—okay, loved—Carolyn in the first place: she was kind and gentle and just easy to be around.
“Hey!” I turned at the sound of the voice, knowing who it was before I saw his face, and I wished that I’d invited Carolyn inside instead of standing out here where anyone could see us.
It was Ryan, who had been heading toward his own cabin, but when he saw me and Carolyn standing there, he veered over. Nothing I could do to stop him.
“Hey there,” he said, big smile on his face. He held out his hand to Carolyn. “I’m Ryan.”
“Carolyn,” she said, shaking his hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“Now, I don’t mean to interrupt, but I just wanted to make sure that Ollie here had invited you to the ranch barbecue tonight.” Ryan laughed. “It’s funny—Ollie and I were just talking earlier about him having someone to invite, and he said he didn’t think he’d find anybody in time. But here you are! So, it’s perfect. I was trying to tell him when you’re new to some place, you’ve just got to put yourself out there and try to be friendly. I didn’t think he was really listening to what I was saying, but I guess I was wrong!” He clapped me on the shoulder, his grin getting wider, as though he’d just done me a big favor. “I’ll let you two get back to your conversation.”
“He’s rather . . . forthcoming,” Carolyn said once he was out of earshot.
“Yeah, he is.”
“’New to this area?’”
“I didn’t get into the details with him about my past. Just easier to let him think I was new on the scene. In a way, I guess I kind of am.”
“How is it being . . . being back?”
“Good. Strange. In some ways, it feels like everything’s changed, and in others it feels like nothing has.”
“You seem like you’re doing all right. Although you were never an easy one to read.”
I knew that last comment was not a compliment. “I wasn’t expecting to be back here. But it’s a good thing. I don’t really know what else I’d be doing if I wasn’t.”
“So, there’s a barbecue tonight?”
“That’s what everyone keeps telling me. Looks like you’re invited now, too.”
“Only if you want me to go. I don’t want to go if it’s going to make you uncomfortable. Though any excuse to get out of the house is good. Jeff and I are still living together. Separate bedrooms,” she added quickly.
I thought about it for a few seconds. I didn’t even want to go to this barbecue to begin with, but I wasn’t about to tell Carolyn she shouldn’t go, especially since Ryan had made it sound like I was looking for someone to invite. I figured I owed her at least that much.
9.
Wren
Ryan had said he’d come pick me up for the barbecue once he was finished with the evening chores. It didn’t dawn on me until then that it was at Wilson Ranch, and it was quite likely I’d run into Ollie there.
I suddenly felt strange about the whole thing. I texted Allison to ask her if she thought it was weird that I was feeling this way, but instead of responding to my message, she came over.
“Kids are having a sleepover at my in-laws’,” she said. “Nigel and I are supposed to be having a romantic date night, but what I really feel like doing is lounging on the couch with a couple pints of ice cream. Is this really who I’ve turned into?”
“That doesn’t sound so bad. Maybe I should just skip out on this barbecue thing and you can come over here and we can eat ice cream and have a Game of Thrones marathon.”
“I wouldn’t hear the end of it if I bailed on Nigel for a girls’ night. So, what were you trying to say in your text? You weren’t really making sense. You’re going to a barbecue?”
“Yeah. With that guy Ryan.”
“The one that has the hots for you?”
“That’s the one.”
“What’s the problem?”
“The problem is that he works at Wilson Ranch, which is where Ollie works. So, if I go to this barbecue, I’m probably going to see Ollie there, and I just feel . . . I don’t know, I just feel weird about it, I guess. Which I realize is stupid. I’m probably just overthinking it or . . . .” I let my voice trail off because what I was saying wasn’t even making sense to me, at this point. “I’m not attracted to him,” I said. “Ollie.”
Allison smirked. “Sure you aren’t.”
“I’m not! I just feel like I have this connection with him. The problem being that he doesn’t know about it. He doesn’t know who I am!”
“He could if you told him.”
“I know, but I still don’t think should. It just seems like it’d be better if I didn’t say anything, like it would be a reminder of something he didn’t want to be reminded of.”
“Then don’t say anything.”
“Should I wear this?” I gestured to the jeans and tank top I had on.
“Change the shirt. Something a little . . . I don’t know. Not so plain.”
I went over and dug through my drawers and came up with a short-sleeved pale pink top, made of soft cotton, with a V-neck.
