These Boots

Avelina

Nothing is more adorable than a man trying to mask the pain of a tiny cut. Nate’s hand had bled a lot because of the nature of his injury, not the depth. It was like a large papercut and definitely didn’t need stitches, but he looked horrified by my methods nonetheless. He walked toward the front door to the cabin while he inspected the cut further. Turning, he said, “Thank you, Ava. I appreciate this. It seems the glue is holding.”

“Of course, no problem. Oh, I have something for you.” I ran into my room and grabbed a box that housed a new pair of boots, size ten and a half. I had bought them for Jake but he was never able to wear them.

When I handed the box to Nate, he searched my face for some indication of my meaning. “What are these for?”

“Well, you needed boots and these are your size—the same as Jake, but he never wore these so don’t worry.”

“Thank you. I mean it. This is really thoughtful of you.”

“It’s no biggie. You’ll have to break them in a bit.”

He peeked under the lid. “Wow, I like them.” They were dark brown in a very understated design, something I knew Nate could pull off even with Levi’s after he left the ranch.

“I think they’ll look really good on you.” The whiskey was making me feel braver than usual. I studied Nate’s lips. They were full but not puffy. When he finished a sentence he would purse them a tiny bit and then smirk on one side. It was a subtle but charming habit.

“We should hang out again like this.” I nodded and smiled. “You fixed me all up with a new pair of boots and a super-glued hand.”

I got lost in thought for a moment once again, wondering what it would have taken to fix Jake up. Why couldn’t I fix Jake? My eyes started to water. “I have to get to bed,” I said.

“I’m sorry. Did I say something wrong?”

“No, I’m just . . . I had a lot to drink tonight and I think I need to get to bed.”

He swallowed. “It wasn’t your fault.”

How could he read my mind? It was my fault. Just as I didn’t believe him when he said it wasn’t, I could tell he didn’t believe me when I said, “It wasn’t yours either . . . with your patient.”

“Good night.” His hands were full with the box so he leaned in and kissed me on the cheek. I felt the stubble from a day or two of growth covering his sharp jawline. He still emanated that rich smell but it was mixed with an earthy spice from being outside among the trees.

“Good night,” I managed to get out just above a whisper.

After a long night of drinking, I fell into a deep slumber. There were no dreams of Jake lying in a pool of blood when I slept that deeply. I awoke to the sound of sharp knocks on the door. The clock read five a.m. I rushed to put on sweats and then hurried to the door. Swinging it open, I found Dale on the other side, smiling from ear to ear.

“Hey kid, it’s time. Rosey’s in labor.” She was a gray mare we’d had for a few years and everyone was anticipating the birth of her foal. It was always a little brighter on the ranch with a baby horse trotting about.

“Okay, I’ll be right there.” When he turned to walk down the steps, I added, “Did you tell Nate? I bet he’d like to see it.”

Dale looked back up at me with a warmhearted grin and said, “Sure, I’ll tell him, sweetie.”

In the barn, Redman was sitting on a bench while Bea and Trish peered over Rosey’s stall door.

“Morning, Red.”

“Morning, kid. Why you girls get such a kick out of that scene, I’ll never know.” He puffed his pipe.

I smiled. “It’s a new life, Red. Doesn’t everyone dream of one of those?”

He made a huffing sound and then looked away.

“Get on up here, girl. I think it’s going to be soon,” Trish said to me.

Dale and Nate came walking up just as the mare began straining harder. She was lying on her side and we could see that she was delivering the placenta and not the foal.

“Shit!” Dale yelled. “Nate, get my bag and get back in here. We have to help her.”

Nate left and returned quickly with Dale’s medical bag. Both men rushed into the stall to assess the situation. “What do we have to do?” Nate asked.

