by Sarah Thorn
I shook my mind of the thought.
“Excuse me,” I said. “I’m trying to leave.”
I attempted to skirt around him, but his hand fell on my shoulder.
“Erin, please,” he called.
The cashier girl was thoroughly invested at this point, chewing her gum intently as she leaned over the counter to take in the scene.
Matty let his hand fall away, and I immediately felt where his warmth had been and left.
His voice lowered. “We got off on the wrong foot.”
I folded my arms and faced my body toward him, though I looked to the side.
I didn’t say anything.
“Look,” he said. “I’m sorry things have been weird between us, but what did you expect? You left me on our wedding day, disappeared for six years--”
“Oh, we’re just jumping into it, just like that?” I snapped at him in a hushed tone. “I’m sorry you feel that way. I thought I was just an old friend you happened to run into at the ole’ country store.”
He towered over me several inches, but it never phased me to get in his face when I needed to. It was a match a long-time coming.
“What was I supposed to say?” he held up his hands. “Here, Allison, this is the woman who bailed out on my first attempted marriage, how would we all like to go out for steaks and wine?”
I laughed.
“And that!” I pointed at his face. “What is that? You’re so--so--”
“So what?” his face came closer to mine, challenging me.
I waved my hand and stepped away, gesturing toward him.
“The suit and tie, the tall, dark and shy, businessman--who the heck is that?”
“It’s me,” Matty pointed his thumb to his chest. “You wouldn’t know, because you’ve been gone, remember? And, by the way, what gives you the right to criticize me about moving on when you waltz in with a child.”
I pursed my lips.
“Clearly,” he said. “You hold to a double standard. And--I’m not going to be the bad guy here.”
We parted ways rather quickly. Allison had finished her call, I was already out the door, and Matty Gordon was just a remnant of my past life.
I could feel the inside of my chest swelling up, but I was caught between wanting to be angry or to cry. I didn’t say anything when Matthew brought up Philip. I had meant to let him know. But the way that everything went down, it seemed like it would only make matters worse.
In every way that I played the scenario in my head, it kept ending up the same way. Matthew was right about one thing. In this story, I was the bad guy who came in to ruin everything. Again.
Chapter 3
“It’s huuuge!” Philip’s eyes grew wide as we walked into the large barn. A few mares chewed on the fresh feed they received. My father slung another sack onto his shoulder, making his way down toward the back stalls.
“This little thing?” he chuckled. “You oughta see them big rigs they got over on the Gordon property.”
I felt myself sigh at the mention, but I was determined not to let the week’s earlier interactions ruin my day. It was an exciting adventure for Philip, who had taken to country living quite well, apparently. With everything seeming a complete novelty, he and my father got along far too well, with Philip asking so many questions and my father proudly standing by to answer.
“I can’t believe I am seeing a real life cow!”
Philip squealed as we reached the end stall.
“You better believe it, kid.”
My father let the sack down.
The stall was wider than the others, with fresh hay piled in. A brown and white female cow, with her middle bulged and round, chewed at the fresh hay.
“She’s due in a couple of weeks. Had Doc Lewis out here for a check-up the other day, and she seems to be doing jus’ fine.”
“Can we see the goats now?” Philip jumped up after his short fascination with the expectant mother cow.
My dad laughed. “So you saw them runnin’ around out back, didn’t you?”
Philip’s eyes grew wide and puppy-eyed.
“Oh, come on,” I said. “You know we’ll be right behind you.”
My father and I followed behind as Philip ran out of the barn and headed toward the back yard, where the goat pen was.
The sound of a car coming down the gravel grabbed my attention. Down the long winding driveway, a slick, black car made its way through.
I shot a glance to my father. He held up his hands in defeat.
“I’m sorry, Erin. Nothing’s final...but…”
I sighed and turned to follow after Philip.
“No, I get. It’s none of my business.”
“Erin, come on…” my dad called out to me. “Erin, please, you have to--auugh!”
His sudden cry turned me around. My father clenched at his chest as his knees hit to the ground. I ran toward my father and held him up.
“Dad, Dad are you okay?”
Matty’s car came to a screeching stop. The door flung open and his footsteps ran toward me.
“Hurry, an ambulance won’t get here in time. We have to get him to the hospital.”
Matty came and brought himself next to my dad, bringing his arm around his shoulder for support. Everything whirred around, and I found myself just going through the motions. I called out to Philip as Matty and I brought my dad into his car. I sat, shaken and silent the whole way.
Gordonville’s hospital was a small one, which made it feel even more claustrophobic. Philip slept nearby in the lobby with my jacket draped over him. I couldn’t bring myself to sit patiently, and instead nervously paced around the room.
Matty was outside taking a phone call. The glass doors of the lobby slid open as he pocketed his phone and came inside. He looked different today, more relaxed. He wore slacks with a knit sweater, and his hair was combed, but not as neatly parted. It looked like he hadn’t shaved that morning. He looked natural, even handsome...and I almost felt drawn to him.
Old habits, I figured.
