Glass Girl

by Kurk, Laura Anderson

  We ate quietly for a while, enjoying the view.

  “So how many other girls have gotten the better than average tour?”

  “You’re the only one.”

  “I find that hard to believe.”

  “It’s not like I’ve had a heck of a lot of time to date, Meg.” He looked at me sideways, checking my face for some sign of what I was thinking.

  “Well, who is Brooke?” I knew I was touching a nerve, but I had to know.

  He groaned and looked down, and then took a deep breath and looked at me with soft, brown eyes. “Look, those guys were way out of line, and I apologize that you heard all of that. Brooke was a wrangler who worked here last summer. She’s gone to college in Oklahoma. I think Grayson had a thing for her. He’d see her in town some and he acted like an idiot around her. He gave her the creeps. She and I were close and they saw us together a lot, but it wasn’t like those guys were trying to make it sound. And it wasn’t like this either, today, with you. Not for me, anyway.”

  “She must’ve been pretty though.”

  “She was pretty. But she looked like every single girl tries to look these days. You know the look—purely ornamental. She drove Grayson crazy because he’s too stupid to see that there’s nothing going on upstairs with her. She knew her way around a horse and that was about it, for me. She wasn’t like you, Meg.”

  I nodded slowly and looked down, embarrassed that he could tell I was jealous. Why was I jealous, anyway?

  “Don’t think about her anymore, okay? She was…I mean, you are…so beyond her.” He cleared his throat and changed the subject. “So, how about you? Lots of hearts broken in Pittsburgh?”

  “Hah. None that I know of. I kind of always had my nose in a book, so, if anyone was looking, I wouldn’t have known it.”

  “Hmmm. What you’re saying is that you’ve never been kissed?” He found this humorous and his eyes danced.

  “Did I say that?” I glared at him.

  He laughed. “Well, I don’t know if I believe it. I imagine plenty of guys were trying to work up the nerve to ask you out this year, and now you’re here. Poor fools.” He smiled broadly at the thought. “So, tell me more about Pittsburgh. What do you miss the most?”

  “Oh, well, I guess I miss my best friends, Allie and Krista, the most. And the library and museums.”

  “Had you lived there all your life?”

  “Born and raised,” I said. “I lived in the house where my dad grew up. My granddad was with Pittsburgh Steel and he built the house in the fifties in an old suburb called Canning Mills. The kids were all wealthy. There were lots of BMWs and Mercedes in the school parking lot. It was annoying, really. Not at all the real world. I don’t miss that.”

  “What does Pittsburgh look like?”

  “Well, everyone thinks of old, dirty steel mills with smokestacks and pollution, right? But, really, that was a long time ago. That mostly died out by the seventies. Now it’s a beautiful city. There are lots of huge old oaks and maples, and rolling hills. It’s really green. Not what you’d expect, probably.”

  “You’ve got a pattern going—living in towns where two rivers meet,” he said as he finished off his sandwich and started on his apple.

  “Yeah, I guess I hadn’t thought much about that.”

  “You know the Indians thought that wherever two rivers come together is a sacred place,” he said thoughtfully. “They believed that any confluence of water is there for a higher purpose. The tribes that came through this area were drawn to the place where the rivers met and to the hot springs that were places of healing.”

  “I think they were right to be drawn to this place,” I added quietly.

  “There’s an old Shoshone story that’s famous in Chapin because it’s about one of the local hot springs. They say that this young warrior had fallen in love with a beautiful girl from his tribe. He asked the chief for permission to take her as his own and the chief blessed him with her. But before the ceremony could happen, another tribe attacked their village and slaughtered just about everyone. This warrior had been able to run to the teepee of his beloved just in time to see her attacked by a warrior from the other tribe and left for dead. He was so devastated that he planned to avenge her death and then take his own life. But he needed to wait until he could bury her properly. He hid in the woods until the enemy was gone and then he went back to her. When he held her he found that her heart was still beating weakly. He carried her over the Owl Creek mountains without stopping until he reached one of the hot springs around what became Chapin, and then he walked into the water with her and held her there for three days. He had about given up when she opened her eyes and whispered his name.”

