If the Fates Allow

by Annie Harper

  “I doubt it. The I90’s closed between Livingstone and Park City. It’s gusty down there. From the weather report, I doubt they’ll open it till midday. Maybe not even then. Push your flight back, Shay. Stay longer. You only just arrived.”

  “Really?” Shay eyed Neb.

  “I wouldn’t lie to you.”

  Shay turned to Devon. “I’m sure we can get to the airport by late afternoon. If we want.”

  Devon shrugged. “We’ve got a court to practice on now. And anyway, we’re having a good time.”

  Shay held her gaze then nodded slowly. The room was warm and full of people who’d known Shay forever. Shay’s mom and dad were here. Milla too. Shay hadn’t put things right yet, but staying a few more days might give her a chance to sort everything out.

  * * *

  It snowed halfway through the morning. But the sky cleared by midday and the afternoon was bright, though bitterly cold. The locals were taking bets on when the warm Chinook winds would come, but it definitely wasn’t today. Shay and Devon shoveled the path and drive under Anthony’s supervision. Michele and Shay pulled logs from the mammoth pile at the back door and lit a fire. The crackle and aroma brought back every one of Shay’s childhood winters.

  Shay found the Langston Hughes poetry collection her dad used to read to her and took over the armchair that was once hers. She flung her legs over one arm. Between poems she looked out the window.

  At the other side of the room, Devon got caught up in Anthony’s gingerbread plans.

  “We’ll decorate each one differently,” Anthony said. “Sporting heroes or something. You want in, Shay?”

  Shay looked up. “I think I’ll take a walk. It’s gorgeous out.”

  “A walk?” Devon narrowed her eyes. She was true Los Angeleno. “You’ll freeze.”

  “I’ll be fine. Come with me if you like. I’ll find you a good jacket.”

  “No, thank you.”

  Michele spoke from the dining table where she was planning the spring planting schedule. “There are snowshoes in the garage,” she said. “Or skis if you want them.”

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  “Don’t forget, night falls fast in the mountains.”

  “I know, Mom. I did grow up here.”

  “You’re a city girl now. You’re part of a different world.”

  “I don’t think I’ll ever be just a city girl,” Shay said.

  Shay left alone. A glance over her shoulder showed Devon’s and Anthony's dark heads bent over the recipe book. Anthony was remarkable at fathering other people’s children.

  The snow stretched out behind the house and up over the next hill. Shay used to run that way in the mornings, running away from herself, running toward her future. She’d eat up the miles in her favorite shiny silver running shoes. Today she needed cross-country skis.

  The hill was steep enough that Shay worked up a good sweat under her jacket. Halfway up, she unzipped the front and shoved her beanie into her pocket.

  From the top of the slope, the slope ran down to the Yellowstone River, which plunged, stone-gray and freezing, but mobile, between banks of snow.

  Over the next hill was a huge gray and blue house set in acres of farmland. Smoke curled from the chimney.

  According to Michele, Milla lived in the cabin beyond the house. The cabin was a new-build of logs with a sloped wooden roof.

  It was a quick ski down into the valley. Shay’s skis swept clean lines and curved through the snow. She picked up speed toward the bottom of the hill. She would regret this run when she had to tromp back up.

  Shay knocked at the cabin door. There was no answer. Sighing, Shay turned to go back toward the slope. She paused when a soft whinny came from the stable.

  “I’m going now, Crimson,” came a sweet, no-nonsense voice: Milla’s horse voice. Then Milla stepped around the stable.

  “Oh.” She stopped when she saw Shay.

  “Sorry. Hi,” Shay managed.

  “Hi.”

  “I went for a walk, well, a ski, and came over the hill and—” Shay sounded stupider than usual.

  “Hi… welcome,” said Milla. “Hey. I’m really glad you’re here.” They stood as the light and the wind twined between them. “Do you want to see the place?”

  “Definitely.”

