The Real Thing

by Tina Ann Forkner

  Chapter Nineteen

  If we could have ended Judy’s visit on the morning she became Violet in the barn, it would have been almost perfect, but, like regular life, ranch life isn’t perfect, even though it is worth it. Cowboys and cowgirls, though dependable, can have a wild streak; and while Keith was a bronc rider and Stevie had been learning to rope cattle, the two real cowgirls on the ranch that weekend were barrel racers. Only Pamela and I were afraid of riding horses, but no matter. We had plenty else to do while everyone else rode.

  “They’re so gentle.” Pamela commented as we prepared supper. She was looking out the bay window at everyone astride horses trotting off to the hills.

  I had told her she didn’t have to help cook. I knew it wasn’t in her job description, but she said she liked cooking, and would enjoy it. I had to admit it was nice to have her company. Marta had opted to stay away for the weekend, saying we needed our privacy. I strongly suspected she was spending time with Quentin, and that made me happy, even though I missed her.

  “They are,” I said. “I might be afraid to ride them, but, in all honesty, I’ve never seen Keith’s horses hurt anyone.” I told her about how I was afraid.

  “Do you think you’ll ever ride one?”

  I nodded, surprising myself. “Yes, I think I will someday, after this baby is born. It would really impress the kids. I’ll make it a surprise when it happens. What about you?”

  “I don’t think I’ll ever have a reason to ride,” she said. “But I like to watch them. They’re so beautiful, so free.”

  I nodded, knowing exactly what she was talking about. Seeing my family riding off in the sunset made me realize how free they all looked on the backs of horses, even Judy. We didn’t have wild broncos for riding at the ranch, only riding horses. Keith had given Judy the horse he trusted the most and she had swung herself up on it without help. Apparently, riding horses was like remembering how to drink tea or unlock deadbolts. Some things were still inside her, like second nature.

  We were almost finished with cooking supper, steaks from the small herd of cattle that Keith raised, along with roasted potatoes and string beans I found in the freezer leftover from the summer’s garden.

  “Look.” Pamela pointed out the window. “They’re back.”

  “They look happy,” I said, noting their smiling faces.

  “And it looks like Judy and your daughter have become good friends.”

  Pamela was referring to Peyton and Judy, laughing at something as they rode their horses into the corral.

  “I’m going out for a second,” I said. “Do you mind keeping things warm?”

  “I’m okay. If Judy needs me, let me know. I’ll be watching out the window.”

  “Thanks,” I said, grabbing a light sweater and heading down the path.

  “Did you have fun?” I asked Judy. I leaned forward against the fence.

  She looked down at me from astride her horse. “Oh, hello, M—”

  “Mandy.” I reminded her.

  “Look at this horse,” she said. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

  “Gorgeous,” I said. “Just like you.”

  She smiled at this, her vanity taking over, and I smiled myself. I could relate. We were both women who liked to look good. Judy still held herself prim and proper in the saddle, perhaps remembering on some level when she used to be a real rodeo queen.

  “Alright,” Keith called. “Peyton, help Judy off her horse, if she needs it.”

  Peyton, who had walked her horse into its stall while Judy and I talked, came toward us on foot.

  “Stevie,” she called. “Get down and take your horse inside.”

  Stevie turned his horse toward us. He was small, but no stranger to horses. I had been surprised that he more or less knew how to do almost everything Peyton did with horses, although not as well.

  He was a few feet away from Judy’s horse when he hopped down from his, landing hard on the balls of his feet. The horses stood still, not at all fazed, until he screamed, the way kids do when they’re really hurt.

  “Oww!!”

  “Stevie,” I said.

  His horse must have reeled, but I didn’t see it as I somehow, even with my giant belly, managed to climb over the fence. I let myself gingerly to the ground, mindful of the baby, but also mindful of Stevie as I reached for him. At the same time, Judy reached down and took his hand and pulled him into her saddle, just as the front hooves of Stevie’s horse hit the ground where he’d stood, and I felt the thunder of them, as sure as if they had trampled my own heart with their giant hooves.

