“Bless your heart, you look like you could use some sweet iced tea.”
I downed half of it before muttering an embarrassed thank you.
“Now tell me. What is going on?” Trace crossed his arms over his bulky chest. “You look ready to punch someone.”
I gulped the rest of my tea and handed him the glass. “I think my husband is a no good, two-bit, drunk cheater.”
He looked doubtful. “Are you sure? He didn’t look drunk when I saw him.”
At that moment my phone buzzed. It was Keith, but I didn’t answer.
“Is that your husband?”
“Yes.”
“Are you going to answer it?”
“I don’t know what to say.”
He sat on a stool beside me. “Well, you are welcome to stay in here for as long as it takes you to calm down.”
“I’m calm.”
He raised his bushy eyebrows. “Honey, your face is so red I’m about to douse you with water. Why don’t you just let him explain?”
Dante walked up and kissed me on the cheek. “Hi, sweetheart.” He offered me a mimosa.
“Thank you,” I said. “Why can’t you two be here all the time? Why must you live in Wyoming?”
“We love it there,” Trace said.
“Yeah, yeah.” I sipped my drink. I tried to smile. “This is perfect.”
“She thinks her husband is cheating on her,” Trace said.
“Oh no. Do we want to kick him out?”
“No, he’s with Adri, so I highly doubt he’s cheating.”
“Oh, no way he’s cheating.”
“You know her?” I asked. “And, anyway, he lied to me. He’s supposedly out of town at a ranch, but obviously not.” Tears sprang to my eyes. I fanned them dry until one of them offered me a box of tissues. I pulled out a handful.
“I should’ve put on waterproof today.” I moaned.
They nodded.
“But I just hate how difficult it is to get that stuff off, you know. I don’t know how those rodeo queen types do it. I wear as much makeup as the next girl – okay, I wear more—but I like to wash it off at night.”
They both nodded again and I felt sorry for them. They probably felt like we were back in college, me having a boyfriend meltdown. Only now I was a mature woman having a cowboy meltdown.
“So, you two know Adri?”
“We do,” Trace said. I didn’t wait for them to say how.
“What I wouldn’t give to throttle that girl. She tricked me. Pretended we were friends. And I thought she was so nice. She’s obviously a total B.”
“Adri? A bitch?” Dante stared.
“No, she’s a B,” I said. “I’m a mom now. I don’t curse.”
“Okay, a B,” Trace said. “Listen, Mandy. She’s not a B.”
“Yes,” I said. “She’s a husband stealer!”
Trace chuckled.
“What?”
He just kept chuckling until Dante joined in.
I stood. “My husband is obviously having an affair and you just don’t understand.”
Trace’s lips formed a flat line. I pointed my hand in the air and said Scarlett O’Hara style, “I am not going to stand by and just watch it happen, either. As soon as I calm down, I’m going back there and give him – and her – a piece of my mind.”
Trace patted my shoulder. “Your husband isn’t having an affair, Mandy.”
“Did you not just see what I saw? The two of them all googly-eyed? How do you explain that?”
“I heard them talking, and there were no googly eyes, except Keith’s when he saw you.”
I perked up. “Really?”
“Really. If it makes you feel better, in passing, I heard them talking about a special home for people here in Pillar Bluff. She probably wants him – and you – to donate something. We know Adri’s family. They dine here a lot and we’ve gotten to know them when we are in town.”
“Oh,” I said, considering changing my tune.
“Adri is real big on places that help people with mental disabilities. You probably know all about her volunteer work and her queen platform.”
“But why would my husband lie about where he was, if that’s all it is?”
“I don’t know,” Dante said. “There might be a simple explanation for that, too, but that’s between you and your husband.”
I remembered how at ease Adri had felt with Judy, our talk during the Pillar Bluff Rodeo, and how she shared her passion for volunteering at places like the one Judy lives.
“I’m an idiot,” I said.
