by Liz Isaacson
After her haircut, she returned to her house and plucked through a few chords of the song she’d been working on for Todd. She still hadn’t played it for him, and she wasn’t sure it was quite ready yet.
“I find him waiting by the river,” she sang, her fingers moving along the soundboard almost by themselves. “By the river. Fishing by the river.”
She hummed a few bars and continued with, “He’s sad until he sees me. Sad until he sees me. Then we’re together, and the sky goes on forever, and we’re lighter than a feather—as we soar. Soar. Soar.”
Her voice filled the house, and she knew the song was ready. So maybe she would play it for Todd that night. Her throat turned dry, and she realized she hadn’t written or performed a solo song in many months. With her one and only solo album being a flop, she didn’t have the confidence to put only her voice to lyrics and music.
So she set the banjo back on the couch and wandered into her backyard. It seemed like weeds had a personal vendetta against her and her lawn, and she picked up the small, handheld shovel and started digging out the ones closest to the deck.
Her scalp felt a bit raw from the bleach, and her back ached from all the bending over, and she was ready for a nap about the time she heard Jetstream give a yip in his cute puppy voice.
She straightened and smiled, waiting for the dog and his master to come through the gate at the corner of her house. Jetstream arrived first, pawing at the chainlink, and Vi giggled at him as she walked over to let him into her yard.
He bounded inside as soon as she opened the gate, but she couldn’t see Todd. “Where is he, huh?” she asked the puppy, who was stretched out to sniff the pile of weeds she’d left on the edge of the flowerbed.
She glanced toward the back door, but he didn’t appear there either. “Stay here,” she told the dog, like it could suddenly learn how to levitate and get over the fence while she was gone. In front of her house, Todd sat in his truck, staring at her front door.
Vi felt the tension from dozens of feet away, but she continued toward him anyway. Her pulse hammered out of control, and not in a good way. As she neared, she wondered if she really wanted to keep dating him. He was so full of light some moments, and so angry the next. She never could predict how he’d act, or what would set him off, and she didn’t want a life where she had to wonder how each day would be.
Of course, she knew there would be ups and downs. She wasn’t so oblivious to real life to not know that. But Todd was so unpredictable, and Vi didn’t like it.
She opened the passenger door and said, “Hey.” Nothing else was needed. When she saw yet another cast on his left leg, she knew the reason for his fury. “Oh, no. What happened?”
He swung his gaze toward her, and the anger there made her shrink back. “The doctor wasn’t satisfied with the healing.”
“I’m so sorry.” She started to climb into the cab with him.
“I can’t believe I let you take care of me by watching Internet videos.”
Vi froze and looked at him, but he glared out his window. “What?”
“He said the fracture came from the lateral movement of my leg. And that was because of how I rode in the car. How you told me to ride in the car.”
Vi backed out of the truck, putting her feet back on solid ground. “I have never claimed to be a nurse.” And he had plenty of money to hire someone. He’d never complained when she was bringing him breakfast or staying on the couch so she could be closer to him if he texted.
Her chest pinched, and hot tears pressed behind her eyes. But she would not cry.
“It will heal,” she said.
“That’s not the point. I’m so sick of wearing a cast.” He pounded his fist on the steering wheel on a couple of the words, and fear struck Vi right behind her heart. She didn’t know what to say to him to make this better.
And in that moment, she knew one thing: She couldn’t make it better. She couldn’t heal or change Todd.
Only he could do both of those things.
She took a step backward. “I’ll get Jetstream for you.” She walked away from the truck without closing the door and hurried to the backyard. The sound of a door closing met her ear, and she knew he’d gotten out of the truck.
Negativity filled her. It would be harder to get him to leave if he was already out of the vehicle. She didn’t care. He wasn’t coming in and he wasn’t staying here.
“Come on, Jetstream,” she called and the sheepdog looked up. “Come on.” She patted her thighs, desperate for the dog to come. “Come on.” She prayed for divine help now.
