If the Fates Allow

by Annie Harper

  Devon patted her thigh. “You’ve got this.”

  Shay put the car in gear and drove up to the house.

  Shay’s dad, Anthony, had the door open before they stopped the car. He’d been her dad since she was six months old. She had no other father. Anthony was light skinned and tall, though shorter than Shay. He’d taught Shay to dribble and shoot and play defense. As Shay and Devon climbed down from the vehicle and crunched onto the clear, but frozen, gravel drive, his long face broke into a slow smile. Shay’s mom pushed out from behind him and bounded down the stairs.

  She glared at Anthony, her eyes fierce in her round face. “Why the heck didn’t you tell me they were here?”

  “I wanted a minute to see her myself,” Anthony said. “You are a sight for sore eyes, Shaylee.”

  Shay’s mother wasn’t a short woman, but when she wrapped her arms around Shay’s waist, her head only reached Shay’s shoulder. Shay held on tight and met her dad’s warm gaze. She’d been wrong, wanting to stay away.

  Her mom leaned back and looked from Shay to Devon. Her face was the same warm brown as Shay’s. “I’m thankful you’re here. And Devon too. I’ve seen your picture, of course. You play center, have I got that right?”

  Devon nodded. “Yes, ma’am, most of the time.” Their coach refused to refer to the old-school positions, preferring they all play more than one role, but Devon was useful under the post.

  “Don’t call me ma’am, sweetheart. My name’s Michele. Everyone calls me ‘Chele. Or Mama. You should too. After all, it’s like we’re family already, isn’t it?” She nodded to Shay’s father. “You can call him Anthony. Or Dad, if you’d like.”

  Michele turned to link arms with Shay and Devon and walked them up the steps. “It’s too cold to stay out here talking. We can talk all we like inside. Now, Shay honey, we’ve just got a few people here.”

  Damn. Shay should have noticed some of the cars and trucks parked out front were not her parents’. She looked past her mother in Devon’s direction. “Sorry,” she mouthed.

  Michele caught the end of that expression. “Don’t be a fool about it. You’ve known these people all your life, Shay. They didn’t want to miss you. Just a small get together tonight and then a big dinner the day after Christmas. And Shay.” Michele paused at the top of the stairs. Her eyes shone bright in the light from the door. “I haven’t always been as prepared as you’d like. For you.” She patted Shay’s arm. Shay had no idea what was going on. “This time I’ve got it.”

  “Got what?” Shay started as her mother swung open the front door. Immediately a small crowd appeared in the doorway. Flickering light and heat flooded the small front porch.

  Michele squeezed Shay’s hand and raised her voice. “Everyone, look who’s home! And see, she brought Devon. Let’s give a warm welcome to Shay’s girlfriend, everyone.”

  “Wait,” Shay said, but her mom beamed at her and swept into the house; her dark finger-coiled hair bounced about her head. Shay froze on the porch. Beside her, Devon’s shoulders shook with silent laughter.

  “You’re no help,” Shay said and followed her mom in.

  From the outside, the room had seemed over-full, as if the whole town was peering through the door at Shay and Devon. But there was only a small collection of visitors. They were mostly the neighbors Shay had grown up with, local ranchers and business owners. Michele said, “You know Albi of course, and Jan and Greg from the climbing center. And you remember Ilie from up at the ranch, don’t you?”

  Shay nodded. “Mom,” she said urgently.

  “All our neighbors and best friends. Ilie’s brought his niece and nephew. You knew them in school. Oh, and here’s Teddy.” Teddy had helped in the store for years. His pale, round face broke into a smile.

  Shay smiled between gritted teeth. “Hi, Ted,” she said. “Mom, I really need to talk to you.”

  Michele came close. She tipped up her chin, and Shay’s own dark gaze was reflected back at her. “Shay. There’s no need to worry, you’re safe here. I spent years wondering why you don’t come home and—I worked it out. I know what it’s like to be an outsider. I’ve been there. When I moved here I was alone. I was carrying you and I was a Black woman in Montana.”

  Shay had imagined it often. “I know, Mom.”

