by Karina Halle
"What?" I ask him.
I can tell my father is glaring at me under his sunglasses. I don't know why he insists on wearing them on hazy days like today, especially with his cowboy hat. He looks like he's trying to be Jack Nicholson.
"I don't think you've heard a damn word I've been saying," he says to me gruffly as he pulls up alongside me. Polly gives Major the stink-eye and shifts away from him. She's picking up on the tension, and then there's the fact that Polly doesn't really like the other horses. Which is one reason why I like her so much. She's a challenge.
And that's the reason why I haven't heard a word my father's been saying to me this last while as we've come up from the river.
My mind is fixated on another challenge.
Rachel.
It was only a few days ago that she came to see me by the stable, where I was actually able to have a halfway decent conversation with her. My attempts before were fraught with too many unanswered questions and unsaid words, and I've been too much of a chicken-shit to get real with her.
Time has changed her. In some ways she's the same Rachel that I know, but in others it's like she's slipped on a mask and a new persona, trying to bury the person she once was. If you'd just met her, you'd probably think she's a gorgeous city girl, roughing it in the sticks for a few weeks, a high-powered business person with a full plate. But I'm not really sure that's the person she's become—I think that might just be the person she wants to be.
And above all, the person she wants to be is someone far away from me, from this place.
But, hell, I should probably encourage this. North Ridge doesn't hold anything for her these days, except for her mother who she wants to rebuild a relationship with. There's a better world out there, filled with more opportunities and a faster life. Everything in this town moves at a turtle's pace. There’s something I like about it, but it's not for everyone. Most people who leave never end up coming back, not when they've gotten a taste of that big wild world.
And yet, I don't want her to leave. And I don't want things to keep progressing as they are. Sure, I made her laugh but then we separated again. It's like anytime we're brought together for a moment, the both of us make sure to push each other away. One step forward, two steps back.
It's just...it's fucking killing me. It's killing me to know that she's sleeping a few yards away from me. That when I look out my bedroom window, I'm looking at hers. That we're so close and yet light years apart, as if the galaxies above us have drifted down, creating chasms and endless space between us.
Every single moment she's here I'm hit with every single memory, the good and the bad. The sexy and the sweet. She's no longer just a phantasm of my dreams, of the years gone by—she's here. She's here and she's real and I don't know what the hell I'm supposed to do about it. She's got a boyfriend. She's only supposed to be here for a few weeks. And she still fucking hates me. When I look into her eyes, I see pain, and when the pain fades, I see the deep freeze. It's like she's willing her heart to freeze over, to numb herself from the past, from me.
And I can't fucking blame her. That's the worst part of it all.
"Shane," my father says again, and this time his voice is lower, trying out a softer tone. That's the difference between my dad these days and the dad of my past. Though he will always have a hard edge to him, age is making him softer. And ever since Vernalee and Rachel moved into the worker's cottage, I swear he's smiling more than he has in a long time. Believe me, the cattle business is hard these days and there's plenty for us all to be worried about.
I meet his eyes, forcing myself to be in the moment. "Sorry," I tell him. "I’m..."
"I know," he says. "I am too. There's been a lot of change in a short amount of time. It's hard to keep up." He pauses. "What I was saying is next time you go out on the range or into the mountains, you should bring your gun. I saw some bear scat down by the river. Looks like grizzly. You know that normally this isn't something to worry about but with all the fires up north and east, the bears might be out of their usual territory. Plus, this smoke can rile them up."
I nod. "Got it." I don't like to carry my shotgun because it's cumbersome and brings up bad memories. I also don't like to be in the position to shoot anything. I’ll bring it to protect myself and the cattle, but I'm rather fond of the bears around here. They're dangerous as hell and terrifying when you see them up close, but they're also a symbol of the wild. I've only once come across them in a perilous situation, and with some luck and a lot of noise, the bear went on its way.
"So how are you holding up?" my father asks me as we start riding again, side by side.
I raise my brow. "Holding up?"
"You know what I mean. With Rachel and Vernalee."
"Well, Vernalee isn't much to worry about," I tell him. "Frankly, I think it makes perfect sense for her to live here for as long as she needs to."
"And after that?" he asks me. "What if she lives here always?"
Is my father asking permission if she can live here permanently?
I shrug. "Sure. I mean, she might have to share the worker's cottage with someone else. When calving season comes, we're going to need someone to help."
"We'll worry about that later," he says. "Worst case scenario, she can take one of you boys’ old bedrooms in the house."
I study my father carefully. There's something soft and hopeful in his expression, even though I can't see his eyes. "Honestly, I had no idea you and Vernalee were so close."
His expression hardens but it's forced. He clears his throat. "We've been friends for a long time, Shane. About as long as you and Rachel have."
"I didn't know that."
He opens his mouth to say something, then stops. Takes a deep breath. "I knew she was in trouble with Errol. Back then, I tried to tell her I was there for her whenever she needed it. But she acted like nothing was wrong. Shit, that still hasn't changed, has it? But when he went to jail, I stepped in. The women in this town, they ostracized her, you know? It was such a damn scandal and it wasn't her fault, but she was caught up in it and she needed a friend. And so we became friends."