Please, she thought. Please just let the dog come and get Todd to go.
The dog ran toward her, and she said, “Good boy. Come on.” She turned and started back toward the truck. “Go on,” she said as Jetstream passed her. “Load up, boy.”
The dog jumped right into the truck, and she followed him and closed the door behind him. “He’s ready.” She tucked her hands in her pockets and faced Todd.
He’d only taken a couple of steps away from the truck, and he stood awkwardly on his right leg and his crutches.
VI drew in a deep breath. “You should go home. Rest.”
“You said you’d send me your flight information.”
“Yeah.” Vi moved toward her front steps. “I think I’m going to go to Nashville alone.”
“What? Why?”
Vi faced him, unafraid but still nervous about the dark edge in his eyes. “Because Todd, I don’t think you’re ready for this. For us. And even if you were, you just blamed me for your injury.”
His jaw clenched. “So that’s it then? Are you breaking up with me?”
Vi climbed the steps, sadness, desperation, and a bit of panic pulling through her. She faced him, one hand on the doorknob. Jetstream barked from inside the cab, and she glanced at him and back to Todd. “Yes,” she said simply. “Maybe when you figure out who you’re really angry with, you’ll be able to see it’s not my fault about your leg, and that you owe me an apology.”
She opened the door and stepped inside, her heart wrinkling in on itself. “See you later, Todd.” She brought the door closed slowly, hoping he’d say something. Preferably, Vi, come on. I’m sorry.
He didn’t say anything. The door clicked closed, a very final punctuation mark on the breakup.
Vi slid down the door, her back pressed into the wood. Several moments later, the sound of his truck gunning as he left reached her ears.
Then the tears came.
“I’m only human,” she whispered to her house as if it cared or could hear her. Hadn’t Todd told her that? That sometimes they were just human, no matter how many championships and how much money they had?
Yes, he had.
Yet somehow, he wanted her to be perfect. Do everything perfectly.
Well, Vi already knew she wasn’t perfect, and she didn’t need a man like Todd to remind her of it everyday.
So that was that. She’d call the airline and move her ticket up a couple of weeks. Spend her birthday in Nashville, just the way her parents wanted. Find a way to put the pieces of her heart back together before she came back to Coral Canyon and listed this beautiful, normal house for sale.
After all, she didn’t need to stay in Coral Canyon if she and Todd were going nowhere.
Chapter Seventeen
Todd sat in a chair in front of the window, watching the wind blow through the leaves on the trees. If he looked further out, he could see the small whitecaps on the waves on the lake.
He was bored.
And Jetstream was bored, as Todd hadn’t left the house in a few days now. Since returning from Vi’s house, angry and without a girlfriend.
He really had no reason to leave the house, as he had his groceries delivered and everything else he needed inside these walls.
So much house. It was so big. So, so big.
He glanced at the three wrapped birthday gifts sitting on the nearby table, a measure of anger pulling through him.
Maybe when you figure out who you’re really angry with.
Vi’s words had haunted him for days. He knew who he was angry with, and it was himself. And his parents. He couldn’t really even name the reasons, only that when something didn’t quite go the way he wanted, the darkness inside him reared easily and infected him within moments.
He’d thought about going to see Pastor Franklin. Or calling his brother and finding out where he was, buying a ticket, and flying there to talk things out.
What things, he wasn’t a hundred percent sure. And so he hadn’t made the call. Hadn’t done much of anything.
Someone knocked on his door, and he turned his head in that direction. Jetstream barked and started for the door, his claws clicking on the hard floor. He didn’t glance back, and if Todd opened the door, he felt sure his dog would make a run for it.
“I’m coming in,” Graham called, and Todd watched the leaves again as he listened to Graham talk to Jetstream in a softer, easier voice. “There you are.”
Todd turned his head again and looked at his childhood friend. “Hey.”
