by Vanessa Vale
“He’s from over by Pony. Parents have a ranch there. Cows. Lots of cows.” Pony was a tiny speck of a town west of Bozeman, right smack dab in the middle of nowhere. Beautiful country, but isolated. Even more so than Bozeman. Heck, with forty-some thousand people, Bozeman was like New York City by comparison. The Colonel shook his head. “I don’t mind eating ‘em, but I don’t need several thousand as pets.”
I rolled my eyes. There really was nothing to say to that.
“Went into the army right out of high school,” he continued. “Did two tours in the Middle East. Serious stuff. Came back with all his parts and now he’s a firefighter.”
The man’s entire life story in four sentences. I should have asked a girl to get the juicy details. I inhaled sharply—in the way a person would if they found a bee on their nose—when I realized I didn’t even know if Ty was married. It was impossible to remember if he had a ring on his finger. I’d been too blinded by his wide shoulders and blue eyes. I needed to get a woman’s inside scoop. First off, wedding ring. Then current girlfriend, bad relationships, what side of the bed he slept on. The important stuff. Kelly. I’d have to call her later. My best friend had the fast track on information I couldn’t get. With seven kids involved in school, swim lessons, soccer practice, orthodontist appointments and whatever else, she ran into every person in town I didn’t.
Or I could go right to the source. Which, based on the hooting and hollering getting louder and louder, was coming my way. Through the backyard tromped Fireman, Spiderman and Star Wars-man. I felt protected from flames, bugs and aliens. Two, though, were carrying garden gnomes so the image was slightly tarnished.
Ty had changed out of his volunteer fire department T-shirt and wore a pair of jeans, white T-shirt and flip flops. Oh my. He did casual really well. And those jeans, they were well worn and very well molded. I blinked, realizing I was staring at his crotch. Why did he make me so nervous? He exuded manliness, that easy way he moved, with a confidence in himself. Montana sure knew how to make a man. Testosterone seeped from his pores and I just sucked it right in. That was what I found so attractive about him. His appeal went beyond his good looks. I had been married to a good looker and he hadn’t exuded anything. Maybe ego. Not much had come out of Nate’s pores except bad-karma goo as he’d been so slimy.
Ty shook hands with the Colonel, smiled at me. Our eyes met, held. And held. His were so blue, intensely focused on mine, then lower, to my mouth. I melted inside. Other places, too. I smiled back. The boys yanked on Ty’s arms, breaking the spell between the two of us.
Ty cleared his throat. “Looks like you did well at the garage sales,” he said, enjoying the kids’ gnome enthusiasm.
“Yeah, George is great!” Zach exclaimed, placing his ceramic friend on the table next to the chicken platter.
“Glad the fire department put Zach on the ‘No-Fly List’ instead of arresting him outright,” Ty said as he sat down. Bobby, still hugging his gnome, climbed up in his lap.
In his lap, completely comfortable and at ease with the man. My heart flip-flopped and I felt like I was fifteen again. Just looking at him gave me butterflies in my stomach, made my palms sweat. I was afraid I might start to ramble and giggle. I laughed instead. I couldn’t help it. Nice to see someone poke fun at life’s little foibles.
* * *
An hour later, so I could go to work, I left the boys with the Colonel. They were camping out in his backyard for the evening, the tent going up as I left. The sun was setting, pink and purple streaked the sky. The air had finally started to cool. I zipped up my hoodie sweatshirt.
“Camping will put hair on their chests,” he said.
Zach and Bobby glanced at him and didn’t look particularly excited about that concept.
“You get to pee outside,” he added, and the boys jumped up and down for joy.
I gave the boys quick hugs and kisses before they dashed over to the nearest pine tree to pull down their pants and water it.
“Don’t worry about anything,” the Colonel told me. “I’m more comfortable in a tent than inside anyway.”
Probably true after all the years in the military.
“I’ll wake you when I get home and lug them into the house,” I said, then dashed off.
* * *
I opened a shipment of peek-a-boo lingerie. It was pink, it was stretchy and it was all see-through. It left nothing to the imagination and gave a ton of access to all the important places.