“Cute,” Allison said. “And maybe wear those black ballet flats with it.”
I slipped my feet into the shoes and then twisted my hair back into a messy bun, which was my go-to hairstyle for any occasion that I wanted to look slightly dressed up for but didn’t want to appear as though I’d spent too much time prepping.
“All right,” I said, holding my arms out and turning in a circle. “How do I look?”
“You look hot,” Allison said with a grin. “I’d fuck you. If I was into that sort of thing.”
Allison left a few minutes before Ryan showed up, in one of the Wilson Ranch pickup trucks.
“Lookin’ good,” he said with a whistle when I came out. “You sure do clean up nice.”
“Thanks,” I said. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”
“So, you been out to the ranch before?” he asked as we drove off.
“No. But I know of the place.”
I knew Garrett Wilson because he’d stop in and get a coffee sometimes, or occasionally he and his wife would come out there for lunch. I’d always liked him, but knowing that he had given Ollie his old job back made me like him even more.
There were actually quite a few people there when we arrived, more than I’d been expecting. It felt like a festive atmosphere, and I hopped out of the truck, excited.
“I brought some brownies,” I said, placing the foil-wrapped tray onto one of the picnic tables that was laden with all types of salad: pasta, potato, mixed greens with an array of sliced vegetables. There was a fire going in the pit and Garrett was strumming his guitar while he talked with a few people I didn’t recognize.
“I was hoping you’d bring brownies,” Marie said. “I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve tried to duplicate this recipe and I never even come close!” She peeled a corner of the foil back and pulled one out.
“Nothing like a woman who knows how to cook,” Ryan said as he walked over. He slung an arm around my shoulders. I felt myself stiffen. I waited a second and then pivoted from underneath his arm, making it look like I was reaching for a bottle of seltzer water.
“Guess it’s good I know how to cook since I own a restaurant,” I said, twisting the cap off the bottle of water.
“It’s funny—your restaurant has got the same name as our newest employee,” Ryan said. He craned his neck around. “Met him yet? Where is he? I was telling him he should show up to the barbecue tonight.”
I saw Ollie sitting near the fire, next to a woman I thought I might have seen once or twice around town before, but wasn’t totally sure. Had she come into the restaurant before?
“There he is,” Ryan said. “Oh, good, that woman he was talking to earlier actually did come. I suggested that, too.”
I looked at Ryan. “What are you, Cupid or something?”
He gri
nned. “Something like that. I could show you later.”
“Oh!” Marie exclaimed, looking somewhat uncomfortable. “I just remembered about something I need to go get in the kitchen. If you’ll excuse me!” She hurried off, brownie in hand.
“I think you just scared off your boss’s wife,” I said.
“Nothing to be scared of.” He was inching closer and closer. I took a big step back.
“I’m going to go mingle!” I said. “I’ll catch up with you later.”
Luckily, there were enough people there that I could go off and start chatting and not have to worry about Ryan needling his way into the conversation. I talked with Susan and Tom, who were on vacation from Rhode Island. I told them they should come by the restaurant at some point during their stay and then wondered if that was solicitation or something. Maybe, but Garrett probably wouldn’t mind. I got a plate and filled it with barbecue chicken wings, pasta salad, potato salad, and a marinated veggie skewer. I drank a lemonade and talked with Marie; when Garrett broke out the guitar and started playing what sounded like the best of Pete Seeger, I sang along when I knew the words. All the while, I tried to avoid having to sit near Ryan, and I kept my eye on Ollie, who seemed to alternate between looking settled and like he might be enjoying himself, to looking completely out of place and like he’d rather be anywhere else. The woman he was with didn’t seem to leave his side, or at least not whenever I looked their way. At one point, when they were sitting by the fire, she had her head resting against his shoulder.
I went up to the table with all the food to get another brownie (the recipe was always a hit, but this batch had come out particularly excellent), and when I turned, I saw that Ollie was by himself. I moseyed on over, hoping that I didn’t have bits of brownie stuck to my teeth.
“Hey,” he said, looking surprised to see me.
“Hi there,” I said. “How’s it going?”
“Doing all right. Wasn’t expecting to see you here.” A slightly pained look crossed his face. “Not that it’s a bad thing or anything, I just meant . . . .” He looked down at his boots and then back up at me, an apologetic smile on his face. “I mean, nice to see you.”
