by Katie Powner
The only thing he knew for sure was that his parents couldn’t stay on the ranch. Every time he drove away, he sent up a fervent prayer that nothing serious would happen before he could return again. Then he spent most of the night startling awake, checking his phone in case his dad had tried to reach him. He couldn’t live like this much longer.
When he reached Second Street, Jeremy was arriving at the house just before him. He’d been driving to Ponderosa every day, even during the whiteout on Monday, and getting home late. Jeremy couldn’t live like this much longer, either.
Mitch pressed his lips together. They would celebrate Thanksgiving tomorrow, and then Bea and Jeremy were leaving on Saturday. Just when he was starting to get used to having them around. Just when he was starting to appreciate Jeremy. But it was for the best. He could see now how he had been holding Bea back from giving Jeremy the commitment he deserved. It would sting to let her go again—sting like the dickens—yet he was determined to make Caroline proud of him, in case she was watching. He wouldn’t give Bea a guilt trip. Wouldn’t give Jeremy a lecture. He would smile and send them off, even if it broke his heart.
Oh, Caroline. Sweet Caroline.
He entered the house to the sound of laughter in the kitchen. Two laughs that were subdued, and one more boisterous than puppies on their first day out of the pen. Marge was here.
Bea smiled at him when he walked in. “Hey, Dad. I was just fixing Jeremy a plate. I’ll make one for you, too.”
“That’s all right.” He pulled a plate from the cupboard. “I’ll do it.”
Bea pulled foil off the top of a pan of enchiladas. “We tried to wait for you guys, but we were starving.”
It took Mitch a second to realize the we Bea referred to was her and Marge. One eyebrow twitched, but he said nothing. Looked like Marge had wormed her way into Bea’s heart.
His neck muscles tensed. What about his?
“We were just telling Marge about Steve and the ice cubes,” Jeremy said.
Mitch chuckled. “Is that right.”
Marge wiped at her eyes. “I haven’t laughed that hard in ages.”
Bea slid Jeremy’s plate from the microwave, and Mitch slid his in. He turned it on high for one minute. “It figures the ice is just the right size to slip under the door.”
Once everyone was seated at the table, the room grew quiet. Not quiet like everyone was too busy eating to talk, but quiet like something was up.
Mitch glanced around at everyone’s faces. “What’s going on?”
Bea and Jeremy exchanged a look but didn’t answer.
Marge pulled a piece of paper from her back pocket and set it on the table. “I have something to show you.”
He narrowed his eyes at the paper. She pushed it closer.
“What is it?” he asked.
She pointed to the left side of the paper. “This is the list of all the people who want to volunteer to help with your mom.” She pointed to the right side. “And this is the calendar of who would help when, Monday through Friday, for the first three months, starting next week.”
“And we’ll visit most weekends.” Bea nodded at Jeremy, and he nodded back. “For extra support.”
He stared at the list of names. So many people. Almost everyone he knew from church was on there, including Corn Chowder Barbara. Something shifted in his heart, like when the sun hit just right and the light on the mountain sparked to life.
He shook his head. “I can’t believe—”
“I’m sorry.” Marge wrung her hands. “I know you haven’t made any decisions yet, but—”
“No.” He held up a hand. “It’s okay. I mean I can’t believe all these people would be willing to help me.”
After how he’d treated them. After avoiding them for two years. After shunning the only kind of love and support they’d known how to give during the hardest time of his life. He should never have expected them to be perfect. To handle a terrible, tragic situation they’d never faced before perfectly. He sure hadn’t.
“What do you say, Dad?” Bea’s eyes were wide. Hopeful. “Can we give this a try?”
It went against everything in him. He’d been raised to solve his own problems. Clean up his own messes. Independence and grit were the way of the West. The way of the pioneers and trailblazers who had settled the wilds of Montana and North Dakota and Wyoming. But country living was also about community. Sharing with neighbors.
He thought about Susan Mullins, who had recently returned from her treatment in Seattle to find everyone on her block had pitched in to build her a new deck. He thought about the chili feed coming up on Saturday, where he was sure the town would raise thousands of dollars for the Tucker family. This was the Montana way.
“Okay.” He looked at the paper again and nodded. “Let’s do it.”
FORTY-NINE
Bea dropped her bag on the floor and looked around. Jeremy had been right. This was way nicer than their apartment in California. Brand-new carpet. Sliding glass door that opened to a small balcony. A second bedroom—tiny but big enough for a crib.
“And not a speck of mold in the whole place.” Jeremy put his arm around her shoulder. “I checked.”
She smiled, and it was a full ear-to-ear smile this time. It wasn’t her big dream or anything, to live in an apartment in Ponderosa, but this was a great place for another new start.
“Best of all,” Jeremy continued, “we can make out anytime we want.”
“Shh.” She smacked his shoulder and pointed to her stomach. “She’ll hear you.”
His eyebrows rose. “He.”
She laughed, but half her mind was stuck on how hard it was going to be on Dad when Grandma and Grandpa moved in, and the laugh rang a little hollow.
