Jumped

by Colette Auclair

  Finn was staring at his broken leg stretched out in front of him and tensing his jaw rhythmically. “But you did. And you wonder why I needed to prove myself?” He looked at her, misery and anger on his face. “You sided with your father.”

  “No!” she said. “That wasn’t it. He has nothing to do with this, although I can see how you’d think that. I used to accuse you of being arrogant, and I was a million times more arrogant than you ever were. I liked feeling important and like I was the only one who could help my students. And I compared myself to you and . . . And I had no right to. It was small of me.” She whispered, “It was awful of me.”

  They sat in silence for several seconds, Finn’s jaw still clenching away like a muscular metronome. She wished he’d say something.

  Beth resisted the urge to talk just to fill the awkward silence. She deserved to feel a little discomfort after what she’d just admitted. She stared at Mingo, asleep at her feet.

  At last, Finn spoke. “I’ll say one thing. It all makes more sense now.”

  “What?”

  “Why you didn’t fight more to stay together.”

  “You didn’t make it very inviting. I didn’t think you wanted to be with me.”

  “I didn’t think you wanted to be with me.”

  “We didn’t communicate so well at that point.”

  Finn exhaled sharply. “No.” He scratched his leg. “You weren’t snobby in any other way. Even though you were with all those rich people all the time. I did not suspect this.”

  Beth closed her eyes. “I know, Finn. I know. I wasn’t snobby about stupid stuff. I was snobby about you, which was worse than anything.”

  “For what it’s worth, you did teach those kids life lessons. For some of them, you might have been the only one who didn’t cater to them. Your job was important.”

  “Stop being so bloody gracious!”

  He tilted his head and looked at her. “What am I supposed to do, Bethany? Yell and scream? Throw something? It’s water under the bridge. I don’t know what to think right now. That was a body blow, but I’ll adjust. Time heals all wounds and all that crap.”

  Beth smoothed the letter between her palms. “Well, well, wasn’t this fun? Sorry to mar such a gorgeous day playing true confessions.”

  They barely spoke during the drive back to Aspen Creek. Mingo slept on Finn’s lap. Finn knew his letter had caused a seismic shift, then her revelation had caused another in the opposite direction. He wasn’t sure if picking at these old wounds was good or bad. We’ll find out soon enough.

  As Bethany’s pickup rumbled up Aspen Creek’s private drive, Grady, Amanda, Harris, Solstice, and Wave clustered next to the guest cottage. They waved as Bethany dropped Finn off, then parked in the eight-car garage attached to the house. Finn welcomed the distraction and forced a smile. Put on a happy face, pal. You’re a guest here.

  Wave chattered while Mingo hopped and twirled near her sparkly pink sneakers and Ben bounded toward them in his springy, Portuguese water dog gait. Bethany said Ben would make a great dressage horse because his canter had so much expression, whatever that meant. Ben bounced around the trio and Finn ruffled the black curly hair atop the young dog’s head.

  Then Finn looked up and saw the reason for the gathering. It was a large stone fountain with a nude woman standing in a round basin, holding a platter aloft. Water flowed over the edge of the platter and into the basin.

  “Wow. That’s some fountain, kids,” Bethany said.

  “That’s just what we were thinking,” Harris said. “The ‘fountain,’ part, not the ‘wow’ part.”

  “I like it,” Wave said.

  “It’s dorky,” Solstice said. The older girl stood apart from her sister and parents, leaning her tall, slender frame against the cottage. She flipped her brown hair that she’d inherited from her father behind one shoulder and stared at her cell phone.

  “Hey,” Grady said to her, “No phone when you’re with other people.”

  “But Daaaad!”

  “You know the rules. Either put it away or I take it,” Grady said. Solstice pouted, but slid the phone into the pocket of her shorts.

  “Thank you,” he said. “Now you’re polite again.”

  Bethany walked around the fountain. “So, uh, this from Italy? It’s very . . . artistic.”

  “That’s one word for it,” Harris said.

  “We didn’t buy it,” Amanda said.

