by Sharon Kleve
Brenda hoped she might get a chance to talk with Blake more before the evening ended. She waited around for awhile, but every time she looked up, he was busy—giving a toast and all the other best man duties. So, after the bride threw the bouquet, the groom threw her garter belt, the cake was cut and served and she’d talked at least once to all their old friends, she looked for him one last time. Blake stood with a glass in his hand, laughing with the other groomsmen. Time for her to leave, she realized as she finally gave up and walked out of the church to her car.
Chapter Two
At last, the early morning flights were gone and they had a few minutes to breathe before the next onslaught.
“Okay, Bren, spill it. How did it go? Was he there? Was he with someone?” Deeann peppered Brenda with questions from where she sat on a tall stool at the other end of the counter, a Christmas anthology in one hand. “Looks as though you were up late.”
“Give me a few minutes, and I’ll tell you, but first, I need to get some coffee. Want some?” Deeann shook her head and returned to her novel.
“You still read those love stories? I thought since you and Greg got together, you’d be too busy with your own romance.”
Deeann looked up at her with sparkling eyes. “I’m addicted to them—especially the Christmas ones. I start reading them in November, though honestly I could read them year-round.” She looked a little embarrassed at her confession, Brenda thought.
Deeann’s hair wasn’t mussed by wind and rain. Her makeup was neat and carefully applied and her uniform neatly pressed and wrinkle-free, with an angel on her lapel. Greg must be flying in today, Brenda thought, and then put a hand up to her face. She’d forgotten make-up! And she knew there must be bags under her eyes. When she grabbed a clean uniform jacket off the hanger before she flew out the door, she’d forgotten her name tag too. She’d hit the snooze button on her radio alarm clock three times before she felt awake enough to get up out of bed. Fortunately, it was the weekend and the station manager wouldn’t be there to notice. She reached inside her purse, pulled out some lipstick and ran it over her lips.
There, maybe that might help.
Brenda headed for the coffee pot in the pilot’s lounge behind the ticket counter, and grabbed her cup. But when she reached for the glass pot, she saw that it was nearly empty. It was the first stop the pilots made when they came in before their flights. Did she have time to brew more? The intercom buzzed, and she picked it up.
“Bren, there’s someone out here asking for you,” Deeann said over the line.
“Asking for me?”
“Yeah, by name.”
“Thanks, I’ll be right out.” She glanced at the coffee pot and put it back on the burner. “Looks like I won’t get that coffee after all,” she muttered.
When she walked through the doorway and looked up, the pasted-on smile left her lips and became a real one. “Blake.” She felt her heartbeat accelerate.
“Hey, Brenda.”
She saw him look over to Deeann who darted a curious, quick glance back at him, before she returned to her novel.
“Uh, Dee, this is Blake. He was...is...an old...friend of mine. Blake, this is Deeann, the friend I went to Acapulco with.”
They exchanged polite, ‘nice-to-meet-yous’ and then Blake looked around. “Slow day? I thought I’d have to stand in line to talk to you.”
“Actually, we’re in the eye of the storm right now. You missed the last onslaught. Any moment, the next wave will hit, and you won’t even recognize sweet, shy me.”
He snorted. “You? Shy?”
“Yes, me, but shortly my alter ego will emerge.”
“This should be interesting. I think I’ll just take a seat over there—”he tipped his head toward a group of bright orange-cushioned vinyl and chrome chairs near the huge, decorated Christmas tree—“and watch you in action.” He walked off and sat down.
“Wait. What are you...” she tried to ask, but he grinned and pointed as a customer approached the counter, his arms full of bags and boxes to check.
Whenever there was a brief lull in passengers, she glanced up to see if Blake was still there. He reclined on the chair, his long legs stretched out, his arms draped over the chair on either side, a smile on his face. She quickly looked away.
She felt like a character in a play, acting out her part. Maybe she should charge admission. Where’s the popcorn? she bit back the urge to yell at him. What was he doing here anyway? she wondered, struggling with an overstuffed seabag for a young military passenger.