  “It took time. I was lucky. I met your father.” She smiled. “So as much as I can I thought I’d head off any narrow-mindedness. Make it clear that you are our daughter, and we love you, and your town loves you. This is your home, Shay. We want Devon to be part of the family. She might like it here.”

  Shay blinked through a sparkle of tears.

  “Oh,” said Michele. “And look, here’s Milla. She’s become so impor­tant to us.”

  Milla Dalya. Shay stopped worrying about the crowd of neighbors and her mom introducing Devon as her girlfriend. She stopped breathing too.

  “Old crush,” she’d said to Devon in the car. “Nothing important.” That might not have been the whole truth.

  For the first six months of high school, Shay had been first on the school bus each morning. Halfway through freshman year Milla and her twin brother Luka and uncle Ilie had moved into the dilapidated horse ranch up the hill. From then on, Milla and Luka were first on the bus; Shay was second. The three of them rode twenty minutes around the mountain before collecting anyone else.

  That first frosty day, Milla had smiled at Shay.

  “Oh, no,” Shay had thought as she pulled off her thick gloves and shoved them in her backpack. Milla’s smile was sudden and waywardly infectious. It balanced the seriousness of the girl’s pale, freckled face and silvery eyes.

  Shay had managed to smile back and sit four seats away. Not too close, not too far. That was the trip to school. On the way home, Milla had asked Shay’s name. By week two they were sitting at the front of the bus sharing Shay’s iPod and a set of earbuds. When the bus swung around the mountain, Shay’s black, puffy jacket pressed against Milla’s sky-blue one.

  They weren’t friends exactly. Shay didn’t have friends. She had goals. She spent any time that wasn’t a class training in the gym or on the football field. She had goals.

  Anyway, they’d never shared a class or a lunch break. Milla was a year older and a grade above Shay. She was soft-spoken and horse-obsessed, but so were lots of girls in Big Timber. She was quickly surrounded by people. Shay understood that. Milla was pretty and seemed easy with herself—graceful. She fit.

  They weren’t friends, but however many other kids Milla could have sat with on the bus, she always saved a seat for Shay. They were bus allies. They ignored Luka and his friends and their never-ending noise. With the help of her iPod, Shay took on the development of Milla’s musical palate. Now and then, between Aaliyah and Amerie, Milla talked about her horses and the farm. Shay talked about fishing and basketball.

  They weren’t friends, but every time Shay took the court, home or away, she scanned the bleachers to find Milla among the spectators before the starting whistle blew. And most afternoons Shay would run up the hill beside her house, testing herself on its uneven slope. At the top she’d look down on Milla’s blue-roofed farmhouse. Sometimes she’d see Milla walk across to the stables.

  She didn’t jog down the hill to visit. It was simply reassuring to see the place, always there under the huge, blue bowl of the sky.

  The whole brief time they’d shared here in nowhere, Montana, every single time Shay had seen Milla, it was as if she was the only person in the room. She’d always been important.

  Then, halfway through sophomore year, Shay had been scouted at a game, and a month later she’d left the school for good.

  Her last day, Shay had considered pouring out her heart: telling Milla everything. But any words she thought up seemed too much or too little. Instead she gave Milla a list of songs to listen to, the love songs she’d rationed so she wasn’t too obvious,
so she didn’t embarrass herself while they rode the bus.

  As she flew away from home to California, Shay had played Mariah’s “We Belong Together.” She’d looked down on the mountains through tears and wondered if she’d always regret saying nothing.

  Of course, she’d seen Milla now and then when she was home, passed her at the local store or out with her horses while Shay was on a trail run. The most recent time had been that awful Christmas four years ago. Milla and her brother and uncle had come over for Christmas, and Shay had been everything awkward: blustery and brittle and showy.

  Shay hadn’t forgotten Milla’s clear, critical glare across the dinner table. Faced with that look, Shay hadn’t felt like a six foot three basketball star. She’d felt tiny.

  “Hi,” said Milla. “Welcome back.” Her smile tipped up at one side the way it always had. She stepped forward and reached out a hand.

