A Light

Avelina

They had been shocked that I filled one moment of my life, one second, with a tiny bit of joy. They didn’t think I deserved it. Trish had reached for me cautiously while Nate had stood there with soapsuds on his hands, looking dumbfounded. Redman’s eyes had been as big as sand dollars, and Bea’s had been squinting and beady, as if she hadn’t heard things right. The walls had started closing in and then I ran, like I always do.

I wished it had been just Nate and me in the room so that I could remember what it felt like to be around at least one person who didn’t think I was poison. He seemed nice enough, and he didn’t ask me a bunch of stupid questions.

He smelled nothing like the other men I knew. His scent was clean and crisp, like fancy aftershave. I noticed there wasn’t a single dark hair out of place on his head, and the seawater green of his eyes filled up almost the entire iris. He was one of the most attractive people I had ever seen. While I had dried the dishes next to him, I had marveled at the untouchable smoothness of his skin, even along his severe jawline. He had a strong resemblance to Dale, with his classic good looks and light eyes that popped and caught the attention of everyone in a room.

Maybe I let myself relax near him because of his warm smile or his cute playfulness or the way he squinted when he looked into my eyes, as if he were trying to see further inside of me, to my soul. Too bad he would never find it.

In the darkness, I wrapped myself in a blanket and curled up on my cabin porch swing. I swung my legs gently, letting the sound of the creaking wood lull me to sleep.

“Ava,” he whispered, his hand cupping my shoulder. I opened my eyes and saw Nate standing over me, silhouetted by the moonlight. “Ava, do you want me to help you inside? It’s getting cold out here.”

“No, I’m okay.” When I stood up a small bottle of whiskey slid from my lap and clinked onto the floor. Nate picked it up and calmly handed it back to me. “I just had a little bit.”

“I don’t judge you,” he said instantly.

I swallowed and then got up and slowly began moving past him toward the door.

“Wait. Why did you run out?” he asked.

“Because they were all mad at me.”

“Mad at you for what?”

I could see his puzzled expression in the dark.

“I don’t know,” I said quietly.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“You wouldn’t understand. I hardly understand it myself.”

“Try me, I’m a good listener.” He hugged his defined arms to his chest. I noticed he was only wearing a black T-shirt, jeans, and flip-flops.

“That’s definitely California footwear. Not proper for a Montana night, even in the summer.” I giggled.

“That’s a nice sound,” he said in a low voice.

“What?”

“Your laugh.”

“Oh, thank you,” I said as my nerves swirled in my stomach.

“Do you want me to come in? We could talk?” The invitation seemed genuine and innocent, but I was surprised by my own thoughts of curling myself into his long body or nestling my nose into his shirt and breathing that new smell in until I fell asleep. When I turned to face the cabin, I looked past him into the window. A vision of Jake’s slumped body flashed in my mind. I gasped.

“What is it?” he asked with concern, his warm hands clasping my arms. I tried to move past him to the door again; he blocked me. “Tell me, please.”

I shook my head, fearing that if I said the words the image would flash in my mind again.

After a few minutes of silence he spoke, his voice low, warm, and soothing. “Listen, Ava. I lost a patient recently. I’m a doctor. . . .” When he swallowed I could see the muscles in his jaw flex. “I lost a patient and it was my fault.” He held my hand, rubbing his thumb over my knuckles nervously. I pulled away. It was as though he was trying to comfort me with the story, yet I could hear his own pain in the admission.

I couldn’t be sure why he was telling me about his patient but his expression was so piteous that it made me feel a little sick. He had obviously heard about my story and maybe he thought we could mope around together or something.

“Was she your wife?”

“No, but . . .”

“I have to go in. I’m sorry about your patient.”

“Wait, Ava.”

I turned back. “Yes?”

“I just thought we could hang out a little while I’m here. I mean, since we’re kind of the same age.”

I instantly felt pity for him. He fumbled for words like no doctor I had ever known.

“Okay. Maybe we can take the horses out to the stream tomorrow?” I said. He nodded and smiled. “We can fish?” I suggested.

“That sounds great.”

“But no talking,” I warned.

“No talking,” he repeated and then stepped out of the way to let me pass.

Like many nights, before bed I went into the kitchen, found the large bottle of whiskey under the sink, and drank three large gulps, praying I wouldn’t dream. My new version of a bedtime prayer after Jake’s death, though it had nothing to do with faith in a higher power. I simply hoped the whiskey would numb my mind enough to allow me to fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.