“I know it doesn’t have a very good view of the mountains, and there’s no yard”—Jeremy spoke quickly, earnestly—“but the rent is doable and—”
“It’s perfect.” She kissed him on the cheek. “I love it. And I’m sorry we couldn’t bring Steve.”
No pets allowed. Jeremy had been crushed, though his eagerness to get their own place had outweighed his sentimentality about the cat. She’d almost died of shock when Dad offered to keep the frisky feline. “Just for now,” he’d said.
Jeremy spun her around and put his hands on her shoulders. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For choosing me. For bringing home the bacon while I figured out how to do all this. For being the mother of my child.”
She leaned closer. “MacGregor was pretty upset when I gave him my two-weeks’ notice.”
Jeremy moved his hands down her arms. “I bet.”
“I’m going to have to find another job, you know. At least until your client list grows a little more.”
“We’ll see.” Jeremy took a step back and studied her. “But if you do, it should be something you can get excited about this time.”
“Like what?” Her eyebrows shot up. Hot coffee. The question had come out of nowhere.
“Whatever you want.” He cocked his head. “You could do anything you set your mind to.”
Bea’s smile drooped a little. Was that true?
“And what do you want, Bea?” There was no furniture in the apartment yet, so Jeremy sat on the floor and indicated his suitcase for her to use as a chair. “You used to say you were going to go back to school after getting settled in Santa Clara, but then . . .”
Bea plopped onto the suitcase with a sigh. Then? Then everything changed. She got pregnant, and they had to move, and her return to Moose Creek had given her a lot to think about.
“I wish I could do more for Grandma. There’s this thing called social workers for the elderly.”
“You think your grandma needs one of those?”
“Yes.” Bea shook her head. “Well, no. I mean, I think I want to be one. But you have to get a bachelor’s degree.”
“So?”
“It would take a long time, especially now that we’re having
a baby.” She rubbed her stomach. “It would be years before I could actually help anyone, and we could never afford it.”
“Is it what you want?”
She sat up a little straighter as the truth struck her. “Yes.”
“Then that’s what we’ll do.”
“But—”
“I’ll visit every single business in Ponderosa looking for clients. I’ll work extra hours.”
A low, tremulous buzz of excitement started in her chest and worked its way up to her brain. She thought of her grandparents and Earl and all the other people in Moose Creek and even more remote places who had to find someone to drive them an hour or more just to see a doctor. Who needed help buying groceries or figuring out their health-insurance paperwork but had no idea what kind of resources were available. She could help them.
“But—”
Jeremy laughed. “No more buts. You can apply for scholarships, and I’m sure you’ll qualify for grant money. We’ll figure it out.”
A sharp sliver of dread jabbed at her growing excitement. She looked down at her belly. “But I’m going to be very busy soon. What if it’s harder than I thought? I’d have to research programs and fill out a bunch of applications, and you know how slow I type. It’ll take forever.”
“I didn’t say it was going to be easy.” He gave her a playful grin. “But it will be worth it. And I know a guy who’s willing to help out.”
“You do, huh?” Bea’s shoulders relaxed under the gentle weight of possibility. She smiled back. “Does this guy happen to take kisses as payment for all his help?”
Jeremy pulled her over until she was sitting on his lap. “He sure does.”
Maybe he should’ve taken one day to himself before trading Bea and Jeremy for his mom and dad like Marge had suggested, but Mitch couldn’t bear the thought of one more sleepless night, worrying that his father wouldn’t hear it if his mom woke up and wandered off. Or fell down the porch steps. Or who knew what else?
It didn’t hurt that it gave Mitch an excuse to miss the chili feed, either. He was ready to start facing the world again, but he wasn’t ready for that. Marge was never going to let him hear the end of it.
He pulled up in front of his house and drummed the steering wheel. “Here we are.”
Rand made no move to open the passenger door. “Are you sure about this, son?”
Mitch knew his dad wasn’t a fan of the whole moving-in-with-him thing. Knew it was a blow to his pride. He had protested the possibility at first. But Dad’s love and concern for his wife had eventually overshadowed his doubts.
“Of course.” Mitch glanced at his mother, who was sitting quietly in the back seat, hands folded in her lap, looking out the window as if they were on a scenic Sunday-afternoon drive. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
It was true. He’d had his doubts at first, too. But the idea had grown on him more with every day that passed. He’d be able to check on them during his lunch break whenever he wanted. He wouldn’t have to drive all the way out to the ranch to pick them up for appointments.
And he wouldn’t be alone.
Rand gripped the door handle. “Let’s go then.”
There were a few bags and boxes in the back of the truck, but they’d left most of his parents’ things behind. They’d have to figure that out later. For now, the Tucker family was renting the house for next to nothing in exchange for keeping up the place. That had been Marge’s idea, too.
He helped his mother out of the truck and walked arm in arm with her to the house. Mitch wasn’t sure how much she understood about what was happening, but she’d known him today when he picked them up and had been happy to see him. As long as she could see the mountains from her bedroom window when she woke up in the morning, he had a feeling she was going to be okay.
