by Liz Isaacson
“Why’d you leave the restaurant?” May asked, perching on the edge of the couch in her slim-cut skirt. Her blouse screamed the color of plums, and Kurt wanted to reach out and finger the fabric the way he had numerous times in the past.
“I…don’t know.” But he did know. And he knew what was coming next. May had to know too. “You were busy.”
She folded her hands into her lap. “Well, I’m not busy now.”
Kurt focused on her hands, those beautiful long fingers he’d seen plate the most delicate dishes. “May, I don’t think this is working very well.”
She pulled in a breath but didn’t say anything.
“I feel…I feel like an accessory in your life. Something you put on your arm to show people, if you feel like it.” He spoke slowly, trying to articulate how he felt, trying to trust it, trying to listen in case God wanted to tell him something he should say. “I feel like I’m still courting you, and you don’t quite want the whole town to know we’re together yet. But you’ve been wearing my grandmother’s ring for months, and we’ve talked about our wedding, and me giving up my cabin, and….” He let the sentence hang there, unsure of how to finish it.
Several seconds passed, and he finally looked straight at her. Her dark eyes bubbled with tears, and her chin quivered. Seeing her hurt sent pain all the way through him. But she had to know. He deserved happiness too.
“I’m terribly lonely,” he said. “We’re together, and I love you, and I’m lonely all the time.” He shook his head, the admission making him feel weak and vulnerable. “I’m unhappy. I have no friends left, no one besides you to talk to. Which is fine, honestly. You’re the only one I want to talk to, but you’re…not always available to talk to.”
He wasn’t sure how to continue without blaming her or claiming she’d put the restaurant above him, both things he’d vowed to never do. After all, he couldn’t tell her he didn’t care about how much she worked and then care about how much she worked. He didn’t play games like that.
“I tried,” he said. “For months, I’ve tried to spend more time with you, and I simply don’t think you have it to give. So.” He drew in a great big breath, silently begging her to say something. “I think maybe we should take a break. See how things go over the next few months.”
He had no idea what that even meant. Would he change his availability status on TexasFaithful the way he had after Alicia had broken up with him? Would he chat other women? Would he go back to his double-time work as foreman?
He didn’t anticipate anything changing in May’s world. If anything, she’d only become busier.
“I need a partner,” she whispered.
“I know that, sweetheart.” He flinched toward her but drew his hands back to his own lap without touching her. “But you didn’t even hug me at the party today.”
“I want you to be my partner.”
He shook his head. “No, you don’t, May. You want me to wait in the office, or the corner booth, and have dinner and coffee ready when you get home.” He didn’t mean for the words to come out so harshly, but they did. “If you really wanted me in your life, as a partner, you’d have hugged me at the restaurant today. You hugged Ally, and she’s a waitress.”
“She’s my best friend.”
“I’m your fiancé. And besides, I thought I was your best friend.”
“I’m not wearing an engagement ring.” She sounded combative, and Kurt’s emotions spiraled out of control. He needed to leave before he said something he couldn’t take back.
“I’ve asked you three times to go to the jeweler with me,” he said. “You couldn’t even take an hour to walk down the street and get it done.” He stood, his fingers curling into fists and the agony ripping through him almost unbearable.
“I’m going to go now. I’ll talk to you later.” He started toward the garage and noticed Char waiting at the sliding glass door. “Congratulations on Sotheby’s,” he said before slipping through the mudroom and into the garage, the click of the door closing behind him the most final and most terrible noise he’d ever heard.
Chapter Twenty-One
May woke the next morning, a wild aching pain in her neck. She blinked, trying to remember why she hadn’t gone down the hall to her bedroom, why she was still wearing her clothes from the retirement party, and why her whole face felt like someone had put a balloon under her skin and inflated it.
Everything Kurt had said came rushing back in one, long, awful moment, and the tears started anew. Her eyes felt like someone had rubbed sand in them, and every hole on her face leaked some sort of liquid.