“Still no word?” he said, his hands in his pockets.
“Not yet,” I said. “He’s stabilized, but they’re still running tests right now, and not letting us see him.”
“You should really get some rest,” he said.
“It’s 11:30 in the morning,” I folded my arms over my chest. “I don’t need rest.”
Philip began to stir in his spot.
“Then at least let me get you both some food,” he said. “The cafeteria is just around the corner. We’ll be here if anything happens.”
I looked at Philip and then at Matty, his cool eyes staring at me. His eyebrows were furrowed, like he was genuinely worried for me.
“Alright,” I let in. “Let’s go.”
“Zelda loves tater tots,” Philip fingered for a tater tot and began to slide it into his pocket.
I grabbed his hand and held it back out.
“But Zelda isn’t here,” I said. “And you don’t need to save it for her.”
Philip just gave me a wide smile, giggled, and ate the tater tot. Then, he leaned out under the table, as if I didn’t notice, and Matty deftly received a tater tot in his large hands and ‘hid’ it in his pocket.
“Seriously?” I said.
Matty let out a low chuckle and winked at Philip, who put his finger to his mouth and hushed secretively. I smiled. It caught me off guard to hear Matty’s laugh again, and to see the side of him that I remembered. When did he become so good with kids? And when did I begin to feel--
Philip tugged at my sleeve.
“Can I go look out the window?”
He pointed toward the floor-to-ceiling windows that lined one end of the cafeteria. It had a perfect view of the mountains in the distance, and the grass beginning to green, with pine trees scattered all about.
“Go,” I said, and he ran to smoosh his face into the window.
Matty chuckled again.
“He’s a fun kid,” he said.
>
I rolled my eyes and smiled.
“He’s a handful.”
I played with the straw in my drink before looking back at Matty. His eyes were already set intently on me, deep and piercing. My heart seemed to skip a beat.
“Thanks,” I said, diverting my eyes. “For helping, and for giving us a ride, and…”
“No, it’s alright. It’s the least I could do.”
“I’m...sorry for earlier, for being upset with you and yelling at you and--well, I know I was kind of a jerk. You’re right that I got too upset. I mean, I’ve been gone a long time and the town’s really grown and changed...”
I trailed off and fiddled with the sleeve of my sweater.
Matty let out a breath.
“I’m sorry, too. I got caught up in seeing you again--it--it brought back a lot of old memories. But we’re past that now, right?”
My eyes met with his again, and answered, “Yes.”
But in my heart, I admitted it to myself, the very fact that I had been guarding since I returned. It was stronger now that we were here, together. In that moment, I saw that the Matthew Gordon in front of me, was still the Matty Gordon I knew. Warm and compassionate, always ready to help, daring and kind.
And his laugh.
Just like his son...
We sat in silence for a few moments more. The cafeteria was mostly empty. A few workers cleaned the food lines, and a scattered bit of people sat quietly in the great hall. Philip was busy marveling at the landscape, spouting off ‘facts’ he learned about trees and birds.
Matty shifted in the booth, and opened his mouth as if to speak, when my phone rang.
I grabbed onto my phone. “Yes? Yes, we’ll be right there.”
I stood up and gathered my things.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “What was it you were going to say?”
He stood up and brushed his hand through his hair.
“Nothing. Let’s go.”
It was fitting, really. I first met Matty Gordon in the hospital. I don’t remember it, but when we first got engaged, it was the never-ending story that everyone liked to tell. A wealthy ranch owner and his wife, dawdling at their new baby boy, when just a few bassinets over, a curly-haired little girl was being ‘ooed’ and ‘awed’ at by her own family. Everyone always said it was meant to be. We were only three days apart, but from then on, we were always within each other’s sites.
It didn’t start off too great. Matty always had a way with getting in trouble, and I was always ready to follow. If there was ever an occasion, everyone could bet that Matty was out starting a fire, and I was sitting nearby stoking it. The McGarity farm was always way out of town, but the Gordons were about as close as neighbors came. So Matty and I had plenty of time, on plenty of space, to get to know each other.
As we grew up, however, things began to change.
My mother died when I was in high school, and it took its toll on my father, and me. I always admired my mom, and she always loved to share with me her love of books and adventure--but it was never something she had ever experienced herself. She spent her whole life never even reaching as far as the Wyoming border. It was at her death that I had inwardly decided I didn’t want that to be me, never getting to live out my dreams and experience life.
But life was exactly what came. I studied as best I could, spent my college days in Missoula, which for Montana, is all the best you can get for the city life, and in the summer before my final semester, Matty proposed.
We always knew it was coming. Everyone always knew it was coming. We had more than outgrown our childhood days of mischief, and had entirely fallen in young love by the end of high school. There wasn’t a day that I wasn’t sure I was going to marry Matty.
And then the night before our wedding, I found my mother’s old journal.
She spun marvelous tales--she loved to tell stories--and she recorded them all for herself. She talked of days when I was growing up, days she felt frustrated, and days she was filled with utter joy. She liked to write down interesting facts and tidbits she learned from her books about all the places she dreamed of one day going. It made me think. And for a split moment, as I began walking down the aisle the next morning, I doubted.