  I smiled thinking about his love for her. “That’s beautiful,” I murmured. Before I could stop them, tears were rolling down my cheeks.

  He touched my hand softly and smiled. He was kind enough not to call attention to my tears. One thing about crying all the time is that people feel like they need to try to make you stop. It’s a rare friend who can just let you be.

  “Why did your parents want to leave Pittsburgh?”

  “My dad’s friend really wanted him to be the one to lead a new marketing initiative for the Hotel Wyoming, and I guess we were just ready for a change.” I was hoping he couldn’t see through my canned answer.

  “What’s it like being an only child? I’ve always thought it would be cool, since I’m one of four.” He shook his head as he thought about his family.

  My heart faltered as his words sunk in. Of course, he thinks I’m an only child. Everyone here does. I’d erased Wyatt when I decided not to tell anyone about his death. If I tell him now, it’ll just be weird. I’m sorry, Wyatt.

  “I wish I wasn’t an only child. So, there are two others besides you and your sister in Nicaragua?”

  “Yeah, I’m the baby. I’ve got three big sisters. They never give me a break. Our family runs high to girls, I guess. My dad has two sisters and my mom was one of three girls. I’ll probably end up with a passel of baby girls one day who all want to date punks when they turn sixteen.”

  The thought of Henry with little girls of his own was pretty irresistible. I had a mental image of him on a horse, with a daughter riding double in the saddle. He noticed my smile and he chuckled like he read my mind.

  “My sisters have all left home now. Kate and her husband John are in Nicaragua and they have Whitmire, my two-year-old nephew. We call him Whit. My other two sisters are in college. Amelia is at CU Boulder and Leah is at the University of Wyoming.”

  “So this is why the ranch is yours if you want it? You’re the only son?”

  “No, it’s because I’m the only one that wants to run it,” he laughed. “My sisters all have their own ideas about what they want to do; and that doesn’t include feeding livestock and growing stuff in this hard ground. They might break a nail. I guess once they’re all married, that could change, but there’s plenty of land to go around. I imagine in time we’ll all end up back here.”

  “The guys that are working at the stable—are they all close friends of yours?”

  “Yeah, they’re like family. Most of the wranglers come for the summer work when they’re in high school and college. Some of them decide to stick around and help out in the off-season on the ranch. James has been with us for seven years—since I was eleven. He’s like a big brother to me. He lives on the property in an old caretaker’s cabin. He’s been dating a girl named Jenny from Riverton for the last few months, and we’ve been giving him grief about it. Apparently he thinks it’s time to settle down. He’s driving us all crazy—moaning about her all the time, and cutting out of work early to see her. He can’t concentrate on anything but Jenny right now.”

  “Is she nice?”

  “She’s too nice for him,” Henry said grinning. “She’s a kindergarten teacher—completely bona fide. They want to get married eventually on this mountain.”

  “Do you have any close friends at school?”
I asked, wondering why I never saw him with anyone but Thanett.

  He looked thoughtful for a moment. “Thanett. I like Thanett,” he answered. “I’ve grown up with all those guys, so I know them all too well. And I’ve always had so many things to do around the ranch that I didn’t have a normal childhood in that way. Not a lot of play-dates at the park as a kid. I guess that just taught me that there’s more to life than the little world of high school. I’ve never been to one of their parties—well, except for last Sunday.” He chuckled once, remembering. “You should have seen their faces when I walked in looking for you.”

  “How about you?” He turned to face me, honestly curious about my answer. “Have you found friends here other than Tennyson and her gang of girls?”

  “Thanett is my friend. Tennyson is nice to me, and Taylor and Sara. But we really don’t have much in common. I guess the truth is I bother them because I’m too serious all the time. Tennyson always calls me ‘buzz kill.’ And they roll their eyes a lot when I’m around.”

