by Susan Fox
“I need to run,” Jane said. “I have an appointment at one.”
They settled the bill and the four women left together and said their good-byes on the street. Miriam couldn’t wait to get back to the ranch and take a nap. Lunch had worn her out.
“Don’t forget that milk,” Connie said.
“Oh, right.” Yes, she’d forgotten that she hadn’t finished grocery shopping.
Walking back to the store, Miriam pulled out her list. Milk, butter, desserts. And there, in Jess’s printing with a big star drawn around it, was something else she’d forgotten: “Pick up Ev at library at 12.”
She was an hour late. Okay, she’d get him first, then go back for groceries. One thing about Evan: He wouldn’t complain. He was the most polite child.
It was a nuisance driving him to and from the ranch, but he really was a nice boy and a good influence on Jessica. Besides, her daughter deserved some fun. She sure wasn’t getting it with her mom these days.
And that made Miriam feel guilty. Everything made her feel guilty. She should be healing faster. If only she could pull her feet out of the quicksand and shed the heavy gray blanket that weighed her down.
Maybe she couldn’t yet stop feeling like an empty shell, but at least she could pretty up the exterior. She had to make more of an effort. When she got back to the ranch, she would shower, wash her hair, and put on clean clothes. When Wade came in from haying, she’d be more animated. She’d tell him about lunch with her friends, share all the news. Make him happy. Wade, too, deserved some happiness.
Chapter 11
Body aching from a long day of haying—thank God the early crop had done well—Wade headed into the house for a quick dinner.
Miriam was in the kitchen, and his heart lifted at the sight of her. She’d changed from her usual sweats into shorts and a green T-shirt, and her long, curly hair was clean and shiny. Combined with the tan she’d acquired in the garden, she looked almost like his real wife, the pretty, vibrant, happy one. “Hey, honey, you’re a sight for sore eyes.”
She smiled. “And you’re so covered in hay you look like a scarecrow.”
He chuckled. “Let me grab a quick shower and I’ll be right back.” Though his muscles were exhausted, he still took the stairs at a run, fearful that by the time he returned, she’d have lost her rare sparkle.
But no, when he came down, clean and changed, and gave her a hug, she returned it warmly. Standing in the bright kitchen, his arms around her and hers around him, he wanted to never let her go, to hang on to this one perfect moment.
But Jessie and Evan came in from outside, and Miriam broke away to greet them. “Dinner’s almost ready,” she said. “You two wash up, then please set the table.”
Normal. It felt so blessedly normal—the old, wonderful normal—as Miriam sliced beans, Evan put dishes and cutlery on the table, and Jessie poured milk for all of them. Wade leaned against the counter near his wife. “How was your day?” he dared to ask.
“I went in for groceries, and to pick up Evan, and I ran into Connie. I had lunch with her and Jane and Frances. At that new coffee shop, The Gold Pan. Have you been there?”
He shook his head. The days were so full, he barely had time to whip into town for supplies once a week. Besides, there was no spare cash for restaurant meals. Not that he begrudged her one bit; seeing her girlfriends had invigorated her.
She started talking about Jane, who was now engaged to another lawyer, then Evan said, “Excuse me, Mrs. Bly, but the potatoes are boiling dry. Do you want me to serve them?”
“Oh!” She spun, gazed at the stove. “No, thanks, Evan. I’ll get them.”
Quickly she drained the boiled new potatoes, which were soft, almost mushy now, rather than firm. But they’d taste fine with butter and salt, which Evan had already put on the table.
Miriam put the green beans in the microwave and took a baking dish of pork chops from the oven, and within minutes they were all seating themselves at the table.
Wade smiled across the table at his wife. “Dinner looks great.” He missed the days when she served meat loaf, lasagna, casseroles, and stir-fries, but at least she was shopping for groceries and putting dinner on the table each night. “Finish what you were saying about your friends, hon. You told me about Jane. What are Frances and Connie up to?”
