Mr. Wrong

by Taryn A. Taylor

  “What happened?”

  “I fell off a cliff and died.”

  Unwillingly, she laughed.

  Beau laughed, too. “No, I yelled for my dad, and he wasn’t more than 15 feet away.” He was quiet for a minute. “It’s been a long time since I thought of that.”

  “Sounds like a crazy trip.”

  “It’s amazing how something can be right in front of you, but you can’t see it because your view is so blocked.” He looked at her lips.

  “What?”

  He looked away. “Nothing.”

  “You’re sounding a little philosophical.”

  “Yeah.” He shook his head. “The day we got home from that trip, my father left us.”

  Sara gasped, “Beau, I’m sorry.”

  He leaned back against the rock. “No, I’m sorry.” He was quiet.

  “Do you talk to your dad now?”

  “He tried to call once, a couple of days before I was leaving on my mission. But I didn’t want to talk to him. And then . . . well . . . it’s complicated.” He shrugged.

  They were both quiet.

  She suddenly became more aware of how close he was to her. The hail started again, and Beau pulled her even closer into his shoulder.

  For some reason the story Beau told about her father made her think of her own father—she tried to swallow back the emotion that had begun to surface.

  “Are you okay?”

  Sara didn’t want him to see her tears. She didn’t want to wipe them and let him know she was crying. “Yeah.”

  “What’s wrong?” He sounded extremely unhappy.

  She didn’t say anything.

  “Come on.” He nudged her and said, “Don’t you remember, I’m your favorite cousin.”

  She burst out laughing, again. “I’d forgotten about that.”

  “Come on—tell the cousin.”

  She wiped her face. “My dad has cancer. He—he’s had it before, but it came back, and this time the doctor says not to count on a miracle. It’s bone cancer. But now it’s spread everywhere.”

  “Sara,” he whispered, “I’m so sorry.”

  The compassion in his voice made her already loosened emotions even heavier. She pulled back hard on the emotion that felt like a bottomless pit of agony when it came to her father. “It’s been over two years. You think it would quit being so hard.” Her thoughts went to her dad’s pale face. The paleness now seemed as permanent as his farmer tan had once been.

  “How are your brothers handling it?”

  Sara thought of her brothers. “My brothers are trying to keep the ranch alive, but money is always a problem.”

  Beau patted her shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Are they willing to explore some other options?”

  Beau’s sincerity astonished her. “I—I don’t know.”

  “Have they looked into leasing land to the oil companies? I have a friend up in Montana that is trying to buy up leases.”

  “I don’t know. James, my oldest brother, would probably want to talk to someone about that.” She hated thinking about the ranch and all of its problems.

  “Well, let me know if he wants some help.”

  “Our ranch has a website.” Sara smiled thinking of her brother Tim, trying to bring them into the twenty-first century. “They put all the information about the cows online and have different water flowing charts and a network set up with the other ranches. Fairbanks Cattle Company dot com. For all your ranching needs.”

  Beau laughed. “I’ll have to check it out.”

  They sat there in comfortable silence for a few minutes.

  “Are you okay?”

  Sara wiped her eyes, again. “Oh. I was just thinking of my dad. He—he has this faith that’s—I don’t know how to describe it. This whole thing hasn’t made him stronger, per say—it’s just cemented his faith.”

  Beau squeezed her for a moment and then relaxed his grip. “That’s good—that’s what counts, right?”

  Sara didn’t want to tell him that she’d spent a lot of time on her knees praying and searching the scriptures for an answer to why she was going to lose her dad—and hadn’t gotten one. “Yeah—I guess that’s what counts.” The words tasted bitter in her mouth.

  Beau’s voice was soft. “Sometimes we don’t know why that stuff happens.”

  “It’s like he’s lived his whole life waiting to get back to my mom. He’ll say to us, ‘Don’t worry. I’ll be with your mother, and we’ll be happy. The test is worth it.’ I want to scream at him, I want you here. What about me! Selfish—right?”