  I screamed. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Keith rushing toward me, but before he got there, Peyton appeared. She ran forward, grabbed the reins of the horse and steadied it. By the time Keith reached us, Stevie was scared silent, sitting in front of Judy in her saddle, Peyton stood whispering to her horse, calmly patting the side of its head, and I—well, I was fine, but my pregnant body didn’t know it. My legs began to buckle and I was about to sit down in the dirt, already bemoaning the stain it would leave on my pants, when Keith arrived at my side—just in time.

  “Slow down, cowgirl,” he said.

  I tried to laugh as he lowered me to sit on his knee. I didn’t know if I’d ever get used to the way my body had a mind of its own with this little munchkin inside of me.

  “This baby is okay,” Judy said. I touched my stomach before realizing a beat later that she meant Stevie. “I got him safe and sound.”

  Stevie, who seemed fine despite all his earlier hollering, started to correct Judy about his being a baby until he looked at his dad. Upon remembering, he mumbled a thank you to Judy.

  “Thank you so much, Judy,” I called up to her, remembering how big the horses hooves were as they were about to come down on top of Stevie.

  “She saved your bacon,” Keith told Stevie, who jutted his lip out.

  “And what about the little cowgirl?” Judy asked, craning her neck.

  Peyton walked toward us, having already put Stevie’s horse away.

  “I’m okay,” she said, reaching up for Stevie, helping him down. Judy, seeming to have forgotten about the horse for a second, tried to climb off. Peyton set Stevie down and helped Judy. The two stared at each other, mirrors of the past and the present, of what might have been and what could never be.

  “I want to go to my room now,” she told Peyton.

  “Okay,” Peyton said, offering her mother her hand. They walked along the corral, out the gate, and toward the house—together.

  “Do you think we’re having eggs for dinner?” she asked of Peyton. “I like eggs. There was a man—he used to make eggs.” She giggled.

  “What’s his name?” I heard Peyton ask.

  “Um—Cowboy—I think. Cowboy Man, a man. Very nice.”

  Peyton walked Judy all the way to the house, but just before they got out of earshot, I heard Judy say, “He makes me fire tea. Every day. I like it fire.”

  “You like hot tea?” Peyton asked.

  “Yes, hot.”

  “Me, too.”

  “Do you know where that man is?” Judy asked, her voice inquisitive. “He loves me, doesn’t he?”

  “What man?”

  “Cowboy Man. He makes fire tea.”

  Still holding Judy’s hand, Peyton turned, looked back at us. Keith was busy putting the horses away and must not have felt his daughter’s eyes on his back as he walked the horse into the barn. Peyton turned then, following Judy inside, but I suspected Peyton’s frustrations with her father might have evaporated in that moment. I don’t know what she was really thinking. I never asked, but she was different after that, cloaked with a sort of maturity I hadn’t ever expected of her so soon after learning about her mother. I’ll always think of that moment as when Peyton stopped being a little girl, and a part of her became a young woman.

  Chapter Twenty

  Pia’s mom, Kim, had seemed surprised when we invited her family over for dinner, but not Pia. It had been her
idea, because naturally, Peyton had already told Pia that her mom’s best friend, Violet, was really our friend Judy, from Cottonwood Manor. She miraculously had not told her mother, leaving that to me and Keith. I think in other circumstances she would have already told her mom, if Violet was not an Alzheimer patient, that is, but the truth was something Pia probably didn’t know how to explain.

  “Can I help you clean up?” Kim’s smile was so genuine – too much so. How she had treated me at my wedding was still fresh in my mind, so I wondered if she was being fake.

  “We can just save the dishes for Peyton,” I said. “I’ll clean up later.”

  “Nonsense,” Kim said. “Let’s give her the night off.” She stood and started to gather empty plates, leaving me to feel as if Kim disapproved of me giving Peyton chores. Did Violet not have chores for Peyton?

  I shook my head, placing my hand on my tummy. I was being ridiculous.

