To Be Your Wife

by Rae Kennedy

  Our gravel drive is long, lined with tall poplar trees so you can’t see the house until you are right up on it. Our house has been in the family for generations—it’s an old two-story farmhouse with a wrap-around porch. The white paint has seen better days and the large maple tree in the front needs to be trimmed—its branches are precariously close to the roof—but it is home.

  Even before the screen door has screeched closed behind me, our elderly hound dog, Angus, woofs and trots over, his long ears bouncing. His droopy eyelids close in appreciation as I give his head a deep scratch.

  Two kids run through the room, a blur of wild hair and flailing arms and legs, chasing each other, howling and laughing.

  “I told you two, no running through the house!” Mom fills the doorway, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel. Her voice is firm but there’s a smile in her eyes as she watches her grandchildren play. “Courtney, you’re here!”

  It hasn’t been that long since I’ve been home but she hugs me like she hasn’t seen me in years. I follow her into the kitchen where my brothers’ wives are already chatting. Emily is my eldest brother’s wife, currently heavily pregnant with their third child and Nora is holding my youngest nephew on her hip.

  The kitchen smells like thyme, and gravy, and bread.

  “You arrived just in time. Supper is almost ready, and the men are on their way back to get cleaned up,” my mom says as she lifts a large freckled roasting pan out of the oven.

  “Can I help with anything?”

  She looks at me and smiles. “You can go set the table.”

  She knows from years of trial and error my talents do not lie in the kitchen.

  As I’m laying out the forks, the front door swings open, a cold breeze whistling in along with the shuffling of boots on the hardwood. My two eldest brothers, Jack and Charlie, walk past the dining room boisterously debating which one is better at roping. The debate is silly anyway. Wes is the best roper.

  And then he walks in right behind them—Wes. He stops for a second at the wide cased opening and takes off his hat, revealing his short blond curls. His deep blue eyes warm my skin as he looks at me too. I haven’t seen Wes since I left for school in August, but one look at him in his snug work jeans and cowboy boots and I’m sixteen all over again.

  “Hey, Court.”

  “Hi.”

  He flashes me a brilliant white smile then my father walks in behind him.

  “Go get washed up, son.”

  “Yes, sir.” Wes straightens up when he addresses my dad and it’s still weird for me knowing my dad is my ex-boyfriend’s boss. “Glad to have you home,” Wes says low before continuing down the hall.

  My dad is a large man, tall and barrel-chested. He wears big boots, big belt buckles, and big hats. His brown hair is short and he keeps his full beard neat, but rogue, copper-colored hairs still stick out from his mustache and eyebrows. His warm brown eyes always hold a smile.

  He sees me and his eyes light up. “Sunshine!” He reaches me in two large strides and wraps me in a bear hug. He smells like wind and earth, balsam, and pepper.

  “Tom!” Mom calls from the kitchen, “you best be gettin’ ready for supper, because it’s not going to wait for you.”

  “Yes, dear.”

  Jack comes back downstairs and gives Emily a kiss on her cheek before wrangling his boys to the table. When Charlie enters the room, the baby on Nora’s hip reaches for him with chubby little arms. He grasps Charlie’s shirt with his dimpled fingers and gives his dad a wide, gummy smile.

  My dad helps my mom bring out the beef roast, sliced thick and crusted with black peppercorns. We heap our plates with roasted new potatoes, green beans cooked with bacon, and hot homemade yeast rolls.

  The two boys manage to sit in their seats long enough to scarf down a few rolls and then they are off again. The baby is making a game of dropping his spoon on the floor as many times as his mother will pick it back up. My dad and Wes are discussing college football and my two older brothers are chiding my third brother, Eric, for being late to supper, having just walked in a few minutes ago.

  “Where is Gracie?” I ask my mom.

  “Oh, she’s cheering at the football game tonight.”

  “Court, could you pass the butter, please?”

  I glance across the table and those sparkly blue eyes.

  “Sure.” I hand Wes the butter, our fingers barely touching as he takes the dish.

