by Holly Rayner
“I should have it done in an hour or so,” I tell her.
She bites her lip. I sense there’s something she wants to say to me, but she’s holding back.
“Something on your mind?” I ask. “What have you been up to?”
“Oh, not much,” she says. “I just got off the phone with Christy… I don’t know if I mentioned it to you, but a few days ago I spotted an apartment that might suit my needs. I called about it last night before we had dinner together. Christy checked it out this morning… she says it looks great. I just got off the phone with the landlord. He says the place is mine if I want it.”
“Oh yeah?” I say as my heart drops into my stomach. “What did you say?”
She avoids my gaze and instead continues gazing vacantly at the fire pit. “I said I’d take it,” she informs me.
I lick my lips and look away from her. The thought of Karla leaving the ranch to move into an apartment makes me feel suddenly ill, as if I’ve eaten something that’s not agreeing with me. For the past few days, I’ve been aware of a growing attachment to her presence. Everything seems brighter and lighter somehow when she’s by my side. I knew, of course, that it couldn’t last, but I’ve been avoiding that reality. Now that she’s talking about leaving, all the thoughts that I’ve been stuffing down come bubbling to the surface.
This was only temporary.
She’s not my girlfriend.
She’s not my wife.
She has a life back in Oklahoma City, and so do I.
Clearly, she’s planning to return to business as usual. She said yes to an apartment. What did I expect? Of course she made living arrangements. I can’t be offended by her actions. It’s not personal against me—it’s merely the logical next step.
“Congratulations,” I say. I look down at the rock that I managed to free. Picking it up, I stand and walk over to the fire pit. I fit the rock carefully into position as I say, “You must be relieved to have a place lined up.”
“I am…” she says. “It’s been weighing on me. I hate moving, but it will be good to finally get settled somewhere. Thank you for letting me stay here while I was between places. I’ve really… I’ve really enjoyed our time together.”
I study the rocks, careful not to look up at her. If I do, she might see the pain in my eyes. I don’t want her to see how vulnerable I am right now. I’m not used to being in this position.
I knew that this stay on the ranch wasn’t forever. I knew she was going to leave. So why is it that I feel like she’s breaking up with me?
“Me too,” I say, rather stiffly. “And it was no trouble to give you the guest house. It’s vacant most of the year, and you needed a place to stay, so… no problem.”
“Garrett… you sound upset,” she says.
I shake my head. “I’m not,” I say. “Really. I’m glad I could provide you with a place to stay. I think it’s good that we got to know each other. It will make the logistics of raising the twins much easier.”
A tense silence fills the space between us.
I sense her shifting around a bit, uncomfortably, but I still don’t look in her direction. Instead I walk back to the pile of rocks. I bend down, pick up a rock, and toss it over into a pile of rejected stones to my left.
“I just want you to know that this week has meant a lot to me,” Karla says. “When I spend time with you…” her voice trails off.
My heart pounds. I’m anxious to know what she will say next.
Finally, she continues. “… it’s like I can finally relax and be present,” she says. “You have a really special place here. It’s like a little bubble.” She laughs nervously. “I guess maybe I got a little too caught up in it, you know? When we were out on the trails, it was easy to pretend that nothing else existed.”
I lift another rock and bring it over to the pit. I line it up with the others. “I know what you mean,” I say.
“Now it’s time to go back to the real world,” she says.
I nod. “We didn’t make as much progress, with regards to the pregnancy, as we wanted,” I say. “Maybe it was all that trail riding…” I try to laugh, but it comes out forced.
“Maybe us getting to know each other was better than drawing contracts,” she says. “I feel like I can trust you now. I hope you feel the same about me.”
I can’t avoid it any longer. I finally look at her. She has her hands in the back pockets of her shorts. She looks tense, waiting for my reply.
“I do,” I say. “I feel like I can trust you.” It’s the truth. It’s also not easy to say. My experiences in the world of business have taught me not to trust easily.