  Shay unclipped her skis and leaned them against the cabin wall. Milla showed her the extensions they’d made to the stables and the indoor training facilities. She pointed out the newly acquired stretch of land north and east of the river. The scenery had always been more beautiful when Shay saw it through Milla’s eyes.

  “Coffee?” Milla asked when they returned to her log-walled cabin.

  “Definitely.”

  Milla stepped past Shay to the cabin door. They left their boots and snow jackets in the enclosed porch. Inside, the cabin was small, but perfectly designed. A spring green two-seater couch with dark wood arms faced a picture window that stretched the length of one wall and opened up to the snowy valley beyond. A wooden kitchen bench divided the living area from a tiny kitchen full of pots and pans and spice jars. There was a log-burning stove and a ladder leading to the loft above. Shay looked up.

  “It’s warm, sleeping up there,” Milla said.

  “Yeah.” Shay tried not to imagine.

  The coffee was ready in a minute. Shay accepted the steaming cup.

  “Sorry,” said Milla, gesturing with her own cup. “It’s not great.”

  “It’s good.” The coffee was ordinary, but Shay’s face and fingers were cold and the company was excellent.

  “You can sit,” Milla said. “If you want.”

  Shay sat. Milla settled next to her and stretched her legs in her well-worn jeans. Through the window, the valley spread out in white. The river broke through the snow, ran into rocks, and tumbled wildly. The sky was dazzling. “Luka and Arianne live up at the house with Uncle Ilie,” Milla said. “But down here I feel as though I have the whole valley to myself.”

  The desk in the corner was piled high with texts titles like Clinical Anatomy of a Horse and Parasitology in Veterinary Science.

  “Is one of the horses sick?” Shay asked.

  “No, thank god. I was researching.”

  Shay frowned. “Hey. Have you ever thought about being a vet? You must have the grades; you were an honor student. And you could bring all that skill back here.” Milla began laughing. “Wait— Why are you laughing?”

  Milla patted Shay’s knee. “Sorry. Yes. I've thought about it. I’ve applied to some schools. I’m just working out if I can leave here.”

  They took simultaneous mouthfuls of coffee and looked out at the valley. Shay didn’t dare move. She was intently aware of where Milla’s hand had rested on her knee.

  “You’re not with her, are you?” asked Milla out of the blue.

  “What?” Shay coughed as the coffee surprised her and went down the wrong way. “What are you—”

  “You’re not with Devon, are you?” Milla turned her gray eyes from the sky to Shay. “She’s not your girlfriend.”

  There was a difference between lying by omission and lying to the face of Milla Dalya.

  “No. No, she’s not.”

  Milla's face closed down. “Why did you tell everyone she was?”

  Shay shifted on the couch. “I didn’t really. Mom got the wrong end of the stick.”

  “And you couldn't correct her?” Milla frowned as though trying to understand.

  “I tried but… she was so thrilled to be a good ally to me.”

  Milla narrowed her eyes. “Okay. I can see that.” She took a breath. “Your mom’s been great since I came out.”

  Shay's stomach twisted. “Came out. Like came out, came out? She didn’t tell me. Came out? You mean—but I remember you had a boyfriend."

  “Well,
that happens too. I’m bisexual.” Milla shrugged as though she wasn’t telling Shay anything axis-shifting.

  “Right… got it. Sorry.” Shay swallowed. “Are you seeing anyone?”

  “Nope.”

  “Right.” Shay put her cup on the small table, then didn’t know what to do with her hands.

  “And Devon?” Milla asked.

  “Is my best friend. She came because I forced her to.”

  “Plus she seems to have found something special with your dad.”

  Shay nodded. “I know. They’re ridiculous.” She sighed. “I need to tell my mom about Devon. I hate lying to her. The girlfriend thing just kind of happened. My mom announced it before I knew to correct her. And now it’s almost like coming out all over again.”

  Milla smiled a crooked smile. “Was it bad for you? Was it hard to figure out what you wanted?”

