by Sarah Thorn
“He’s worked himself too much ever since mom passed,” I said.
Pete let out a sigh.
“It seems to run in the family.”
“Pete,” I was already getting agitated.
“Sorry, Erin.”
We continued in silence for a moment.
“By the way,” Pete cleared his throat. “I know I’m on shaky ground as it is, but...”
I turned to Pete. “Hmm?”
“You know, Matty Gordon’s still nearby. He’s a real man of the town nowadays. Got a real head on his shoulders. Really taken after his family business. You plannin’ on speaking with him at some point?”
I looked out toward the side of the road once again. Until that moment, I hadn’t really thought much further. My sights were set on taking care of things with my father, settling the business with the farm, convincing him to move back with me and Philip, and then, maybe, I would find enough courage to talk to him. No, I knew I had to talk to him at some point.
“First things first,” I said. “At least let me get settled in. When, and if I speak with Matthew Gordon, it’s going to be a thought-out, civil conversation for mature adults who’ve moved on.”
“You do know that everyone’s already talkin’ about it? I bet he already knows himself when you’re comin’ in. I’d just be ready for the audience, if I were you.”
I sighed and leaned myself on the armrest of the door.
“Perfect. Everyone’s ready for the sequel. Let’s see how Erin McGarity can embarrass herself in front of everyone--again!”
Chapter 2
Driving through downtown Gordonville was like staring at a foggy, old mirror. Everything was just as I had left it, and yet it seemed entirely foreign to me. The main street buildings huddled together, with the rustic charm of an old Western outpost. Antique shops, a corner cafe, a drugstore, and an assortment of fancier specialty shops lined the strip.
In just a few moments, we had already ridden past the heart of Gordonville. The McGarity farm lay almost thirty minutes toward the outskirts of town.
It was a bright day that seemed the first to really feel like spring after a harsh winter. A slight chill still hung in the air. As the small plots of neighborhoods and farm became scarcer, the scenery once again became the familiar roll of yellow green hills, wet with melting slush.
After several moments, I began to spot large cows grazing in the distance, and a tall, meshed, wooden fence trailing far along the roadside.
“Whose land is this? I don’t remember this belonging to anyone before.”
“This here’s all part of the expansion by the Gordon ranch. Apparently, Matty’s had a lot of success since he took over. Made a few deals with some buyers in Texas. Got some big shot investors to oversee everything.”
“So he’s just been buying out the whole county?”
Pete didn’t respond at first.
“Matty’s a good kid,” he said. “And times have been rough for a lot of folk out here. He makes his living--”
“By selling the town out to some corporate money bank?”
Pete sighed, “By givin’ folks a second chance.”
“Right,” I folded my arms and sighed. “A second chance.”
“Philip,” I cooed toward the backseat. “Philip, we’re here.”
Philip peeked out from the blanket draped over him, his bright blue eyes blinking the sleep away. He brought Zelda’s box close to him as he leaned toward the window.
“It’s so big!”
He marveled at the old farm house, the yellow-white paint peeling off, the shriveled shrubs overgrown against the porch railing that wrapped around the house. Smoke puffed out of the blackened chimney.
As we walked to the house, Philip pointed in the distance to the large red barn, though it looked more brown now, fading into disrepair.
“Are there cows in there?” He found everything around something to marvel at. “Look, look!” He giggled at the chickens that ran about his feet, pointed excitedly at a large willow in the front yard sporting a large tire swing, and hugged tight to Zelda’s box when a bright orange farm cat settled atop the wooden fence-post nearby, coolly watching us with his gaze.
“Erin!” The green screen door banged to a close as my father came out to greet us. His flannel shirt was dirtied, the sleeves rolled up. His heavy boots thundered as he bumbled down from the wooden porch.
“You came much earlier than I thought you would,” he said as we pulled away from a hug. He turned his sights to Philip, rustling at his hair with his large, worked hands.
“Hey there, Philip! It’s been a while. You were just this big when I last saw you,” he held his hands apart from one another.
“We made pretty good time,” I said, ushering Philip toward the door. “We’re tired, but we made it.”
Pete began unloading the truck. I held my hand out toward the door when a large hand closed in before mine, my father grasping onto it before me.
I stood back.
“I really didn’t expect you so early,” he said, shifting.
“Well, we’re here now…” I tried to skirt around him toward the door, but he stepped in front of me.
“You have to understand, Erin,” he said. “It’s a man’s duty to see through all his options.”
“Options? Duty? What are you talking about?”
“I’m sorry I didn’t let you know sooner…”
I began to grow impatient. I was tired and jet lagged, and the last thing I needed was my father presenting me with games.
“Dad, please, just let me--”
“Momma, who is that man?”
Philip pointed toward the front living room window. A shadow moved from inside, the curtain swaying as if they had been peeking out at us.
“Who was that?”
My father shifted his gaze from me and sighed.
“Dad…” the impatience in my voice must have caused him to resign, and he stepped aside.
“I’m sorry,” was the last thing he said.
I walked into the house, the wood below creaking as I entered the breezeway. I could smell the warm fire burning in the living room fireplace.