The store smelled like piña colada as a customer had dropped a canister of tropical scented dusting powder on the floor. It had taken me fifteen minutes to vacuum up what looked like flour, but its use was less culinary and more sexual, although there was some licking involved. The scent lingered. I probably smelled like it, too.
The phone rang.
“Goldilocks.” Goldie listened, and then answered, “You got it stuck where?” She listened some more. “Uh huh.” And then some more. “We don’t give advice on medical conditions, but if it’s stuck where you say and you can’t reach it, then you need to go to the ER to get it out. Come in next week when you’re feeling better and I’ll give you a replacement, on the house.” Goldie hung up.
Nothing like customer service!
“So, I heard about the incident at the fire station this morning,” Goldie commented, gum popping between her capped teeth. My mother-in-law was seventy, five feet nothing, lots of dyed blonde hair piled high on her head. She wore a black V-neck stretchy top, which showed off ample cleavage. Trim jeans and a pair of clogs. She aimed for under forty above the ankles, and went for comfort when it came to her feet.
Her husband, Paul, was her antithesis. Calm, quiet, reserved. He chose his words wisely. When he spoke, I listened, as it was always something good. I had no idea how they’d stayed married for almost forty years but, whatever it was, it was working.
Paul was an obstetrician who’d delivered more than half the babies in town. Now he delivered those babies’ babies. He’d been on call when I went into labor with Zach, but I drew the line—even at nine centimeters dilated—at my father-in-law seeing my hoo-hah, so they’d called in an alternate. It was no small stretch that as a couple, my in-laws knew more about a woman’s hoo-hah than anyone else in town. She was the expert on fun, he the consequences.
“John Poleski was at the breakfast with his wife and grandson. Fortunately, he had that pacemaker put in last year.”
John Poleski was eighty if he was a day, shaped like a tall Humpty Dumpty and bald. He’d worked for the railroad on the highline near Malta, a small town near the Canadian border, for decades. I’d never seen him in anything but overalls.
I rolled my eyes at her as I rung up a sale for strawberry-flavored body lotion and a DVD rental of Hit Me With Your Black Cock.
“Wish I’d been there.” She chuckled. “I’ve got to kiss my grandson for stirring things up.” Goldie was all for stirring things up. She was Bozeman’s Stir-Things-Up Queen. She liked to stick her nose in everyone’s business, which was easy to do around here. “John also said you met Ty Strickland. He’s a real man. I bet he’s good with his hands.” She waggled her eyebrows at me.
I dreaded where this was going. I decided to take the high road because I was not talking with her about my dirty thoughts involving my new neighbor. “I’ll definitely remember him when my snow blower stops working.”
She clicked her manicured nails on the glass-topped display case full of the higher end toys. “Snow blower, my ass. He can take care of other things you need worked on, Jane.” She looked at me, her head tilted down to give me a beady-eyed gaze. “You need sex and that man can give it to you.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I grumbled, walking over to the hanging racks with the lingerie. I had no doubt Ty Strickland could give it to me. I also had no doubt he’d be really good at it. Really, really good.
“It’s been three years since Nate’s been gone,” she replied, breaking me from my thoughts of having sex with Ty. �
��How long before that?”
This was a typical conversation I had with my mother-in-law. She’d talk sex with the pope. Although I thought the pope would be more comfortable than I was at the moment. This was her son—her dead son—she was talking about. But she was the first to admit his elevator hadn’t gone all the way up and it had skipped the morals department altogether.
“Obviously, you did it to have Bobby and that’s been, what, five years or so?” She looked up in the air at her imaginary calculator.
“Holy crap,” I whispered. I’d have sex with the first guy who came through the door if Goldie would just shut up.
“Honey, I’ve known you since you were a little baby freshman at MSU.”
MSU, or Montana State University, was practically downtown, in fact, only a few blocks from my house. “Coming from a state like Maryland, I swear you didn’t know one end of a cow from another.”
It was true. I hadn’t.
“Didn’t know one end of a man from the other, either.” She chuckled. “You met Nate right away. I bet he was your first too, hmm?” She winked at me.