“Good,” she says. “I think that’s important for us, going forward. The twins are going to arrive before we know it. So, you’re good with the way things are, between you and I?”
I hesitate. Am I good with the way things are, between Karla and I?
No. I’m not. I want more. There’s a feeling inside of me, like pressure building. I’m holding back a tidal wave of emotions, and I’m afraid if I release it, it would cause chaos. We’ve worked so hard to keep things orderly between us. It’s important, if we’re going to raise the twins together, that our relationship is clearly defined. Me blurting out my feelings now will only cause uncertainty.
There’s so much that I want to say to her—but I don’t know how to say it. I want to tell her that this week has been one of the best of my life. I want to tell her that I have feelings for her—strong feelings—feelings that I can barely acknowledge, let alone name or speak aloud.
I slide the rock an inch to the left, until its bumpy, rough edges collide with the neighboring rock.
“Sure,” I say. “I’m good with the way things are between us.”
Karla shifts her feet in the grass. She clears her throat and then says. “I’m really… well, I’m grateful that you’re so willing to support the twins. You’ve been so cooperative. I wasn’t sure how things would go, but it’s been much easier than I imagined.”
“Me too,” I say. “I’m glad…” I look at her, but looking into her eyes makes me feel as though my heart might break. “I’m glad we could both handle this so responsibly,” I say. “Now that I’ve gotten to know you, it will be much easier to send payments each month. I like knowing where my money is going.”
“I’ll handle it responsibly,” she says. “And I hope you know that I really meant what I said about custody. I’m open to sharing. I’m not going to fight you on that.”
There’s another tense silence. I’m about to suggest that we should finally draw up the contracts that we’ve been avoiding all week, when I hear my son, calling out for me. His camp ended yesterday, and he’s been helping me, in his own distracted way, with the fire pit.
“Dad! I found it!” he says. “I found the level that you asked for, in the garage!”
I shake my head. “Colt, I asked you to find that over an hour ago.”
He laughs. “I know. But I had to make a sandwich. I was starving! And I didn’t burn the toast, so you should be proud of me.” He reaches Karla and me and sets the level down on the fire pit. “Hi Karla!” he says. “How do you like the fire pit that me and Dad are building?”
“I love it,” she says.
“We’re going to cook hot dogs on sticks over it,” Colt says. “And heat up beans in a can—just like real cowboys do. Right, Dad?”
I grin, happy for the change in the topic of conversation. “Exactly,” I say. “Maybe some hamburgers, too. And I’m not sure about the beans… We might have a salad as a side dish instead.”
Karla makes a face. “I’m not sure cans are made the same as they used to be,” she says. “They have plastic linings these days… I don’t think you’d want to actually heat a can up.”
“Salad it is,” I say. “Karla, do you want to join us for dinner? You’ve cooked so many times for us, let Colt and I return the favor.”
“Yeah!” Colt says. “I’ll be in charge of the hot dogs, so
Dad doesn’t burn them.”
Karla smiles. It’s a sad smile, but a genuine one. “It is our last night here,” she says. “I suppose we’d better enjoy it. It’s going to be hard to leave tomorrow.”
“It sure is,” I agree.
The truth is, it’s going to be very hard to leave the ranch—and Karla—tomorrow.
At least we have one last night together.
Chapter 19
Karla
After leaving Garrett at the fire pit, I return to the guest house and spend the afternoon getting the logistics of my move worked out. I email Christy, letting her know that I’ll need to spend the night in her guest room, Sunday night. Then I spend a few hours online with my bank, getting a cash advance on one of my credit cards successfully wired over to my new landlord’s account.
I also browse a few job sites, looking for work. I’ll probably meet up with Christy’s sister-in-law, Katherine, to talk about doing the marketing for her salon, but I doubt that’s going to be a full-time gig. I’ll need something else lined up, even if it’s just temporary.