“Frances is dating a guy who lives in Vancouver, so she’s down there every weekend. They eat at great places, go to shows. She’s having so much fun. And Connie and her husband are going to Hawaii during Christmas break. Doesn’t that sound great? We should do something like that.”
He stared at her. She couldn’t be serious. “Uh, you know the cattle and horses need feeding every day. We can’t just up and leave them.”
She frowned. “Your parents went to Mexico one winter, and you came out to feed the animals. You could hire someone to do it.”
Hire someone? Yeah, like he could hire someone to help with the haying? Or he could’ve hired someone to help when the cows were calving, so he wouldn’t have had to work twenty-four/seven? Hiring people required money, which they sure as hell didn’t have. “Don’t think that’ll be in the budget this year,” he said gruffly, hating to burst her bubble. Hating that he wasn’t a better husband who could give her the things she wanted.
Jessie said, “Oh, who wants to go to Hawaii anyhow? It’s way more fun here, with the horses.” She began to gush about the latest exploits of Rascal, her foal.
Wade smiled affectionately at her. Though she was impulsive and not the most organized kid in the world, she was turning into a mighty fine ranch hand. At the age of eight, she did a lot of the work with the horses, helped care for sick animals, and rode out to check on the cattle. The best thing was, she didn’t resent spending her summer holiday that way; she thought it was fun. Who knew, maybe he’d make a rancher of her after all.
She was a good kid and he was more than happy to agree when she wanted to have Evan come out to the ranch to play, or to go riding with other friends from school. Or when she persuaded their neighbor, a retired rodeo rider, to teach her roping and barrel racing.
Listening to Jessie boast about how Rascal was the smartest foal in the entire world, he glanced across the table at Miriam. In the old days, they’d have shared an amused smile. Now, Miriam stared at Jessie as if she was listening, but her lack of expression told him she wasn’t taking in a single word. She’d withdrawn again.
His pleasure in the evening faded and Wade quickly finished the tough pork chops. He rose to see what they might have for dessert and found the usual. When he put a carton of Neapolitan ice cream on the table, Evan scooted to his feet to clear the dinner plates and bring bowls and spoons, and Jessie found a package of chocolate chip cookies in the cupboard.
Miriam didn’t comment when their daughter scooped out only chocolate ice cream for herself and added three cookies. When Jessie passed the carton to her, Miriam waved it away. Evan served himself equal amounts of chocolate, strawberry, and vanilla and gave the carton to Wade.
It was cold and wet in Wade’s hand. Yes, ice cream was a perfectly normal summer dessert, but he was sick of it. He put the lid back on the carton and got up to return it to the freezer. Once, there’d been homemade cakes, pies, and cookies in this kitchen. He sat down again and took a couple of cookies, so dry and flavorless compared to the ones Miriam used to make.
She’d taken some big steps forward today, he reminded himself. He shouldn’t be impatient.
But he felt so helpless. He loved Miriam, but these days he barely recognized her. He wanted to fix her, to heal her. But then he hadn’t managed to heal his own sorrow either. All he could do was carry on, and hope things improved for both of them.
Jessie was now telling Evan about her rodeo lessons, and how she planned on riding the rodeo circuit when she got older. She and the boy were both big dream spinners. For her, it was horse training, racing, rodeoing, being on the Olympic team, or working with rescue horses. Evan’s dreams spun
off in the opposite direction. The top student in grade two, the kid who treated the library as his second home, he was already planning on a scholarship to some big-name university like Harvard, Yale, or Cornell. Evan had his heart set on New York City, too. Ever since Miriam gave him that jigsaw puzzle at Christmas, he’d been researching the city.
“I’ll get at least a master’s degree,” he said now, “and maybe a Ph.D. I might be an investment banker, or maybe a securities lawyer. I’ll have an office in the Big Apple, and live there, too. Perhaps on Park Avenue.”
The kid probably would, too. He had smarts, discipline, and a maturity way beyond his years.
“You’ll do it, Ev,” Jessie said confidently. “You’re so smart, you can do anything.”
Wade grinned at his daughter’s echo of his own thoughts.
