Winter at Mustang Ridge

by Jesse Hayworth

  She paused like she was waiting for Jenny to say something, but what was there to say? The story hung together, and Nick must have believed it, if he had passed along her name and cell number.

  And then he had called her to try to break the news himself, despite everything.

  “Anyway,” Miranda continued, “we kept the telephone chain going, along with Web postings . . . we even consulted an animal communicator. You can’t imagine—or maybe you can—how excited we were when our vet saw Dr. Masterson’s post about a goldie being found.”

  “Are you sure it’s him?” Jenny’s voice wobbled.

  There was a long pause. “I’m sorry. You’re very attached to him, aren’t you?”

  “Are you sure?”

  “We saw the pictures. It’s him. Your vet said he was sure you would be happy to keep him . . . but we miss him like crazy. You understand, don’t you?”

  “Of course.” It was barely a breath, leaking out of Jenny like it was her last. She looked down at the adoring brown eyes that stared up at her, trusting that she was there and there was a warm spot by the fireplace, just like she had promised him. “Do you . . . I guess you’re going to come and get him.”

  “We’re in the car right now. Our GPS says we’ll be there in an hour!”

  • • •

  It was the shortest hour of Jenny’s life. She went through the motions—telling her parents and grandparents, collecting Rex’s favorite things into a small mountain on the porch, and stuffing him full of cookies with only a small twinge of guilt that he might barf it all up on the long car ride.

  He stuck to her side through the preparations, bumping against her legs and arms like a young colt in a scary situation, looking up at her with big, worried eyes. Why are you upset? Is something bad happening? What can I do to help?

  The reassurances stuck in her throat, lumping into a hard ball of emotion as her mom hugged him good-bye, sniffling back tears, and Gran added a bag of homemade biscuits to the pile on the porch. Even Big Skye patted the goldie’s upturned head, muttering, “Good dog. Sorry to see you go.” Her father hung back with his hands stuffed in his pockets, looking longingly at his shop.

  Jenny could relate. She wanted to go back to bed, burrow in, and pretend the past two days hadn’t happened. Or load Rex in the Jeep and go someplace where Miranda Solace and her loud children couldn’t find them, and where she wouldn’t keep bumping into things that reminded her of Nick.

  With five minutes to spare on the hour she’d been given—and GPS always lied, anyway—she patted her thigh. “Hey, Rex. Want to go for a walk?”

  He leaped up and danced in a circle. Oh, boy! Walkies!

  They set out across the parking lot, heading for the path beside the barn, but hadn’t gone more than a hundred yards when the sound of an engine broke the winter silence, and a minivan came over the hill.

  Jenny’s instincts said to run. Her conscience had her turning back. “Sorry, Rexy. False alarm. Want to go see—”

  As the minivan pulled into the lot, the goldie lit up like a firecracker had gone off beneath him. He lunged away from Jenny and raced toward the vehicle, barking his fool head off. And even before the car had come to a complete stop, doors flew open and kids hurtled out—two boys and a girl, the three of them seeming more like a dozen as they pigpiled on Rex.

  Jenny started toward them. “Don’t . . . his ribs . . . oh, damn.”

  Rex nearly turned himself inside out trying to greet all of the kids at once. Ohboyohboyohboy! You’re here! Where have you been? Oh, let me lick you!

  The driver’s door swung open and out stepped a middle-aged, middle-size woman with middling brown hair and a smile that lit her entire face when she looked at the melee. “Red! It’s really you!”

  Rex—or Red—gave a happy bark, ripped away from the kids, galloped a wide circle around the woman, and plonked his furry butt in a sit-stay belied by his excited whole-body quiver. Miranda laughed, dropped to her knees, and wrapped her arms around his neck. “There’s my big boy!”

  The kids shrieked and piled back on with lots of hugging and laughter, and piping shouts of “Red!” and “No, it’s my turn!”

  Jenny felt a touch on her arm. Turning, she found her mother and father on one side of her, Gran and Big Skye on the other. They were looking at her with so much sympathy that she was tempted to curl up in a tiny ball and wail. She didn’t, though. Been there, done that, hadn’t helped things any. “I’m happy for them,” she said through numb-feeling lips. “It’s not like I could take him with me when I left.”