I unzipped my boots so as not to drag the mud and slush through the house. Then, I turned right toward the living room. The wood was warm and slick beneath my socks. Walking through the archway, I immediately stopped in my tracks, my heart beating, almost jumping toward my throat.
The tall figure turned toward me, hands slouched in the crisp, gray slacks.
“Hello,” he said, in a cool, low voice. “It’s been a while...Erin.”
The last time I saw Matty Gordon was on our wedding day. Well, it was supposed to be our wedding day. I should perhaps clarify that the last time I saw him was as I was running out the door, picking up the train of my dress with one hand, and the straps of my heels with the other, sobbing “Sorry” and “I can’t do this” and “I’m not ready” to the bright-eyed, wiry young boy I had always known growing up.
The Matthew Gordon I saw in the living room was certainly not the wiry, doe-eyed Matty that I remembered. He wore a crisp and polished gray suit that altogether clashed with the outdated, cozy scene of my father’s living room, the shelves cluttered with old figurines and trinkets, and a bright red couch with my mother’s favorite knitted throw. A deep blue tie brought his ensemble together, and brought out the lightness of his blue-gray eyes.
Matthew had always been rather tall, but he seemed much bigger, fuller now. Less of a boy and more a man. His golden-brown hair fell just right, neatly swept, with a few stray strands sweeping across his forehead. His face sported a clean shave, but the afternoon scruff was already setting in, marking his strong jaw with flecks of darker brown. He was polished. I didn’t remember him ever being quite the type.
“Matty--Matthew,” I said, correcting myself. I had pictured our first meeting not so one-sidedly prepared.
“Glad to see you made it here safely,” he said. He turned a smal
l bird figurine to be facing outwardly upon a shelf. “I was just on my way out from talking with your father.”
“On your way out…” I folded my arms. “Right. And what business do you have here, anyway?”
“Well,” he said. “I’m sure you know all about it by now, since you’re so invested in the goings on around here.”
His words were sharp, and I felt my body grow tense. It wasn’t the thought-out, mature, and collected reunion I had intended at all.
“The Gordon ranch is looking to expand, and the McGarity farm has some great things to offer.”
“Excuse me?” My voice raised. “You can’t be serious.”
Matthew continued, seemingly unphased. “For one, it’s a more direct route to get to the Sakatchee River. It would open up more land for grazing. More than that, it would help your father…”
“Help? What help is it to take away everything he’s ever worked for?” My arms waved in frustration in front of me. “The McGarity’s have been in this area for generations! You can’t just come in here and--”
Matthew’s eyes traced to my side, his hands fell out of his pocket, and for the first time I saw his expression waver.
“Momma,” Philip’s hand tugged at my sweater, his other hand hugging Zelda, now freed from her cage, close to his chest.
My hands immediately fell to my side and I patted Philip’s shoulder.
“It’s alright, Philip,” I said. “I was just having a talk with--Mr. Gordon.”
The room suddenly felt tense, and I dared not make eye contact with Matthew.
Pete came fumbling into the house, the sound of luggage bags being placed on the wooden floor.
“Hey, Philip, don’t you wanna see your new room?”
Philip perked up and I nodded permission as he ran toward Pete. I peeked out and sent a thankful glance toward Pete as he and Philip walked up the narrow wooden stairs.
I turned around, only to be awkwardly met with a broad, suited chest.
I backed away.
“Excuse me,” Matthew made his way out toward the hallway. “I should be going.”
I didn’t have any time to say anything before he was already bounding out the door. I peeked out the window as he spoke briefly with my father before shaking hands and leaving for his car, which must have been parked out back.
I sighed and slumped into the red couch. I was so tired, and that was not at all the welcome home I was prepared for. In a moment, the jet lag took over and the last thing I remember was the smell of wildflowers and the memory of fireflies flitting above a deep canyon.
“My, what a pleasant surprise,” Maggie Turner greeted me as soon as the bell rang at the storefront door of Gordonville’s Country Market and Cafe.
“It’s good to see you too,” I said. Wafts of cinnamon and apples filled my senses, and the smell of freshly baked goods. Maggie wiped some stray strands of her jet black hair from her face. Her long black braid fell toward her back, her green apron messed with flour.
We stared at one another for a few solemn moments. Then, a smirk, and I couldn’t hold it in any longer myself. I laughed, and Maggie let out a girlish squeal as we embraced one another.
“Where in the world have you been, Erin McGarity?” she held me out with her hands on my shoulders.
“I miss you too, Mag.”
The ring at the door sounded.
“Come on,” Maggie ushered me toward the cafe nook of the store.
We sat ourselves at a table. It was still early in the day after our arrival. Philip was still at home with my dad, and I took the time to head into town for some items, and not without stopping to pay a visit to my best friend.
I took a sip of warm cocoa from my mug.
“When you said things were rough, I didn’t think you meant Big Man Matthew was going around town buying people out.”
“Okay,” Maggie took a sip of her drink. “Big Man Matthew? What is that?”
I rested my hand underneath my chin, my cheeks red. “I was trying to make him sound ominous.”
“One,” she said. “That makes him sound like Paul Bunyan’s awkward cousin. And two, he’s not really a bad guy. He’s just...really powerful. And wealthy. And handsome...”