Evan gave her a big smile, those striking blue-green eyes of his glowing. “And you’re so accomplished with horses, you can do whatever you choose.”
They were each other’s biggest fans, these two youthful dreamers. Wade glanced at Miriam, who was staring into space, her face as blank as a mask. Once, the two of them had shared dreams. He remembered their wedding night, when they’d mapped their future as if dreams really did come true.
Now, he had no time for dreams. His mind was full of worries. And he sure couldn’t share those with Miriam, when she was in such rocky shape. No way he could tell her he’d had to sell Rapscallion, the ranch’s most valuable horse, in order to make the mortgage payment. Or tell her that, out of the blue, some small thing would hit him like a punch in the gut and he’d have to fight back tears. Besides, he felt so guilty, so dang inadequate. How could a man confess that kind of shit to his wife?
He heaved a sigh and rose, stretching his aching shoulders. Time to get back to work. There were bills to pay, if he could figure out where to find the money to pay the minimum amounts due. The ranch’s finances were in a mess, worse off than before Miriam had started entering things into that computer program. If there were more hours in the day, he’d try to learn QuickBooks himself, but he kept hoping she’d get back to it. Couldn’t she find a measly half hour a day to get that stuff organized?
Then, gazing at his wife’s drawn face, he felt guilty for even thinking it. Thank God she had recovered physically from the surgery. Hell, thank God she’d survived, period. He’d lost his son and the possibility of future kids, but he could have lost his wife, too. He should be grateful, every moment of every day. And he was.
“Miriam?”
She didn’t look up.
He rested his hand on top of her head, enjoying the silky smoothness of her sandy hair. “Miriam, honey?”
Slowly, she turned her face toward him. “Hmm?”
“Can you take Evan back to town?” He hoped it was one of the nights she’d have the energy for it.
Huge blue-gray eyes gazed at him soulfully. “Take him to town?” She made it sound like an impossibly exhausting task. “I suppose I—”
Evan broke in. “I can walk, sir. I don’t want to be any trouble.”
Wade knew the latter part was true. He’d come to like, even respect, this odd little boy.
Jess snorted. “It’s ten miles into town, Ev. If you’d only climb on a horse, you could ride behind me and I’d take you.”
The boy still adamantly refused to ride. That was probably a good thing, because, as Jessie often said, he really was a klutz. It was strange that he could be so precise about handling plates and glasses, yet he managed to trip down steps and fall over coffee tables. He had almost as many scrapes and bruises as Jessie.
“You’re not riding into town in the evening, Jessie-girl,” Wade said firmly. “Evan, I’ll give you a lift.” He had to wonder why the kid’s parents never once offered to drive him out or pick him up.
To his daughter, he said, “You get the dishes done and help your mom with anything else she needs before you go hang out with Rascal.”
He pressed a kiss to Miriam’s silky hair. “Back soon. Love you, hon.”
Her eyes focused on him, but when she said, “Love you, too,” the words sounded hollow.
How long would it be before she wanted to make love again? At night in bed, she slipped into a drug-induced slumber and he spooned her, holding her warm body, remembering the intimate connection they’d once shared. Praying it would return.
He and Evan headed outside. Though Wade preferred driving the truck, he used the car whenever possible, as it used less fuel and gas was expensive.
When they were out on the two-lane highway to town, both windows down so a breeze would cut the summer heat, Evan said, “I’m sorry to be a bother.”
“Stop saying that. You’re good for Jessie.”
“But it’s summer vacation. We don’t have homework to do.”
Wade turned to him. “Son, it’s not just about helping her with homework. You’re Jessie’s best friend and you’re a good kid. We all like having you around.”
Color rose in the boy’s thin cheeks and he blinked quickly. His “thanks” was so quiet Wade barely heard it.
They drove in silence. The car radio had packed it in along with the heater.
After a few minutes, Evan said, “Mrs. Bly seemed happier tonight, for a while.”
“Yes, she did. It’s a good sign.”
“It was nice to hear her recount stories about her friends.”
Recount? Seriously? “It was.”