  Shay shrugged. “I knew I was attracted to women long before I said anything. Since middle school.” She hoped Milla wouldn’t notice her blush. “It was another way I felt separate from everyone at school. Things got easier in Santa Ana. A couple of girls were out and so confident. I told my parents during one vacation. They were wonderful.” She shook her head. “How about you?”

  “Uh, Luka was— He was worried at first, and it made him ask some senseless questions. But he’s my brother. My twin. He got it. And Ilie’s hardly going to care. He’s Ilie. And he’d known and loved you for years. So that helped, I think.”

  They sat and looked out. There was so much room, but the space between them was electric. It was also impossible. They had different lives. They were hardly ever in the same place.

  Shay stood. “I’d better get home before my dad adopts Devon and forgets I exist.”

  Milla looked up. “Your dad adores you. Always has. You should hear him talk about you every time I saw them. I couldn’t have stopped thinking about you if I tried.” Milla stood abruptly. “I’ll walk to the top of the hill with you. If you don’t mind the company halfway home.”

  At the hilltop they faced one another. In the clear light, Milla was lovelier than ever. Her eyes looked like smoky glass and were fixed on Shay.

  “Everything's more beautiful than I noticed when I was a kid,” Shay said.

  Milla nodded. She turned to the view. “It’s an incredible place to call home.”

  “I’m not sure I’ve valued it the way I should.”

  “Well, that makes sense. You’re a city girl. You’re an incredible athlete. You’re not going to settle down somewhere in the middle of nowhere.”

  “No. No, I guess I'm not,” Shay said.

  There were about eighty more things that Shay wanted to say, but the words froze and hung like breath in the air before she said them.

  Michele was alone in the living room when Shay returned.

  “You were gone a while.”

  “I bumped into Milla at the farm. She showed me around.”

  Michele raised her eyebrows. “Did she?”

  Shay took a breath and plowed straight in. “Mom, I need to tell you something. Devon's not my girlfriend.”

  “I think I was working that out, Shay.”

  Shay sat on the lounge beside her mother and scrunched up her face. “I'm sorry, Mom.”

  “I announced you two were together to all those people.” Michele looked at her. “Why on earth did you let me do that?”

  “I’m really sorry. I tried to tell you.” Shay hadn’t tried enough of course. “I did try but then you said all that stuff about wanting to show me that you loved me for me, that you were proud of me and would love anyone I loved. And so… look, I really wanted it to be true.”

  “It is true,” Michele said quickly.

  “Of course, of course. That's not what I mean. I wanted it to be true that the reason I wasn't coming home was because the town wasn’t comfortable with me being gay.”

  Michele’s gaze was unwavering. “Okay. So. That wasn’t the reason, then?”

  This wasn’t where Shay had imagined the conversation going. She rubbed her face. “I never fit in. I was all wrong, Mom. I didn’t feel like I could be myself. And that’s not your fault, not yours and dad’s. You did everything right.”

  “Maybe,” said Michele. “Maybe you shouldn’t have had to fight those battles in your home at all.”

  “Not here at home. I’m not talking about here or with the neighbors.”

  “The kids at school weren’t good to you?”

  “It was high school. Is anyone good to anyone?”

  “Shay.” Her mother was firm. “Tell me.”

  “Look some of them, some were fine; some were small-minded and horrible. It’s not worth revisiting. I decided to bow out. I didn’t want to work out who was racist and who was just being fourteen years old. I trained. I played. I made plans.”

  “You always told us you trained alone because you preferred it.”

  The faint defensiveness stung. Shay said, “I don’t know. I mean, it was partly true. It felt true.”

  Michele closed her eyes. “I wish I’d asked.”

  “Mama.”

  “I should have asked.” She looked at Shay. “For me, this place was an escape. It was home the second I got here. I saw the mountain and the river and all the space in every direction. I met Anthony. I felt safe. I loved it.”

  “I know.”

  “I shouldn’t have made you sacrifice so I could be happy.”

  Shay tried to find the right thing to say. “I don’t know that you get to plan your life so other people are happy.”

  “You’re my daughter, Shay.”