  “In fact,” Kim said. “You sit down. You have already done enough by having us for dinner. I wish I’d cooked myself so you wouldn’t have had to.”

  “Keith did most of it,” I said, easing myself onto a barstool.

  “I’ll bring in the dishes, too,” Keith said, waving us away. I noticed Kim gave him a long look.

  Out of earshot, Kim said, “You’ve trained him well.”

  “Oh, Keith isn’t the kind of man who can be trained,” I replied. “He just can’t seem to stop helping when he’s home, especially with me being pregnant.”

  She smiled. “Well, I never saw him help clear the table when he was, well, you know—in the past.”

  “When he was married to Violet?” I watched her face register surprise that I had mentioned Violet’s name out loud, but I was over it now.

  “Well, yes. He seems to be doing a lot of things for you that he never did for Violet.”

  “People change.” I smiled.

  After all, this was Judy’s best friend I was talking to. I didn’t know if I would have liked Violet or not, if I was altogether honest, but I cared about Judy.

  “Indeed,” Kim said. “It’s sad, you know? I can’t help but wonder, if he’d done some of those things for Violet—” She didn’t finish, leaving me puzzling over her tone.

  Was she upset? Or was she just confiding her thoughts in me? After all, it had been years since Violet left.

  “It is sad,” I said. “But I don’t think the past matters. My husband is a good man.”

  “Of course, he is.” She placated. “That’s not what I meant, Manda.” She sighed. “I was just meaning that, yes, he is different.”

  I thought about Keith’s apology during that moment when Judy was Violet again in the barn, and bit my tongue. There was no reason to go off on Pia’s mom, but I admit I was on the defensive for my husband at that moment. As my pregnancy progressed, my tolerance level had dropped a little bit more every day. I’d boldly told the man in line at the park water fountain to stop smoking in front of me because I was pregnant, I shook my fist at people who drove too fast through town, and the other day I regretfully told Ginger Sue at the post office to stop speculating, out loud, what was inside every package that I dropped off. Tonight, my body wasn’t doing what I wanted it to. I felt big and bulky, so my tolerance level was especially low.

  I took a deep breath. “Kim, I don’t want to talk about the past. I invited you here for other reasons, one of which was because I wanted us to be friends for Pia and Peyton.”

  Kim’s face flushed. She touched my hand, then pulled back, her eyes pooling. “It is hard,” she said. “Sometimes, I just get so angry at you.”

  I gasped a little. “You know, Kim. I’ve never done anything that should keep us from being friends.”

  “You have,” she said. “Sometimes, it seems like you stepped in and took over Violet’s life.”

  I kept my tone low. “I most certainly haven’t done that.” I wondered. Had I done that?

  The images of Peyton fighting to keep Violet’s things haunted me. How could I own The Southern Pair, see how important “things” were to people every day, and not have thought about poor Peyton and the only things left that connected her to her mom? And Kim. She obviously felt the way Peyton had, only what I had taken over in Kim’s eyes must have been Violet’s life.

  “You know,” I said, attempting to keep my voice kind. “Since my daughter and yours are best friends, maybe you and I can start over.”

  “Your daughter?”

  Her tone hurt. I couldn’t even think of what to say next, because her insinuation was right on target. Kim was right. I wasn’t Peyton’s mother, but I was doing everything I could to be a mom to her. To some people that would look like I was trying to erase her mother from her life, but they didn’t know what I knew about her mother. I wanted to tell Kim about Violet right then, but she was on pins and needles around me.

  “You want to be friends. See?” she said, shaking her finger “That’s what I’m talking about.” She slipped her hands between her knees. “Everyone wants to forget Violet ever existed.”

  A tear slipped down her cheek and my heart burst open a little. Violet probably never realized just how hurt Kim would be by her sudden departure.

  “Kim, that’s not true.” I reached out to touch her shoulder, but she moved away. I exhaled, wanting to deliver the news kindly. “The reason we invited you over tonight was because Keith…”

  “Keith.” She spat his name like it was rotten fruit. “Keith ran her off.” As soon as she said it, she slapped her hand over her mouth, surprised, I guess, at her own vehemence.