  The woman rose and turned toward them, eyes glistening with unshed tears. “It really is him, isn’t it?”

  Jenny jammed her hands in her pockets. “We, um. He’s got some beds and toys and stuff. We’d like you to have them.”

  The other woman’s eyes went to the avalanche on the porch, and widened. “Why, thank you.” Then she looked back at Jenny. “I mean it. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. Dr. Masterson told me how you rescued Red, and everything that you’ve done for him. I want to reimburse you, of course.”

  “We don’t want the money.” We want Rex. Jenny swallowed, fighting to keep her composure. “We would’ve done the same for any animal in need.”

  “But . . .”

  “Give it to a local shelter, if you like.” The kids were wrestling with their dog in the snow, shrieking with laughter as the powdery white flew everywhere.

  Under any other circumstance, Jenny would’ve been dying for a camera. As it was, she was dying for this to be over.

  Miranda’s expression was heading toward stricken. “I’m so sorry. I wish . . .” She shook her head. “If it was just me, I would leave him with you. Where better for a dog than a farm? But the kids love him. They need him, now more than ever. My husband’s cancer—”

  “It’s okay,” Jenny interrupted, knowing it was rude but unable to listen anymore. “You don’t have to explain. He’s yours. Take h-him.” Her voice broke on the last word.

  Things moved fast after that, blurring into a rush of bodies and dog toys, and Miranda’s raised voice as she herded the kids back into the car. Then she opened the back deck to reveal a dog gate and a worn bed flecked with red-gold hair. She patted the deck. “Come on, Red. In you go.”

  Oh, boy. Car ride! Rex bounded toward the vehicle, but stopped halfway, and looked back at Jenny. Aren’t you coming?

  Last night she had told herself her heart wasn’t broken, that she had kept enough of herself intact that she was going to be just fine. Now she couldn’t even find that lie. She was empty. “Go on, buddy. It’s okay.”

  Instead, he turned and came back toward her, tail wagging.

  Damn, damn, damn. Eyes stinging, she crossed to him, crouched down, and wrapped her arms around his ruff. “You’re a good boy.” Her words were muffled by his fur. “I love you.”

  He wriggled and whined, simultaneously trying to lick her face and offer her all his itchy spots. And when she walked over and patted the back deck of the minivan, and said, “Come on, buddy. Back where you belong,” he hopped up, did his two and a half turns, and sank down with a happy sigh, as if all was right with his world.

  Well, that made one of them.

  Feeling like it was tearing holes in her lungs to breathe, Jenny kissed the top of his head and backed away. “Bye, buddy. Be a good dog.”

  His tail thumped. I’m a Good Dog!

  Miranda closed the hatchback, turned to Jenny, and gave her a big hug. “Thank you,” she whispered fiercely. “You don’t know how much this means to them.”

  Jenny didn’t argue that one. She just drew away and nodded. “Have a safe trip.” She wanted to tell the woman—this stranger who was taking her Rex away—that he liked his kibble slightly moist and his cookies fresh out of the oven, but she didn’t. He was going back to his old life, his old routine.

  So instead, she raised a hand in farewell, and watched as Miranda drove the stuffed-full minivan up the hill leading awa
y from Mustang Ridge.

  When the vehicle crested the ridge and disappeared, the silence was deafening.

  Swallowing hard, Jenny dug her nails into her palms.

  Finally, Gran said, “Have you talked to Nick?”

  Ouch. “No.”

  “You should call him.”

  “We broke up.” She heard a chorus of indrawn breaths, felt the change in the air. “And, no, I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Baby . . .” That was her mother, voice full of the sympathy she couldn’t bear right now.

  She held up a hand. “I’m okay. Really.” Or she would be, anyway. Eventually.

  The sound of an engine came from the main road, growing stronger.

  Jenny wheeled around. Had Miranda changed her mind? Had Rex barfed so grandly in the minivan that she wanted to delay things?