“We have to cut the placenta and help deliver the foal.” Dale threw Nate a pair of long gloves, which we were all familiar with except for Nate. “Put those on.” Nate eyed them warily. I’m not sure his vacation plans involved reaching up inside of a writhing horse and pulling a foal out but he followed Dale’s orders with diligence and before long that was exactly what he was doing. Dale cut the placenta and maneuvered the horse by pushing on her belly. Nate reached in and pulled the front legs, bringing the foal’s head with it. After a few short moments he dragged the slimy creature toward the mare’s head. Nate instinctively knew to pull the placenta away from the foal’s mouth and nose. It came away like cellophane.

When the baby attempted to stand on her shaky front legs, everyone let out a huge sigh of relief. After lifting the foal’s back legs, Nate raised his hands in triumph and announced, “It’s a girl!” He was smiling with such joy that it made me smile, too. Trish actually cried happy tears.

“You did good, Nate,” I said.

Everyone turned and looked at me and then Dale said, “You’re right, Ava, he did good.”

We watched the mare clean up her foal and then the moment came when the sweet little baby finally stood on all four legs and took her first steps. We were all leaning over the corral, squinting through the bright sun coming up over the intimidating mountain peaks in the distance. “So precious,” Trish said under her breath. The vision made me feel alive, at least in that moment, and that was more than I had felt in a long time. I knew Trish was so moved by the births of the animals because she could never experience it herself, which saddened me.

Nate watched in awe as the tiny horse very quickly learned how to walk and then run. When she went to feed from her mother, we all turned toward the house. Each one of us was exhausted except for Nate, who looked thrilled.

He came up next to me. “That was amazing.”

“Wasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” he said as he continued walking with me toward the cabin.

I stopped and looked over at him. “Where are you going?”

His smile was shy for the first time. “I was going to walk you back.”

“Oh. You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to.”

“I’m probably going to take a nap; I have a lesson at three.”

We continued walking. “Thanks for telling Dale to come and get me.”

“He might have anyway. What did he tell you exactly?”

Approaching the door to my cabin, Nate stopped and smirked. “He said you didn’t want me to miss it.” His eyes squinted slightly. It was that look that made me feel like he was searching for a way past some invisible force field that protected my soul.

“It’s true. I didn’t want you to miss it. It’s amazing to see that in real life.”

“You’re amazing,” he said in a low voice.

My fingers were tingling. Heat began spreading from the center of my body out to my limbs. I took a hurried breath. He looked down between us at our feet and then reached for my hand. He brought it to his mouth and, without looking up, he kissed it like some chivalrous fifteenth-century knight paying respect to his queen.

He looked up and shook his head. “I’m not this guy. You make me feel . . .” He searched for the words. “You make me feel. That’s it. I haven’t felt anything for anyone like this.”

“What do you feel?”

“I feel like I want to be around you all the time and . . . I just . . . I’ve been thinking a lot lately.”

“About what?”

“About your mouth.”

Before I knew what was happening, I kissed him instantly. He responded equally fast, returning the kiss and pressing me hard against the door to the cabin. Gripping the back of my neck with one hand and moving the other to my hip, he closed any empty space left between us. His lips were soft but his motions were urgent. I let myself forget for just a little while about all of the pain. His mouth moved to my jawline and kissed a trail to my ear. His warm, rough skin sent shivers down to my core.

We were both breathing hard. His mouth went to mine again and that’s when it hit me. Jake was lying in a grave, rotting, because of me, and I was making out with a doctor on our porch. I pushed him away, almost angrily.

He looked hurt. “I need more,” he said, breathing heavily.

“You can never do that again.”

His faced scrunched up. He jerked his head back in shock and then stepped forward again. “But I want you. And you want me.”

“No.” I turned, opened the door quickly, and locked it behind me. I slid against the wall and fell into a boneless pile on the floor.

Through the door, he pleaded with me. “I’m sorry, Ava. Just let me in. Just let me hold you.” A few moments went by and then in a lighter voice he said, “You kissed me.”

I stood, feeling the heavy weight of my decision as I opened the door. “Stay there.” I put my hand out.

His arms were crossed over his chest. “I won’t touch you, but we should talk about what just happened.”

I held up my hand and showed him my wedding band still firmly on my ring finger, cemented in place by guilt. “I’m married.”