  He has the same bright eyes and youthful smile he had when we were teenagers, when I fell in love with him, but he has grown up too. His shoulders and arms fill out his plaid shirt, strong with daily manual labor. His skin is permanently tanned, and my eyes follow the short stubble along his sharp jawline.

  “Hey, Court! Are you going to help us sort cattle in the morning?”

  I turn to Eric. “Yup. I’ll be out bright and early, showing you how it’s done.”

  He gives me a wide grin as Charlie claps him hard on the back. “You’re lucky she wants to be a teacher. We’d hire her over you in a heartbeat. She doesn’t need a boost to get on the horse.”

  Eric glares at Charlie.

  Jack, Charlie, and I all inherited our Dad’s height, but Eric and Gracie are short like our mom. It’s always a source of chiding. Eric gets almost as much grief for being short as he does for his red hair. Jack has light brown hair but the rest of us are blond.

  “Who’s ready for dessert?” My mom doesn’t seem to notice everyone groan as she hurries to the kitchen to retrieve it. Even though we are all stuffed to the brim, no one turns down a piece of her cherry cheesecake crumble.

  My dad has retreated to the couch where I’m sure he will be zonked out in two minutes. My mom is hugging everyone goodbye as my brothers and their families pack up to leave, remarking about how they all ought to just build houses on the ranch.

  I’m cleaning up in the dining room, gathering up mismatched glasses and silverware. I leave a couple of pieces of meat on the floor next to the threadbare rug for Angus.

  Wes is stacking plates and follows me into the kitchen, setting them by the sink. I start throwing forks into the dishwasher, water running hot, and he helps rinse the plates and load with me. He asks me the typical questions of how’s school going, I ask him about ranch work, his family. Then there is the question we always ask each other. It’s innocuous, really, but we both know its meaning.

  “Anything new in your life?”

  I shake my head as I place the last glass. “No, not really.” Nothing and no one new. “Anything new with you?” My heart always pounds when I ask.

  “Nope. Same old, same old.” He flashes an easy smile—the same one I’ve loved since we were kids. “It’s good to see you, it’s been a while this time.”

  “Yeah, my final year has been...intense.”

  “Well, I’m glad you’re here all week and you’ll be helping out around the ranch. I’ll be able to see a lot of you.”

  “It will be fun,” I agree.

  He steps toward me. “You’re looking real good.” His gaze flickers briefly down to my lips and the memory of the last time we kissed hits me hard.

  “You too.”

  He’s closer now and my pulse quickens, but he just pulls me in for a hug. His body is solid against mine, his arms sure, and I love being close.

  We pull apart right before my mom walks into the kitchen.

  “Goodnight, Court.”

  “Night, Wes.”

  He gives me a nod then turns toward my mom. “Thank you for the amazing supper, Mrs. G. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Anytime, hun.” My mother smiles knowingly at me as Wes retrieves his hat and steps out the front door.

  “I’ll be so glad when you come home for good and you two can come to your senses.”

  I roll my eyes at her. “I don’t know if Wes and I will get back together when I move back.”

  “Nonsense. Why, Peggy and I were just talking the other day about how wonderful it will be to have grandc
hildren in common! And do you think we can do the wedding here in the yard? Dad can build an altar and we can decorate it with flowers, and we can set up picnic tables.”

  “Ma. Stop.”

  “It will be just like when you two pretended to get married in the backyard when you were nine.” She clasps the dishtowel in her hand to her chest. “Court, your father and I are so proud of the kind of man Wesley has become, we could not have picked anyone better for you.”

  * * *

  After a long morning of sorting cattle for an upcoming shipment, I need a shower. I run upstairs to get a change of clothes. My room looks mostly like it did while I was growing up. Tucked into the attic space, the room is all low-pitched angles as the ceiling blends into the short peachy walls. One large dormer window faces the front of the house, the soft rolling landscape of snow-dusted grasses and cows beyond. The wide plank pine floors are honey-colored, filled with knots and nail holes.