“Not an idiot, but I seem to recall, you were always a hothead.”
“But why doesn’t she go to Castle Orchard to meet with Keith? Why here, at a fancy restaurant?”
“We’re not that fancy, and you’ll have to ask them, but I am ninety-nine percent positive there is no funny business going on between your husband and Adri.”
I took a brave breath and stood to go. “I’m sorry about this, you guys. You must think I’m crazy. I swear, I’ve grown up, but this… this just threw me for a loop.” I smiled. “And she’s so young and beautiful, you know? I feel old around her.”
They took in my outfit, which I just want to say was a pair of adorable designer jeans, a gold t-shirt, and the cutest leopard scarf you’ve ever seen.
“I don’t think you will ever get old,” Trace said. “Does Marta still look this good?”
“Exactly like me,” I said.
“Then you both look just like you did in college.”
I loved him for that little fib. “Hey, do you two still have that mac and cheese?”
Dante disappeared for a few moments and returned with a heaping bowl of homemade pasta saturated with golden cheese.
“This is my nanna’s mac and cheese recipe.”
I took a heaping bite, savoring the cheddar on my tongue. “I hope we have this in heaven.”
“I don’t know about that, but her recipe is the best. And when you’re finished with that, it’s nanna’s bread pudding.”
I wanted to bury my face in it. Whoever said carbs were out has gone off the deep end.
Chapter Ten
Back at the bed and breakfast, I put on a pair of my best yoga pants and one of Keith’s favorite hot pink tops with my new lipstick. When I’d left the restaurant, Keith and Adri were both gone. I’d checked my message when I got to the car.
“I’m sorry,” the recording said. “It’s not what you think. Please let me explain. I’ll see you later, back at the room.”
But he wasn’t there. I prayed I hadn’t scared him off. Deep down, I knew I couldn’t, but old insecurity stirred up unreasonable ideas that made me jealous. After all, he had lied.
As I waited, I rehearsed an apology for my part, me jumping to conclusions, but couldn’t think of the right thing to say. First, I’d demand an explanation for why he lied, but before I could come up with anything, I heard the door unlock. It swung open and there stood my cowboy, his face full of regret and uncertainty. He held his hat in his hand and looked so adorable; I gave up my last shred of anger.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“I’m sorry I didn’t trust you,” I said. “But please, honey, explain. Why did you lie to me?”
He gave me a sad look. “It’s okay. I can see how your mind might run away with crazy ideas, sort of like you did at the wedding.” He smiled then, and I could tell he was used to me melting at such antics. I struggled to look neutral. I wanted him to explain first.
I huffed, hiding a smile. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He smiled softly, glancing down at my outfit. “It was supposed to be a joke.” His eyes traveled over my hips and lingered on the pink fabric stretched across my breasts. I’d chosen that shirt, knowing full well it’d get my husband’s attention.
“Oh, well, sometimes you aren’t funny.”
“Sometimes I’m not,” he said. “Usually I’m not.”
We both laughed a little
. Again, he was right.
“So, that’s what you’re wearing when I take you out dancing tonight?”
“Do you have a problem with my yoga pants?”
He closed the door behind him.
“Only that I want to take them off of you.” He reached for me, and his mouth was warm on mine, silencing anymore undo apology. His hands traveled around to cup my bottom, and the tender action was so familiar, yet unexpected after so much fury the hour before, that tears sprang to my eyes.
“I guess we can discuss the details about what just happened later.”
“Good idea,” he said.
He pulled my hips close, kissed me even closer, and all the heat that’d gone into my being mad at him escaped through hot skin and warm, wet kisses.