  Beau was quiet for a few moments. “No. It’s not selfish to want the ones that we love to be here with us.”

  The rain started letting up, but Sara’s shivering worsened.

  Beau removed the ponchos. “I think it’s done hailing, there’s the moon. Should we go?”

  Sara grabbed her backpack, opening it and fumbling inside for her flashlight. She handed it to Beau. “Yes.”

  “Perfect,” Beau said and took the flashlight. “Ah—hiking with you is a good thing.”

  Sara stood and pain jolted through her ankle and into her calf muscle. She tried to bravely think of all the books she’d read about people surviving on the side of mountains through the night. “Beau, I don’t think I can walk. You go. I’ll wait until morning.” He scowled down at her. “Yeah, sure.”

  “I mean it.” She braced herself against the ledge.

  He rolled his eyes. “Get on my back.”

  “What? No! I—.” She did not want to be at his mercy.

  “We don’t have a choice, and we’ve got to go now. Plus,” he said, stuffing the poncho in the bag and turning around, “I’ve gotten used to saving you.”

  Sara didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “It looks like you have a knack for it.”

  “Are you going to trust me, Fairbanks? Cause it’s not going to be easy.” He sounded like a military commander.

  Sara situated herself tightly around his back and felt relieved she wouldn’t have to write a book on her near-death survival. “I trust you.”

  He nodded and patted her arms gingerly. “Good thing I’m manly enough that the extra weight feels like nothing to me.”

  Sara smiled to herself. “Aren’t we full of ourselves?”

  “Try to link your good foot with the bad one, I can’t hold onto you while I’m climbing down.”

  Sara linked her feet and felt immense pain all through her ankle and into her calf muscle. But she didn’t make a sound.

  “Okay. Now you have to hold the flashlight.” He put it in her hand.

  Methodically he began climbing down. It seemed to take forever, and Sara began counting to thirty in her head. This was something she’d started doing as a child when her father had told her to wait for him to finish something. It always helped calm her mind. She was surprised at how strong Beau really was.

  The air was cool, but the wind had completely stopped.

  “What’s that saying?” Beau gasped for air, finally making it down to the running trail. “In Wyoming you only have to wait five minutes and the weather will change?”

  Sara laughed under her breath. Every muscle in her body was aching, and she was sure that Beau had some aching muscles, too. He put his arms under her legs, taking some of the pressure off of her ankle.

  She relaxed a little. “Thanks.”

  Beau began walking quickly. “I figure we’ll be to the car in about twenty minutes.”

  Sara heard voices and looked up to see Carey and Kevin jogging toward them.

  “Hey, what happened?” Carey looked at Sara on Beau’s back.

  She really didn’t want to deal with Carey. “I fell, but I’m fine. We got it under control. You guys just jog on back. Tell Genova I’ll see her at home.”

  Kevin gave her a weird look. “You sure you don’t want us to wait?”

  “No.”

  Carey’s eyes narrowed in the darkness,
and she could swear that she’d never seen such repressed anger. He glared at Beau and then broke away from them into a jog. “Suit yourself.”

  Kevin nodded to her. “Okay, see you later.” He took off after Carey.

  Beau stifled a laugh and coughed.

  “What?” It came out sharper than she intended, but she was still reeling from all this confusion with Carey.

  “Well, I was just realizing that I’m not special.” Beau huffed and picked up his pace.

  Sara gripped Beau tighter to avoid falling back. “What do you mean?”

  “No, I’m not special at all . . . you’re just rude to everyone.”

  Chapter 11

  Sara walked quickly through the parking lot to the Ivinson Home for the Elderly. The building’s stone walls had recently been remodeled and painted to match the rest of the university. Sara loved the stately look of the building. It had been named after Edward Ivinson, a man who had helped establish the University in the late 1800’s. Now, it was an assisted-living home for the Elderly.

  Sara walked quickly past the reception desk and down to the cafeteria they used for the practices.