  The room is barely large enough for my double brass bed, my grandma’s antique rocking chair in the corner, and a small dresser along the wall adorned with little glass knobs. There are a few of my more meaningful trophies on the dresser along with some picture frames.

  The first picture is of all of us siblings lined up on the couch one Sunday after church. I’m six, my blonde bangs freshly cut too short and angled up to the left. It was my last foray into hairstyling. My nose is covered in freckles and my gapped-tooth smile is huge and ridiculous. Charlie and Eric look like they’ve just been in a wrestling match—they probably had—and are glaring at one another. Jack’s hair is perfectly parted and combed to the side while he holds baby Grace, pretending she’s not bawling in his ear. She is bald, her face round and red, her eyes shut but mouth wide open, one little white bottom tooth poking out.

  There’s a photo of my volleyball team senior year of high school when we won the 2A state championship. A picture of my parents on their wedding day. And the last one, of me and Wes, his arm wrapped around my neck, his face smashed against mine as he kisses my cheek.

  I grab some clean clothes and head for the shower when a notification dings on my phone.

  I pick up the phone and smile at the text.

  Tuck: I got up early and ran today. Are you proud of me?

  Me: I’m so proud of you. Good Tucker.

  When I get out of the shower I find myself checking my phone eagerly for his response.

  Tuck: *shakes my butt in victory dance*

  Tuck: Wish you were here to witness it.

  * * *

  Wes sits next to me at church on Sunday and our mothers could not be happier, or less obvious as they whisper and giggle throughout the service.

  When we get home, I immediately head upstairs to change into something more comfortable and start working on my thesis proposal.

  I check my phone casually. Another text came through while I was out.

  Tuck: I failed today. Fell back asleep after my alarm and missed my run.

  He finished with a sad-face emoji and then a nervous-face emoji.

  Me: Bad Tucker

  Tuck: I needed you come pull my ass out of bed again, but you’re gone!

  Tuck: How will I ever manage without you?

  Me: Do you need me to give you a wakeup call tomorrow?

  Tuck: I mean...

  Tuck: Yeah

  Me: Okay then, but remember you asked for it

  Me: Also, I always take Sunday as a rest day, so you’re fine. NBD

  Tuck: What!? I was so nervous to send you that text. Seriously, I was sweating.

  Me: You’re cute. Does 5:30 work tomorrow?

  Tuck sends me a thumbs-up emoji.

  Tuck: and yes, I am cute.

  * * *

  I am up at five to get ready for work on the ranch. I put on my jeans, boots, winter jacket, and tie my long hair up then pull it through the back of my cap before going down to the stables.

  It’s still black outside. Quiet. Cold.

  The bare bulbs in the ceiling cast bright funnels of light on the floor. Strands of hay crunch underfoot and the horses start to shuffle and stir as I reach my favorite mare’s stall.

  I brush her chestnut coat and get her saddled up before I call Tuck.

  His voice is deep and hoarse. “Mornin.’”

  “Good morning. Time to get your ass up.”

  “You know, you’re a lot more convincing in person than over the phone.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah. Especially when you break into my house and sneak into my bed.”

  “Hey, I used a key and that last part wasn’t my idea. You pulled me down on the bed with you.”

  Tuck chuckles but I don’t hear what he says next because I realize my brothers have just walked in to get their horses. Then Wes. And my dad. They definitely heard that last part of the conversation. Eff.

  “Hey, I have to go. Have a good run. I’ll talk to you later,” I say to Tuck quickly. His faraway voice says goodbye as I hastily shove my phone into my pocket.

  Eric walks over to the black and white horse in the stall next to mine, giving me a small smile, the stark light overhead glowing off his short red hair.

  “Hey, sis.” He leads his horse out. “Who you talkin’ to?”

  “Just a friend.” I roll my eyes at him.

  “A friend? That’s what you’re going with?”

  “Yup.”

  “Okay, if that’s what you’re sticking to.”

  Past Eric, Charlie has his head tilted our direction as well.

  “You boys are so nosy.”

  I manage to brush off my brothers’ sideways glances all morning, but whenever Wes asks for a hand or gives me a smile, I can’t help but feel guilty and all twisted inside.