Keith left the bed and breakfast early in the morning. More horse business, of course, but he promised that when he got back, we’d talk about Violet. In the meantime, I was happy with his excuse. He’d actually come back from the ranch early and was on the way to the bed and breakfast when he ran into Adri at the gas station, of all places. When she pitched her idea about him helping her with some public service announcements related to her favorite charity, they’d walked over to the bistro for a quick drink of iced tea. That was when I appeared and misunderstood the whole thing. I was almost too embarrassed to meet Adri for breakfast this morning, but, in Adri fashion, she showed up at the bed and breakfast to join me. How could I say no when she was already down in the lobby?
“I’m sorry,” I said as soon as I walked into the dining room.
“Oh, me, too.” We embraced and we were like little and big sister.
“You poor thing,” she said. “That must have looked awful, finding us together like that. I’m so embarrassed.”
“Don’t be,” I said. “It was all me. I’m ridiculous.”
“You are the farthest thing from ridiculous.”
I laughed at her over-the-top attempt to calm me down after I’d treated her like a slut after my husband.
“Oh, sweetie,” I said. “You are too nice for your own good. Let’s not talk about that nasty little incident again.”
“Agreed,” she said and we opened our menus.
The waiter poured me another cup of coffee from the silver carafe sitting on our table and I let him. I’d been meaning to give up caffeine, but couldn’t bring myself to do it even though Keith always teased that Daddy must have given us a lot of coffee when were little to make us so energetic as adults. The truth was, he had, but it wasn’t what gave us all our energy. If you asked me, it was our energy that required us to drink more coffee than most people, just to get anything out of it. I just wished I could muster the energy that I usually brimmed with.
“It’s so sweet that you came to see your husband. You missed him, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” I said. “But you know how the rodeo life is, being a queen and all.”
“It’s an exciting life,” Adri said.
“Exciting it is, but I have to admit, I’ll be ready when he retires from the rodeo. I know he’s sore about the ‘old man’ rumors.”
Adri’s laughter rang through the restaurant. I smiled at how she could be so carefree. I didn’t even know why I’d told her something so personal.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s just crazy that Keith would be considered old.”
“It bothers him, what people say about him needing to retire.”
“Does he want to?”
“I don’t know. Does a cowboy ever want to stop being a cowboy?”
She laughed. “Never, ever.”
“Right. And he doesn’t appreciate people saying he should, and neither do I. It is one thing for me to want him to retire from it, and it’s quite another for others to say it. He’s a good man. He wants to do the right thing for me and the kids, but that doesn’t make it easy. He loves bronc riding.”
I think that just saying those words out loud opened a little door I’d previously closed off to Keith. I might not have been a very good cowgirl, but I loved my cowboy.
“He really is a good man. I’m lucky.” I wanted to share about Violet calling, but I wasn’t sure Keith would be okay with that, or what reaction it would bring from Adri, so I kept quiet for now.
“I know the feeling. I’m lucky to have mine, too.” Adri held up a cranberry-iced scone. “Here’s to good men.”
I held my own scone in the air in a mutual toast before popping a large bite into my mouth.
“And here’s to maintaining my curvy figure,” I said.
Adri and I chatted and laughed through the rest of breakfast. Her energy revitalized me and her idealistic approach to life and love made me want to surround myself with happy things. Heaven knew, I had a whole shop of them back in Castle Orchard. Maybe what I needed was to go to work and help people find mementos of happiness. I wondered if we had an item in the store that would make me feel confident again. I hated feeling out of control.
If only I were still as idealistic as Adri, and if only love was really as easy as it seems when you haven’t yet come up against obstacles like cheating ex-husbands, mysterious ex-wives, and grief for lost mothers, and lost children that have a way of seeping into the cracks of your life, covering everything with a hazy film that would even make a rodeo queen’s rhinestones turn dull.
Chapter Eleven
It was schizophrenia that my mom was diagnosed with. One time, when we visited her at the home Daddy had to put her in, he was mortified to find her wandering the halls, crying out senseless things. He was told it was time to check into a more secure facility that handled people like her, so he said no and took her back home to live with us. Bringing her home seemed to do the trick, at first.
