by Sarah Monzon
Cows bellowed as they ambled over and grabbed mouthfuls of food, jaws working in their lazy up-down circular motion.
Vibration shot across my chest, different from the rumbling beneath my seat. I palmed my shirt pocket and felt my phone. My mind jumped to the possibility that Jocelyn had responded to my text. She and her mother had encompassed my thoughts, and I prayed they were both all right. An irresponsible desire to remove the device and check to see who had contacted me made my fingertips tingle, but I kept my hands on the tractor’s controls and drove it across the cattle guard and back to the bay.
A twist of the key and the engine died. My insides continued to quake—the aftermath of sitting atop a shuddering machine, although nerves might have had something to do with the slight tremor as well.
I unlocked the screen and tapped the text icon.
Jocelyn:
Okay is such a relative term.
She didn’t have a heart attack,
which is good, but she could
have one in the future.
Thank you for checking up on us.
I didn’t text a lot, so it took a while to tap out a reply.
Malachi:
Of course. How are you holding up?
I made to put my phone back in my shirt pocket, but an undulating ellipsis below my message stopped me.
Jocelyn:
Honestly, I could use a distraction.
A distraction. I looked around, trying to find inspiration in something that could serve as an entertaining diversion. Unfortunately, the implements lining the bay—the auger, brush hog, landscape rake, and baler—didn’t offer themselves up as helpful muses.
Scout raised his head from his front paws and stared at me. He’d been pitiful ever since Jocelyn had left, moping around like a lovesick pup who’d had his heart shattered. He looked up with sad blue eyes then laid his chin on his paws again. I opened my camera app and snapped a picture before dropping it into the text thread.
Malachi:
I’m finding this guy
very distracting lately.
Jocelyn:
The poor thing!
What’s wrong with him?
Well, shoot. I hadn’t thought this through. If I told her he’d been sulking since she left, that’d only make her feel worse, not better. Wasn’t communicating through texts supposed to be easier? How had I managed to bumble it already?
Malachi:
He’ll be fine.
Just misses you.
Jocelyn:
Aww, really? That’s so sweet.
I miss him too.
Phew. She didn’t sound upset at all.
Jocelyn:
Will you give him a kiss for me?
I eyed Scout. There were very few things I loved more than my dog and my horses, but that didn’t mean I went around puckering up for them.
Jocelyn:
BRB. The doctor just came in.
Scout stood as I got closer, and I ran a hand across his soft fur. “We’re safe. For now.”
He whined then bolted away as if he suspected I’d cave to Jocelyn’s whims and plant one on him.
“Mal, you in here?” Nate called.
I readjusted my hat to fit better across my brow as I exited the tractor bay. “What’s up?”
His skin had darkened since returning from Nashville, one of the ranch’s visual imprints. “Betsy just called. She said she has an opening in her schedule tomorrow if I wanted to come down to her studio to do the recording.”
I rubbed my palm against my cheek, unshaven facial hair like sandpaper scratching at the surface. “I think we can manage without you for a few days.” I slapped him on the shoulder. “Knock ’em dead.”
“You sure?”
“Yes. Go. Be a huge star.”
“From your lips to God’s ears.” He gave me a hopeful smile.
My phone vibrated against my chest, but I didn’t want to pull it out in front of Nate. He’d ask questions that I didn’t want to answer—or tease, which I didn’t want to hear. Whatever Jocelyn and I had—if we even had anything at all—felt too fragile to share.
“I’ll go get the Whalen group set up to ride the fence line and check for snags.” He hooked his thumb over his shoulder.
“Thanks, Nate.”
“Sure thing.”
I waited until he left before pulling my phone back out.
Jocelyn:
Good news! Mama is getting discharged!
Malachi:
That is good news.
Jocelyn:
Thanks for distracting me from
the awful sounds and smells
of the hospital.
Malachi:
Not sure how much help I
really was, but you
can count on me anytime.
Jocelyn:
I’ll ttyl.
Even though I didn’t text much, I knew ttyl stood for talk to you later. I deposited my phone back into my shirt pocket and grabbed the end of the hose, dragging it to the water troughs to fill them up.
For the rest of the day I tried to think of things I could text Jocelyn to talk about, but the abscess I’d discovered in one of the cattle’s hooves didn’t seem like a good conversation starter. The sun lowered in the sky now, casting brilliant swatches of pinks and oranges in its last hoorah before retreating fully for the night. Jocelyn was probably getting her mom settled. Maybe making a heart-healthy dinner or relaxing on the couch with a movie. Either way, she was missing out on the tapestry before me. Without thinking, I pulled out my phone, took a picture, and sent it to her minus a caption. Some things didn’t need words.