I packed lunches and saddled up Dancer and Tequila, an old Tennessee Walker we’d had on the ranch for many years. He was the most comfortable horse to ride and had the smoothest gait. I thought Nate would appreciate that—I assumed he hadn’t ridden a horse in some time since he was a fancy doctor in L.A. After waiting for a while with no sign of Nate, I wondered if maybe he had changed his mind about going for a ride. Maybe the thought of being alone with me on horseback terrified him.

I searched the shed for fishing tackle. Redman was a hoarder when it came to the shed and barn spaces, I think because Bea had such a strong arm about keeping a tidy house. It was Redman’s way of rebelling. There were about twelve tackle boxes full of mostly junk, but I managed to find the right lures and line for stream fishing.

Before I heard him, I felt a presence coming toward me from behind. I wasn’t used to being around people so I was very aware when someone was near. I just continued rummaging through the boxes until I found my favorite lure, a shiny golden one in the faint shape of a heart.

“Can I help you find something?” Nate asked.

“No, I’ve got it!” I held the lure up in triumph. “This baby gets ’em every time.”

“Good morning. I’m happy to see your competitive spirit is alive.”

My smile faded. Nothing about me is alive. We were standing inches apart, facing each other in the small, darkened shed. Between us, I held the lure. He took it and examined it. When I looked at the ground, I noticed he was wearing Converse sneakers. I let out a sigh, relieved he wasn’t in Jake’s boots. His black jeans looked to be designer, tight against his legs and slightly pegged at the bottom. He was also wearing a plain black T-shirt. His hair and clothes contrasted nicely against his smooth, sun-kissed skin and blazing green eyes.

A tiny smirk played on his lips. “It’s not the shape of anything that exists in nature. Why would a fish want to eat this?”

I looked up, blinking. The thought hadn’t occurred to me. There were lures of all shapes and sizes.

“Well, it’s kind of the shape of a heart, and that exists in nature.”

“A real heart isn’t heart-shaped.” He shot me a cocksure grin. “It’s more cone-shaped, sort of.” His grin disappeared abruptly as he stared past me in thought for several moments, perhaps recalling a painful memory. It was a look I was familiar with.

“Shall we head out?” I asked.

He nodded and then followed me outside of the barn. I untied Tequila and walked him out a few feet. “This is Tequila. You’ll be riding him. You know how to ride, right?”

“Not very well.”

“That’s okay. Get up in there and I’ll adjust the stirrups.”

He lifted his foot with grace into the stirrup, hoisted himself into the saddle, and looked down at me. His chest was pumping and there was fear growing on his face.

“Go ahead and get down,” I said.

“Why?”

“Let’s do this right so you feel comfortable.”

When he got down, I handed him the reins. “Lead him around in a circle.” Nate followed my command. “Now let him smell you.” He let Tequila smell his hands.

I handed him a carrot to feed to the horse. I could see it was coming back to him. I knew he had spent time on the ranch as a kid but horses are large, intimidating animals if you haven’t been around them much. “His name is Tequila because he’s the only horse you can ride when you’re shit-faced drunk.”

Nate let out a huge sigh of relief and then chuckled. “Thank God. I’m not gonna lie, the name threw me.”

“He’s a Tennessee Walker. You’ll look really cute and fancy riding him,” I said, in a mocking tone.

“Oh, I see, this is all for your amusement, isn’t it?”

I giggled.

“There’s that sound again.” He smiled and hopped into the saddle.

I called for Dancer, who was grazing on a little patch of grass near the main house. Climbing into the saddle, the fishing rods in hand, I looked over to Nate. He looked comfortable; he relaxed back in his seat after a few minutes of acquainting himself with the horse.

“Why weren’t you at breakfast this morning?” he asked.

“I normally eat in my cabin. And remember our agreement?”

“What?”

“No talking.”

We walked slowly past the main house. Bea waved to us from the porch where she was knitting in her chair. Dancer picked up her pace a little as we rode toward the meadow above the stream. I could feel Nate and Tequila keeping pace behind us. I slowed Dancer and let Nate ride up beside me.

Nate was holding the reins high, which was normal on a horse like Tequila who trotted naturally with a high-necked posture, but I was pretty sure he was holding the reins that way out of fear. “It’s actually more comfortable to gallop that horse than to trot.”

“I’m comfortable,” he said.

“I don’t want you to exhaust him. Go ahead and let him out a bit so you can see. Give him a little squeeze.”