  But it wasn’t the minivan. It was the Vetmobile.

  Any remaining warmth in Jenny’s veins went cool, and from there to a faint churn of nausea as Nick parked and killed the engine. When the driver’s door swung open and he emerged, the others melted away, with her father saying, “We’ll be inside. Give you two some privacy.”

  She wanted to tell them not to bother, that she didn’t have anything more to say to Nick. But the words froze in her throat as he approached.

  The sunlight picked out the burnished highlights in his hair and the shadows showed in his eyes, which were filled with grief, regret, and the sympathy she had managed to resist coming from the others. She couldn’t resist him, though. Not even now.

  When his arms opened, she walked straight into them. When his grip closed on her, she burrowed into the familiar space and scent, the safe place. And when he whispered, “I’m sorry, Jenny. I’m so damn sorry he’s gone,” she burst into tears.

  He had been there at the beginning with Rex, so it seemed only right that he was there at the end.

  She dug her fingers into his parka and buried her face against his throat, sobbing because everything hurt, deep down inside. She didn’t know how much of the pain was from him, how much from Rex, and how much from the growing realization that she couldn’t have everything she wanted, not this time. And that when she left, she would be leaving part of herself behind.

  The sobs racked her body, tore at her throat, and twisted her stomach. But Nick just held on to her, stroking her hair and murmuring things like “Easy, there” and “Just breathe” like she was a terrified puppy getting its first shots.

  It worked, though. Little by little the great, gulping tears eased and her breathing settled. Her body relaxed some, so the aches overtook the tight spots and she became conscious of a crushing exhaustion. Not so much one that made her want to go to sleep, but rather made her want to pretend that she didn’t exist for an hour or two. Maybe longer. She let go of his coat and patted down the crumpled places. “Thanks. I, uh . . . I guess I needed that.”

  “No problem.”

  Then, as though she hadn’t spent the last ten minutes clinging to him and soaking his jacket, she stepped back and looked up at him. “What are you doing here?”

  A corner of his mouth kicked up, but his dimples stayed hidden, his eyes dark with regret. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

  “Define okay.” There was nothing okay about any of this.

  “Yeah. That was about what I figured.”

  With the first rush of desperate emotion past, the other stuff filtered back in, making her take another big step away from him and draw her coat tighter around her body. “Well, thanks for coming.” Sort of. She wasn’t sure if seeing him again had made things better or worse.

  He cleared his throat. “Do you want to get out of here? Go for a drive or something? Might be better than being around all the memories right now.”

  A disbelieving laugh tore at her throat. “No offense, but driving around with you doesn’t count as avoiding memories.” Was it really so easy for him to drop back into the friend zone, or wherever he was? Well, good for him, but she wasn’t playing along. “In fact, thanks for coming by—truly—but I think you should go now.”

  He studied her for a moment, expression shuttered. Then he nodded. “If that’s what you want.”

  No, you idiot! I want you to hold me while I cry. I want you to tell me over and over again that it’s going to be okay, that those kids love Rex and they’re going to take the very best care of him. And I want you to admit that what happened between us was more than you expected, too. I want you to want me enough to take a stab at staying together, even if it means months of phone sex and Skype. I want you, damn it!

  Balling her hands at her sides, she repeated, “You should go.” As an afterthought, she added, “Give Cheesepuff a pepperoni from me, will you?” And oh, how it hurt to know she probably wouldn’t see him again.

  Nick hesitated, turning toward her as if he were going to hug her again, or go in for a good-bye kiss. But he didn’t. “Okay. But call me if you need anything, Jenny. I mean it. Anything.”

  “I will,” she said, but they both knew he didn’t mean the offer any more than she meant the acceptance—because what she needed from him wasn’t something he was willing to give.

  She told herself not to watch him walk away, but she did it anyway, even knowing that the others were no doubt spying from the house, both grieving for Rex and debating what they should do to help her. Sure enough, as the Vetmobile disappeared over the hill, her phone rang, Krista’s name flashing on the display.