By four I have most of the details sorted out. I move to the bedroom and pack up my small suitcase, so that I don’t have to worry about it in the morning. I do a quick clean of the bedroom and bathroom, even though Garrett told me that he has a cleaning service come in once a week, and I shouldn’t worry about it. Then, I shower and dress in one of my favorite sundresses. At six thirty, I make my way to the backyard.
Garrett and Colt have filled the fire pit with kindling, and a little red, orange and yellow fire is dancing amidst the wood. Colt is excited to be in charge of the hotdogs, and he quickly grabs my attention and enrolls my help with his project. I hold a plate out at the ready while he rotates hotdogs on sticks over the flames.
Garrett is quiet and mostly just watches Colt work. I’m quiet, too. How did this week come to an end so fast? It feels like just yesterday that I pulled up to the house for the first time, with those stomach cramps that took my breath away.
I think both Garrett and I are happy that Colt is with us, to provide a buffer. Otherwise, the tension between us would feel too great. Colt is happy that we’re letting him be the center of attention, and he entertains us with one zombie-related story after another as we eat.
After dinner, Colt runs to the house to get supplies for s’mores. I lean back in my chair and look up at the stars above. Somehow, between all the bustle of preparing and eating dinner, the sun managed to sink below the hills in the distance. The sky is a dark, indigo blue. The stars are like tiny diamonds, suspended in space.
“Don’t see stars like this in the city, do you?” Garrett says, getting up from his chair to stir the fire.
“Definitely not,” I say. “At my old apartment, I had one window in my bedroom. When I looked out of it, up into the sky, all that I usually saw was the neon lights of the drugstore sign across the street.”
“Willow Creek has rules about light pollution,” Garrett says. “Even the businesses in town have to turn off their lights after a certain hour at night.”
“I’m really going to miss it here,” I say.
“I’m going to miss having you—” Garrett begins. But before he can finish his sentence, Colt’s voice cuts through the night. “Dad… where did you put the chocolate? I can’t find it!” he calls out from one of the back doors of the ranch.
“It’s in the refrigerator!” Garrett yells back.
Colt disappears, and Garrett shakes his head. “I knew that would stump him… But it started to melt on our drive back from the store yesterday, so I stuck it in there. I meant to take it out.”
“You forgot,” I say.
“I’ve had a lot on my mind,” he says. He’s still crouched down low, by the fire. His face is hidden in shadows. Only a thin sliver of light flickers against his profile. I wish I could see into his eyes, but I can’t.
“Me too,” I say. “This week went by fast, didn’t it?”
“In some ways, yes,” Garrett says. “But in others, it’s felt like a lifetime.” His tone is heavy, as though he’s thinking about a burden that he has to bear.
I want him to explain what he means, but the sound of Colt running across the yard stops me. “I have everything we need!” he says, before arriving breathlessly at the fire pit and positioning himself between Garrett and I.
“Then let’s get to roasting,” Garrett says. “Am I allowed to toast up my own marshmallow, or are you afraid I’m going to burn it?”
“Dad!” Colt says with a groan. “I’m not afraid you’re going to burn it… I know you’re going to. You’d better let Karla toast yours for you. I’m going to make two for myself.”
Colt rips open the bag of marshmallows, takes two out, and spears them with a pointed stick. Then he passes the bag to me.
I stand and reach for a stick.
The marshmallow is soft; the stick slides easily through it. I place the marshmallow over the flames and then look at Garrett’s silhouette. “How do you take your marshmallows?” I ask. “Rare, medium rare… well-done?”
“You’re the expert chef,” Garrett says. “I’ll let you decide.”
“Well-done it is,” I say, rotating the stick slightly as one side begins to bubble and turn golden.
Colt’s marshmallows droop off the stick, and he pulls them out just before they fall into the flames. “Ah!” he says. “I almost lost them!”
I’m standing within reach of the graham crackers, so I manage my marshmallow with one hand and with the other, I pull two crackers from the package and hand them to Colt. “Quick!” I say. “Put them on here.”