I want to bring up the fact that even though they've been friends since then, I've rarely heard him mention her, nor have I seen them together. But I know my dad can be like me sometimes when it comes to opening up and I should be happy I'm getting this much.
When we get back to the ranch, we ride up alongside the worker's cottage. Lo and behold, Rachel is sitting on the porch, immersed in something on her phone.
"Howdy," my father says to her.
She looks up, surprised to see us even though we'd been approaching her for a long time.
"Hi," she says, her tone edgy. She puts her phone down and tries to smile away her frown lines. "Nice ride?"
"Pretty as a peach," he says.
"You're riding bareback," she says to me, nodding at Polly.
I nod. "It's good to mix it up." Not only does it help with your muscles and balance when you ride bareback, but it's much cooler for Polly without the saddle and saddle blanket. "Want to go for a ride?"
She looks at me as if I have two heads, but at least she's smiling. "No way."
My father gives me a quick look. "I'll leave you two." Then he nods at Rachel and steers Major toward the stable.
Rachel looks at him longingly as he goes, and I have to pretend it doesn’t hurt that she hates being alone with me that much. But still, I’m feeling persistent today.
I hold out my hand for her. “Come on.”
“Shane,” she says, “I’m not going bareback riding with you.”
“Too busy frowning at your phone? Remember what I said about frowning?”
She cocks her head, studying me with pursed lips. Her dark hair is piled high on her head, a few loose tendrils framing her face which is covered in a thin sheen of sweat and no makeup. She’s wearing a white tank top with a red bra strap peeking out, jean shorts, and Converse low-tops. She’s still the most gorgeous woman I’ve eve
r seen. Time has only amplified this, the fact that over the years no one else has been able to measure up to her, to what we had.
Do you feel it? I want to ask her.
Do you still feel what we had together?
Did you ever think of me on cold nights?
Did you feel that longing in your bones for just one more moment, one more chance?
I don’t know if she can read my thoughts, though when we were young it seemed she could. I never did end up making a secret language with her because I never needed to. We just always knew. We knew each other’s heart like the back of our hands.
That can’t just disappear. That can’t just go away. I don’t care if she thinks she’s changed, that she has an important job, a boyfriend. I refuse to believe I can’t reach her.
“You chicken?” I ask, biting down a smile.
She raises her brows. “Chicken?”
That got her attention.
“Yeah, you scared?”
“I’m not scared,” she says, raising her chin.
“You forgot how to ride.”
“I did not. It’s like riding a bicycle.”
“Have you been on a horse since you left here?”
“Well, no.” She gets to her feet, dusts off her ass.
“So, get on,” I tell her, jerking my head for her to climb up. “Stand on the edge of the porch there.”
I bring Polly around until she’s parallel to the porch and hold out my hand again.
Wheels are turning in her head. She’s stubborn. She wants to keep her distance, wants me to leave so she can go back to her phone, back to her life in Toronto.
But then determination sets on her brow and she nods.
She takes my hand.
With ease, I haul her up until she’s swinging her leg over and pressed up against me.
“You all right?” I ask, even though I’m the one who feels like I can’t breathe. She’s barely even touching me and yet the feeling of her so close is lighting my skin on fire.
“I’m fine,” she says, a lilt in her voice that tells me she’s trying to sound tough.
We’ll see about that.
“You going to hold on to me?” I ask.
“I am holding on.”
No, you’re touching me like I have some sort of fucking disease.
It doesn’t matter.
I shift slightly, making a soft cluck to Polly, and she picks up on it in a second.
We jolt forward and start cantering, and with a yelp, Rachel holds on tighter, pressing her fingers into my t-shirt, her arms over my stomach, trying to keep her balance as we negotiate around the cottage.
Polly has a smooth gait, but even so, I take her around and start heading up the slope, forcing Rachel to hold on even tighter or she’ll go sliding right off Polly’s back.
I’m being a bit of a dick, I have to admit. I’m only doing this so she’ll touch me.
And it’s working.
“How are you back there?” I ask over my shoulder, just catching her dark hair flowing behind her out of the corner of my eye. It must have come undone.
We fly over the hill and up into a patch of pine, coming to a walk.
“Where are we going?” she asks. Even though we’re going slow now, she’s still holding on as hard as she was before.
It feels too fucking good. Not just to be held, but to be held by her. It’s like she never left at all, her body molding to mine with ease.
I try and keep my head on straight. “Remember the old settler’s barn?”
She grows silent for a moment. I know what she’s thinking. What she’s remembering.
Our first kiss.
The moment when our friendship twisted and changed into something better. Something beautiful.
“Is that still there?” she asks flatly.
“It is. And nothing has changed.”
“Really? We were there, like, when we were thirteen.”