Chapter 5
“You can’t take it back!”
I shouted at Philip who had piled some shriveled plants and branches into his arms, collected near the overgrown garden patch.
“I know that,” he said.
He seemed to playing with the dead plants more than collecting them.
I pulled at the long gloves in my hand, setting the wheelbarrow with mulch beside me. I had been up since six in the morning, doing the farm rounds, feeding the animals, and decided to try my hand at sprucing up the garden area out back. It was beginning to be warm enough to prepare for planting.
A black sedan began pulling down the driveway. I wiped a few stray curls away from my face.
The door opened up to reveal Matty stepping out, and I was taken aback at seeing him in work boots, jeans, and a flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up. His hair was a bit unruly, and I felt my cheeks grow warm.
I shook my head at the thought.
“What are you doing all the way down here? Don’t you have cake tastings or something to go to?”
Matty laughed, and so did I. When did I get so playful?
“I figured I’d come and lend my services to the McGarity farm while Mr. McGarity is recuperating.”
“You don’t have to do that,” I said. “We’re fine on our own.”
Philip made a yelp as all of the plants he collected fell toward the ground and scattered about.
I sent Matty a look, to which he laughed.
“Hey, Philip,” he said. “Have you ever milked a goat before?”
My eyes grew almost as wide as Philip’s who came running toward Matty. Matty sent me a wink.
“He’s going to love this,” he said.
I sighed and looked at the garden.
It’s been a while since I got my hands dirty. I laughed silently to myself.
“You seem to be a natural.” I grabbed the bucket of milk from Philip as he and Matty came into the house for lunch.
“It’s so cool,” Philip squealed. “The goats are kind of cute.” Matty hoisted him up to wash his hands at the sink. “But not as cute as Zelda,” Philip noted matter-of-factly.
I laughed.
After lunch, Pete stopped by the house.
“Here to be of service,” he announced, making his way into the kitchen, his eyes shooting to the scene of me and Matty and Philip altogether. “And apparently not the only one.”
Matty and I shot a glance toward one another.
“It’s not--” I began, my face red.
“No problem. Uncle Pete’s got this.”
Later, after lunch and some catching up, Pete and Philip rushed outside to the barn to check up on the expecting mother cow.
I met with Matty downstairs as he stood in the living room. It was almost the same scene from when I first saw him a week ago, but he looked different now, not just because of his clothes, but more familiar...and perhaps I felt differently as well.
He turned around and I was taken aback by his eyes once more.
“Thank you for everything,” I leaned against the archway of the room.
He smiled, but seemed solemn at the same time.
“I really do want what’s best, Erin.”
I looked away.
“I know. Or, I know now. A lot has changed around here and...and I’m still getting used to it.”
“Not everything’s changed.”
I looked up as Matty came toward me, and held my breath for a moment. He was just a foot in front of me, his eyes intently on mine, his brow just a bit furrowed. There were lines at the corner of his eyes, and it made him look mature.
When did he grow up? I wondered.
“I went to see you,” he said.
“What?” I stood upright, confused
at where this was going.
“A few years after you left, I learned from your dad where you were staying in New York. I thought--.” He looked away for a moment, and I could already feel my chest swelling with emotion. “I thought maybe I would find you and talk to you and tell you that I was done, that I was completely over, that I was glad you left me the way you did because it was a wake-up call.”
Every word he said was like a nail in my heart. I held my hand to my chest as he spoke.
“But then,” he looked at me in the eyes, his voice calm and low. “When I got to your apartment building, I saw you coming out from the other side of the street. At first, I didn’t know if it was you--your hair was straightened, you had on this blue dress…” he trailed off with a smile and then sighed as he shook his head. “I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t bring myself to say any of that, because I realized that--I still loved you. I went across the entire country to just head back home like a complete idiot.”
I stood in silence, everything within me whining at a million miles an hour. What could I possibly say or do in response?
“Do you remember that night we camped out by the canyon?”
I choked a nod.
He closed his eyes as if remembering. “It was the middle of summer. All the wildflowers were out, the sky was clear. Remember how we noticed little flicks of light--”
“The fireflies,” I said, quietly.
He looked at me and smiled.
“You know they’re not even supposed to live up this far north. It was like our own little miracle.”
Suddenly, I felt him closer now, his warmth emanating toward me. His hand on my cheek, and our faces so close, I could almost…
“Life really threw us for a loop, didn’t it?”
I felt the warmth of his breath, and his touch made me want to curl in and never leave.
“If things were different…” I began to say, and as he slowly pulled himself away, I felt the sudden coldness of being without.
“If things were different,” he echoed, his cloudy-blue eyes more cloudy now than ever.
“You’re hopeless, Erin McGarity.” Maggie met with me at the hospital. Two weeks had passed with my father’s condition wavering unsteadily for the first full week. With such an intense attack, and a surgery in tow, he was worn out, but finally ready to return home.