  Shay shook off the past. She stepped closer to shake the offered hand. Milla’s handshake was firm. Her palm was wider than Shay expected and rough from work on the farm. “It’s good to see you.”

  Milla smiled broadly. “I’d started to think you were never coming back,” she said. She turned and incuded Devon. “Hi.”

  “Oh, right, this is Devon, my—” Shay said.

  “Your girlfriend. I’m so glad to meet you, Devon,” Milla said. “You’re remarkable at the post. I was glad they recognized you as defensive player of the year last year.”

  “Thank you.” Devon glanced at Shay, then back at Milla. She grinned. “You must be Milla.”

  “I am.”

  “Like a glass of red, girls?” Shay’s dad came up behind them. “I don’t like to think about it too much, but you’re all over twenty-one these days.” He poured generous glasses. Shay gulped a grateful mouthful.

  Anthony and Michele had produced a table full of food, sorghum-brined chicken and sweet yams and spicy sausages and greens. Everything smelled delicious. People served themselves and sat in lounge chairs or three across on the couch. The house was full of the chatter of people who had known and mostly liked one another for almost thirty years.

  Shay and Devon each piled their plates with some of everything, while Michele watched in satisfaction. Devon settled herself onto a low couch beside Albi from up the road.

  “I hear you have dogs,” Devon said.

  Albi beamed. She was an ancient white lady. Her teeth had seen better days, but she was always thrilled to talk about her dogs.

  Shay sat next to Devon and listened to Albi list the dogs’ names and individual personality traits.

  “Now, Sarge. He’s a big boy. He thinks he’s the boss, but he’s too much of a gentleman.”

  At the table, Milla helped her uncle choose his dinner. Her reddish-brown hair was tied back in a braid that lay heavily down her spine. She took her time as he fussed, but bared her teeth and glared comically as he rejected every kind of vegetable. He laughed at her.

  “I’m an old man, Milla. No point trying to change me now.” She shook her head at him, then lifted her gaze to scan the room. Shay looked away.

  “Sit here, Ilie,” called Michele as they crossed the room. She pushed a chair forward for him.

  “You’re very kind,” the old man said.

  Milla handed him his plate, then regarded the room.

  Devon was quicker off the mark than Shay. “Here you go. I’m ready to see if I can find more of this amazing punch.” She stood.

  “Oh, no, I don’t want to take your spot,” said Milla. She eyed the empty space between Shay and the arm of the sofa.

  “It’s fine. Sit. Eat,” said Devon. She strolled away with her empty glass.

  Milla lowered herself onto the couch and balanced her plate on her knees. The couch was old; it sank in the middle. Milla shifted her weight, balancing her plate in one hand and holding a glass of wine.

  “Sorry,” said Shay. "I'll hold your plate for a second if you want to get comfortable. There's a busted spring that you need to avoid."

  Once Milla was seated, Shay handed the plate back. The couch tipped inward, and Milla's shoulder touched Shay's. Shay shifted to give her room.

  “It’s good of you to come,” Shay said, the same thing she’d said to a bunch of people.

  “Of course we did. Your parents—” Milla shrugged as though there was nothing to explain. “They’re wonderful. And they’re so excited to have you home. Everyone in town got a call right after your mom hung up from talking with you.”

  Shay flushed. “It’s hard to fit in a visit around games this time of year.”

  “You’re playing in Russia for the off-season again, aren’t you? We don’t get to see those games the way we see the WNBA.” She continued quickly, “I guess it’s less of a culture shock now than the first year.”

  “Hold up a second. You watch the WNBA?”

  “Mostly the Sparks.” Milla’s tone was light.

  Shay suppressed a smile, then hoped Milla had missed her more recent games. “Honestly, Russia wasn’t ever much of a culture shock. We spend a lot of time training with the team. A third of them are American. The coaches are from Seattle. We’re in a bubble of basketball there. I should get out more. The town’s pretty interesting. But there’s been some violence in the local clubs. And I stand out.”

  Milla nodded. “That’d be rough.”

  “Enough about Russia. Tell me about the farm, and the horses, and your uncle.”