Her phone chimed again—the same sound that had woken her a few moments ago.
Her father’s name dropped down from the top of the screen. Where are you? Why didn’t you come back for dinner service last night?
Message after message followed, from both of her parents, until finally, her mother’s face brightened the screen and her phone rang with a shrillness that hurt May’s already sensitive ears.
She sent the call to voicemail and tapped out a simple response to her mother. I’m alive, but very ill. I won’t be in today. I’ll get Juan Carlos to cover for me.
She tossed her phone onto the couch and kicked off her heels. Running her hands across her face, she moaned and winced at the grittiness from her dried tears. She’d been numb after Kurt had left. She hadn’t eaten in twenty-four hours. And she didn’t care about anything anymore.
Somehow, she padded down the hall and managed to get the hot water going in the shower. Maybe if she stayed in until the spray turned cold, her reality beyond the glass stall would have changed.
May stayed home from church and was able to get Juan Carlos to run the front of the house for dinner service. Sundays were easy to miss, and May vowed that she’d take every Sunday off from now on.
“Will that be enough to get Kurt back?” she wondered aloud to Char. The little poodle looked at her with an expression that said No, May. And Why isn’t that handsome man here with us today? And about a dozen other things May didn’t like.
Her hands drifted to the necklace she’d automatically put on after dressing. It was such a habit, and the weight of the ring against her breastbone had brought her more comfort these last few months than anything ever had in her life. She couldn’t bear the thought of giving the ring back, of not being able to wear it, of not being able to touch the worn gold and think of the man she loved.
“I love him,” she said, a note of wonder in her voice. “Char, I love him.”
She stood abruptly, not really sure why she hadn’t put the words together in that order yet. She was wearing his ring. They’d talked about their wedding in December and that he’d come to live in this house with her once they were married.
And yet he’d never told her he loved her until last night. And she’d never told him.
May turned in a full circle as if a solution would present itself to her. Maybe God would write a message on her stark white walls, instructing her exactly what she should do to get Kurt back into her life.
Nothing appeared, and her mind hurt so much, she couldn’t think of anything either. So she dropped to her knees, her elbows touching the plush fabric on the couch and her tears trickling down her face.
“Lord, I can’t have Sotheby’s and Kurt, can I?” The words scraped against her vocal chords, and God didn’t answer her anyway. So May bent her head and cried.
“There you are.” Her mother entered the house an hour later, while May stood at the French doors, gazing into the backyard. She turned slowly from watching the gentle breeze sway the leaves on the cypress tress.
May thought she’d run dry thirty minute ago, but her eyes watered again, blast them. She wouldn’t be able to play off her absence from the restaurant as an illness if she cried.
Her mom seemed to know anyway, because she had a to-go container in her hand. “I brought cake, and Ally’s right behind me with half a pan of tiramisu, and she called Beth, who’s scroungi
ng through her freezer for ice cream.”
Sweets. It was how May had coped with losing Luke all those years ago. She brought out three or four to all her girlfriends who went through break ups.
“How did you find out?” she asked, folding her arms to try to keep her emotions in check.
“You spend every Sunday with Kurt.” Her mom set the cake on the counter and stopped, her eyes sympathetic and filled with compassion. The feeling she could convey with just a look nearly undid May’s composure. “And I have spies all over town. After I got your text, I asked someone to come check and see if his truck was here. It wasn’t. I put two and two together.”
“Who did you send?”
Her mom smiled and shook her head. “I can’t be giving away all my secrets, darling. Now come on.” She opened her arms wide, inviting May to come take her strength. “Come tell me about it.”
May couldn’t help sniffling as she went around the table and stepped into her mother’s embrace. “I’m so sorry, Mom.” She wept, and she hated how hot her eyes burned and how bitter her tears tasted. “I tried so hard, and I fell in love with him so fast, and it hurts so much.”
