“What?” she asked, her face registering what looked to Finn like genuine confusion. “But why?”
"Because you didn't need that class. You ran rings around all of us, instructor included."
“Oh, no! No way, Finn, that was wonderful! Truly, I’ve never had a guy take me to something so perfectly made for me. And there were things she said, techniques she used, that I’ve never seen before. I learned something back there, truly. Besides, the events we experience in life are never wasted. I know that sounds a little bit too Disney princess for most people’s taste, but it’s how I feel.”
“You know what?” he asked, his chest swelling with a feeling so strong and sudden it almost scared him. “You’re pretty great, sugar.”
Beneath the street lamp, with the first drops of a summer night’s storm beginning to fall, Finn pulled Callie in for a kiss. It was a long kiss, the kind that made you feel like you were sinking into a timeless place, but when they finally pulled apart, Finn was sure that it hadn’t been long enough.
Thirteen
Callie slept poorly after returning from her first official date with Finn. It wasn’t that she wasn’t tired—because she was. The whole going-on-a-first date thing had been more stressful than she had wanted to admit, and by the time they got back to the house, she’d had all she could do to stifle her yawns. There had been some awkwardness she didn’t think either of them had anticipated when they had gotten to the front door, and it had ended in another more awkward, much faster kiss than the one they had shared on the sidewalk after leaving the Paint ‘n’ Sip. After they’d said their goodnights, she had slowly ascended the stairs to the guest room she was calling her own for the summer, savoring the delicious feeling of muscles that were truly tired and ready to sink into bed.
Except that when she had herself all tucked in, she found she was still wide awake, almost as if she had taken a detour and chugged a whole pot of coffee and then promptly blocked it out.
It was the kiss. That kiss was making it impossible for her to drop off to sleep. Every time she shut her eyes, listening to the soothing sounds of her white noise machine, all she could see was Finn's warm, kind eyes. The whole picture was so clear in her mind that she could almost believe they were still standing beneath the street lamp, both covered in a fine mist of rainfall. Her entire body buzzed with the recent memory, made worse by the knowledge that Finn was right there under the same roof, only a few doors down.
“I wonder what he sleeps in,” she murmured to herself before burying her face beneath her pillow in embarrassment. Even alone in her room, she couldn’t stand to think such a thought. She had a feeling that once she went down that road, she wouldn’t be able to find her way back again.
The next day, she was tired, but it was a happy, distracted kind of tired, not the kind that made a person cranky. It didn’t hurt that she had almost nothing to do with herself. Finn was carrying out his intentions to practice all things rodeo for the majority of the day, and Stacy had come to fetch Wendy to drop her off at a friend’s place for a sleepover. Callie had the house all to herself, and she padded around the place in her bare feet, breathing in the scent of old polished wood and the cookies she had just taken out of the oven. She was moving as if in a trance when her phone rang, making her sorry to be startled back into reality. She would have been happy to live in the memory of that kiss for at least a little while longer.
“Hey, Mom,” she answered, flopping back onto the couch and using her free hand to flip on the stereo with the remote, “what’s happening?”
“What’s happening?” came the answer, her mom’s voice friendly but high and tight with the old familiar worry that had Callie’s shoulders immediately feeling knotted and tense. “What a funny question. I don’t think you’ve ever answered the phone that way before. It’s very informal, don’t you think?”
"It would be for a stranger," Callie said, smiling warily to herself at the mirror hanging on the wall opposite of the couch, "but not for you. You know I know it's you, right? Your name comes up on the caller ID."
“Yes, I suppose that’s right,” her mom allowed, giving Callie a momentary hope that this conversation wasn’t going to be one of her mother’s stressful, nervous ones. “It’s a good thing, too.”