  I felt my own mouth drop open. Even without knowing the truth about Violet and why she really left, nobody could ever believe something so terrible about Keith. Could they? Was this what people thought?

  “Ask him,” she said.

  I refolded a napkin in front of me, trying to forget about the exchange I had witnessed in the barn between Judy and Keith. He had apologized for hurting her in the past, but that did not change the real reason Violet left.

  “Ask him about Adri’s—”

  “Adri is like his little sister.” I was even disgusted that I’d ever been the teeniest bit wary of Adri.

  “I’m talking about Adri’s older sister,” Kim said. “The one he had an affair with.”

  The glass I was holding crashed to the floor, just like you see in the movies. I even saw it drop in slow motion and, for the first time, I finally got it. When something like this happens, you’re in such shock that time stops, so a glass would drop in slow motion. When it crashed, the shards shot out, also in slow motion, across the floor around us.

  I stared at Kim, who actually had the decency to look regretful, but I didn’t care.

  That was exactly when Keith and Kim’s husband, Brett, stepped into the kitchen.

  A moment of silence passed between us, Kim’s eyes regretful, begging me not to say anything in Keith and Brett’s presence. I thought about the girls in the other room, even glanced over Kim’s shoulders to make sure Peyton’s door was shut. I admit it. I’m not perfect. I’m capable of meanness, and if Marta were here, she would have backed me up, but I didn’t have back up. My husband was looking at me, concerned, but he was suddenly a stranger.

  How could he have not told me about that? In one moment, Violet had become even more of a saint to me, and my husband the opposite.

  “Is everything okay?”

  “Everything’s fine,” Kim said, but I could see the men didn’t buy it.

  All three of these people had known each other longer than I had. They all had a history together and I figured the men probably knew enough about Kim to know things were not good at all.

  “How about we go home?” Brett walked over and took Kim’s arm.

  She shrugged it away and I could see that all of her hurt over Violet’s vanishing was spilling out right here, right now.

  I should tell her now. It was an awful thing she had endured, thinking her best friend had abandoned everyone, even
her, but even if what Kim said was true, it was not anyone’s fault. I let the words flood out before Keith could stop me, knowing he wanted to be the one.

  “We asked you over here tonight because we found Violet. She’s in a home in Pillar Bluff, and…”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa…” Keith rushed forward, trying to rein me in the same way Peyton reined in Stevie’s horse when it almost trampled him.

  He took my arm, but it was too late. Kim’s eyes were wide. Since Keith had interrupted, she had only heard the first half of my speech, and it had the opposite effect. She was smiling.

  Oh no. This is terrible. Why do I mess things up?

  “Kim,” I started, but Keith gave me a warning look. He waved everyone into his office, where trophy belt buckles and pictures of him riding broncos were blown up on the wall.

  “Let’s all have a seat. The girls don’t need to hear this.”

  Brett broke in. “Why wouldn’t the girls need to hear? I’d think it good for Peyton to know her mother is—”

  Keith let the door click behind him as he walked to his desk, leaned against the front of it, facing us. He crossed his thick arms, looking more serious than I’d ever seen, except in the chute before a competition.

  “What’s going on? Where has she been?” Kim was still smiling.

  I looked at the floor, sorry I had gotten her hopes up and despite my earlier anger, sorry for the turn things were about to take.

  “Do you remember when we had Judy over for the weekend?” Keith asked.

  “Oh yeah,” Brett said. “The nice lady with Alzheimer’s? Pia told us about that. So sad for a woman that young. I thought that was cool of y’all.” He laid a hand across Kim’s shoulders. “Kind of made me think that Kim and I need to do some kind of random act of kindness, too. Maybe not something like that, but still—”

  “What,” Kim interrupted, “does this Judy have to do with Violet still being alive?” Her eyes were wide and I thought maybe a part of her had just connected the dots.