by Liz Isaacson
“This is Amanda,” he said, cocking one hip into the door keeping the horse in her stall. “Amanda, Dark Beauty.”
She looked at Finn like he’d lost his mind. Maybe he had. And he decided to be brave and reckless again. “Do you like farms and cowboys?” he asked. “Because if you don’t, I’m just not sure we should keep seeing each other.”
She blinked, her eyes widening. “I—”
Finn waited, because he was used to dealing with his horses, who had attitudes and a stubborn streak he had to keep intact and train out of them at the same time. They had to think they were more important than every other horse in the world so they’d run fast. And they had to love him and respect him at the same time.
Training a horse was tougher than it sounded, and dealing with jockeys was even tougher. The upcoming jockey training camp he did in August entered his mind, and he hadn’t even started planning it yet.
Three months was a long time, but he should probably at least check and see if registrations were filling or not.
He wanted to sigh. Tell Amanda she should get on home. Get back to work so he could finish his chores and retire in front of the TV with a bowl of ice cream and a cup of coffee.
Finn waited another moment, and then another. Just as his frustration reached a boiling point, Amanda said, “I like you. And if you’re a cowboy, then I guess I like cowboys.”
He nodded and moved down to the next stall. He wasn’t going to introduce her to any more horses, but a measure of comfort moved through him when she slipped her hand into his.
“Why don’t you like cowboys?” he asked. “You got married young. Surely you didn’t have a bad experience with one.”
“I grew up in Texas,” she said. “I’ve known dozens of cowboys, practically from the time I started school.”
“Bad experience in kindergarten?” He chuckled. “Come on, Amanda. I’m not stupid.”
“I didn’t say you were stupid.” She paused outside the next stall, this one for a horse named Always Boss. “He’s beautiful.”
“He’s going to win some races, this one,” Finn said fondly, drawing Amanda’s attention. She gazed at him with all the adoration he’d always wanted from his wife. The desire he’d never quite seen in her eyes.
“I suppose I never wanted a cowboy because I didn’t particularly like being a cowgirl.”
He appreciated the honesty in her tone. “You don’t have to be anything but what you already are.”
A smile touched her face, radiating up into her eyes. “Thank you, Finn.” She looped her arm in his and they walked down to the of the aisle and turned back.
“I think the rain has stopped,” he said, listening for the patter of it on the roof and not hearing it. “We could make a run for it. I’ve got frozen cookie dough in the freezer, and you can make me some of that hot chocolate you were bragging about on Friday.”
“I was not bragging,” she said with a laugh.
Finn leaned over and kissed her cheek. “I know you weren’t. Come on. Sometimes the rain only pauses for a second.” As soon as he’d said it, he felt foolish. Of course, she’d already know that. She’d lived here for forty-five years.
She said nothing though, and Finn didn’t press the issue of her not liking the farm. Her disinterest was obvious—almost as obvious as her interest in him. Was it possible for her to like—maybe even fall in love with—a cowboy and not like what he did for a living?
He supposed anything was possible, and he sent up a quick prayer as he gathered his basket full of eggs, cracked the door to check on the rain, and then hurried back to the house.
The next evening, Finn had just taken the garlic bread out of the oven when the front door opened and his daughter called, “Dad?”
“In the kitchen,” he said, hurrying to set the pan on top of the stove and toss the oven mitts to the counter beside that. He ducked around the corner and grinned at Joann and Kim, who’d driven out together from Jackson Hole.
“Smells amazing in here,” Kim said, tossing her honey-blonde hair over her shoulder as she walked toward him, a smile on her pretty face.
“Hey, girls.” He embraced them both, the three-way hug making him feel like the best dad in the world, though he knew he wasn’t. “How was the drive?”
“Joann nearly killed us at the crossroads,” Kim said, tossing a look at her older sister.
“I did not. That trucker wasn’t even looking.” She handed Finn a package. “Mom said to give you this.”
“Thanks.” Finn looked at the small box, trying to figure out what his ex-wife would possibly have for him. Their mail hadn’t been crossed in decades, and there was no reason he’d ever have something sent to her house. He didn’t even know her address by heart.
“She said to open it right away.” Joann lifted her eyebrows in such a way that Finn’s fear boosted over his curiosity.
“What am I going to find?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” Joann said.
“If you don’t open it, I will,” Kim said from the kitchen. “I’m starving, and this food looks amazing.”
It was just spaghetti and meatballs, but it was something Finn had been feeding his girls since they were little. He got nostalgic making it for them, though they were both grown now.
He lifted the flaps on the box, which had been tucked into one another. A candle sat inside, with the outline of the Teton Mountain Range on it.
“Ooh, a candle,” Joann said, reaching inside the box. “I want one of these.”
“They’re made from organic beeswax,” Kim said, as if Finn cared about such things. “And that one is scented with pine and nutmeg. It sounds weird, but it smells divine.” She lifted the lid on the spaghetti and meatballs. “Can we eat now? We’ve been driving forever.”
Finn smiled at the dramatic whine of his youngest daughter. She’d always had a flair for exaggeration, and Finn had grown to love that about Kim.
