A Walk in the Sun

by Michelle Zink

  She pulled open the big doors, wondering if Bodhi was awake. It felt weird to step into the barn, like she was walking into his apartment or something. The thought faded from her mind when she saw the empty galleries.

  The cows were gone.

  “Got them fed and out to pasture,” a voice said behind her. “Hope that’s okay.”

  She turned to find Bodhi Lowell leaning against the side of the barn. Gone were the hiking boots, the giant backpack, the cargo shorts. Now he was wearing worn jeans and a white T-shirt that fit him a little too well, his eyes concealed under the shadow of a cowboy hat.

  “That’s fine,” she said. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here to help. I’m usually up at four.”

  “No need for that now,” he said. “Not unless we’re vaccinating or baling or some such.”

  She crossed her arms, then uncrossed them, feeling ridiculous. What was wrong with her?

  “Any problems?”

  “Not a one, though I noticed one of your calves isn’t feeding right.” He hesitated. “That the one you were buying for yesterday?”

  “Yeah.”

  He nodded, and she braced for more of his advice. He didn’t offer any.

  “I should probably show you the rest of the farm,” she finally said. “Do you still have Mason saddled?”

  “Sure do.” He said it lazily, like he didn’t have a care in the world. How annoying. “Had a feeling I’d be getting the grand tour.”

  “Good. Let me saddle up and I’ll meet you back here in ten minutes.”

  She hurried outside before she could do something else that would be awkward or stupid. Most likely both.

  She headed for the smaller of the two barns, wondering if it was her imagination that she felt Bodhi’s eyes on her back. The big door opened with a creak, and she stepped into the dim interior and leaned her forehead against the battered wood. She was breathing heavily, like she’d been riding hard when all she’d been doing was carrying on a simple conversation with Bodhi Lowell. Is this how it would be all summer? Using every bit of her energy to act normal around Bodhi when something inside her wanted to scream that nothing was normal? That nothing would ever be normal again? She didn’t even know what that was anymore.

  She let the soft scrabble and snort of the horses, the smell of hay and manure, calm her down, and a couple minutes later she felt more like herself. She was being stupid. This was normal. The farm. The animals. The chores. Her dad and Aunt Marty, Will, even crazy Lexie, who might be going to the city but would still be part of Rose’s life. It wasn’t what it used to be when her mom was alive. But it was her life now. She’d better get used to it.

  She moved deeper into the barn, stopping in front of the third stall where her mother’s palomino, Coco, stood peering at Rose with sad eyes.

  She reached a hand over the wooden gate and stroked Coco’s nose. “Hey, pretty girl. How are you?” The horse chuffed a little, lifting her nose in the air. “Yeah, me too,” Rose said softly.

  She took an apple out of her pocket and held it out to the animal, but Coco just sniffed at it before turning away. Rose sighed, withdrawing her hand and making her way to Raven’s stall.

  The horse danced a little when she saw Rose, then lowered her sleek, black head to sniff at Rose’s middle.

  “Hey, beautiful.” She held out the apple that Coco had rejected. “I’m guessing you won’t turn this down.”

  The horse took the apple from Rose’s hand and was still finishing the piece of fruit when she nudged Rose’s stomach a second time.

  “Do I look like an apple tree to you?” Rose stroked Raven’s sleek nose. “Okay, you’re right. I have another one.”

  She gave the mare the second apple in her pocket, letting her finish it before opening the gate and leading her to the tack room.

  A few minutes later she had Raven saddled and ready to ride. She led the horse outside, blinking against the sunlight before hoisting herself into the saddle. She walked the horse over to the cattle barn where Bodhi already sat astride Mason.

  “She yours?” Bodhi asked, tipping his head at Raven.

  Rose nodded. “Since I was ten.”

  “She’s a beauty,” he said.

  “Thanks.” She nodded toward the drive that ran in front of the house. “Let’s start with the property boundaries.”

  “Lead the way.”

  She tapped Raven into a trot and heard Mason fall into line behind her.

  Fourteen

  She started with the big field at the front of the house. They used it to grow the hay and alfalfa that was both feed and an extra source of income. Rose led Bodhi along the perimeter, eyeing the crop with a critical eye. It was a miracle they’d gotten it in at all, and she thought back to the wet, muddy days of April when she had raced the clock—and the weather—with Will and his father. Her dad had made a show of helping from time to time, but his heart hadn’t been in it, and his apathy had only depressed and distracted her.

  Rose nudged Raven into a gallop as they moved behind the barns to the north pasture. Some of the cows were grazing while others snoozed in the sun. A group of calves frolicked like kids while their mothers looked on with obvious boredom. She pointed things out as they went—the problematic bull (she probably should have told Bodhi about that last night), areas where the fence needed repair, the trees at the forest line that sometimes lost branches during strong summer storms.

  The sun was warm on Rose’s head, the wind a gentle touch on her shoulders as they crossed the dirt road to the orchard. She slowed down then, giving the horses time to cool off while they picked their way through the trees, trying to keep them from stopping to eat the decomposing fruit that still dotted the ground from last season.

  “It’s pretty,” Bodhi said, his voice finally breaking the silence.