Callie considered her options. The most obvious one would be not to play into her mother's obvious intentions with that kind of a comment. It might be possible to smooth everything over and direct the conversation onto other topics, but she didn't think it would do any good in the end. Her mom had that odd edginess to her voice that she got when really focused. When she sounded like that, it was usually better to ride the wave and deal with the matter at hand. It didn't matter that Callie wasn't in the mood. She’d learned a long time ago that her mother's anxiety for her was almost impossible to stand up to.
“What do you mean, Mom?” Callie asked in her most soothing, patient voice. “What’s a good thing?”
“Only that you’ve been in touch so seldom lately that I’m not sure you would remember our number.”
“Mom, it’s been the same number my whole life,” she said with a little laugh. Beneath the laugh, though, came a little pang of guilt as well. There was some truth to what her mother was saying. She hadn’t been in touch as much lately, and she knew what inconsistency did to her mom’s nerves. Her mom, who had spent so much of Callie’s early years trying to keep her healthy, had never quite gotten over the habit of worrying over her only child. In fact, it had been the reason why her parents had separated. While her dad was all for letting her experience life, her mom still refused to let go and acknowledge that she’d finally grown out of her birth defect and was ready to tackle the world.
“Well,” her mother sniffed, “even so. All I’m saying is, it would be nice to hear from you a little more often. It’s not like we’re going to have you around for a whole lot longer, and I’d like to talk to you about your plans.”
“Sure,” Callie agreed, biting back a feeling of dread. She’d been pointedly avoiding this same subject in her own mind for a while now, stepping around it as nimbly as she was able every time it reared its ugly head. “What about them?”
“Why, your move, of course!” Her mother laughed shrilly. “What else? Really, Callie, I don’t know what’s gotten into you. It was all you wanted to talk about a couple months ago. I don’t understand what’s made such a change come over you.”
“Nothing’s changed,” Callie answered quickly, doing her best not to sound defensive or worse, revert back to her adolescent self. “I’m just trying to enjoy what I’m doing right now. I’ve been thinking lately that maybe it’s not a good idea to always look forward to what’s next. I’m trying living in the moment on for size.”
Callie waited, tentatively hopeful that her mother's response would be positive. After all, this was exactly the kind of thing her mom had recommended when Callie was a little girl and constantly sick. But her mother said nothing. Silence, so much silence coming through on the other end of the line that Callie thought she could hear the old grandfather clock chiming the hour in her parents' living room. She sighed again, making less of an effort to hide this one from her mom, and plunged deeper into the conversation. One she had no desire to have.
“What are you thinking, Mom? And please, don’t say nothing. I can hear that it’s something.”
“I don’t know, Callie, I really don’t,” her mother said, coming back with a sigh of her own that put Callie’s to shame. “This all sounds so unlike you. You’re a planner, baby, that’s just how you are, how you’ve always been. I’m just not sure what’s come over you to make you act so differently now.”
That was a question Callie had an answer for, and for a horrifying moment, she was sure she was going to open her big, fat mouth and spill everything. Her entire body felt itchy with the memory of that kiss. All she wanted to do was go over it, bit by bit, relishing every single moment of it. Her mother wouldn't understand that, as Callie knew all too
well. Even worse, Callie was afraid that her mom would try to spoil that memory, all in the name of Callie's own good. She would really mean it, too, but in the end, Callie would wind up losing something that felt too special to let go of.
She was sitting there, feeling paralyzed and unable to work out what to do next, when the front door opened and banged shut again. A moment later, Finn popped his head around the corner, his eyebrows raised and a hopeful smile on his face.
“Callie?” her mother said again, her voice tighter still. “Are you still there?”
"I'm still here," Callie answered, forcing a cheerful tone, "and I don't want you to worry about a thing. Everything is going just the way it's supposed to. I'm sorry to say, though, I have to go. Finn just walked through the door, and I should make sure he doesn't need anything."
“But—” her mother said, the beginning of what was sure to be a spirited protest.
“I’m sorry, Mom,” Callie repeated, “and I promise, I’ll call you again soon.”