  Amanda, Bethany, Harris, and Grady looked at Finn. The dogs looked at him, too.

  “Oh, no,” Finn said.

  “The good news is, if someone stole your identity, we can limit the search to the legally blind,” Harris said.

  “Here’s the invoice.” Grady slid a folded yellow paper from a pocket of his cargo shorts and showed it to Finn. “What the hey,” Grady said, “Let’s keep it. It’s a conversation piece. Unless you want it.”

  “No thank you. And you don’t have to keep it. I’ll return it.”

  Grady said, “We’ll keep it. She’s kinda growing on me.”

  “You can’t be serious,” Harris said. “I won’t be able to sleep, knowing this abomination is on the property.” He buried his beautiful face in his manicured hands. “Sweet fancy Moses, I’m surrounded by philistines.”

  The fountain stayed. Grady tried to reimburse Finn for both it and the pinball machine, but Finn refused. After all, Grady had been providing room, board, and the best medical care in orthopod-rich Aspen.

  The pinball machine relocated to the basement and became Solstice’s favorite in-house pastime.

  Finn and Bethany did not make love that night. Bethany slept in the house. Finn stayed in the cabin where he ended up sifting through his feelings. He was no angel, that was for sure. But he felt like the gap between them had narrowed. Around midnight, before he drifted to sleep, he understood that he loved her more than enough to forgive her.

  Tuesday dawned cool and overcast, the first cloudy morning Finn had seen since arriving for the wedding. Clouds made him think of Branson, which made him think of his company. He needed to go home, go to his office, and resume his normal life. His leg was much better, and although it would be challenging to drive, it was possible. He would simply deal with the stairs to his house. The thought of leaving Bethany left him feeling as dismal as the sky looked. His clients were being very understanding about his calamity, but sooner or later their goodwill would dry up. Those buildings weren’t going to design themselves. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

  I’ll leave after we go to Ptarmigan. If he wanted to marry Bethany again, he had to come clean. He couldn’t hide the truth from her forever, and if it meant she’d never want anything to do with him again, then . . . that was that. With that thought weighing on his mind like wet cement, he closed his eyes and rested his head against the window for a full minute.

  At nine, when he knew she’d be awake even if she’d slept in, Finn called his ex-wife.

  “Good morning,” he said.

  There was a pause before she replied, “Hey.”

  She sounded a little down. He asked how she’d slept and they spent a few minutes dancing around the elephant in the room. Then Finn put his hand on the beast’s trunk.

  “Everything’s okay about yesterday.” Vague enough, Finn? Come on!

  “Okay.”

  “What I mean is, I . . . I’m okay with everything. I’m glad you told me. It was hard to hear, but I understand why you felt that way. And like I said, it’s over and there’s no use in dwelling on it now. I’d like to see you today. If you have time.”

  She sighed. He hoped it was with relief. “Okay. Yeah. I need to do some research on clothing companies today. But how about dinner?”

  “Sure. Yeah, dinner would be great.”

  He pumped his fist.

  “And, Finn?”

&
nbsp; “I’m here.”

  “Thanks. For forgiving me.”

  “Not a problem.”

  “And, Finn?”

  “Still here.”

  “I sent you an email from my dad about what Uncle Mitch might like in his house.”

  “Thank you. Thank you very, very much, Bethany.”

  “Yeah. I should go. I’ll see you later, around seven. I’ll bring Harris food.”

  Yes.

  As soon as he’d ended the call with Bethany, Jacqueline called, saying, “It would be my pleasure to take you to your house today. Is that possible? I have time beginning at noon.”

  “I’d appreciate that. And yeah, with this leg, I don’t have many appointments.”

  Jacqueline laughed, which pleased Finn, since she was a tough audience.

  “I will pick you up at the guest cabin at noon.”

  Finn spent the morning returning calls from clients and friends and tending to a few other bits of housekeeping, such as checking his credit card purchases (there was one more to go, and he decided to be surprised).