“Can I help you with that ma’am?” the sailor asked eagerly, but she smiled and shook her head.
More passengers came and distracted Brenda from her thoughts of Blake for awhile. Finally, the last passenger checked in and the phone stopped ringing. Now she’d find out why Blake...she looked up. The chair was empty. She turned to Deeann to ask if she’d seen him leave.
“Don’t you get a break?” Blake suddenly appeared in front of the counter with two festive peppermint mochas in his hands. He handed one to her, his fingers brushing against hers. And she smiled as she took it. He’d remembered how much she liked the Christmas-time only treat. Then Blake handed the other coffee drink to Deeann, who smiled her thanks.
“Sometimes. Dee, I’m going on my break.” When her friend nodded, Brenda told Blake, “Follow me.” He hopped over the luggage scales and followed her to the back. “What are you doing here, Blake?” Maybe that didn’t sound very friendly, but she needed to know.
“I had to hear the rest of the story, didn’t I? Got any coffee?” He looked around the break room.
“Yes, we have a pot, but the pilots drank all of it. I’ll make more, if you have time, though it isn’t as tasty as the mochas you brought.”
“Yeah, sure, that would be great. Thanks.”
Brenda bustled about getting the coffee, still wondering why he was there. After they’d broken up six years ago she hadn’t heard from him.
The com line buzzed on the phone. Brenda picked it up and listened. “Deeann again, needing reinforcements,” Brenda told Blake as she hung up the phone. “I need to get back to work. But the coffee’s almost ready. Help yourself.”
“No, I’ll just go and get some at the coffee shop.” He paused. “Hey, when do you get off work?”
“My shift ends at 3:00,” she said over her shoulder as she hurried out to the counter. She smiled at the passenger checking in and merely nodded when Blake called out to her as he walked away.
“See ya, Brenda.”
“Yeah, sure,” she mumbled.
****
Why did he ask her what time she got off work? Now she’d expect him to call her. What was he doing, bringing her back into his life? He should stay away from her, see his friends and family and then go back to San Francisco the way he’d planned. If he had any sense, he’d do just that.
He’d wanted to feel indifferent. He’d wanted to think that she’d gone on with her life. The problem was, just seeing her again made him feel things he hadn’t felt for any woman since their breakup. Maybe he wasn’t as over her as he should be.
He knew he needed to see her again. He needed to see if what he’d remembered had been real love. And if it was, why had they broken up?
He must be crazy to think she still harbored any feelings for him.
****
As Brenda approached her apartment door, she heard the phone inside ring. Her left arm balanced a bulging bag of groceries and her right knee propped up another bag while her right arm supported it. She dropped the keychain from her teeth and held out her hand, cupped palm up, but missed. The keys dropped onto the damp grass and mud. The phone continued its insistent shrill.
“Oh shoot!” She put both bags down, picked up the key ring and shoved the key into the lock. She hurried i
nside, but half-way across the room, the ringing stopped. “Wouldn’t you just know it?” she muttered. No red blinking light, so no message left on the answering machine. She sighed and walked back outside for the groceries. When she neared the phone, it rang again. She dropped the bags on the dining room table, and saw with disgust that one fell over and spilled half its contents.
“Hello,” she said in irritation when she picked up the phone and watched a can of tuna roll off the table.
“Bad day, huh?” Blake’s voice sympathized over the line.
“Sorry.” Her heart sped up. Why was he calling? “Yes, it was.”
“That’s okay, I can be in a bad mood sometimes too.”
“Yeah, I remember.” There was a pause. She wondered what he was thinking. Would he ever talk about their breakup?
“When’s your next day off?” he asked as though she hadn’t spoken of anything else.
“Tomorrow. Why?”
“Do you have plans?”
“Well, I should clean my apartment, but if it’s nice I might ride.”
“Do you still have Carrot?”