“Sure,” he said, taking the candle from Joann and setting it on the built-in desk in his kitchen he didn’t actually use for anything but a gathering place for junk. Every once in a while, he’d clean it up. He opened the drawer and pulled out a lighter, got the wick burning, and turned to his daughters.
“Thank you so much for coming,” he said, getting a little choked up.
“Of course, Daddy,” Kim said. “Besides, Joann said you have a new girlfriend, and I want to hear all about her.”
Finn just smiled and said, “Let’s eat before I embarrass myself.”
Chapter Eleven
Amanda worked through the next morning, paying bills, ordering groceries, and making flower-shaped sugar cookies for the widows in her church group. By the time she returned home from delivering them, the sun had heated the Wyoming landscape to almost unbearable temperatures, and it wasn’t even June yet.
She had a few leftover cookies, and she tied ribbons around the cellophane and prepared them to take to her daughters-in-law. She stopped at Vi’s first, though the woman wasn’t technically related to her.
“Cookies,” she said as she entered. Vi looked up from where she sat at the piano, a notebook open on her lap.
“Oh, Amanda,” she said, jumping to her feet and practically throwing the notebook over her shoulder.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” she said, embarrassment squirreling through her. The front door was open. It was just the screen.”
“You didn’t interrupt.” Her eyes glittered at the cookie in Amanda’s hand. “You’re the best.”
“I’m not Celia,” Amanda said as she laughed and hugged Vi. “How are you feeling?”
“Great,” she said. “Just fine.”
“Where’s Todd?” Neither of them had real jobs, as they both had money coming out their ears.
“He went to get lunch,” she said. “We were just….” She looked at the piano and back to Amanda. “Can you keep a secret?”
“Nope,” Amanda said. “I’m pretty terrible at it, actually.” She laughe
d, glad when Vi joined in. All at once, she remembered she did have a secret, and she hadn’t told anyone. “I take that back. I’m keeping a secret for someone right now, so I probably can do it.”
Vi took a bite of her flower, taking off one petal. She chewed, looking thoughtful. After she swallowed, she said, “Todd and I are working on some new songs.”
“Oh, wow,” Amanda said. “That’s great.”
“For the babies,” she said. “Todd’s a great guitar player, and we want them to know how much we love them.” Tears appeared in her eyes, and Amanda wanted to hug her tight, tight, tight.
“Oh, baby,” she said. “They know you love them already.”
Vi nodded, wiped her tears, and took another bite of her cookie. Amanda said she couldn’t stay long, as she had other cookies to deliver, and she hugged Vi one last time before she left.
She remembered what a magical time it had been to be pregnant, and she thought about her life as a young mother as she drove to Rose’s house. Rose wanted to be a mother more than anything, but Amanda hadn’t heard any announcements yet.
No one was home, and she didn’t dare leave the cookie to bake in the hot sun. So she took it with her and stopped by Becca’s, only to find she wasn’t home either. When Amanda texted her, she said she and Chrissy had gone to swimming lessons and would be back soon.
Deciding not to stay, Amanda left her cookie on the kitchen counter and went home. She stood in the foyer of the huge house she’d once shared with her husband. She loved this house. She’d designed this house with an architect, and it had everything exactly how she wanted it. Yes, the yard was too big. The pantry not big enough. So maybe not everything was exactly how she wanted it.
She doubted anything ever could be. Her marriage hadn’t been perfect, but they’d made it work. She hadn’t been a perfect mother, but somehow her sons had survived.
Standing in the silent house, she realized that maybe the reason none of her relationships had worked out over the past several years was because of her.
After all, she’d almost pushed Finn away because of a couple of accessories he wore. “It’s more than that,” she said to the vase of flowers on the front table.
Finn’s entire way of life didn’t appeal to Amanda. She didn’t want to be tied to a farm, because animals needed constant care. If they went out of town, someone had to be there to take care of the chickens and horses and goats.
Not that Finn had goats. At least Amanda didn’t think he did.
“And you don’t travel,” she said to herself. She had plenty of money, and she didn’t particularly care to go anywhere. She wanted to be with her grandkids, her sons, their wives. And yet…she’d left the lodge yesterday.
Finn really had turned her entire world upside down, and she didn’t even know which way to go anymore.
Her phone buzzed, and she retrieved it from her purse pocket. Finn had texted, as if he knew she’d been thinking about him. Are you allergic to anything?
She smiled at the simplicity of the message. He was probably nervous to cook for her, and she quickly sent back Nope. And I like everything.
That wasn’t entirely true. She could do without cooked carrots or artichokes, but he’d said he was making meatballs and gravy with scalloped potatoes. Surely he couldn’t put carrots in either of those.
“We’ll find out tomorrow,” she said, finally moving into the kitchen to discover she’d left a big, floury mess from the sugar cookies.
When she pulled up to Finn’s the next day, she found him getting his mail from the box at the end of his driveway. She stopped and rolled down her window. “Need a ride, partner?” She laughed, and Finn grinned at her like she was the funniest stand-up comedian he’d ever heard.