  Jenny answered. “Hey, there. I take it you’ve been briefed?” She was proud that her voice was only a little ragged, the tears barricaded deep inside.

  “There’s a ten thirty flight tomorrow out of Laramie. A quick hop to Denver, and you’re on your way south.”

  Oh, damn. There went the tears. “I can’t bail on you.”

  “You’re not. You’re being good to yourself. And, besides, Mom can cover the last few days. You can be in Belize City in time for a late dinner, back at base camp the day after that.”

  Base camp. The words made Jenny yearn for humid warmth, the color green, and a camera to hide behind. “I wanted to see you, and hear all about the fruity drinks and pool boys.” She tried to keep it light, but the tears made hot tracks down her cheeks. “I can stay, really.”

  “Another time. Maybe I’ll even come down and visit you. How does that sound?” Krista’s voice went wry. “With Mom in the office, time off won’t just be an option, it’ll be a necessity.” She paused. “Want me to book your ticket?”

  Jenny looked around the cold, white world and felt her heart break. She didn’t want to leave, not like this. Not really at all. She wanted to turn time back a week or two, to one of the many mornings she had awakened in Nick’s arms, roused by Cheesepuff’s insistent “Mmrph?” and treated to Rex’s infectious joy. You’re awake. Yippee!

  “Book the ticket,” she said, and felt her heart rip cleanly in two. “I need to get out of here.”

  27

  The next morning, Nick headed for his father’s cabin before dawn, on the theory that if the drive didn’t help him work out the mental kinks, a few hours of ice fishing—a mind- and body-numbing hobby if ever there was one—should do the trick.

  The cabin was empty when he arrived, but he followed the well-worn path down to the lake, where a thin tendril of smoke threaded from the pipe of his old man’s fishing shack, and Molly lay on a big woven mat in front of the door. Her head came up as he approached, her lips rippling in a silent growl.

  “I’m a friend, remember?” He debated pulling off a glove and letting her sniff his hand, but didn’t like the look in her eyes and preferred his hand attached to his wrist. Stopping a safe distance away, he called, “Dad? You want to tell your wolf that I’m a-ok?”

  The door swung open. “Nick? That you?”

  “You got anyone else likely to call you Dad?”

  “Come in, come in. Molly, let him through. He’s a friend.”

  The big wolf-dog immediately plo
pped her head back down and gave a couple of tail thumps.

  “Oh, fine. He’s the only one who gets to do the friend password, huh?”

  Her unimpressed look said Yeah. Pretty much.

  “Good dog.” Nick stepped over her, careful not to slip on the ice, because he wasn’t sure her benevolence would extend to being sat on. He was having a bad enough day and didn’t need a bite in the ass to cap things off.

  The fishing cabin was roughly the size and shape of a two-hole outhouse, with a pair of folding chairs, a potbelly stove up on a platform in one corner and a couple of shelves on the opposite wall that held snacks, bait, and beer. An auger and a chainsaw sat below the shelves, their handiwork evident in the vaguely oval-shaped hole that had been punched through the foot-thick ice. The air smelled of coffee and fish, and his father had returned to his chair to take up position next to the line he had dangling in the dark, cold water. He had his eyes on Nick, though. When their gazes connected, he said, “You want to talk about it?”

  “Can’t a guy just drive up to see his father on his day off?”

  “Sure, but why would he want to, when he’s got a lovely woman in his bed?”

  “Yeah. That.” Nick scowled at the far shore.

  “You and Jenny having problems?”

  “Not anymore.”

  “Oh?”

  “We broke up.”

  Instead of sympathy, he got a scowl. “Why the hell did you go and do a fool thing like that?”

  “It was going to be over in a few days anyway.”

  “How so?”

  “She’s got a career, Dad. This was only a vacation for her.” Sort of. “She’ll be back down south by next week.”

  “So? You’ve got a computer. And I was reading the other day about this thing called sexting.”

  Okay, this was so not helping. “Can we not talk about it right now? I came to fish.”

  His old man snorted. “You did not.”

  “Give me a flipping pole.”

  “I’m using a hand line.”