by Tia Siren
“Yeah, it does seem a bit niche, doesn’t it? I mean, who’s coming out to Gordonsville for arts and crafts?”
“That’s just it, Erin. Matthew’s been bringing in some steady flow. We get some real adventure seekers out here, for hiking and hunting, and the investors bring in some top tier folk, you know? They come for meetings and outdoor events, and the Gordon’s host them all at their log cabin club. It’s different, but it means we’re all able to keep our heads above water.”
I sighed without response.
The doorbell jingled at the front of the store. The young girl cashier greeted the customers.
Maggie stood up with her mug.
“I should get back to making pies.”
“This place is so adorable,” a high-pitched drawl sounded through the store, with the clacking of heels hitting the hardwood floor.
Tourists, I thought, with rolled-eyes. Yuppie tourists are exactly what we need in this town.
I snaked my way down one of the aisles.
“Isn’t this marvelous, Matthew?”
Matthew?
I stopped in my tracks.
The woman’s heels came to a stop, and I heard her voice close now, coming from the other aisle.
“Oh, these candles are quaint. Perhaps we can use some of them for the reception…”
I turned to my left, surprised to be locking eyes with none other than Matthew Gordon. He was wearing a sport coat and slacks. I pursed my lips at the sight.
What, did he just step off his yacht in the middle of Montana?
Clean-cut Matty Gordon was almost too unbelievable to witness. It didn’t suit Matty at all, but Matthew?
I laughed a little inside. I bet.
He sighed and turned his face away, trying to cover up the fact that he already noticed me. I thought I saw a little pink in his face, but I figured it was what I wanted to think I noticed.
The woman beside him continued to flit around the aisle, excitedly gazing at trinkets and things. She wore a pressed suit jacket over a dark red dress and black stockings. Her strawberry-blonde hair framed effortlessly around her face.
I was reminded that I let my hair out naturally today, with the unruly brown curls restrained only by a sequined scrunchie I found at the bottom of my suitcase. The tired-mom look was completed with jeans and an oversized sweater with the bold letters “Bring on the Bacon” plastered across the front.
“Oh, hello, do I know you?”
“Excuse me?” I blinked.
The woman’s big brown eyes caught me off guard, her smile bringing me back to the moment.
“Oh--oh,” I pulled at my sleeve. “No, I was just--”
I looked at Matty, and as my gaze followed to him, so did the woman’s.
“Oh, Allison,” he signaled with a hand. “This is Erin. McGarity.” He cleared his throat. “She’s an old friend.”
My brow furrowed. I didn’t have time to wallow in my thoughts about that before Allison began to smile widely.
“Oh, so you knew Matthew when you were young?”
I sent Matthew a darting look, of which he evaded.
“Yes. We grew up together. Went to the same school all through high school. In fact, it’s funny we ran into each other, because I’ve been living in New York for the past few years and I don’t actually seem to know who you are...”
She huddled closer toward Matty, smiling up at him. His face didn’t seem to reflect the same kind of smile, and he stood awkwardly at her gushing.
“Oh, Matthew. Of course he doesn’t make a big deal about it all as he maybe should. He’s awfully shy--”
I kept in a chuckle. “Shy?”
That’s not the Matty I know.
“Yes, well, he’s always so busy keeping up business and the ranch, but I told him that it’s going to get out eventually, so he should just let it out.”
“Let it out?” I crossed my arms.
“I’m his fiancé,” she said.
My heart skipped a beat.
“Congratulations,” I muttered through a stiff smile.
Matthew said nothing, just exchanging silent glances toward me that were altogether unfamiliar to me now. The shy, polished, business-wiz Matthew Gordon was not someone I knew. And even looking into his cloudy-blue eyes couldn’t change that.
A loud ring sounded through Allison’s purse. I almost jumped at the break in tension. It felt like my way out.
Allison turned to Matthew. “It’s Steven. He’s got some updates on the Tulsa account. It’ll just be a moment.”
She left toward the door of the shop, and after a moment of standing there, stunned, I came to and took that as my cue.
“I should be going,” I began making my way down the aisle toward the door. Matthew’s footsteps sounded in the aisle next to mine as he followed me.
“Wait, Erin,” he said.
I held up my hand.
“Um, okay. You’re finally talking. Nice of you to join the conversation. I’m just making my way out now--”
“Erin, come on--” He sped up ahead of me and cut me off at the end.
I came close to him, his broad chest in front of mine. This type of meeting, or rather an awkward dance, was becoming all-too common for us. I could smell him from where I was; he smelled like fresh earth and pine and my mind drifted to wildflower fields.
I shook my mind of the thought.
“Excuse me,” I said. “I’m trying to leave.”
I attempted to skirt around him, but his hand fell on my shoulder.
“Erin, please,” he called.
The cashier girl was thoroughly invested at this point, chewing her gum intently as she leaned over the counter to take in the scene.
Matty let his hand fall away, and I immediately felt where his warmth had been and left.
His voice lowered. “We got off on the wrong foot.”
I folded my arms and faced my body toward him, though I looked to the side.