Brenda smiled. He’d remembered. Carrot was her horse’s name, but it used to be Blake’s pet name for her. When he’d first seen her chestnut-colored horse, he’d looked from the horse to her. They had the same color hair. Carrot One and Carrot Two, he’d called them, but then he’d shortened it to just plain ‘Carrot’ for both of them.
“Yes. I keep her at my Uncle Jim’s ranch in Cle Elum with his horses now. She’s not alone and there are miles of trails to ride on and if I want to take someone riding with me, I can borrow one of his horses.”
“Isn’t there snow on the ground there by now?”
“Not right now. It’s been an unusual year. They had some earlier, but none now.”
“Who will you ride with if you go tomorrow?”
“No one. No one else works my crazy shift, except Deeann and she’s afraid of horses.”
“How’d you like to have a riding partner?”
“You?” She wondered if he heard the surprise in her voice.
“Do you mind?”
“No. I’m just surprised. I thought you’d be headed back to San Francisco.”
“Not yet. I have a few days off.”
“Well…sure. Be sure to wear boots or shoes with hard heels.”
“Yeah, I remember.”
“Where are you staying? I’ll pick you up.”
“I have a rental car. Why don’t I pick you up and we’ll stop for breakfast?”
“Do you know where I live?” She’d moved at least twice in the years since he’d moved to San Francisco, and doubted any of their mutual friends knew since the wedding invitation arrived at her apartment with one of those yellow change-of-address stickers on it. She waited while he found a pen and something to write on, and then gave him brief directions. “See you in the morning, then.”
She hung up the phone and as she unloaded the bags of groceries into the cupboards and refrigerator, she mulled over the events of the past twenty-four hours. Why did he call her after all this time? What game was he playing? He was the one who broke up with her six years ago. He was the one who’d said their relationship “wasn’t working.”
Did Blake think he could just come waltzing back into her life and take up where he’d left off for a couple days, then leave her to go through the agony of trying to get over him a second time? She felt a familiar hollow pain in her chest.
I must have been crazy to think that he would ever choose me over his family—especially his mom, she thought. He’d made it clear back then, whose side he was on when he broke up with me. Why would that change?
Well, she could spend the rest of the day and night thinking about what might have been; time to live in the present.
Chapter Three
A light fog shrouded the December morning sky when Blake picked Brenda up at her apartment. The air was crisp and cool, but not too cold. The rest of the neighborhood still appeared to be asleep, but she wanted to get an early start.
She looked him over from head to toe. She’d forgotten how good he looked in casual clothes—a T-shirt, jeans, and cowboy boots.
“Why did we have to get up at this disgusting hour? Don’t you believe in sleeping in on your day off?” Blake grinned. He held a coffee mug in the hand not on the steering wheel.
“Morning is the best time to ride while the horses are fresh and feeling frisky. Once it warms up, like it has this week, they get lazy. Besides, you want to go for a long ride, don’t you?”
“I don’t know...I haven’t been on a horse for a long time.”
“You’re not going to back out on me now, are you?”
“Oh, no...”
“It will be good for you to get out in that fresh air...and you can take a hot shower when you get back, and feel good as new.”
“Where do you want to stop for breakfast?”
“Yeah, about that...”
“Hey, I’m hungry. Are you telling me you don’t want to eat?”
“No. But I thought, rather than take the time to stop, I’d just bring something along and we could eat in the car as you drove.” She reached behind her to the back seat and grabbed an insulated bag, then pulled out two large, foil-wrapped packages. “I have breakfast wraps and orange juice and that yummy candy cane-flavored coffee. How does that sound?”
“Great.”
When they’d finished eating, Brenda felt a bit sleepy, staring out the window at the sun and the passing scenery. If she wasn’t so excited at being with Blake again, she might have drifted off to sleep, lulled by the movement of the car and a full stomach.
But it seemed so unreal, going on a road trip again with Blake at the wheel like so many times in the past. There was a bubble of happiness in her chest and she knew she must have a huge smile on her face as well.