  “Sure. We’ve expanded since you left. We run a hundred and eighty horses now. You remember Griff and Mer? They sold their land on the valley floor to us. They still advise on our breeding programs, of course. You should see this year’s yearlings. We keep up the trail riding and we travel to shows but we’ve also started horsemanship classes.”

  “Teaching riders?”

  “Riders and trainers. Anyone working with horses. We can raise as many extraordinary horses as we like. But if we don’t bring young people up with a knowledge of horsemanship, our industry won’t be sustainable.”

  Shay nodded. Milla’s enthusiasm was bright in her face. “You and Luka teach the classes?” Shay had loved watching Milla on a horse.

  “Yep. You could have lessons when you’ve got some time. Or just let me show you around. It’s been a while. And Devon, of course.”

  “I’ll come over one day.” Shay thought before she spoke further. “It sounds amazing, like your whole heart’s here.”

  “It’s my place. The view never gets old, and I love the horses. But I’m not sure I want to teach horsemanship all my life.” Milla changed the subject. “So, what are you listening to these days when you sit on the bus?”

  “I don't ride the bus too much now.”

  “Of course you don't.”

  Shay wrinkled her nose. That had come out wrong.

  “You still listen to Prince?” Milla asked. “I cried when he died.”

  “Me too. A huge loss.” Shay had worn a black armband to her game that week.

  “I only knew how much of a loss because of you.”

  Shay smiled. “It wasn't just Prince, Mill. We listened to Ciara and Erykah Badu. And Aaliyah, may she rest in loveliness.”

  “I haven’t forgotten.” Milla’s silvery seriousness was as lovely as ever. “You ruined local radio for me.”

  “Sorry to interrupt.” Shay looked up to see Milla’s male double.

  “Luka!”

  Luka perched on the arm of the couch next to Milla. Broad and freckled and soft-voiced, he was as tall as Milla. “Hey, Shay.”

  “I hear you’re getting married. Congratulations. I can’t believe you grew up so much. I can’t believe you got anyone to say yes.”

  Luka beamed. “Have you met my better half?” He gestured across the room to Arianne.

  “Not really. She was a junior when I was a freshman.”
Arianne was solid and strong, with cropped curls and blue eyes. She was very pregnant.

  “She fits, you know,” Luka said. “She’s meant to be here.”

  The three of them talked about the farm until Arianne waved Luka over.

  Across the room, Devon leaned against the wall and talked with Shay’s dad. She laughed as he waved his hands, shaping something in the air. Shay couldn’t tell if he was talking about fly fishing or basketball or baking. “Wait, wait,” he said and made the same shape with his hands. Devon laughed again. Shay should have known that introducing them would open a vortex.

  Shay took the opportunity. “I should have thanked you, Milla.”

  Milla tipped her head. “For?”

  “For those times on the bus sharing music every day. They were something to look forward to. That space away from school, it really mattered to me.”

  Milla took a mouthful of wine. “You know, I never got why you hated school so much. Everyone admired you. I wanted to be you most days. When I saw how you played, how well your body knew what you wanted it to do.”

  Shay met her gaze as she considered what to say. It was novel and welcome to see herself through Milla’s eyes. And sure, she’d wanted that kind of admiration. She’d wanted the whole school to cheer her on. But more than that, she’d wanted friends.

  Devon called across the room. “Shay, you should’ve told me your dad was such a charmer. I seem to have signed up to make gingerbread.”

  “Of course you have,” called Shay. She should never have left them alone.

  Milla smiled. “I’m so glad Devon could come. I like to see you happy.”

  “Yeah, Dev’s the best.”

  Milla looked at Shay strangely. It wasn’t really a thing lovers said, maybe.

  But before Shay could go on, Devon walked over. “Gingerbread,” she said, shaking her head. “I hope he knows I can’t bake. I don’t think I’ve ever even opened the oven at my place.”

  Shay laughed. “You’ve got this.”

  “I’d love to see you guys play ball,” Milla said unexpectedly.

  “Easy. Come visit us in LA.” Devon smiled as though this were the greatest plan ever. “Shay has plenty of room and she loves visitors.”