I didn’t say anything.
“Look,” he said. “I’m sorry things have been weird between us, but what did you expect? You left me on our wedding day, disappeared for six years--”
“Oh, we’re just jumping into it, just like that?” I snapped at him in a hushed tone. “I’m sorry you feel that way. I thought I was just an old friend you happened to run into at the ole’ country store.”
He towered over me several inches, but it never phased me to get in his face when I needed to. It was a match a long-time coming.
“What was I supposed to say?” he held up his hands. “Here, Allison, this is the woman who bailed out on my first attempted marriage, how would we all like to go out for steaks and wine?”
I laughed.
“And that!” I pointed at his face. “What is that? You’re so--so--”
“So what?” his face came closer to mine, challenging me.
I waved my hand and stepped away, gesturing toward him.
“The suit and tie, the tall, dark and shy, businessman--who the heck is that?”
“It’s me,” Matty pointed his thumb to his chest. “You wouldn’t know, because you’ve been gone, remember? And, by the way, what gives you the right to criticize me about moving on when you waltz in with a child.”
I pursed my lips.
“Clearly,” he said. “You hold to a double standard. And--I’m not going to be the bad guy here.”
We parted ways rather quickly. Allison had finished her call, I was already out the door, and Matty Gordon was just a remnant of my past life.
I could feel the inside of my chest swelling up, but I was caught between wanting to be angry or to cry. I didn’t say anything when Matthew brought up Philip. I had meant to let him know. But the way that everything went down, it seemed like it would only make matters worse.
In every way that I played the scenario in my head, it kept ending up the same way. Matthew was right about one thing. In this story, I was the bad guy who came in to ruin everything. Again.
Chap
ter 3
“It’s huuuge!” Philip’s eyes grew wide as we walked into the large barn. A few mares chewed on the fresh feed they received. My father slung another sack onto his shoulder, making his way down toward the back stalls.
“This little thing?” he chuckled. “You oughta see them big rigs they got over on the Gordon property.”
I felt myself sigh at the mention, but I was determined not to let the week’s earlier interactions ruin my day. It was an exciting adventure for Philip, who had taken to country living quite well, apparently. With everything seeming a complete novelty, he and my father got along far too well, with Philip asking so many questions and my father proudly standing by to answer.
“I can’t believe I am seeing a real life cow!”
Philip squealed as we reached the end stall.
“You better believe it, kid.”
My father let the sack down.
The stall was wider than the others, with fresh hay piled in. A brown and white female cow, with her middle bulged and round, chewed at the fresh hay.
“She’s due in a couple of weeks. Had Doc Lewis out here for a check-up the other day, and she seems to be doing jus’ fine.”
“Can we see the goats now?” Philip jumped up after his short fascination with the expectant mother cow.
My dad laughed. “So you saw them runnin’ around out back, didn’t you?”
Philip’s eyes grew wide and puppy-eyed.
“Oh, come on,” I said. “You know we’ll be right behind you.”
My father and I followed behind as Philip ran out of the barn and headed toward the back yard, where the goat pen was.
The sound of a car coming down the gravel grabbed my attention. Down the long winding driveway, a slick, black car made its way through.
I shot a glance to my father. He held up his hands in defeat.
“I’m sorry, Erin. Nothing’s final...but…”
I sighed and turned to follow after Philip.
“No, I get. It’s none of my business.”
“Erin, come on…” my dad called out to me. “Erin, please, you have to--auugh!”
His sudden cry turned me around. My father clenched at his chest as his knees hit to the ground. I ran toward my father and held him up.
“Dad, Dad are you okay?”
Matty’s car came to a screeching stop. The door flung open and his footsteps ran toward me.
“Hurry, an ambulance won’t get here in time. We have to get him to the hospital.”
Matty came and brought himself next to my dad, bringing his arm around his shoulder for support. Everything whirred around, and I found myself just going through the motions. I called out to Philip as Matty and I brought my dad into his car. I sat, shaken and silent the whole way.
Gordonville’s hospital was a small one, which made it feel even more claustrophobic. Philip slept nearby in the lobby with my jacket draped over him. I couldn’t bring myself to sit patiently, and instead nervously paced around the room.
Matty was outside taking a phone call. The glass doors of the lobby slid open as he pocketed his phone and came inside. He looked different today, more relaxed. He wore slacks with a knit sweater, and his hair was combed, but not as neatly parted. It looked like he hadn’t shaved that morning. He looked natural, even handsome...and I almost felt drawn to him.
Old habits, I figured.
“Still no word?” he said, his hands in his pockets.
“Not yet,” I said. “He’s stabilized, but they’re still running tests right now, and not letting us see him.”
“You should really get some rest,” he said.
“It’s 11:30 in the morning,” I folded my arms over my chest. “I don’t need rest.”
Philip began to stir in his spot.
“Then at least let me get you both some food,” he said. “The cafeteria is just around the corner. We’ll be here if anything happens.”
I looked at Philip and then at Matty, his cool eyes staring at me. His eyebrows were furrowed, like he was genuinely worried for me.
“Alright,” I let in. “Let’s go.”