“How are your dad and Tim?” Blake broke the silence.
“Oh, Dad. He’s still busy with work, but he’s cut back some now that he has a steady girlfriend. Can you believe it?” Her smile faltered a little. “I don’t see him much.
Blake looked over at her. “Do you like her?” He seemed hesitant to ask, but Brenda couldn’t blame him.
“Yeah, I do,” she said slowly.
Blake turned his attention back to the road, but Brenda didn’t doubt that he wanted to know more. Instead he asked, “And your brother?”
“Oh, he likes her. He works with Dad now and goes over to his house a lot for dinner. Liz is a good cook, I hear.
“Well good for your dad.”
She supposed she should reciprocate and ask about his family, but she couldn’t make herself do it. She didn’t want to bring up a sore subject and ruin the day, so she didn’t ask.
****
“We’re just about there. It’ll be a great day for a ride,” Brenda told Blake, as he glanced out the side window.
They’d turned off the highway onto the two-lane country road that led to the ranch. The sun peeped through the evergreen trees that grew thickly along the road. He opened the window a little and breathed deep to smell the sweet, fragrant odor of pine needles.
“You always wanted to live in the country.” Blake remembered, and turned his head slightly to smile at her.
“I still do.” She sighed. “Maybe someday it will happen. Meanwhile, I’m lucky Uncle Jim has this place and lets me board Carrot here. Okay, you’ll need to turn at that next unpaved road on the right,” she told him.
They drove up the long, narrow gravel driveway, and Brenda directed Blake to stop the car in front of a large, two-story, ranch log home with a green corrugated metal roof. He got out of the car, and stretched. He looked around but didn’t see any other vehicles. “Is your uncle here?”
/>
“He doesn’t seem to be. Maybe he’s in town having breakfast, or visiting a neighbor down the road. I called him last night and asked if I could borrow Apache for my friend to ride and he said it was fine.”
The ranch lay in a valley of acre upon acre of flat green pastures. Here and there were what was left of the original homesteads—ancient, crumbling, weather-beaten barns and other outbuildings, the sun bouncing bright rays off their newer, corrugated tin roofs. Mile after mile of often rusting, barbed wire fencing and tilting wooden posts, stretched across the land. In the distance, the rugged Cascade Mountain Range surrounded the valley.
As they drove in, Blake noticed that many farmyards were cluttered with rusting pieces of discarded farm machinery and automobiles, rotting lumber and useless plumbing fixtures. Ducks and chickens scratched in the mud. Children’s bicycles and toys lay across the muddy brown lawns of tired, moss and vine-covered houses. Other farms were neater, with double-wide manufactured homes, encircled by well-kept flower gardens, birdbaths and wooden wishing wells on immaculately kept lawns.
These homes were interspersed with post and beam timber homes with their high-peaked roofs and floor-to-ceiling great rooms that belonged to the non-farm families. Burnt wood signs proudly displayed their owner’s names. And farther down the valley, nearly hidden among the trees along the river, he saw the A-frame recreation cabins of their weekend families. He thought it was kind of sad to see the gradual change in the Teanaway Valley from farms and ranches to vacationland.
“There are the horses,” Brenda said, breaking into his thoughts. She pointed to a half-dozen brown and red figures that grazed at the farthest end of a ten acre pasture.
“How do we catch them?”
“You’ll see.”
He watched as Brenda took a key on a string out of her pocket and fitted it into a large padlock on the thick old wooden barn door. She opened the door to reveal a low-ceilinged room. Long, thick pegs on the walls held various styles and sizes of western saddles draped with thick, woolen horse blankets and pads. Smaller pegs above held halters with ropes, and leather bridles. Another wall supported a deep wooden, metal-lined grain bin, and Brenda walked purposefully toward it, grabbing a big metal scoop off the wall. She plunged the scoop into the grain bin, and then dumped the grain into two large coffee cans, and held them out to Blake. “Would you hold these?”