  “And you gave me this.” Shay waved around the room but she meant the whole place. She meant the town and the mountains and the cold and the quirky neighbors and the sky. She meant Michele and Anthony and Milla too. “It wasn’t always perfect, but this is my home.”

  “Always.”

  “I’m going to come back more, Mama. I don’t have to go to Russia every year. It might not hurt to start choosing things that I love.”

  Michele wiped a tear from her cheek. “I’m sure it won’t.”

  * * *

  The gym was chilly. Shay sat hunched in the bleachers. She’d left the overhead lamps off, so the only light came from the windows high in the wall.

  The hoop was still in position. Its shadow on the court was like any other hoop on any other basketball court all over the world.

  Soon Shay would be back in Russia with a coach and a team and a crowd all calling for a shot. After that she’d be home in LA with the massive expectations of that stadium. For now she had this court—its bright memories of her parents cheering, her teammates passing the ball, Milla’s eyes on her from the bleachers. That focused gaze had been with Shay in every game she’d played since.

  But Montana was more than a thousand miles from Los Angeles. However irrefutable her connection with Milla, however much Shay wanted, there was nothing she could do about it. Milla had a life here. Shay had a life in LA. Shay couldn’t start something with someone she’d only see a few times a year.

  But how would Shay come home at all and see Milla without aching to touch her?

  Shay stood and grabbed the ball she’d rested on the bench beside her. She ran through layup after layup, jump shot after jump shot. She shot from the free throw line, took three-pointers, moved close in to the hoop and grabbed every rebound just for her dad. She’d thought she couldn’t get her edge back in Montana. She’d been wrong. She couldn’t have everything she longed for, but at least she’d leave here with that.

  The gym door banged open. A flurry of snowflakes whirled in from outside. Milla stepped through. Her cheeks were pink, and her eyes were brilliant.

  “Hi.” Her voice echoed. “Hi,” she said more softly.

  “Hi.”

  “I�
� I saw your car outside and thought I might catch a game. But Devon’s not here?” She scanned the court. It wasn’t as if a six foot five basketball player could hide under the bench.

  “Sorry to disappoint you. I was taking some time to myself.”

  “Oh.” Milla hesitated. “Okay. I'll leave you to it.”

  That wasn’t what Shay wanted at all. “I’d like you here, though. If you want to stay.”

  Milla flashed a warm smile. “You would?”

  “I would.” Shay took a shot from the three-point line. She missed. “Damn.” She collected the ball when it rebounded and bounced toward her.

  “I’m pretty sure you don't have to get every single one in,” said Milla. Her tone was laughing and fond.

  Shay exhaled. “I know. I wanted to get that one.”

  “Yeah? Why’s that.” Milla sat on the bench.

  Shay focused on the ball in her hands as she thought through several possible answers. She gave the true one. “It’d be nice to impress you.”

  “Oh.”

  Shay took another shot. This one slipped neatly through the basket. She left the ball to bounce and crossed to stand near Milla. Milla looked up; her gray eyes studied Shay in the half-light.

  “I’m not sure why I came here,” Shay said.

  “To Montana?”

  “To the school gym.”

  “Well, it’s pretty snowy out. I’m not sure where else you were going to get time to yourself.”

  Shay nodded. “Good point.” She bounced on her toes, testing the floor. “This gym could do with some work. The floors should have been redone years ago. Matthias Gunderson will be rolling in his grave.”

  “Gunderson?”

  Shay turned to look at Milla. “Whatever his name is. You know, the white guy whose name’s on the plaque on the door. Like every gym everywhere, there’s always someone who donated ten thousand dollars to something. I used to read his name about six times a day.”

  Milla frowned. “You didn’t hear the story? The guy, Matt Gunderson, they found him guilty of fraud. They sent him to prison. They took his name off the gym. The school didn’t want to be associated with crime.”

  “Yeah?” Shay strode out the door. Snow dusted her face as she looked up. There was no one’s name over the door, nothing but blank space.