  Sara turned and smiled at the soft, middle-aged man that worked the door. His silver hair fit him perfectly. It made him look so happy and kind.

  The kind, middle-aged man named Frank smiled at her. “Well, it’s about time you got here, Ms. Fairbanks, Martha has been dashing back and forth all morning.” “You’re looking good, Frank. Did you enjoy your summer?”

  “Every minute, kid.” He waved her into the cafeteria.

  Larry waited for her in the middle of the cafeteria floor. As soon as he saw her, he opened his arms and waited.

  Sara gave him a big hug and smelled the tobacco on his shirt. She thought of how good it was to see him.

  Larry was in a nice, flannel shirt and, of course, boots. He was an old rancher and had lived on a ranch near Laramie his whole life. After his wife had passed away, two years ago, his family had thought it safer for him to move to town. When she’d first met him he was less than enthusiastic about dancing. But having Martha as a partner had made a big difference in him.

  The crease of his eyes wrinkled happily. “My dear, it’s about time you got over to see us. It’s all Martha could talk about.”

  Sara smiled at him and noticed that he’d shaved his beard down to a mustache. “I like the facial hair. Much more contemporary.” She put down the blue tooth player and reached for the plug in. “Where’s Martha?”

  Larry shook his head. “That woman, she’s been prancing around here all morning, acting like you were the queen herself coming for a visit.”

  Sara slipped off her jacket and smiled at him. “I missed you guys over the summer.”

  Larry pulled a chair over and put it by Sara. “Why are you limping? And, how’s your father?”

  Sara sat down. “Oh, I just sprained my ankle; I’m fine. But my father—well, he’s not good. I feel so guilty being here.” She lifted and lowered her shoulders, feeling the burden of it all. “He didn’t want me to leave.” She sighed and hated the fact that a tear slipped down her cheek. “But I have my scholarship, and I’ll lose it if I take off a semester.” She sighed. “I don’t think he ever really wanted me to leave the ranch.”

  Larry nodded and gently patted her shoulder. “There, there child, he understands. Sometimes fathers think they know everything and then they come to realize they don’t know anything.” He let out his breath. “You’re a smart girl, Sara, follow your heart.” He winked at her.

  Sara squinted at him. “Have you asked her out, yet?”

  Larry looked surprised and blushed. “No.”

  Sara touched his forearm. “You should, Larry, don’t waste any time. She likes you.”

  Larry blushed. “Ah, I’m just an old rancher, and she still loves him.”

  “Of course she still loves George. You’ll always love Anna. But that doesn’t mean there isn’t more love inside of you.”

  “Sara.” Martha rushed into the cafeteria. She was wearing a form fitting top and a blue flowing skirt. Her hair was cropped and curled perfectly around her face. She had on topaz silver dangly earrings and a big necklace to match.

  Sara stood and they embraced. Lilac perfume assaulted her and she wondered, again, at how lively Martha seemed.

  “My,” she said, gently putting her hand on Sara’s face, “I think she’s gotten even prettier since the last time we saw her.” Martha looked at Larry who nodded his approval.

  Sara’s heart tightened in her chest, and she felt tears behind her eyes. They were some of the kindest people she knew. “You’re just being nice. You always look like a Hollywood actress to me.”

  Martha struck a mock pose, clearly liking the attention. “Oh—do go on.”

  The music came on and Martha casually took Larry’s hand, leading him into the cha cha. “Where’s that Carey? Is he running late?”

  Sara smiled at her students. “I can see you’ve been practicing.” She watched as they easily started into more complicated steps. “You guys are going to be my teachers soon. Wow, you look so good together.” She was amazed to see how much they’d progressed since last spring.

  Larry’s face reddened. “She’s made me keep up our lessons so we could show you.”

  Martha nodded at Sara happily and kept focused on the steps. “And it’s paid off, darling.”

  Sara watched them until the song ended. She paused the music and clapped. “You guys are awesome.”

  They walked over to her and looked between each other like teenagers in love for the first time. Sara wondered if she could contain her joy at seeing their happiness.