Her mom patted her back and simply let her cry. After May had mostly quieted, she said, “May, you don’t have to be sorry.”
May backed up and wiped her eyes, wondering if she’d ever be able to move past this. Past him. Especially now that she knew she couldn’t get the same happiness and satisfaction from Sotheby’s, the way she’d tried to after Luke had ended their relationship.
“What hurts so much?” her mom asked.
The garage door opened again, and Ally came through it. Char yipped and ran to see her favorite human. Ally set the tray of tiramisu—her mother hadn’t exaggerated that she was bringing half a pan of the treat—on the table and bent down to pick up the poodle.
“Hey, cutie,” she cooed at the dog. “Are you keepin’ May company today?” Ally scrubbed her fingers through Char’s curly fur, but she looked right at May. “Oh, this is bad. Good thing you’re here for her.”
“We’re here for her,” Beth said, joining Ally in the doorway leading to the garage. “And she’s going to tell us all about what happened, and we’re going to help her fix it.”
A rush of affection for her little sister almost made May smile. But the gesture didn’t quite take on her face. She shook her head. “I can’t fix it,” she said, her lips quivering again. “I messed up too badly this time.”
Beth stepped over to the freezer and opened it. “Oh, honey. It just feels like that. So let’s get our treats, and then we’ll talk.” She held up two containers of ice cream. “French vanilla or cookies and cream?”
Her mom lifted the container. “Chocolate cake.”
“Cookies and cream,” May said, and Beth put the other container in the freezer.
“I’ll take the tiramisu,” she said.
“Me too,” Ally said, and the three of them set to work getting down plates and bowls, scooping servings and ice cream, all while having a conversation without saying anything. May had been privy to these kinds of silent communications when other women had broken up with their boyfriends.
So she knew it would be Beth who would start. She handed May her bowl of cake and ice cream and collapsed into a chair at the dining room table as if she carried the weight of the world. “Juan Carlos can’t run the restaurant.”
“I’ll be back tomorrow,” May assured her, a bit surprised by the way this conversation had started.
Beth exchanged a glance with their mother. “All right.”
“I do want him to take over Sundays,” May said. “I can’t keep working seven days a week.”
“He’s there anyway,” Beth said, shrugging like it didn’t matter that she’d just said Juan Carlos couldn’t run the restaurant.
“Tell us about Kurt,” Ally said.
May dug around in her bowl, filling her spoon with a small bite of cake and then a dab of ice cream. She put it all in her mouth, hoping for more time before she had to talk. At the same time, she wanted to spill everything, lay it all out so someone could help her find a way back to him.
“I have never put him first,” she started, continuing on with the whole story and ending with, “And when I didn’t claim him as mine—the man who’d be at my side as I ran Sotheby’s—yesterday, that hurt him. He thinks I treat him like I still need to be convinced he’s the one for me.” She looked into her now-melted mess of ice cream. “He said he’s terribly lonely and unhappy.”
A sharp pain tore through her abdomen. “And I didn’t even see it, because I’ve been so busy with my own things.”
All three women had finished their treats while May talked, and now they simply stared at her.
“I thought it was a bit strange you didn’t hug him yesterday,” Ally said.
“I mean, it makes sense, May,” Beth said. “He sits in the corner booth for hours while you work.”
“I told you to make him your partner,” her mom said. She stood and gathered all the dessert dishes before turning her back on the table and walking into the kitchen.
“He doesn’t want to work in the restaurant,” May said.
“How do you know?” her mom asked. “Have you talked to him about it?”
“Well…no.” May just couldn’t imagine him taking plates out to patrons or washing dishes or even cooking, though she had seen his culinary skills in action.
“He wouldn’t be a member of the staff,” her mom said. “He’d be the one doing all the paperwork you hate. Helping with payroll and scheduling. He’d walk the floor and ask guests how their meals are. You’d make the new menu together, trying recipes together. He’d lock up when you’re too tired to do it, and you’ll mop when he’s too tired to do it.” Her mom wore a blazing expression now, and May cowered away from it.