“I’m scared he won’t stop.”

“You’re riding the horse. You’re controlling him. You wouldn’t put a car in neutral on a hill and just see what happens, would you?”

He laughed. “No, I definitely wouldn’t do that, and the analogy is not helping me. This horse has a mind of its own.”

“Not if you don’t let him have his way. If you want him to stop, pull back on the reins and say, ‘Whoa, horsy.’ ”

“I have to say ‘horsy’?” He looked incredulous.

“I’m kidding.”

“Shit, I would be laughing right now but I’m terrified.” When he looked over at me I could see his eyes were wide.

“Listen, Nate, Tequila won’t pass me on Dancer. He was trained that way.”

“Okay,” he said, his voice shaky. “That’s what I want to hear.”

“Let’s just trot a bit and then we’ll canter. Give him a little kick with your heel a bit farther back than you normally would, just on your right side. That’s how he knows to canter. Stay upright and move your hips with the motion. It will be like a smooth jog, and then we’ll race after that.”

His eyes shot open even wider.

“Relax, we’ll gallop a little while we have this nice open space,” I said, giving him a reassuring smile.

I let Dancer pick up the pace. I could see in my peripheral vision that Nate had done the same. “This is fun!” he shouted to me. “I want to run.”

“Let the reins out but stay firm. Tap him with both heels.”

Tequila was actually just following me but it was good that Nate was learning to give the proper commands. There was a fleeting moment when I looked over at him and saw joy on his face. I wanted that feeling and thought maybe I could allow myself a little of it once in a while.

I found it uncomfortable and distracting for Dancer to run while I was holding the fishing rods, so I slowed and then headed toward a familiar embankment that led down to the stream. We stopped at the top of the bank. Nate looked like he was having so much fun. He pulled a pair of dark sunglasses from the saddlebag and put them on while still wearing a huge smile.

“That was awesome,” he said. “It’s way hotter out here than I thought it would be.”

“Yeah, I should have grabbed you a hat.”

“What, like a cowboy hat?”

“No, a baseball cap.” I laughed. “This isn’t Texas, Nate.”

“Trish wears a cowboy hat.”

“She’s a rodeo queen.” I didn’t bother mentioning that Jake wore both baseball caps and cowboy hats and that it kind of depended on what he was doing. Just thinking back to him in his black Stetson on the night we met felt like a knife slicing through my heart.

“Weren’t you?”

“No, I’m from California,” I said simply and then began leading Dancer down the hill.

“Oh. I didn’t know. Wait, we’re taking the horses down that hill?”

“Four legs are better than two,” I yelled back to him.

“Good point,” he said as Tequila picked her way down the bank.

At the bottom, we let the horses drink from the stream before tying them up. Nate continuously ran his hand through his windblown hair. There was no product in his hair that morning like there was the day before. The loose, tousled strands gave his look a more youthful charm. I had never met a doctor who resembled a real, flawed person with insecurities, but more than that, I had never met a doctor who was so terribly good-looking and didn’t know it.

Without speaking, we drew our lines through the poles and dug around in the saddlebags for various things. We took our shoes off, rolled up our jeans, and stepped carefully over the pebbles to the edge of the stream water.

“So you’re from California? Which part?”

“The Central Valley.” I sat on a rock to tie my lure.

“Allow me.” Nate reached out. I handed over my line and lure.

His deft hands tied the lure on the line with speed and accuracy. “What kind of doctor are you?”

“I’m a heart surgeon,” he said, smirking. I smiled too, probably sharing the same thought as he tied up the heart-shaped lure.

“Well done.”

I cast my line into the deeper part of the stream and reeled it in slowly.

“Do you know how to fly-fish?” he asked.

“You have to be quiet, Nate, you’re going to scare the fish away. And yes, I know how.”

“Okay. I just thought maybe you could show me,” he said. “It’s been a while.”

He was adorable. I couldn’t help letting a smile touch my lips.

“Just hold the line with your index finger, turn the bail arm, pull back, and release the line at the peak of the pole’s arc. Aim for that deeper water there,” I said, gesturing toward where my line had landed.

He cast and immediately got a bite but lost it.

“You need to jerk back when you feel a sure tug, that’s how you set the hook,” I said to him.

“That’s right. It’s all coming back to me,” he said with a smile.

The carefree look Nate wore reminded me of a feeling I used to know but had been absent for so long. It was the first time in a long time that I wished for that feeling back.

CHAPTER 6

Date: 2014-12-29; view: 757