She hung up the phone before her mom could say anything else, gripped by a mixture of guilt and exhilaration. She couldn’t be completely sure, but she didn’t think she had ever come so close to hanging up on her mom before. Growing up, Callie had always done what she was expected to do, whether or not she was longing to go and do something else. She knew her mom loved her, but her constant hovering as if she should be wrapped in bubble wrap before taking a step made it difficult for her to enjoy things.
“Yikes,” Finn said, raising his eyebrows and looking at Callie questioningly. “Did I walk in at a bad time? Because I can come back.”
“Come back? Are you kidding? This is your house, Finn. You can do whatever you want, as far as I’m concerned, although I’m a little surprised to see you right now.”
“Good surprised or bad surprised?” he asked, making no show of moving out of the doorway. “Put me out of my misery. Tell me what I’m working with here.”
“Good surprised,” Callie smiled, “always good surprised. I just thought you were going to spend the whole day doing your rodeo thing. You seemed kind of excited about it.”
“I was excited about it,” he agreed. “Only when I got started, I wasn’t so excited anymore.”
“How come?” Callie asked in concern, sitting up a little straighter. “What’s wrong?”
"Nothing," he assured her, "not a single thing. Only, I got this idea in my head of something I’d rather do instead. If you're up for another little adventure, that is."
“I might be, depending on what it is,” she allowed, reveling in the thrill of anticipation. She would have said that she felt like a schoolgirl finally getting the attention of her biggest crush, except she hadn’t ever felt like this back when she was in school.
Meanwhile, Finn sucked in his breath between his teeth, making a big show of there being a problem. “If that’s your condition, you might as well just say no,” he said regretfully, twining his thumbs through his belt and leaning back against the doorframe. With his boot-clad feet crossed casually and that easy grin on his face, he looked as if he was having the time of his life. Even his cowboy hat looked like it was having a good time, set at a jaunty angle and cocked to one side. Seeing him so, she knew she would follow him wherever he wanted to take her. Not that she would come right out and say it. Not when the back-and-forth was so much fun.
"I could," she mused, chewing on her bottom lip. She watched his eyes drop and felt a secret thrill. He hadn't come right out and told her, but she got the feeling that he liked it when she chewed on her lip. She couldn't get enough of the way he looked at her when she did it, and so, of course, she did it every chance she got.
“Would it help if I told you it involves all your painting things?” he asked, frowning as if it was the worst thing in the world to have to divulge even this much of what he had planned.
“All of them?” Callie asked uncertainly. “Are you sure about that, Finn? I don’t know if you’ve noticed—and maybe it’s better if you haven’t—but I’ve turned into a bit of a packrat when it comes to painting supplies. It would be no small feat to get them all packed in your truck.”
"As a matter of fact, I have noticed, and I'm glad you brought it up," Finn said conversationally, "because what I need to know is, are you just collecting things, or are you one of those people who's going to get pissed when somebody touches your things? Your painting things, I mean?"
“Definitely the former,” she laughed, climbing off the fence and closing the gap between the two of them, “I haven’t gone full-on hoarder just yet.”
"Good," he nodded, apparently satisfied with her response. "Glad to hear it—because I've already got everything in the truck. Let's get a move on, shall we? We're burning daylight."
Fourteen
It didn’t matter how many times she asked him where he was taking her, nor did it matter how she asked. Finn had a whole lot of the stoic cowboy stereotype in him, that much was clear. That part of him hadn’t been much on display since she had come to live at the Henry ranch, but it was out in full force now. No amount of cajoling would get him to say a word in explanation, even as he drove them further and further away from the house and the Henry land.
Finally, he turned off onto a dirt track that Callie was sure only loosely qualified as a road. Although Finn still wouldn't say a word about what on earth was going on, Callie could tell that they were getting close to the finish line. He kept shifting around on the seat of the truck, reminding her so much of the children in her class with a particularly juicy show-and-tell. When he put the truck into park, she flung the passenger door open and hopped out before he could even shut the engine off.