“Zelda loves tater tots,” Philip fingered for a tater tot and began to slide it into his pocket.
I grabbed his hand and held it back out.
“But Zelda isn’t here,” I said. “And you don’t need to save it for her.”
Philip just gave me a wide smile, giggled, and ate the tater tot. Then, he leaned out under the table, as if I didn’t notice, and Matty deftly received a tater tot in his large hands and ‘hid’ it in his pocket.
“Seriously?” I said.
Matty let out a low chuckle and winked at Philip, who put his finger to his mouth and hushed secretively. I smiled. It caught me off guard to hear Matty’s laugh again, and to see the side of him that I remembered. When did he become so good with kids? And when did I begin to feel--
Philip tugged at my sleeve.
“Can I go look out the window?”
He pointed toward the floor-to-ceiling windows that lined one end of the cafeteria. It had a perfect view of the mountains in the distance, and the grass beginning to green, with pine trees scattered all about.
“Go,” I said, and he ran to smoosh his face into the window.
Matty chuckled again.
“He’s a fun kid,” he said.
I rolled my eyes and smiled.
“He’s a handful.”
I played with the straw in my drink before looking back at Matty. His eyes were already set intently on me, deep and piercing. My heart seemed to skip a beat.
“Thanks,” I said, diverting my eyes. “For helping, and for giving us a ride, and…”
“No, it’s alright. It’s the least I could do.”
“I’m...sorry for earlier, for being upset with you and yelling at you and--well, I know I was kind of a jerk. You’re right that I got too upset. I mean, I’ve been gone a long time and the town’s really grown and changed...”
I trailed off and fiddled with the sleeve of my sweater.
Matty let out a breath.
“I’m sorry, too. I got caught up in seeing you again--it--it brought back a lot of old memories. But we’re past that now, right?”
My eyes met with his again, and answered, “Yes.”
But in my heart, I admitted it to myself, the very fact that I had been guarding since I returned. It was stronger now that we were here, together. In that moment, I saw that the Matthew Gordon in front of me, was still the Matty Gordon I knew. Warm and compassionate, always ready to help, daring and kind.
And his laugh.
Just like his son...
We sat in silence for a few moments more. The cafeteria was mostly empty. A few workers cleaned the food lines, and a scattered bit of people sat quietly in the great hall. Philip was busy marveling at the landscape, spouting off ‘facts’ he learned about trees and birds.
Matty shifted in the booth, and opened his mouth as if to speak, when my phone rang.
I grabbed onto my phone. “Yes? Yes, we’ll be right there.”
I stood up and gathered my things.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “What was it you were going to say?”
He stood up and brushed his hand through his hair.
“Nothing. Let’s go.”
It was fitting, really. I first met Matty Gordon in the hospital. I don’t remember it, but when we first got engaged, it was the never-ending story that everyone liked to tell. A wealthy ranch owner and his wife, dawdling at their new baby boy, when just a few bassinets over, a curly-haired little girl was being ‘ooed’ and ‘awed’ at by her own family. Everyone always said it was meant to be. We were only three days apart, but from then on, we were always within each other’s sites.
It didn’t start off too great. Matty always had a way with getting in trouble, and I was always ready to follow. If there was ever an occasion, everyone could bet that Matty was out starting a fire, and I was sitting nearby stoking it. The McGarity farm was alw
ays way out of town, but the Gordons were about as close as neighbors came. So Matty and I had plenty of time, on plenty of space, to get to know each other.
As we grew up, however, things began to change.
My mother died when I was in high school, and it took its toll on my father, and me. I always admired my mom, and she always loved to share with me her love of books and adventure--but it was never something she had ever experienced herself. She spent her whole life never even reaching as far as the Wyoming border. It was at her death that I had inwardly decided I didn’t want that to be me, never getting to live out my dreams and experience life.
But life was exactly what came. I studied as best I could, spent my college days in Missoula, which for Montana, is all the best you can get for the city life, and in the summer before my final semester, Matty proposed.
We always knew it was coming. Everyone always knew it was coming. We had more than outgrown our childhood days of mischief, and had entirely fallen in young love by the end of high school. There wasn’t a day that I wasn’t sure I was going to marry Matty.
And then the night before our wedding, I found my mother’s old journal.
She spun marvelous tales--she loved to tell stories--and she recorded them all for herself. She talked of days when I was growing up, days she felt frustrated, and days she was filled with utter joy. She liked to write down interesting facts and tidbits she learned from her books about all the places she dreamed of one day going. It made me think. And for a split moment, as I began walking down the aisle the next morning, I doubted.
Chapter 5
“You can’t take it back!”
I shouted at Philip who had piled some shriveled plants and branches into his arms, collected near the overgrown garden patch.
“I know that,” he said.
He seemed to playing with the dead plants more than collecting them.
I pulled at the long gloves in my hand, setting the wheelbarrow with mulch beside me. I had been up since six in the morning, doing the farm rounds, feeding the animals, and decided to try my hand at sprucing up the garden area out back. It was beginning to be warm enough to prepare for planting.