  * * *

  My mom insists on feeding everyone, including Wes, when we are done working the cattle. Jack and Charlie go home after we eat but Eric and Dad invite Wes to stay and watch a game with us.

  It’s an easy habit to fall into. Sitting on the couch, sandwiched between Eric and Wes, Wes’s jean-clad thigh pressed up against the length of mine. The boys yell at the television with every poor call and high-five over my head with every score. Mom brings in snacks, my dad pulls her in for a kiss on the cheek before she bustles out commenting on his teenage-like hormones.

  It’s reminiscent of evenings in high school during football season—Wes was at our house more frequently than his own. The only difference is we don’t have to sneak out to the barn to drink anymore.

  Dad passes out during halftime and I excuse myself to go to bed. I’m exhausted. I thought being home in my bed might help me sleep better but I’ve been awake each morning way before my Dad’s five a.m. knock.

  As I slide between the covers, my phone buzzes and I feel around for it under my pillow.

  Tuck: You know what?

  Me: What?

  Tuck: Running by yourself sucks

  Me: I like running by myself. Gives me time to think.

  Tuck: You know what I was thinking while running today?

  Me: Tell me

  Tuck: Running is a lot more fun when chasing after a pretty girl

  * * *

  Tuesday morning, Mom sends Gracie and me into town to get groceries for Thanksgiving dinner. There are only a few main streets in town and a whopping two traffic lights. The streets are cute, though, lined with trees and streetlights. In the summer there are large baskets filled with red and purple flowers hanging on the light poles. Right now the posts are hung with large metal snowflakes and covered in white string lights, the whole downtown aglow at night.

  A soft bell dings as we enter the doors.

  “You’ve got the list?”

  “Yup,” Gracie says as she grabs a cart, her blonde ponytail bouncing. Gracie and I have almost the exact same coloring, fair skin that freckles easily in the summer, bright blonde hair and light blue eyes. We are both lean and athletic, but she’s more petite, her body more feminine than mine with its curves.

 
; She skips in front of me, placing produce into the cart as I check off the list. I say hi to the clerk stocking the bananas—a young guy named Garrett. I ask him how his mother’s doing, remembering she was diagnosed with cancer this summer. Thankfully, she’s almost done with treatment and the outcome looks promising.

  I also run into Mrs. Holcomb in the dairy aisle. Gracie fills the cart with buttermilk and eggs and I chat with the older woman about her first grandchild, a little boy named Liam.

  Marty at the register is excited when I tell him I’ve already accepted a teaching position at the local elementary school and will start immediately after graduation. Gracie rolls her eyes at me when she’s done bagging.

  “We’re ready to go Court!” She has a wide smile on her face, but her foot is tapping the floor rapidly.

  She, apparently, has a busy social calendar that doesn’t involve her big sister. But I guess I was like that too when I was a senior in high school.

  Marty hands me the receipt and gives me a wave. “Bye ladies. Happy Thanksgiving!”

  “See you soon, Marty.”

  Back at home, I finish some reading for a class then stare at my thesis proposal for an hour. I’ve got a few ideas but as soon as I start to get one down on paper, I immediately hate it.

  A buzz from my phone is a welcome respite.

  Tuck: I’m hungry. What should I eat?

  Me: I don’t know, a sandwich?

  Tuck: Wow. So simple. Why couldn’t I think of that?

  Me: How have you survived this long on your own?

  Tuck: No idea

  Exasperated, I put my homework away. I should probably eat too.

  Tuck: Do you think Haley hates me? I think she hates me

  Me: She doesn’t hate you

  Tuck: How can you know? She’s never not talked to me before.

  Me: I have brothers, and even when I hate them, I still love them. She’ll come around.

  Tuck: Okay. Thanks. Wish she would come around soon.

  Tuck: I miss her

  Fuck. I text Haley. Should have done it a while ago.

  Me: Hey

  Haley: Hi

  Me: So I went by your house the other day and Tuck told me about you and Cade. I’m sorry. Do you want to talk about it?