  “I don’t think you’re too serious.” He shook his head slowly, watching me. “No, you’re pensive. There’s something sad behind those green eyes but I’m not sure what it is yet. Makes me want to get to know you better, though. Whatever you’re hiding from the rest of us makes you pretty special.”

  I looked away at the sun beginning to get lower in the sky. It must have been close to four o’clock. Reading my thoughts, Henry started packing my backpack and rolling the blankets. “I guess we ought to head back down. It’s going to start getting really cold in an hour or so.”

  “I don’t want to leave,” I whispered.

  Henry stopped what he was doing and knelt down in front of me. He took my hand in both of his and stared at it for a long moment. “Meg, I’m really glad your dad decided to take a job here. I think you’re different from anyone I’ve ever met. And it doesn’t hurt that you’re prettier than any girl I’ve ever seen.”

  “Henry, I…” I tried to gather my thoughts. I wanted to tell him he should run. I’ll only make him sad if he really knows me.

  He smiled to let me off the hook and touched my cheek. “Let’s get you off this mountain before you freeze. Put your gloves on and I’ll lift you out of here.”

  He put the bag and blankets on the ledge above us and then climbed up. Then he leaned over and grabbed my hands and lifted me easily up to him. Trouble and Ben were quiet and still.

  “Wake up you lazy beasts,” Henry called. He tied the blankets back behind the two saddles and then linked his fingers together to make a step for me. I climbed back on Trouble, glad for his body heat. He adjusted my stirrups, made sure the saddle was tight, and handed me the reins.

  “Okay?” he asked, like he did when he helped me off Trouble for lunch. Somehow the question seemed more loaded this time. His eyes lingered on mine.

  “Okay,” I answered firmly, and nodded. We locked eyes for a moment and then he turned to check his saddle. He pulled himself up and led us back out to the trail. I shuddered as a chill passed down my arms. I’m not sure how cold it was, but my teeth were chattering.

  “Your lips are turning blue,” Henry laughed. He murmured something softly to Ben, and Ben stopped quickly. Then he hopped off and left his reins dangling, and came to Trouble to untie my blanket. He wrapped it around my shoulders and tucked it under my legs. “We’re less than thirty minutes away now. I’ll get Ben to pick up the speed. Trouble will probably have to trot a little to keep up but don’t let it scare you. I’ll keep an eye on him.”

  The horses realized where they were and sped up naturally. I’m sure they were as cold, hungry and tired as we were. The sky was already getting dark and the temperature was dropping. As cold as I was, I still felt disappointed when the red barn came into view, and I wondered if Henry felt the same way.

  “I know you’re probably pretty sore, aren’t you, tenderfoot?” he asked, slanting a grin back at me. “Sorry I kept you out so long.”

  “I’m not ready for this to be over. And when do I lose the name ‘tenderfoot’?”

  He laughed, “You’ve got to live here a few years.”

  We rode through the fence and the horses headed straight to the promise of warmth and hay in their stalls. In the barn, Henry jumped off Ben and clicked his tongue to Trouble to stop him before he dragged me off on the side of his stall. He lifted me down and then let Trouble walk toward his food and water.

  “Some of the guys are in the back room here that we use for an office,” he said, after he’d unsaddled the horses. “There’s a furnace on in there. Let’s warm you up for a while before you get in your frozen Jeep.”

  He put his arm behind my back, opened the door, and led me in. The heat hit me in the face, and made me sleepy all at once. I yawned as I walked into the room. The six wranglers were sprawled across an old couch and several chairs, still in their work clothes, watching a football game. Six pairs of muddy boots were lined up neatly against the wall. It made me smile thinking about how they were doing what their mothers would expect, even in a barn in Wyoming.

  “How’d she do Whitmire?” James asked as he stood and motioned for me to sit in his chair.