Still, she managed to find a bit of courage to say, “He’s a cowboy, Mom.” Not a chef. He had no idea how to run a restaurant. Heck, May had been working at Sotheby’s for almost thirty years, and she barely knew how to run the place.
“As long as that’s all you think he is, that’s all he’ll be.” She folded her arms and nodded at Ally and Beth.
May looked at them, and they both wore resigned expressions. Beth stood and tucked her hair behind her ear. “Sorry, May. But Mom’s right. Maybe you can’t fix this…until you fix yourself.” She walked into the kitchen, gave their mom a hug, and left.
May sat there, stunned. This was not how break up conversations went. They told each other that they were better off without the man who’d just broken their heart. That they’d find someone else. That they didn’t need someone else.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Ally said before making her escape too, leaving May to face her mother once more.
“Think about it, May.”
She nodded, because she didn’t know what else to do. She watched her mother walk out, and the house became a tomb again. Unable to exist in the silence, May opened the French doors and stepped onto the back deck. Char came with her, and she kept her eye on the little dog as she tried to figure out what her mom meant by As long as that’s all you think he is, that’s all he’ll be.
Chapter Twenty-Two
What else can I do?” He stepped in front of Shane and clapped his leather gloves together. He’d spent the morning pulling barbed wire tight while Dylan hammered the spikes into their new spots in the wood fence posts. His shoulders and arms ached, but he’d take the physical pain over thinking about May. Then he’d taken a job in the hayloft that afternoon, which had aggravated his slight allergies. That was all the sniffing was. He wasn’t a breath away from emotional ruin. No sirree. Not Kurt Pemberton, part-time foreman and full-time single cowboy.
“Why are you still here?” Shane looked at him with a squint in his eye. “Shouldn’t you be done by now?”
“Nope.” Kurt clenched his jaw, hoping Shane would let this go.
“Well, I don’t have anything else for you. So I gue
ss you can have the rest of the afternoon and evening off.” He lifted his eyebrows. “The way you normally do.” He stepped past Kurt to help Chad lift two saddles onto nails in the tack room. Their voices filtered back to him, but Kurt didn’t look at them as he walked out.
He couldn’t go back to his cabin alone. He’d spent Sunday holed up there, and that hadn’t been good for his body or mind. It was only four o’clock, and he didn’t feel like cooking. It reminded him too much of May. It seemed like everything did.
Except for ranch things. She’d done a great job of excluding herself from his life here at Grape Seed Ranch, so he went to the horse barn and saddled Minnie. “Come on, girl,” he said to the horse as they stepped into the sunshine. “Let’s get ourselves good and lost.”
Kurt couldn’t actually get lost on the ranch, but if he could, Minnie would be able to find her way back. She had a nose for hay that was better than any other horse Kurt had owned. He let her wander, his thoughts doing the same. Minnie went toward the homestead and the long grasses that grew on the edge of the garden plot. Kurt didn’t want to see Dwayne, so he nudged the horse further out on the range, further from the men he worked with, further from reality.
He could truly get away from his worries and cares when he rode his horse. It was almost as if God had given them the special ability to soothe unseen wounds. He’d made the rhythmic clopping of their hooves like a balm to Kurt’s soul, and it was only through the soft snuffle of Minnie’s voice that Kurt was able to smile.
The sound of another horse clippity-clopping came closer, and Kurt didn’t turn to see who it was. He knew it would be Dwayne. Sure enough, the owner pulled up alongside him, riding Payday, the Rocky Mountain walking horse that he loved. His right hand shook while he held the reins, something Kurt hadn’t noticed in ages. Of course he knew about Dwayne’s military injury, and the man’s arm, hand, and fingers trembled a lot. Kurt had just never paid it much attention.