She inched forward and put her SUV in park, got out, and walked into the house with him. “How was dinner with your daughters?” He’d told her more about Kim and Joann on Sunday evening while she brewed up hot chocolate and he popped popcorn. She’d stayed too late, once again making her feel like a much younger woman than she actually was.
“They’re great,” he said. “Kim has a serious boyfriend. I guess they’ve started talking about marriage.”
“Oh, that’s great,” she said. “I mean, is that great? Do you like the man she’s with?”
“I’ve never met him,” Finn said.
“Oh.” Surprise moved through Amanda.
Finn threw her a look as he tossed the mail on the desk and continued to the stovetop, where a pot sat, steam leaking from the lid. He bent and peered into the oven, saying, “A few more minutes. I hope you’re not starving.”
“I’m fine,” she said, taking a spot on the couch across the room. “Are you going to meet the guy before your daughter marries him?”
“I’m sure I will,” Finn said, his tone a bit standoffish. “They live an hour away.”
“I know,” Amanda said. Honestly, was she trying to find a fault in him? Why did she care how he interacted with his daughters? He clearly loved them, and they loved him. “What do you like to do when you’re not working around here?”
He got down a couple of plates and faced her. “I like to cross-country ski.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope.”
“You do that in the winter. You know it’s cold in the winter here, right?”
He laughed, making the once-tense atmosphere much lighter. “I know. The trick to enjoying Wyoming is enjoying winter sports.”
Amanda felt like someone had poured straight lemon juice down her throat. “I try not to go outside in the winter at all.”
“No ice skating?”
“No.” She shook her head.
“I suppose ice fishing would be out then.” His blue eyes glittered at her all the way from the kitchen, and she wanted to get up and go over there and kiss that mouth.
That cowboy mouth.
“I don’t even see the point of fishing when it’s warm,” she said.
“Oh, boy.” He chuckled again. A timer went off, and he turned back to the oven to silence it. He pulled the potatoes out and clicked off the burner under the pot on the stovetop. “I think we’re ready.”
She joined him in the kitchen, and he folded his arms. “Will you say grace?”
A moment passed between them, and Amanda’s body heated in that single breath. “Sure,” she said. She thanked the Lord for the food, for the good land where they lived, and asked Him to watch over those they loved. In her heart, she added a silent plea that she could figure out how to make things work with Finn permanently.
She kept those in her heart, though, and after she said, “Amen,” he served her a beautiful plate of food.
“You keep doing this, and I won’t want to leave.”
“That’s the point.” He grinned at her, but Amanda felt like he’d stabbed her through the heart with his fork.
“Oh?”
He shrugged. “I just want you to know you won’t have to take care of me. I can cook, I clean, I do all my own yardwork.”
“More than me, then,” she said, suddenly remembering she’d brought him a cookie. “Oh, I have something for you.” She left her meatballs on the counter and rushed out the front door. Once she’d grabbed it and returned, she held it out to him like she’d brought him the greatest present in the world.
“I bake,” she said. “Does that count for something?”
“Sure does,” he said, taking the cookie from her. “This is great. You make this from scratch?”
“That’s right.” She smiled and settled back into her spot beside him at the bar.
“Have you ever wanted to do something different with your life?” he asked. “Open a bakery, that kind of thing?”
She wasn’t sure where these questions were coming from, and she filled her mouth with the most delicious meatballs and brown gravy she’d ever had. A moan came out, and he looked at her.
“This is amazing,” she said after she’d swallowed. “And no, not really. I mean, I
like to bake, but I also like to sleep in.”
“Ah, a dangerous combination for a bakery owner,” he teased.
“Exactly.” The conversation was easy after that, and Amanda stayed for an hour or so. When Finn said he had to get back to work on the farm, rather than go with him, she bid him farewell and got back in her car.
His words about wanting to keep her with him wouldn’t leave her mind. As the miles and minutes passed, she realized how different their lives were. They didn’t live in the same town. Didn’t attend the same church. Didn’t even have the same goals.
She wanted a companion. Someone to share her life with. “What does he want?” she asked herself.
If things got serious with them, hard conversations would have to happen. Could she sell her house in Coral Canyon and move to Dog Valley? Live on a farm? Give up her church, her friends, her close proximity to her family?
As the questions tumbled through her mind, Amanda didn’t have a concrete answer for any of them. She loved her house in Coral Canyon, and she couldn’t imagine selling it. She and Ron had worked so hard on it, and there was so much of both of them there.
She didn’t have to decide right now, and she put the thoughts out of her head. They stayed away for approximately four seconds, and then they swirled back to life again.
In the end, she decided to do what she’d once told Eli. “Don’t worry so much,” she said as she pulled into her garage. “You haven’t even kissed him yet. Have fun. Get to know him. Don’t worry.”
Nodding with utmost determination, she went inside the house. The silent, empty house that she swore one day would swallow her whole.
To ease her loneliness and make the house smaller, she pulled out her phone and texted Finn. Lunch was delicious. Thank you so much for having me.
Anytime, Amanda, his response said. Anytime.
And looking around the house now, with Finn’s words etched in her eyes, she knew she could give up this house. After all, it was just a house, and houses didn’t make meatballs in brown gravy or send texts or offer companionship.