“She used to talk about the animals that came to the vet clinic, too. Is she returning to her employment there again?”
No, Evan couldn’t just say “going back to work,” like a normal person. “I hope so,” Wade responded. It would be another sign that she was healing, and they sure could use the money. Her salary was one of the factors the bank had considered in approving their mortgage.
It made him feel guilty for thinking that way. His mother’d never had to go to work. Though there had always been times the family needed to scrimp, his pa had always supported them. Of course, his father hadn’t had a hellacious mortgage.
No, but he’d paid Wade and another ranch hand or two, and he’d dealt with the same issues Wade faced: unexpected vet bills, machinery that needed to be replaced, family stuff like Wade’s impacted wisdom tooth and Jessie needing a new coat. A car that was packing it in, bit by bit.
Every now and then, when Wade spoke to his parents on the phone, he thought about asking his father for advice. But damn it, he was a man, not a needy child. Whenever his folks asked how things were going at the ranch, he lied and said, “Just fine.”
He’d figure things out. And Miriam would get better. Soon.
“Would you please drop me at the library, Mr. Bly?” Evan asked.
“Sure.” Other kids spent summer evenings riding or playing ball but not this little egghead.
Wade felt a surge of affection for this strange but good-hearted boy. When he pulled up in front of the library, he said, “’Night, Evan,” and reached out to ruffle the boy’s hair.
At first Evan flinched away, but then, when Wade’s hand settled on his head, he froze and color again rose in his cheeks. “Good night, sir. And thank you for everything.” He slipped out of the car and trudged, backpack hanging from his narrow shoulders, up the walk to the library.
The boy looked very alone in that moment. Almost like he carried the weight of the world on his frail back. Wade’s back was a lot stronger, but he knew the feeling well.
Chapter 12
October 1995
Miriam and her little helpers dumped bags of groceries on the kitchen table. “You kids put things away,” she told Jessica and Evan, “and I’ll get dinner going.”
“What are we having, Mommy?”
“Meat loaf.”
“Oh, goodie! We haven’t had that in a long time,” Jessica said.
No, they hadn’t. Miriam had been making basic meals: throwing pork chops, chicken, or steak into the oven; boiling or baking potatoes to accompany the meat; and getti
ng Jessica to pick some kind of vegetable from the garden. But today, she wanted to do something more interesting.
“I remember your meat loaf, Mrs. Bly,” Evan said. “It’s superlative.”
She smiled, a spontaneous one rather than a forced one. Yes, she was slowly getting better, just as the doctor had promised. “If you two peel the potatoes, I’ll make mashed potatoes.”
“Yummy!” Jessica said. Then, “Where did Pa go? The truck’s gone.”
“I noticed. Guess he had to go into town for something. Too bad I didn’t know, or we could have picked it up.” She’d expected Wade to be out with the cattle. He was finishing off the weaning, so all the calves would now feed from troughs. It wasn’t long until they’d be shipped off to auction.
Though she preferred summer weather to winter, she was glad Wade would be able to slow down a little. He’d worked himself to the bone over the past months.
Before sitting down to peel potatoes, Jessica clicked on the radio, which was set to CXNG. Miriam realized how long it had been since she’d listened to music. Since the hysterectomy, she’d avoided it because the songs depressed her. All the songs: the cheery ones, the love songs, the achy-breaky-heart ones. Now, though, she found herself moving to the beat of a tune she didn’t know as she mixed the ingredients for meat loaf.
The radio host said, “Y’all been listening to Tim McGraw’s ‘I Like It, I Love It,’ and next up’s Miss Shania Twain singing ‘Any Man of Mine.’ ” Another new song she didn’t know, but as she caught the rhythm and hummed along, she thought of Wade. Of the patient way he’d eaten the pathetic meals she’d prepared, thanked her for whatever tasks she’d managed to do, even told her she was pretty when she knew she looked like a hag.
Whenever he turned to her in bed, she pretended to be asleep. Her body felt so empty and unwomanly, and she always thought of the last time they’d made love. It was the night they lost the baby.