Colt gets the marshmallows onto the crackers and then looks at his dad. “Dad,” he says. “Karla is good at everything.”
Garrett chuckles softly, and I laugh a little, too.
“She is, isn’t she?” Garrett says.
“Can Karla move in with us?” Colt asks.
Garrett and I both go quiet. Colt, oblivious to the tension, goes on. “I like her more than Cinda.” He places a few squares of chocolate on his melted lump of marshmallow, and then covers it with the second graham cracker. When he bites it, a streak of chocolate smears across his cheek.
“Colt…” Garrett says gently. “Karla can’t be your nanny. She has her own job, her own place to live… her own life to attend to.”
Colt swings his gaze over to me. “You don’t want to live with us?” he asks.
I open my mouth, trying to find words. My heart aches. Confusion wells up in me. How can I explain my feelings to this innocent child? I can barely understand them myself. Garrett hasn’t told Colt about the twins yet. I don’t think Garrett knows how to explain to Colt that my pregnancy was a mistake. I don’t blame him.
“I, um…” I say, struggling to speak.
Garrett, thankfully, relieves me. “Colt, buddy, let’s let Karla finish roasting her marshmallow. We’ve all had a great week together. Let’s just enjoy this night together, okay?”
I swallow, thankful that Garrett let me off the hook. The marshmallow I’m holding above the flames is now evenly golden-brown, all around. I bring it over to the little folding table and begin creating a s’more.
Colt pipes up again. “You’re going to come see us when we’re all back in the city, right Karla?” he asks.
My back is to the fire, but I feel Garrett’s eyes on me as I nod. “I’d like that,” I say. I imagine what it will be like, bringing the twins to Garrett, so that he can have them for a few days. A vision of myself, standing on his doorway, handing over two bassinets, fills my mind. At the same time, sadness fills my chest.
Back in the city.
Soon, we’re all going to be back in Oklahoma City.
All of this will be gone.
“Hey, want to hear a song I learned this week at basketball camp?” Colt says. “One of the counselors taught it to us. It starts like this: There once was a cow who couldn’t say moo…”
An hour, plenty of songs, and two sweet
s’mores later, Colt yawns several times in a row, and Garrett stands. “Let’s get you to bed,” he says to his son, ruffling his hair. “You’ve had a long day.”
“Living like a cowboy is hard work,” Colt says.
“You’d better say goodbye to Karla now,” Garrett tells him. “She’s leaving early in the morning.”
I squeeze Colt hard, savoring the hug. I’m not sure when the next time I see him will be, and I know I’m going to miss him like crazy until then.
“You’re going to do great with those percentage problems at school,” I say.
He frowns. “I don’t want to go back to my school,” he says.
“They’re easier than fractions,” I tell him. “You’ll see.”
“Come on, buddy,” Garrett says. He lifts a bucket of water, positioned near the fire pit, and pours it over the logs. As the fire crackles, sizzles, and then dies out completely, he takes his son’s hand.
Before leading the sleepy Colt into the house, Garrett looks at me. “Good night, Karla,” he says. “If I don’t see you in the morning, have a safe drive back to the city. We’ll be in touch.”
“Yes,” I say. “We will… thank you… for everything.” My voice feels strained. It’s hard to get the words out. It’s hard to see Garrett’s face in the darkness. I wish I could. I want one last look at him before I go back to the guest house for the night.
I’m out of luck, because while he’s still in the darkness, he turns away from me and he and Colt walk across the yard.
I sit for a minute, watching pale fingers of smoke curl upward and dissipate into the night sky. Then, feeling drained, I stand and make my way to the guest house. The house is dark, but I don’t turn on any lights. The darkness suits my mood.
I find the couch in the living room area and sit, letting my head fall into my hands. This is it. This is the end. Tomorrow, I’m going to return to the life I left behind one week ago. I’m going to return to my problems. My time here with Garrett will fade into a distant memory.