“You look terrible.”
“Thanks for breaking and entering and then insulting me.” Todd watched the water now, not pleased with this visitor. It felt like an intrusion, and he just wanted to be left alone.
“Laney was right.”
Todd said nothing. If Graham wanted to talk in riddles, that was his problem.
“Come on, man. Let’s take a walk.”
“I can’t walk.”
“Sure you can.” Graham crossed the room and grabbed Todd’s crutches. “Let’s go.”
“I’m not going.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t want to.” Todd glanced up at him. “Leave me alone, Graham.”
“Can’t do that.”
“Why not?” Todd genuinely wanted to know.
“I know what happened with Vi.”
“Nothing happened with Vi.” Todd closed his eyes.
“Todd—”
“Why do you care, Graham?” Todd stood up, as tall as Graham now. He remembered always wishing he could be like the great Graham Whittaker. Perfect family. Awesome parents. He grabbed the crutches from him and balanced his weight on his good leg, glaring. “You don’t get it. You never did. You never understood what I dealt with as a kid. And you still don’t get it.”
“Tell me about it.”
“No way.” Todd shook his head. He’d already told most of it to Vi, and that had been hard enough. “Your life has always been so perfect, and I don’t need your pity.” He raised his chin, almost daring Graham to hit him.
The other man’s eyes blazed with anger and determination too, but when he spoke, his voice was freakishly calm. “My life is perfect?”
“Name something you don’t have,” Todd challenged.
“My father.”
Todd’s next words evaporated and his throat closed up.
“And you still have yours, man. So if that’s who you’re mad at, go work it out. If it’s Vi, go fix it. If it’s someone else, go find them and make it right.” Graham lifted his chin too, but Todd was still reeling from all he’d said.
Several long moments passed, where they both seemed to be working at breathing properly.
“I don’t know how,” Todd finally said.
“Then figure it out. Talk to someone if you have to. But don’t let it end like this, you holed up in this giant house, staring out the window.”
Todd’s mind raced. “Why did I come back here?”
“I don’t know, Todd. Why did you?”
“God led me here,” he said, his voice a bit tinnier than he liked. “But I got hurt.” He half laughed, half scoffed. “I rode bulls for twenty years. Twenty years, and never broke a bone. I cracked a couple of ribs, sure, but I’d never broken a bone. And I’m here two days and I break both of my legs.”
He shook his head, which upset his equilibrium. He adjusted his weight on his good leg. “It’s fine. It’s…whatever.”
“It led you to Vi,” he said. “Has it ever occurred to you that you may have never had a relationship with her if you hadn’t gotten hurt?” Graham quirked one eyebrow and waited for Todd to answer.
But he didn’t know how. So he just sighed and looked away. “So, what? I just go down to her house and talk to her?”
Graham chuckled, though Todd didn’t find anything humorous about the situation. “Oh, you can’t do that. She left for Nashville yesterday.” He took a few steps toward the door and added, “I’m taking Jetstream to the ranch for a few days. He needs to get out.”
“Okay,” Todd said, having no energy to argue with Graham. He didn’t want to tell him the house was already too big, and that Jetstream somehow made it smaller. The door closed behind Graham and Jetstream, and Todd looked back out the window.
Figure it out.
Go fix it.
You’re not ready for this. For us.
You owe me an apology.
Guilt gutted Todd. He had said cruel things to Vi. He did owe her an apology. He wasn’t ready for the seriousness of their relationship.
Not yet.
He wanted to rush to the airport in Jackson Hole and fly to Nashville. But when he opened his laptop to buy an airplane ticket, he booked it for Colorado Springs, because he knew they had a gigantic rodeo over the Labor Day weekend, and Taylor would surely be there. Then he called the airline and said, “I have a bad broken leg, and I need help on the plane. As much leg room as you’ve got.”
“No problem, sir,” the woman said. “Reservation number?”