  “She’s a natural,” Henry said. He picked up on how awkward I felt in a roomful of guys I didn’t know. “Meg, you know James and Dylan. The other couch potatoes are Scott, Ethan, Mark, and Kent. They’re all good for nothing wranglers who don’t have a life outside of this barn. Don’t let their ugly faces scare you.”

  “Hi,” I said to the room.

  “Yeah, we’re already familiar with you, Meg,” said Scott, as he grinned wickedly at Henry. “Our boy done got tender on us.”

  Henry smacked Scott on the back of his head as he passed him on the way to a small kitchen. He made a mug of hot chocolate and stirred it as he walked over to me and sat on the floor. When he handed it to me, I wrapped my fingers around the warm mug and held it up to feel the steam on my face. Henry laughed softly at me and then turned around to watch the game, leaning his back against my legs. The warmth of the room, the murmur of the sportscasters, and the comfort of Henry’s nearness had me nodding off.

  “Watch her, Whitmire,” James said, laughing. “She’s gonna pour that down your back.”

  Henry jumped up and took the mug from me. “I think you’re done for, Meg.” He pulled me to my feet and said, “We need to get you home before your folks call the authorities.”

  A chorus of “Bye, Meg” came from the guys, and James squeezed my shoulders, and said, “I really am glad you came and put him out of his misery, Meg.”

  Henry directed me back out into the cold, and I flinched at the blast of freezing air. “I’m going to follow you home,” he said.

  “No, you’re not,” I argued. “There’s no reason for you to go all the way to town. I’m fine.”

  He laughed at me. “You’re not fine. You’re half asleep. And even if you were wide awake, I’d follow you home. I was raised better than to let a girl head down the highway alone after dark. My dad would have my head on a stake.”

  I could see there was no point in arguing. “Thank you,” I said.

  “I’ll say goodnight now so you can just park and run in when you get home,” he said as he took his hands out of his pockets and reached around to hug me. He rested his chin on the top of my head. “I want you to know I really enjoyed today. Thanks for letting me show you around. I hope I can see you again.”

  I blushed again but this time it was too dark for Henry to see. “Of course. I had a perfect day, Henry. I’m glad I got to see it all through your eyes.”

  “I’ll see you Monday in English,” he whispered through my hair. He picked my hand up and brushed his lips across my knuckles then reached behind me and opened the Jeep. I stumbled a little as I climbed in reluctantly and put the key in the ignition. Henry laughed at me again, and then shut my door. He jogged to his truck parked by the barn. When I saw his headlights come on, I backed out and headed out to the highway, telling myself t
o keep the Jeep between the lines. Henry followed closely all the way to my house, and I was hyperaware that he watched me intently. I fiddled with the radio to create a distraction. When we got to my house, he waited in his truck. I concentrated on walking like a normal person to the front door but I felt really awkward. When my hand hit the knob, I turned and waved to him. When he pulled away into the dark, I realized happily that I still had his coat.

  Dear Wyatt—

  I remember how much you loved Winston Churchill. That used to make me laugh. Not that admiring Churchill was funny, just that you had this weird little obsession with him. Yesterday, I was reading something he wrote and I found a line that I thought was appropriately humorous—“If you’re going through hell, keep going.”

  I only wish Mom realized that she has to keep going. She’s clutching so tightly to you that she can’t hold onto what’s going on right now, with me and Dad. And she can’t keep going.

  You know what I’m missing about you today? Three things—first, the way you and your track friends would finish a run and collapse across the sofa and floor in the basement. You’d have just run ten miles and you’d stroll in, all pink-cheeked and sweaty, and happy and hungry. I’d sit on the stairs and listen to you talk about girls and cars and whatever guy movie was out.

  Second, the way you drove—I find myself trying to mimic how cool you were behind the wheel of your Jeep, but I can’t get it. You’d push your seat so far back to accommodate your long legs and stick an elbow out the window. Your right hand would be on the steering wheel some of the time, and in the air punctuating some point you were excited about some of the time.