“I know. But it’s held fast. It’s adapted. It’s now part of the land. You live here for long enough and you’ll see that few things change. The weather swoops in and burns it or floods it or freezes it and winds try and shake what’s weak, but most things survive it all. Grandpa says that there are some old structures on the land that have been here for a hundred years. There are trees that have grown for decades upon decades. They’re survivors. Just like you.”
“Me,” she repeats with a soft bitterness.
“Yes, you,” I tell her. “You’ve survived so much and yet here you are.”
I hear her swallow behind me. “Maybe I’ve survived…but is that enough?”
“What do you mean?”
“Nothing.” She clears her throat and taps my shoulder, pointing off into the distance. “Hey, there was a pond down that way, wasn’t there? We used to catch frogs.”
She’s changing the subject. I let her. “Except that one time I caught a snapping turtle.”
She laughs, squeezing me harder. “I’ll never forget your face. That thing nearly took your damn fingers off.”
“What was his name again?”
“I don’t remember, it was something weird…” She snaps her fingers. “Cleveland!”
Now I’m laughing at the memory. “Who came up with that name?”
“I have no idea.”
She lets out one of those soft, happy sighs, the ones she used to make when she was done laughing about something. I lived for those sighs, along with the ones she made as she came. She would cry out my name in a frenzied whisper, her fingers digging into my skin, her skin damp and flushed. She was the most gorgeous creature in the world when I was buried deep inside her and every part of her belonged to every part of me.
Except now, she belongs to someone else. Somewhere else.
The thought rots my insides, like drips of acid, impossible to shake.
I take her down to the old barn, its dark grey and brown wood more weather-beaten than before, the vine now taking over the entire roof. There are more holes punched in it and I’m pretty sure a family of raccoons calls it their home. But despite the hits, it’s still standing.
“Want to go inside?” I ask her.
“Are you going to promise not to scare me like you did last time?”
“I don’t know. Depends if I feel like kissing you or not.”
She hesitates. “Shane,” she warns. “That’s not funny.”
I shrug. “All I was thinking was that if I scared you, you’d jump into my arms and I’d kiss you.”
“Instead, I ended up punching you in the face.”
“It was a worthy trade. You still let me kiss you in the end.”
“I did it out of pity.”
“I know. You’re going to need to get down first.”
She holds on to me and then swings her leg over, lowering herself to the ground. I drop down right after and tie Polly to a post.
“How are your legs?” I ask her. She glances down and brushes the horse hair from her inner thighs. “I mean, they’re looking good. Really good. You’re so fucking gorgeous, Rachel.”
She looks up at me, frowning, a wary look in her eyes. “You’ve gotten bold. Anyone ever tell you that?”
“I’ve always been bold,” I tell her, taking a step toward her. “I was just quiet about it.”
There’s only a foot between us. She’s doing everything not to look me in the eyes.
I don’t even know what I’m doing.
I close the space and reach over, brushing her hair off her shoulders. “I used to have dreams about this hair, you know? It always happened after I saw ravens. They’d come into my dreams and their wings would flow and change into your hair and then you’d appear.”
“You dreamed about me?” she asks quietly, her eyes finally meeting mine.
“I always dreamed about you. Every night. Under every moon. For the last six years. The moon would always be changing, but my dreams never did.”
I take in a deep breath, catching the sweet scent of her sham
poo. My hand rests briefly on her shoulder, and the feel of her skin is warm, so warm, so soft. I let my hand drift down, down, until I’m holding her hand in mine, gently, like I’m holding a bird. “I missed you. Always. You’re standing right in front of me and I still miss you.”
Her eyes waver with fear, but maybe there’s longing underneath, something she’s kept hidden away. Maybe that’s wishful thinking.
“I have a hard time believing that,” she says, shifting her body out of my grasp and walking around Polly toward the building.
I’m right behind her, grabbing her arm and pulling her back to me. “Believe it.”
She balks. Her blue eyes are fierce, her mouth set into a near snarl. She’s an animal, trapped, ready to fight back. “What are you doing?”
“I’m asking you to believe me.”
“And why the fuck should I?”
“Because…I made you think I didn’t love you. I made you think you weren’t worthy of love when you were always too worthy of it.”
“Too worthy?” she says, practically spitting on me. “You know what my father did to me. You know it, and the minute I told you, you know what you did? You broke up with me! You did what my mother did, only it hurt a million times worse because you were all I had. Shane, I loved you so damn much, for so many years, and you just threw it in my face!”
“I made a mistake. Things got out of hand.”
The understatement of the century.
She raises her hand. “You know what? No. I don’t care. I really don’t give a fuck. What’s done is done and I don’t even care about getting closure anymore. It isn’t worth it.”
She tries to walk off and I let her go. “Rachel, please. Where are you going?”
“I don’t know,” she says, going around the structure.
I watch as she disappears around the corner.
I lean my head back and stare up at the sky, trying to see if I have any of that boldness left in me. I know what I have to do. I think I’m just so afraid that it won’t change a fucking thing.