The next day, Todd never wanted to fly again. His leg ached, and he was sure he’d just added a few weeks to the time he’d have to wear his cast. But he needed to be here. Needed to see that he’d left the rodeo and didn’t want to go back. Needed his parents and brother to know he was still worth their time and attention. Needed to show that he was something besides a bull rider.
It was all his father had ever seen him as, and Todd wanted to be more than the belt buckle.
If he wanted Vi back in his life, he needed to be more than the champion bull rider. It took forever to get the rodeo grounds, and he limped his way into the stands, which were mostly empty. His parents would watch from the benches right next to the bull pens, so they could call last minute instructions and encouragement to Taylor, so Todd sat opposite of that so he could see them.
He loved the rodeo, and as the stands filled up, he took the time to enjoy it in a whole new way he never had before. The couples holding hands. The fathers carrying boxes with hamburgers and chips and drinks. And the licorice ropes.
Todd really wanted a licorice rope. But the cowgirl carrying the American flag came out, and the crowd stood, and the clowns started the first event.
A little boy sat next to Todd, and he wore a cowboy hat that was a size too big. Somehow it fit his personality, and Todd couldn’t help chuckling at him a few times. He ate cotton candy, and M&Ms, and drank two cans of soda. Todd wasn’t entirely sure, since he wasn’t a father, but that didn’t seem like a healthy diet and he wondered what kind of night this kid would have.
He watched the barrel racing and the team roping, wondering when he’d see Taylor. He finally came out on the steer roping, and Todd cheered for him as loud as he could.
It was almost like he was back in the rodeo himself, and Todd felt comfortable here. Safe. Secure. Everything about it was familiar.
And yet, he didn’t belong at the same time. His parents finally took their seats, and he watched them, trying to see them as different people. As just people, perhaps, and not his parents.
They looked like attentive parents. His father sipped his can of soda like he didn’t care about anything. His mom checked her phone, clearly disinterested in anything happening on the dirt below.
But Todd knew she was probably watching film for the bull Taylor had drawn or checking the rankings for what he needed to get on tonight’s ride to stay o
n top. And his dad only drank soda because he’d given up the harder stuff thirty years ago and needed a can of something in his hand.
He never glanced around casually, either. He was probably checking out the other cowboy’s families, and they’d give up their seats in a few minutes to make way for more of the traveling rodeo crowd to come in and watch.
Todd’s throat closed off, and he was very glad he hadn’t had any licorice that night. His thoughts tumbled around inside his head, and he managed to sort through them enough to wonder What am I going to say to them?
Perhaps he should just go to the hotel and fly back to Coral Canyon tomorrow. He didn’t need to say anything to them.
Then he pictured Vi’s piercing blue eyes, and that short pixie cut in her blonde hair, the shape of her mouth against his, and the way she looked at him just before she slid her hand into his.
He couldn’t live without her. And he couldn’t have her if he didn’t get rid of the darkness inside him.
He got up and checked the board. Taylor was up in four rides, and if he hurried, he might be able to get across the stands to his parents before they left their seats.
Todd made it about four steps before someone asked, “Can I have your autograph?”
He stared blankly at the teenager, a boy with spiked brown hair. He held out a marker and the rodeo program.
“Oh, I’m not riding tonight,” he said.
“But you’re Todd Christopherson, right?”
Todd glanced around, wishing he’d thought ahead a bit more. Of course people would recognize him. He hadn’t been gone that long, and he’d won a lot in recent years. “Right.” He took the marker and signed his name quickly across the front of the program.
Before he knew it, there was a line of people, and panic had started to build in his stomach. He’d felt this way loads of times before, as he laced the rope around and around his hand, tying himself to the bull he was about to ride.
It was the same jittery feeling, the pit way down deep in his stomach. And when the announcer said, “Folks, it looks like we have former six-time world champion, Todd Christopherson, in the stands!” Todd’s heart sank all the way to his cowboy boots.