A few seconds later my phone pinged.
Jocelyn:
Wow! That’s really gorgeous.
Malachi:
It made me think of you.
Even with the miles separating us, I felt the rising heat of embarrassment at the declaration. Did my statement sound like I meant she was as beautiful as the sunset, or that she’d been on my mind? Either way, both conclusions were true. I hadn’t been able to get the woman out of my head since I’d met her, and the sunset palled in comparison to her beauty.
Gah. Now I was sounding as sappy as Nate and his ridiculous lyrics. Just the same, I held my breath as the three little dots danced on my screen.
Jocelyn:
If I didn’t know you better,
I’d think you were
flirting with me, Malachi Thomas.
Malachi:
Then you either don’t know
me as well as you think
you do, or I’ve had so little
practice I’m not doing
a very good job.
There. I’d pretty much laid out my feelings in that statement, hadn’t I? Those trio of dots moved. Then vanished. Moved. Then vanished again. Huh. Did Jocelyn not know how to respond? And was that good or bad? My thumbs padded out another reply.
Malachi:
Or possibly both. I’ll try
and up my game
on the second part so there
won’t be any doubts, but maybe
we can work on the first
part together?
Jocelyn:
Getting to know each other better?
Malachi:
Yeah.
Jocelyn:
I think I’d like that.
I blinked at the screen, reading the message thread again. Then a third time. None of the words changed or rearranged themselves. It was there, in black and white. I told myself to breathe and stop acting like the prettiest girl in school had just asked me to a Sadie Hawkins dance. While I was still awkward, I was an awkward grown man, not a hormone-driven teenager.
But she hadn’t shut me down. Instead, she’d opened the door at my tentative knocking.
Now to not mess it up.
21
Jocelyn
I stared up at the spinning ceiling fan, the blades making a tap, tap, tap sound as they passed a particul
arly sticky part in their rotation. Mama snored lightly beside me, and the early morning rays wormed their way between the slats of the blinds along the east-facing windows, spilling light into the studio apartment. I rubbed at my eyes, feeling like a cast member from The Walking Dead. Between the worry of watching Mama throughout the night to make sure I didn’t need to rush her back to the hospital and the blush of feelings Malachi’s texts had spread through me, I hadn’t gotten much sleep.
My phone made a muffled ding under my hand. Had I been cradling the device the whole night? A whisper of anticipation blew across my breast as I unlocked the screen.
Malachi:
Just wanted to be the first
one to say good morning
and that I hope you have
a good day. I’ll be thinking of you.
Okay, who was this guy and what had happened to the shy, reticent man I’d known at the ranch? The one who’d duck his head and retreat any time he thought someone was likely to corner him. Not that I was complaining exactly. The timid Malachi was sweet, and I’d enjoyed coaxing him out of his shell, but this more vocal version of the same man left me reeling.
If I were to drive back to the ranch today, which man would meet me? The one who seemed slightly uneasy in my presence or the one who admitted that stunning sunsets made him think of me and raced to be the first person to greet me in the morning?
Not that I could head back today. Or the next few days even. I needed to get Mama settled then get myself back home and return to work. Maybe in a couple of weeks I could take the weekend to get away and drive back up. Would conversation flow easily between us, or would Malachi return to his taciturn ways?
Which brought back a question I’d been wondering about for a while.
Jocelyn:
Good morning. In the
spirit of getting to know
each other better, can I
ask you something?
Malachi:
You can ask me anything.
Jocelyn:
I couldn’t help but notice
that you aren’t exactly
an extroverted type of guy.
Malachi:
Guilty as charged.
Jocelyn:
Then why open your ranch
to the public? Wouldn’t it be
easier for you if you didn’t
have to worry about all the
extra people on your land?
Not that I’m complaining.
I had a marvelous time at
the Double B.
I shot that last bit off quickly. Whatever his reasons for suffering all the strangers, I myself was glad that the Double B had waded into the waters of hospitality. I couldn’t imagine not ever meeting Gran or Miriam, not to mention Domino or Scout.
And, of course, I couldn’t forget Malachi. Not that I’d ever be able to.
Malachi:
The bottom line of that
decision can be summed
up in one word. Finances.
I sucked in a breath. Mama shifted beside me, and I stilled. When she resettled, I slowly slipped out of bed and padded to the kitchen bar, plonking myself down on a stool.
Jocelyn:
Are you saying the Double B
is in trouble?
Malachi:
No. Especially not now.
But we did find we needed
to diversify in the current
market so started taking in
guests.
That sounded smart.