“You trying to get yourself hurt, sugar?” Finn laughed, climbing out of his side of the truck and sauntering around to her side. His demeanor struck her as too casual to be legitimate. The sparkle in his eyes, however, told a different story entirely. It telegraphed his anticipation as to how his unexpected plan was going to go off. “If that’s what it takes,” she said stubbornly, “and I think it was worth the risk, too. What is this place, Finn? How did you find it? I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything so beautiful.”
And she hadn’t. She was sure of it. Just looking around them was enough to drive out all lingering concerns or stress from her conversation with her mother. Gone, too, were the budding worries for her future and what it would feel like to finally take her leave of Finn and his precious daughter. In that moment, nothing registered but the glory of the countryside stretching out before her.
She had lived in the Hill Country all her life, born and bred, and yet she could still be rendered speechless by its splendor. It was like that now, the beauty of the land hitting her like a physical thing. Without her realizing it, Finn had steadily driven them up a hill. In this moment, Callie would have sworn that she could see the whole world from where she stood. Before them, hills reared up, made of blanched rock and white clay, their surfaces peppered with the stout cedar trees that made the outdoors smell so spicy sweet. Far below were the fields, some of them mown and kept while others waved freely. Birds whistled in the trees, polishing the scene with their sweet, simple music. Finn came up silently behind her, slipping his arms around her and resting his chin on the top of her head.
“It’s amazing, Finn,” she said, her voice thick and full of feeling. “It’s the best place I’ve ever been.”
“The kind of place you might want to paint?” he asked quietly.
“It’s the perfect place to paint!” she assured him. She turned within the circle of his strong arms and looked up at him, dimly aware of tears threatening, “Truly, Finn. It’s perfect. How did you ever find it?”
“Well, now, that’s something I’d like to tell you, but not until we get your things set up. It might be selfish of me, but I’d like to see you paint it, to see the way this place looks through your eyes.”
“I don’t think that’s selfish at all,” Callie said earnestly, “just so long as you’ll
tell me when I get started.”
The two of them worked together quietly, easily, to set up her work station. As peaceful as this vista was, she felt as though she had been supercharged with a great burst of electricity. There was something about this place, something important. This place was special to Finn, and she thought that the fact he wanted to share it with her might mean something, too. She took his lead, setting up her tools slowly and with the same almost reverential care that Finn was displaying, all the while wanting only to hear what he had brought her here to say.
“Will it bother you if I sit a little behind you?” he asked, sounding almost shy about it.
“Not at all,” she said with a reassuring smile. “You can sit wherever you like. It’s your place, right? That’s what it is?”
"It is," he agreed, nodding absently as he gazed at the rolling world below. He went for such a long time without saying more that Callie started to give up on the idea of him telling her anything at all, and she busied herself with her canvas, laying in the painted sky with her first brush strokes and anticipating the moment when the picture would come alive for her. It was only when she was half-wrapped-up in what she was doing that Finn began to talk.
“You’re the only person I’ve ever brought up here,” he started, his voice so quiet that Callie had to strain to hear it beneath the whistling wind. “I’m sure other people come here. I can’t be the only person to stumble upon it and think it’s a place worth coming, but you’re the first person I’ve brought here with me. Not even Wendy, even though she’s the best thing in my life.”
Callie waited. She had a feeling he was speaking half to himself. If she said the wrong thing, or anything at all, he might clam up again and decide he didn't feel much like talking after all. In her limited experience, Finn wasn't the kind of man who easily opened himself up for public viewing. Luckily, she was an unusually patient woman. It was one of the things that worked so well for her in the classroom; Callie had the ability to sit quietly for as long as a child needed to feel comfortable enough to open up about childhood woes. If she could do it for one of her students, she could most definitely do it for Finn. She would wait all night if need be. She executed another brushstroke, listening to the wind and the sound of Finn's breathing.
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