No way was I answering that one. She knew the answer. Making me say it out loud was cruel and unusual punishment.
“Then you up and married him. Your first. Your only.” She casually rearranged the basket of foiled condoms we offered like mints to customers. “Your mama has always entrusted me to be there for you. I swear Savannah’s gotta be on the other side of the world and you needed all the help you could get. Still do, for that matter.”
Goldie had been a fixture in my life from the very beginning of my fateful relationship with her son. Sweet and kind, yet over the top crazy, I’d fallen in love with her almost as fast as I had Nate. Since I’d grown up in Maryland, Bozeman was as far from home geographically as possible, barring moving to Alaska. Lifestyle-wise, it would have been more familiar to me if I’d been launched into space.
At the time, I’d wanted something different, something far away. My dad had walked out and my mom divorced his sorry ass lickety-split. I’d figured I’d find myself in Montana. I was still working on that one. During my college years, my mom had moved south to Savannah to find herself, and Goldie became a substitute mom as I settled into Bozeman. My real mom, more apt to wear Lily Pulitzer than Levi’s, had forged an unusual bond with Goldie and was comfortable with her acting as mom-by-proxy.
“The way I see it, you’re due.”
I groaned and shook my head. Not because she annoyed me, which she did, but because she was right. I was due. Overdue, like a carton of milk.
The night Bobby was conceived was the last time Nate and I had had sex. The last time I’d had sex period. I’d discovered I was pregnant the same day I’d discovered Nate with another woman in Goldilocks’ storage room. Pants around ankles, Nate’s white butt thrusting Bimbo into the shelves of porn. I’d had his clothes tossed out across the front yard an hour later.
“Ty seems nice,” I replied as neutrally as possible. “I don’t even know if he’s got a girlfriend. Besides, I’ve only talked to him for about five minutes. Total. I think I need a little more foreplay than that.”
She winked at me again. “Don’t worry, sweetie. I’ll help.”
Oh god. Goldie help? This was so not good.
* * *
Four hours later, I unzipped the tent to haul my kids back to their rooms. They weren’t up for an all-nighter yet. I whispered goodnight to the Colonel as he climbed out and went into his house.
It was really dark. No street lights shined, the Milky Way easily seen stretching across the sky. All was quiet. Even though we lived only a few blocks from MSU, and on the south side of town near Main, not much happened this late at night in the summer. Except snoring. Or sex.
The college students were off partying in their hometowns. The locals had church in the morning. I was inside the tent lifting Bobby into my arms when I heard the ruckus. It sounded like a large animal foraging through my yard. Plodding footsteps, leaves rustling. Had a dog gotten loose? Was a deer eating my tomato plants? I froze in place, Bobby’s heavy head cozy on my shoulder. Neither he—nor Zach—would have woken up for a parade coming through the Colonel’s backyard. They were no help.
Wild animals didn’t scare me. Bears hadn’t been seen in town since spring when they’d woken up from their long winter’s nap. All other creatures of the night were more afraid of me than I of them. Except snakes. I was definitely more afraid of them. But snakes didn’t have feet, or hooves, so I ruled them out. I figured all the noise I’d make to get Bobby—and myself—out of the tent, across the Colonel’s yard, through the gate and into mine would scare away any animal. By the time I got to the fence, I heard its retreat across the grass and past the lilac bush separating my yard from Mr. Blumenthal’s behind us.
The next morning, bright and early, my right eyelid was pried open by little fingers. “Mom! There are footprints in the backyard!” Bobby exclaimed. “I think Santa was here.”
My brain was slow and foggy. I blinked several times and peered at the clock on the nightstand. Eight. Not too shabby for a Sunday. I wouldn’t have minded ten, but beggars couldn’t be choosers with kids around.
“Mooom!”
“Shh! Zach’s still asleep.” Footprints, right. “It’s July. No Santa. But I think Shrek or Donkey was out there rustling around when I came home last night.”