  “So where is he?” Larry rubbed his mustache.

  Sara hated this. “He told me at the newspaper yesterday that he wasn’t coming today. He said that he has too much going on this semester.” Sara felt slightly defeated.

  “Well, now, that’s okay, sweetheart.” Larry looked at Martha, and Sara knew by the look that he gave her he was unsure of what to do with the emotions he saw on Sara’s face.

  “What’s this, sweetheart?” Martha moved to her side, gently touching her shoulder. “Is everything okay?”

  “It’s me you guys.” She rubbed her temples slowly. “He’s not coming because he wants a relationship with me—and I’m just so confused.” She hung her head and the whole story spilled out of her.

  When she was done, Martha’s voice was soft. “I never really liked the guy anyway. He seemed a little too polished.”

  Larry nodded his agreement. “Like he wanted to sell me some tires for my old Chevy.” Larry laughed and slapped his leg. “Heck, he just did us all a favor, little lady.”

  Sara laughed at Larry’s cheerfulness regarding the whole situation.

  “We could see that he liked you, dear.” Martha gave a knowing glance at Larry. Larry raised his eyebrows.

  Sara shook her head back and forth. “Am I just a fool?”

  Martha clicked her tongue. “What are you talking about?” She lovingly patted her shoulder. “You have your Jonathon, like I had my George and Larry had his Anna.” Sara glanced at Larry and saw him look sadly to the floor.

  “Yeah.” Sara tried to feel sure about that. “Let’s focus on dancing. I’ll just be both partners today. It’ll go slower, but we can manage.”

  Martha put her hand on Larry’s shoulder. “Or—we could just find you a fill-in partner for a while.” Her smile was a little mischievous.

  “Yeah,” Larry said, nodding, “everyone needs a fill-in.”

  Sara’s heart hurt a little at the longing that crossed Larry’s face. Would he simply always be a fill-in?

  Chapter 12

  Sara walked into the coffee house and inhaled the scent of the fresh brew. She never drank coffee, but it reminded her of her favorite neighbor’s house, Mrs. Johnson, back in Montana. Sara’s family would help her with the cattle roundup every year.

  Sara’s ankle was wrapped, but she could walk
on it fine now. She sat at an empty table near the back and noticed Rob’s band at the front of the coffee house. On Wednesday, after class, Rob had told Sara that he had grown up involved with the Mormon Church. His grandparents had belonged to the church, but his parents were never active, and they’d divorced when he was ten. She’d made a deal with him that if he came to church with her this Sunday, she would come listen to him play today.

  Sara couldn’t wait to tell Jonathon about this in her next letter. He was always telling her how they needed more members to simply reach out to those who were inactive.

  “It seems I can’t get away from you.” Beau slid into the seat next to her, waking her from her thoughts. He sipped out of a coffee mug.

  “Hey,” Sara said, surprised to see him here. She felt butterflies in her stomach and didn’t like the idea that he made her nervous. She looked at him with his blonde hair sticking up here and there and his black, leather jacket. He looked too young to be her professor. “Rob must have been generous in his invite.” She looked back to the stage.

  Beau snorted a little. “I guess you’re still smarting from our discussion today in class? How’s the ankle?” He looked at her wrapped foot.

  “If you mean still smarting because you told me my idea was stupid—then, yes.” She looked away. “My ankle is fine, thanks.” She said the last word with some distaste.

  Beau laughed. “You have the hardest time saying thanks, don’t you?” He took another sip from his cup.

  Sara flipped her head back to look at the band but kept her voice steady. “You don’t seem to have a problem telling people what you think. Especially in front of a classroom full of people. You are great at that. Are you drinking coffee?”

  Beau looked surprised and took another sip. He didn’t talk for a minute and clicked his tongue. “So judgmental,” he said, shaking his head back and forth. “Really, Ms. Fairbanks.” He sighed. “I think your idea is good, but you need to just leave the helping people thing out.”