In the weeks before she left us, everything was crystal clear for her. We knew it couldn’t last, according to her doctors, but we hoped, the way children and lovers do, that she was cured. She wasn’t, of course, and so, when she took her own life during that brief reprieve from her illness, the shock and betrayal I felt stayed, while all the loving memories were lost for a while as the bottom fell out of my world. It didn’t matter if I stood in her kitchen surrounded by all her things, the happy memories attached to them didn’t permeate my grief.
Over the years, the lost memories came back, but the grief never left, having wrapped its tendrils around my heart as secure as the Cinderella buns Marta and I weave into the hair of prom queens as an extra service to the nail salon once a year. In the past, I wouldn’t have dreamt of going into homes to visit people with mental problems, the way that Adri did. The idea would have terrified me, but on that day, I decided to make a change. It had helped Marta to deal with mom’s death. We were twins, after all. Maybe it would help me, too.
“I’ll be back in a couple of hours,” Keith said after a long lunch together, if you know what I mean.
I leaned in for a kiss, no longer in the mood to talk about Violet. It’d have to wait. Besides, Keith was in a hurry to get back to his business meetings with ranchers and whatever business people he needed to meet with. He didn’t ask my plans, and I didn’t tell him what they were.
Judy’s place wasn’t really called a ‘home,’ like I kept referring to it. The sign in front of the sprawling building read Cottonwood Manor. I walked through the sliding doors, not even sure they would let me in to see her. After all, I wasn’t a real friend or family member. Maybe it was ridiculous of me, but seeing Adri’s passion for places like Cottonwood Manor, and Keith’s desire to support it, had filled me with a conviction, or maybe Judy’s smile had simply given me a guilt complex. Judy, for some reason, kept popping up in this crazy time I was having, so maybe God was trying to tell me something, trying to use Judy to open my heart.
Open heart or not, just looking at the entrance of the manor brought back sorrowful images of my mom when she lived in a place very similar to Cottonwood Manor. For a moment, I thought I might leave. I didn’t want to remember Momma that way, but, taking a deep breath, I push
ed my panic aside. Walking past the flowering plants, placed at the entrance to invoke a peaceful feeling, but failing, I pushed past my fears.
There was another feeling I had that I couldn’t put my finger on, but I wanted to see Judy. Something about her condition did trigger sad memories of my momma, but something else, maybe her smile and the innocent way she talked about my husband, had also endeared her to me.
The floors were so shiny; they looked as if nobody ever walked on them. The fluorescent lights cast a yellow pallor on everyone, even healthy visitors, and the fake silk flowers were as ugly as I remembered from momma’s place. I never understood why they had real flowers outside and fake ones indoors. When our mother was in a place like this, Marta and I had hated the silk flowers then, too. We’d taken in potted flowers for our momma and her ‘friends’ in neighboring rooms.
“Your name?”
“Manda. Amanda Black to see Judy.”
She referred to a log, running her ringed, manicured hands down a handwritten list, and I waited for her to notice I wasn’t on it. I wasn’t sure what I’d say to convince her to let me in.
A moan carried across the room and settled in a chill around the nape of my neck.
“Nooooooo.”
I turned to see an elderly man sitting in a wheel chair near the exit doors. He was crying.
“Please,” he whimpered. “Turn the music down.”
Of course there was no music, but it made me think of my mom. She heard things, too.
When my mom took her own life, Daddy told me my anger was wasted, that she probably didn’t know what she was doing when she did it. It could’ve even been an accident, but we would never really know. Deep down, I felt like I knew. Momma seemed coherent in those last weeks, and she’d chosen to leave us, instead of fighting anymore; instead of fighting for us. Now, looking around at people lost somewhere in their minds wandering the halls, waiting in their wheelchairs by the doors hoping for a visitor, I was sorry for always blaming Momma. As a kid, I couldn’t have placed myself in her shoes, but now I wanted to forgive her. At least I could try.
The Real Thing Page 11