I sent her a darting look and she took another sip from her mug.
“To be fair,” she said. “He’s the one with the sympathy card.”
“What?” I sat up in my chair. “He’s trying to steal away everything my family’s worked for!”
“You left him at the altar, Erin. Then you left town. You didn’t call, you didn’t visit. You don’t really have a right anymore to defend the place.”
I grew hot at Maggie’s stark comments, but deep down, I felt it too. I had left. And six years was a long time, apparently. Enough for the entire town to change, and the people in it.
“He’s done some good, you know. I’m sure you noticed all the unique little shops in town--”
“Yeah, it does seem a bit niche, doesn’t it? I mean, who’s coming out to Gordonsville for arts and crafts?”
“That’s just it, Erin. Matthew’s been bringing in some steady flow. We get some real adventure seekers out here, for hiking and hunting, and the investors bring in some top tier folk, you know? They come for meetings and outdoor events, and the Gordon’s host them all at their log cabin club. It’s different, but it means we’re all able to keep our heads above water.”
I sighed without response.
The doorbell jingled at the front of the store. The young girl cashier greeted the customers.
Maggie stood up with her mug.
“I should get back to making pies.”
“This place is so adorable,” a high-pitched drawl sounded through the store, with the clacking of heels hitting the hardwood floor.
Tourists, I thought, with rolled-eyes. Yuppie tourists are exactly what we need in this town.
I snaked my way down one of the aisles.
“Isn’t this marvelous, Matthew?”
Matthew?
I stopped in my tracks.
The woman’s heels came to a stop, and I heard her voice close now, coming from the other aisle.
“Oh, these candles are quaint. Perhaps we can use some of them for the reception…”
I turned to my left, surprised to be locking eyes with none other than Matthew Gordon. He was wearing a sport coat and slacks. I pursed my lips at the sight.
What, did he just step off his yacht in the middle of Montana?
Clean-cut Matty Gordon was almost too unbelievable to witness. It didn’t suit Matty at all, but Matthew?
I laughed a little inside. I bet.
He sighed and turned his face away, trying to cover up the fact that he already noticed me. I thought I saw a little pink in his face, but I figured it was what I wanted to think I noticed.
The woman beside him continued to flit around the aisle, excitedly gazing at trinkets and things. She wore a pressed suit jacket over a dark red dress and black stockings. Her strawberry-blonde hair framed effortlessly around her face.
I was reminded that I let my hair out naturally today, with the unruly brown curls restrained only by a sequined scrunchie I found at the bottom of my suitcase. The tired-mom look was completed with jeans and an oversized sweater with the bold letters “Bring on the Bacon” plastered across the front.
“Oh, hello, do I know you?”
“Excuse me?” I blinked.
The woman’s big brown eyes caught me off guard, her smile bringing me back to the moment.
“Oh--oh,” I pulled at my sleeve. “No, I was just--”
I looked at Matty, and as my gaze followed to him, so did the woman’s.
“Oh, Allison,” he signaled with a hand. “This is Erin. McGarity.” He cleared his throat. “She’s an old friend.”
My brow furrowed. I didn’t have time to wallow in my thoughts about that before Allison began to smile widely.
“Oh, so you knew Matthew when you were young?”
“Yes. We grew up together. Went to the same school all through high school. In fact, it’s funny we ran into each other, because I’ve been living in New York for the past few years and I don’t actually seem to know who you are...”
She huddled closer toward Matty, smiling up at him. His face didn’t seem to reflect the same kind of smile, and he stood awkwardly at her gushing.
“Oh, Matthew. Of course he doesn’t make a big deal about it all as he maybe should. He’s awfully shy--”
I kept in a chuckle. “Shy?”
That’s not the Matty I know.
“Yes, well, he’s always so busy keeping up business and the ranch, but I told him that it’s going to get out eventually, so he should just let it out.”
“Let it out?” I crossed my arms.
“I’m his fiancé,” she said.
My heart skipped a beat.
“Congratulations,” I muttered through a stiff smile.
Matthew said nothing, just exchanging silent glances toward me that were altogether unfamiliar to me now. The shy, polished, business-wiz Matthew Gordon was not someone I knew. And even looking into his cloudy-blue eyes couldn’t change that.
A loud ring sounded through Allison’s purse. I almost jumped at the break in tension. It felt like my way out.
Allison turned to Matthew. “It’s Steven. He’s got some updates on the Tulsa account. It’ll just be a moment.”
She left toward the door of the shop, and after a moment of standing there, stunned, I came to and took that as my cue.
“I should be going,” I began making my way down the aisle toward the door. Matthew’s footsteps sounded in the aisle next to mine as he followed me.
“Wait, Erin,” he said.
I held up my hand.
“Um, okay. You’re finally talking. Nice of you to join the conversation. I’m just making my way out now--”
“Erin, come on--” He sped up ahead of me and cut me off at the end.
I came close to him, his broad chest in front of mine. This type of meeting, or rather an awkward dance, was becoming all-too common for us. I could smell him from where I was; he smelled like fresh earth and pine and my mind drifted to wildflower fields.