The previous winter, we had a family of deer visit the crab apple tree in the side yard, rooting around in the snow searching for fallen fruit. The family of four had made a path through the snow in a circuit around the neighborhood. They’d known where to forage for food in the lean months. Stopping to paw at the crusty snow and frozen ground, they’d eaten up the rotten fruit. The cold winter morning we’d first seen them the boys were watching Shrek II. Thus Shrek, Donkey, Dragon and Fiona joined the family, if only extraneously. Once spring came, they’d moved to greener pastures. Literally.
Bobby shook his head, kneeling next to me. “No, Mommy, people footprints.”
That woke me up faster than a cup of coffee. “What? People footprints?”
Bobby nodded.
“Wait, what were you doing outside by yourself while I slept?”
“You didn’t bring in the gnomes from the tent last night. They were out there all alone. ‘Sides, the Kernel is out having his coffee so I wasn’t by myself.”
The gnomes. Couldn’t leave the gnomes alone outside.
“Okay.” I sighed as I hoisted myself out of bed. I wore pink and white striped cotton drawstring jammie pants and white tank top. Following Bobby out the back door, I crossed my arms over my chest in deference to the coolness of the morning and my lack of bra.
Bobby ran to the lilac bush. “See!” He pointed to the ground and walked all around the yard. I decided to follow him, careful not to step in deer poop with my bare feet. Where there were deer, there was always poop. Shrek and family were nice leaving little presents like that. But instead of deer poop, there were footprints. Bobby was right. The ground was soft from the sprinkler and slip-and-slide and it was easy to see indentations of footprints all around the yard. My arms fell to my sides as I took in the big man prints shaped like work boots. It looked like someone had been blindfolded for Pin the Tail on the Donkey and hadn’t found the donkey.
Who was in the yard last night and why?
Crazy things happened when you lived near the University. One summer night, a car had driven up on the front yard, realized there was a house in the way, did a three-point turn and kept going. I hadn’t seen—or heard—it happen as my bedroom was at the back of the house, but the tire marks gouging the front grass was proof enough. Having someone in the backyard though was way too creepy. A little too close to home.
As I looked around assessing the nocturnal activity, I saw the Colonel, coffee cup in hand, head into his house. He hadn’t seen me before he went inside. Left standing at their shared fence was Ty. He too, held a mug. It must have been the morning coffee kl
atch. His gaze was intense, his look serious as he stared at me. No smile. I gave a small wave and noticed Ty wasn’t looking at my face, but a foot lower. I felt heat rush to my cheeks as I remembered.
White tank top. No bra. Two mornings in a row of looking bad.
I crossed my arms over my chest for modesty’s sake, although I was already past embarrassed. Even with the Colonel’s yard between us, I could see Ty’s mouth drop open. His gaze was aimed on my chest like a heat-seeking missile on a target. I dared a glance down at myself.
Instead of covering myself, I had all but hoisted the girls up so that inches of cleavage showed. One nipple had popped out the scooped neckline and was pointed right at Ty. Holy crap! I tugged the tank back up and back into place, then dashed into the house to get dressed before anything more mortifying, if that were even possible, could happen. I’d given a talk on dildos and flashed him all within two days. Just great.
3
Ty and the Colonel couldn’t make heads or tails of the footprints and were not happy, to say the least, about someone traipsing through my backyard. We sat on my patio having second and third cups of coffee. I pretended I wasn’t absurdly embarrassed about the whole nipple incident. The Colonel was oblivious to the whole thing and Ty was a gentleman and didn’t bring it up. But his lips quirked up frequently as the three of us talked and I caught him glancing at my very covered chest. Nothing was falling out now that I wore a big, baggy sweatshirt. It didn’t stop him from looking though, nor from my nipples getting hard wondering exactly what he was thinking.
We chocked the footprints up to some college kid, drunk and lost. Happened often enough to be plausible. We debated what to do about preventing another late-night visitor. Options ranged from Zach’s idea of setting booby traps to the Colonel’s thoughts about adding motion sensors to my exterior lights. The motion sensors won.
Zach and Bobby weren’t completely convinced, so they strung some red velvet holiday ribbon with little sleigh bells attached—dug from our Christmas box in the garage—over the fence gate. Just in case. They believed this might notify us of intruders or bad guys. Worked for me.