  He packed some clothes to take back to his house and, as he knew she would, Jacqueline was at his door at noon in the Honda SUV Grady had given her. Finn had been concerned about the stairs leading up to his front door. They were daunting, but he simply took his time, and Jacqueline was patient with his slow progress. He would have to plan his days carefully to minimize trips.

  Once inside, he emptied his carry-on and refilled it with a few more items for his last days at Aspen Creek. He then asked Jacqueline to stand on a chair to retrieve the stained-glass window, which was in a three-foot-square flat box on the top shelf of his closet. She got the window, and Finn was astounded at the pang in his chest when he saw it. Jacqueline had to carry his bag down the stairs, then carry the stained-glass window to her SUV. There was simply no way around it.

  Feeling distinctly ungentlemanly, he apologized until she said, “Finn. There is no possible way you could have done that safely. It was not a problem for me. Please stop apologizing this minute.”

  He did, with a laugh.

  Jacqueline stopped the SUV in front of the cottage and helped Finn with the box and the carry-on. He thanked her profusely for taking hours out of her afternoon for his sake.

  Alone in the cottage, he opened the box for the first time since he’d sealed it four years earlier. He took out the window and looked at it, remembering the day he’d put it in the box. He traced its leaden ridges between the panes of glass with his fingertip. He sighed, wrapped the bubble wrap around it again, and slid it back into its box. He’d have to ask Harris to wrap it for him.

  His excuse for avoiding the trip to Ptarmigan was now officially gone.

  That night, after a quiet dinner together in the cabin, Beth said to Finn, “I haven’t seen Mingo all afternoon. He’s not with Ben, and he wasn’t in the barn. I’m gonna look for him.”

  “I’ll come with you.”

  “You’ll slow me down.”

  “I’m fast now. You haven’t seen me when I push myself. And you’re not going alone. Ask Amanda for a flashlight.”

  It wasn’t dark yet, but the sun was low in the partly cloudy sky. Beth ran up to the house, where Amanda assured her that she and the girls and Grady would look for the dog in the house.

  “We’ll check the guesthouse, too,” Amanda said. “Please tell me I don’t have to explain to Wave about the handcuffs on the bed!” Beth laughed, but her anxiety over her pup was growing.

  Beth and Finn checked the barn again, including Ellis’s small apartment, in case the curious little dog had somehow gotten trapped inside. They checked the tack room, bathroom, hay barn, storage shed—everywhere they could think of.

  “Mingo?” Beth and Finn called, over and over. The only sounds she heard in reply were birds, crickets, and the breeze through the aspen leaves.

  They walked the perimeter of the pasture, Beth calling her brown dog’s name. She refused to cave and panic, but her chest was tight and it was getting more challenging to keep the darkest thought at bay. Sundown was only a few minutes away when they started down the drive toward the road. Beth played the light from her flashlight along the sides of the drive and the fringe of the forest. She saw rabbits, but no Mingo.

  They went through the electric gates and Beth stopped. Worry had eroded her optimism and the decision of whether to turn right or left onto the road was beyond her. Finn rubbed her back for a moment.

  “We’re going to find him,” he said, then turned right.

  She shone the flashlight beam into the aspens and pines. “Mingo?” they called.

  Night fell. The birds quieted and crickets picked up the slack. The moon was almost full, tinting the forest in wintry blue light. A cool breeze rippled through the pines and Beth shivered. Terrible images played in the movie in her head. Mingo’s stout brown body inert on the side of the road, blood dried on his lips. Mingo with his leg in a steel-jawed trap. Mingo snarling in vain while being attacked by coyotes.

  She had to stop. Her throat was beginning to ache as panic took hold. She keened a moan before she could quell it. Finn, ahead of her, turned and put his arm around her. “It’s going to be okay. He’s probably sleeping in a pile of Wave’s dolls, like E.T.”

  “But what if he’s not?”

  He squeezed her shoulders. “We will find him.”

  She wasn’t crying yet, but tears weren’t far. They peered into the trees.

  Finn stopped and held his index finger up. Beth stopped, and after a moment heard a quiet, high-pitched whine, coming from just ahead and in the brush. Finn surged forward as fast as he could. Beth followed, and kept trying to see around him.