He was speechless. He looked down and let out a breath through his nose as he shook his head with disappointment.

“I’m married,” I said again.

When he looked up his eyebrows were pushed together in a look of pure pity. He uncrossed his arms and held them out. “Let me hold you for a moment. I can’t imagine that Jake would mind having someone look out for his wife and comfort her . . . just for a moment.”

I moved into the warmth of his body, my arms clutching him around his waist. He ran his hand into my hair at the back of my neck and guided my head down to rest against his chest. I fell into quiet sobs. Tears ran steadily down my face and onto his clothes. Rocking back and forth, he whispered, “Shh. It’s okay.”

I had broken down to Nate twice in a short amount of time. I had fallen into his arms like a helpless child, hungry for affection. My pain over Jake was surfacing again because my feelings for Nate were growing stronger. I tried to convince myself that nothing would make sense about us, and there was no way we would ever work. We came from two totally different worlds, and he would leave to return to L.A. eventually.

Sniffling, I asked him, “Why do you want to be around me?”

“Because I like you.”

“But what does it all mean?”

“I don’t know, but I don’t necessarily want to analyze it. Why don’t we just enjoy each other’s company? I’ll be here for another couple of weeks. We can fish and ride and try to forget about everything else.”

“And then you’ll leave?”

“Yes. I have to go back. There’s an investigation and I have to meet with the hospital board.”

“And then what?”

“I don’t know.”

I knew the answer. Nate would go back to his life in Los Angeles and I would be left with my guilt and the memory of my dead husband.

“I don’t think that I can . . . be with you. I mean, be with you in that way.” I glanced up to gauge his expression. I could tell he knew what I meant.

“I understand. We’re friends though, right?”

“Yes.”

He kissed my forehead and then let me go, gently spun me around, and pushed me toward the door. “Get some rest.”

I turned back and looked him in the eye. “Thank you for understanding.”

“Of course.”

“Can we go swimming tomorrow? There’s a swimming hole. We can ride there?”

He gripped my chin with his thumb and index finger, tilting my head up toward his face. With a small, sincere smile, he said, “I would love that.”

Lying in my bed that day, I thought back to the kiss and Nate’s words. How he wanted more. If I was being honest with myself, so did I. But then I turned and curled up on the pillow next to me . . . Jake’s pillow. I cried myself to sleep, begging for someone to save me.

It must have been only hours later when I heard a knock on the door. When I opened it Trish was there, holding out a pan of banana bread. “I know you can’t say no to Bea’s banana bread.”

She was up to something. “What did Nate tell you?” I opened the door farther to let her enter. She walked past me into the kitchen and began making coffee.

Standing behind her, I wondered if she was there as part of some intervention or something. “Did you hear me?” I asked.

“I heard you. Nate didn’t tell me nothin’. Let’s have some coffee and some of this delicious bread, made with love just for you.”

“What are you doing here?”

She put her hands on her hips and huffed. “Where’d you learn your manners? I live in the cabin right next door to you and you’ve never asked me to come over for a visit. You rarely eat dinner with us in the big house, and in the last few years I’ve scarcely heard you mumble more than five words to anyone at any given time.” She reached out and braced my arms. “I’m here for you, baby.”

I sat down hesitantly. “Thank you?” I said, like a question.

“I want you to talk to me.”

“About what?”

“About why I saw you twisting tongues with my nephew on the porch one minute and then crying in his arms the next?”

I planted my face in my hands over the table. “I kissed him.”

“Good for you!”

“What?” At first I thought she was scolding me for the kiss. I peeked at her between my fingers.

“Listen, sweetie, it’s okay for you to kiss Nate. Maybe Redman thinks differently, but who gives a shit about what that old man thinks.”

I laughed in spite of myself, and she laughed, too. When we quieted, the heavy weight of my guilt returned, dragging my expression down. Trish looked past me out the window. “You thinkin’ about Jake?”

“Yes.” I bit my lip hard to numb the pain in my heart.

“You still love Jake?”