When they entered the house, he helped his mom to the couch and went back for her trunk. It was the big, clunky kind new brides used to put their wedding dresses and homemade quilts in. The trunk had originally been his great-grandmother’s. He carried it into the bedroom, pleased to see there were no puddles on the carpet now that he kept the door open. He was giving up his room on the main floor and moving to the guest room upstairs so his parents wouldn’t have to navigate the steps. He’d leave Bea’s room open so she and Jeremy could come stay whenever they wanted.
It had been bittersweet, cleaning his and Caroline’s stuff out of here. She was everywhere in this room, and it made his heart ache to think of sleeping somewhere else. But life kept moving forward, and he knew she would tell him it was time to let go. Not of her or the memories or the years of life they’d shared, but of his claim on the pain her leaving had caused. He’d held on to it like a prized possession for two years, afraid if he let it go he might not feel anything at all, but there was a lot of life to live outside of his pain. A lot of other people to love.
Rand appeared in the doorway holding a cardboard box. “Where should I put this?”
“Wherever you want.” Mitch stepped aside and smiled. “It’s your room now.”
FIFTY
When did Rand get to be so old? I don’t understand. Sometimes he puts his hand on my hand and I don’t believe it belongs to him, with its spots and wrinkles. I wonder where my husband went. But then I see his eyes and remember. He’s always here.
Mitch is here, too. In and out of this place all the time like he has many important things to do. I’m sure he does. I wonder what Caroline would say if she could see him buzzing around like a worker bee.
Caroline is gone.
Rand tells me sometimes.
This is Mitch’s house, I suppose. I don’t know how I ended up here, but there are two chairs on the back deck where Rand and I can sit and watch the mountains. A short, round lady with wild hair was here earlier, and she brought banana bread. She was nice.
Sometimes when I’m watching the mountains in the evening, a light appears, just for a minute, and I find myself reaching into my pocket for something, but nothing’s there. Shadows dance across my mind like clouds across the sky, and I can’t always figure out what the sun is revealing before it’s cast in shadow again. Cast in shadow and gone. I never know if the sun will reveal it again or if it will remain in darkness forever.
I walk through the house and see a cat. It meows at me and tangles itself in my legs, almost knocking me over. I steady myself against the wall.
Rand is beside me, his hand on my elbow. “Are you okay?”
“When did we get a cat?”
“It’s Bea and Jeremy’s cat, remember?”
“Beatrice.”
“Yes.”
“But she’s not here.”
Rand’s eyes are deep and wild as Alder Gulch. “She and Jeremy moved to Ponderosa, remember? They’ve got their own place now. They’re going to have a baby.”
Baby. My hand slides into my pocket. I had a baby. The shadows shift and darkness covers him. Where is he?
I look down at the cat.
Where is who?
Rand leads me to a kitchen table.
This must be Mitch’s house.
Caroline is gone.
“Is Mitch home?”
Rand pulls out a chair for me. “Not yet.”
After I sit, Rand sits, too. He’s never in a hurry. Never has more important places to be. No matter how many shadows form, I know that if a storm comes, he’ll be right here next to me. Holding my hand. Peering through the shadows to find me, wherever I might go.
FIFTY-ONE
When Mitch got home from work, Frank’s Suburban was there. It was the end of the first week of the schedule Marge had put together. Of course, Frank had signed up for the first Friday available.
Mitch tromped into the house and found Frank playing checkers with his father in the living room. His mother sat nearby, watching closely.
“Howdy.” Dad greeted him without looking up from the board.
“You’re giving Frank a run for his money, I hope.”
�
�Mebbe.”
Mitch caught Frank’s eye. “You don’t have to spend all afternoon here, you know.”
The deal had been that people scheduled to help on any given day would stop in twice to check on his parents, but otherwise would just be on call in case something came up.
Frank threw up his hands with a groan as Rand finished off the last of his pieces. “You got me again.” He solemnly shook Rand’s hand, then stood to face Mitch. “I was waiting for you.”
As if by unspoken agreement, they walked together to the kitchen.
Mitch draped his CINCH jacket over the back of a chair. “Everything go okay here?”
He’d felt like a nervous first-time parent all week, every time he left for work. But Marge had been wonderful, texting him several times a day that she’d been over and things were fine. And on Wednesday, when he got home, Rand had reported that Amber and Hunter had been by, and June had sat entranced, watching the baby play the entire time.
“It was great.” Frank leaned a hip against the table and folded his arms across his chest. “I talked with your dad about coming to the service this Sunday.”
“You think that’s a good idea?”
It would be easy enough on one hand, but on the other hand, the one consistent thing that seemed to make his mother confused and irritable was a lot of people. And Mitch knew from experience the well-meaning folks at Moose Creek Community Church—God bless them—would be unlikely to give his mother privacy and space.
Frank shrugged. “Only one way to find out. But people could also take turns staying home with your mom so Rand could go. He’s going to need a break now and then. And so will you.”
Mitch’s face twisted into a scowl for a second and then smoothed back out.
“I know, I know.” Frank held up his hands. “That’s something a pastor would say.”
Well, yes, it was. But also something a friend would say.