  When she saw the lump of matted fur, Beth’s heart jumped into her throat. She gasped.

  There, lying on the ground, was Mingo. They went to him, and Beth sank to her knees in the dirt.

  “Give me your flashlight, honey,” he said. She did, and he shone the beam on the dog’s collar, which was caught on a gnarled tree root. Beth unbuckled the collar as her body relaxed and relief galloped through her. The metal rabies tag was bent—it had twisted and trapped the dog. Mingo wriggled, stubby tail vibrating with joy. Beth grabbed him and hugged him to her chest. The dog speed-kissed her face and neck.

  “Oh, Mingy, Mingy! Mingo!”

  Finn pet Mingo’s head and rubbed the dog’s floppy, triangular ears between his thumb and fingers.

  Beth called Amanda and the trio walked to the cottage. Mingo headed straight for his water bowl, his pink tongue setting a new world record for water lapping.

  Beth wanted a drink, too. Her mind and body felt as if they had been crammed with worry and were now completely empty. It was as if the front and back of her torso could touch, like the walls of a deflated balloon. She poured kibble into Mingo’s bowl and the mutt stared at her as though she was one of the major dog gods. She stroked Mingo’s back as he buried his nose in the nuggety goodness.

  Finn was looking at her from an armchair. “Quite a night, huh?”

  “Thanks for finding my dog.”

  “We both found him.”

  “Yeah, but you heard him. I’m not sure I would have, I was so worried.”

  “I’ve become a better listener.” He smiled at her.

  Beth smiled back. If it was true, she had another reason to give him a chance.

  To give them a chance.

  Bethany graced his bed that night, but they didn’t make love since they were exhausted. Although, if she had given any indication . . . She snuggled into him, her head on his chest, and kissed his cheek as softly as a petal-thin wood shaving falling to the floor, then slid farther under the blanket. As she used to do when they were married, she tucked one foot under his calf. He liked that. He liked having that icy little foot there where he could keep it warm. He liked being able
to take care of her, even in this small way.

  He gazed at her face, paled by the moonlight seeping through the window. Her nut-brown hair. Her dark eyelashes fanned on her cheek. Would he see this face next to him in a month? A year? A decade?

  14

  Driving in Colorado suited Beth just fine. She’d been in Ocala for several years, and Florida had natural beauty courtesy of the ocean, gulf, and Everglades, but mountains delivered a different brand of high-caliber eye candy. It was Friday afternoon, and she and Finn were en route to Ptarmigan. She loved driving on I-70 east of Glenwood Springs, where the interstate hugged the snaky curves of the Colorado River, tucked next to vertical red cliffs dotted with tenacious, scrubby pines. Even when the scenery was unremarkable, just knowing how high up they were made her giddy. She still loved when her ears popped on the mountain passes.

  It was past seven by the time they got to the B and B in Steamboat Springs, in part because the GPS lady didn’t believe, in her heart of computerized hearts, that the road to the B and B existed. The wooden sidewalks still ran along Lincoln, the main drag in town. Some of the businesses and restaurants along them had changed, but for Beth, the best part remained.

  Dinner was a casual affair in a quaint Italian place, with red-and-white checked tablecloths, bread in plastic baskets, and foil-wrapped butter pats. The pasta and sauces were homemade, with flavors that danced on her tongue. She and Finn kept the conversation flirty and lighthearted, but Beth knew that weightier talk would come, in time. There was no way she and Finn could part without having that conversation. With such an uncertain future, Beth worked to notice and savor everything, because these could be her last days with Finn.

  Later that cool night, in the soft, quilt-covered bed, they made love. They hardly noticed his brace—compared to the cast it was nothing—and they had simply worked around it. Lately when they’d made love she could feel how much harder his arms, back, and chest were from using crutches. Finn had always been ripped in that unpretentious, works-with-his-hands way, but now . . . he was off the charts. It was her favorite silver lining to the fractured-bone cloud. Still, tonight he had also been quiet, tender, and almost unbearably intimate.