“No . . . I hate him. I hate him so much, and that tears me apart because maybe I always hated him.” I began to cry. “Maybe I always hated him and that’s why he killed himself because I couldn’t love him enough.”

The pain ran so deep in me, though I remained quiet and still on the surface, like an eerily calm lake. No life to ripple the water, no color to show the depth, just a black void. The kiss was like finding my way to the surface and breaking through for a moment, breathless and struggling. I wanted more air but taking it in was painful. I was used to the suffocating darkness. It seemed easier to sink back down into the pain because at least it was quiet in the depths of my hell.

She reached across the table and took my hands in hers. “Jake was a cowboy through and through, not like your California boys.” I shook my head but she went on quickly. “He was raised by a mean drunk and neglectful mother. His only sense of self-worth came from his work and his love for you.” Both of us were sniffling and trying to ward off more tears. “You were more than any man could ask for. Jake knew you loved him but he thought he couldn’t love you back. He didn’t know how, and that’s what killed him. He was dead long before he fired that gun.”

“He wouldn’t have been in that chair if it wasn’t for me.”

“Do you think he would have let that horse trample anyone? It didn’t matter that it was you standing there. What you should remember are all the good times. The times when he was tender with you. He was so gentle but strong. I used to tell Dale that Jake treated you like a delicate little flower. You can hate him all you want but you know it’s only what he did in the end, when he was a shell of a man, that you hate. Have some sympathy for his soul, Ava.”

“He haunts me.”

“I think it’s just the bad memories that haunt you. He’s with the Lord now, and if he’s watching you he only wants what’s best for you. I know that about Jake. He would want you to be happy. I think he thought the only way he could find redemption for his soul is if he let you be. He had put you through enough.”

“How can he be with the Lord if he took his own life?”

“Get Redman outta your ear, kid.” She waved her hand around. “I’m tired of hearing all that nonsense. I’m going to help you put away some of the bad memories.”

We didn’t talk any more about Nate that day. I told Trish the raccoon story and she laughed for ten minutes straight. She insisted that I get rid of the pillow that Jake slept on, and so I did. I even went into town and bought new sheets and some other home goods the next day. We had long gotten rid of Jake’s chair, almost immediately after he died, but the small TV in the corner of the front room still sat there, staring back at me. I picked it up and took it into the main house where Redman was reading in his leather chair.

“Red, do you want this TV?” He stood up quickly and took it from my hands.

“Yes, but Bea’s in the kitchen,” he said furtively, his eyes darting around the room.

“Well, you better put it out in the shed unless you want to get in trouble.” He took off with it, and I knew it would soon be added to a large pile of hoarded goods.

I had held onto that TV all those years because Jake had liked it. It shouldn’t have mattered, though, because Jake wasn’t with me anymore. Back in my cabin, I threw everything of his—all of his clothes and shoes, his toothbrush and razor, and piled them into a box. I kept pictures of him up and mementos that we shared, but that was it. The memory of Jake’s last year was in that box. I carried it to Caleb’s cabin and knocked on the door.

He looked tired when he answered. “Long night?” I asked innocently.

He squinted, appraising me. “What do you want?”

“I’m sorry we don’t get along better. This is all of Jake’s stuff. Maybe you can use some of it, or one of your friends from Wilson’s ranch will want it. There’s good Wranglers in there and Jake’s Stetson.”

Caleb’s eyes grew wide. “You’re gettin’ rid of his Stetson?”

“I have to, Caleb. I know you don’t understand me or how I’ve behaved in the past, but you haven’t been perfect, either. I’m standing here now, trying to make amends with you. If you want the hat, it’s yours. If not, give it away.”

“Okay.” He ran his hand through his hair and then took the box from my hands. “You’re into that doctor so you feel like you can make nice with me.”

“It has nothing to do with that. Can’t we stop this crap between us, please?”

We stared at each other in silence. I finally saw resignation wash over him. He nodded.

“See you at dinner,” I said as I walked away.

CHAPTER 8

Date: 2014-12-29; view: 697