Jocelyn:
Do you regret having to
make that kind of decision?
Malachi:
How can I regret something
that brought you into my life?
A flush of heat started at my scalp and rapidly spread south until my whole body felt consumed. When he’d said he was going to try and up his flirting game, he hadn’t been kidding! Was this the power a sense of anonymity gave through texts? A faceless emboldening that broke down inhibitions?
Malachi:
Was that too forward?
I’m sorry. I’m really not
very good with words.
The memory of his voice tickled my ears as I read the sentences in the tone of his vulnerable tentativeness I remembered so well. The small crumbs of worry that had sprinkled across my mind at his earlier boldness were swept away.
These weren’t two different faces Malachi was showing me, but the unveiling of one heart. I swallowed past a lump rising in my throat.
Jocelyn:
You’re better with them
than you think you are.
Shuffling noises came from the bed, and I turned to find Mama pushing back the covers.
“Good morning,” I said as I pocketed my phone in my pajama bottoms. “Sleep well?”
“As well as can be expected.” She yawned and stretched. “I appreciate you staying with me last night, but I hope you aren’t considering making this a permanent arrangement.”
I tried to not let that sting. “Don’t worry. Damien made it clear that you’re both adults and don’t need me meddling.”
“He finally tell you his plans then?” She patted her sleeping cap.
“What do you mean finally?”
Her eyes softened and her hands stilled as she looked at me across the room. “Honey, he’s been wanting to join up since he got out of high school.”
That news went down like an oversized pill and stuck in my windpipe. “Why didn’t he say anything sooner?”
“And disappoint you?”
My elbow took my weight on the kitchen counter. “I thought I was helping.” Had I really been holding my brother back all these years? All the sacrifices I’d made to help pave and pay his way in college had been more of a hinderance for him than a get out of jail free card.
My gaze swept across the small apartment. Not the same one I’d grown up in, but the cracks running down the wall and the water stains discoloring the ceiling brought my memories back in technicolor. Not to mention the undertones of pet odors that seemed to have permeated every fiber of the carpet five years past its replacement date.
Growing up in certain neighborhoods had made it seem like our futures were already spelled out for us. We’d been born into a whirlpool that only sucked us down and never shot us up. When I’d been cast a lifeline in the form of a scholarship, I’d held on with everything in me and assumed education and the careful consideration of a career with a certain annual income was the only way out.
Mama came over and sank onto the support of the other stool. She ran her hand over my back like she used to when I was little. “Baby girl, no one’s got a bigger heart than you, and Damien knows that. It’s not that he isn’t appreciative of all you’ve done for him, he just has a different vision of how he wants his life to go. Has his own dreams.”
And enough courage to chase after them.
All other thoughts scattered to the corners of my brain as if a masked bandit had entered and opened fire, taking them all hostage.
Damien had already accused me of taking the easiest path, and when Malachi had asked me if working in finance had always been my dream, I’d run away faster than a jackrabbit being chased by a coyote.
So was that it? Was I a coward? So focused on making life easier that I gave up fighting for the things that would truly make me happy?
“Oh, before I forget.” Mama stood up and walked over to a low shelving unit. She shuffled around some papers as she talked. “I was going through some boxes in storage and came across… Here it is.” She plucked a notebook from a stack and turned, handing the blue spiral-bound pad to me. “Your old sketchbook. I thought you might want it.”
Good gracious, when was the last time I’d laid eyes on that? I took the book, the weight of which felt familiar and comforting in my hands. My fingertips grazed the glossy cover as memories flowed one after the other like gentle waves crawling over the sand on the beach.
I’d spent count
less hours hunched over the pages within, doodling little drawings, my mind wandering in creative expressions when Mama had deemed it too dangerous to go outside because of a gang war or a drug deal gone bad.
“I’m going to hop in the shower.” Mama’s voice penetrated through the fog of times past, but only just.
I slipped my finger under the cover and turned to the first page. An over-the-top ball gown, complete with tiers of ruffles and bows lined the stark white page in steady lines of pencil graphite. A gasp of surprise passed my lips. Queen Arabella’s coronation gown. An event of my imagination, but I’d spent weeks designing the fictitious ruler a perfect dress for the occasion.
I turned to the next page. Five different designs for bathing suits. If I remembered correctly, I’d drawn these when we’d gone to Laguna beach for the day.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. I collected a bead of moisture from the corner of my eye with the pad of my thumb, sniffed, then read the message.
Malachi:
It’s my turn to ask a question.
Jocelyn:
Is that what we’re doing?
20 questions?
Malachi:
I hope not because I
only have 1. For now, at least.