Heartland

by Davis Bunn

  The actor remained somnolent for a time, then muttered, “Whatever.”

  JayJay settled his hand upon the other man’s shoulder. “Good-bye, brother.”

  When he reappeared, Kelly did not bother to ask how it went. Already she knew him well enough to see in his face that he needed time to sort through the whirlwind of emotions. So all she did was take his hand and say, “Come look at what I’ve found us.”

  She led him back to where the cul-de-sac met the main road. There a path cut through a narrow park leading to the reservoir. On the lake’s other side rose a tennis club and the sound of kids playing in a pool. JayJay started to remark on how it was interesting he could not hear anything inside the actor’s home. Then decided he didn’t want to bring any of those shadows out here with him.

  They claimed an empty lakeside bench. They sat there beneath the twin oaks and watched the setting sun turn the lake to a cauldron of molten gold. JayJay had a lot he wanted to say. But his heart was still wounded by what had gone on inside. And what he wanted to tell this lady was so important it had to wait until he was whole.

  So he said the only words that could not wait. “This is one cowboy that ain’t riding off into no sunset.”

  Kelly took that as the sign she had been waiting for. She closed the distance between them. She gripped his hand in both of hers and drew it around her shoulders. And spoke in a voice that managed to sing and whisper, all at the same time.

  “My hero.”