  Rose looked over at him. “What is?”

  He shrugged. “All of it.” He faced forward, seeming to choose his words carefully. “I didn’t expect that.”

  “Thought New York was all graffiti and subways?” she asked him.

  He smiled a little. “Something like that.”

  She led him up the hill that separated the orchard from the pond. When they got to the top, she stopped Raven’s progress with a gentle “Whoa, girl.”

  “This is yours?” Bodhi asked. His eyes were still hidden under the cowboy hat, but she could tell he was checking out the pond.

  “Yep. You can use it to cool off whenever. It’s about twenty feet deep in the middle, and it feeds into a river that runs behind that stand of trees over there.” She pointed to show him in case he wanted to go fishing sometime.

  “Water cold?” he asked.

  “Cold enough.” She could see the interest in his eyes, could tell he wanted to continue down the hill and get a better look. But then they would stop and maybe even dismount. She would have to make polite conversation, something she didn’t have to do while they were riding. “Ready to head back?”

  His nod was slow. “Sure.”

  She turned Raven around and let the horse pick her way carefully down the hill, then kept a little space between the two animals, just in case Bodhi got any ideas about making small talk.

  They spent the rest of the day in not-very-comfortable silence. Well, she didn’t know if he was comfortable, but she definitely wasn’t. She was too used to being alone, or with Lexie and Will, who did more than their share of the talking. With Bodhi the conversation was intermittent between long, heavy silences that felt anything but natural, although he seemed perfectly okay with them. She focused on filling Bodhi in on the farm, showing him around the little office next to the bunk room where they kept all their records and did their paperwork, giving him log-in permission for the software they used to track expenses and income, the purchase price and weight of the cattle, and the million other things that had to be recorded to ensure they were profitable.

  The sun was sinking in the sky when they finally saddled the horses back up and brought the cows
in for the night. She was surprised to find that they herded well together, Bodhi instinctively going right when she went left, both of them moving in a kind of unrehearsed dance that funneled the animals across the road and back into the barn with minimal effort.

  Once the cows were settled, they took the horses to the tack room and removed the saddles and blankets, then brushed the animals down before leading them to their individual stalls. Bodhi forked in some fresh hay while Rose checked the water.

  When they finally stepped out of the barn, Marty’s Prius was parked in the drive. Relief flooded Rose’s body. Finally, someone who could take charge, at least for a while. Maybe Marty could make things seem less awkward, bridge the gap that made it impossible for Rose to act like a normal human being with passable social skills around Bodhi Lowell.

  “That’s my aunt Marty’s car,” Rose explained as they walked toward the house.

  Bodhi tipped his head in understanding, and a moment later Marty stepped out of the front door, the screen banging shut behind her.

  “Well, hello there!” She beamed as she came toward them, her long hair pulled back into a ponytail. She shielded her eyes from the sun with one hand. “You must be Bodhi Lowell.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He wiped his hands on his jeans, then held one out to Marty.

  She shook his hand. “Marty Jacobsen. I’m glad you made it.”

  He laughed low and deep. Rose hadn’t heard him laugh yet, not really, and a matching vibration rumbled through her chest at the sound of it.

  “Me too,” he said.

  “Has Rose been giving you the lay of the land?”

  He nodded. “Nice place you have here.”

  Marty smiled. “It belonged to my sister, Kate, Rose’s mother. Now it belongs to Rose and her father.”

  The mention of her mother made Rose feel like she’d been slapped. She wasn’t ready for her mother to be a casual part of the past. She immediately felt ashamed. Marty had been every bit as wrecked as Rose and her dad when her mother died. And wasn’t it better to talk about her mother than to pretend like she’d never existed?

  “I never had a taste for farming,” Marty continued. “Or for staying in one place long enough to grow anything.”

  “I can understand that.” He looked around. Was that longing in his eyes? “Still, must be nice to have a place like this in the family.”

  “It is,” Marty said. “As long as I don’t have to do the work.”

  They both laughed, and Rose shuffled a little, feeling like an intruder.

  Marty smiled at her. “Hi, honey. Why don’t you and Bodhi clean up while I start dinner?”

  Rose tried to hide her surprise. Right. Bodhi would join them for dinner. Tonight and any night it was an actual meal where everyone sat at the table, which granted, wasn’t very often these days.

  It’s not that she didn’t want him there. Not really. He was nice enough. But everything still felt raw and exposed, and the thought of letting Bodhi see that—of letting anyone see it—well, it just wasn’t something she wanted to do.

  “You’re making dinner?” Rose asked.

  “Don’t sound so surprised,” Marty said. “I can cook, you know.”

  Rose nodded. Her aunt Marty was decent in the kitchen, although her food of choice was most often exotic and hard to pronounce. But she didn’t come to the house to cook. Or she hadn’t since Rose’s mother had died, and even before that, she had just sat on the counter drinking wine, laughing while Rose’s mother moved around the kitchen making dinner, sometimes from the old cookbook and just as often from memory.

  Marty smiled. “Go on then. I’ll meet you inside.” She turned around and made her way back into the house, leaving Rose standing next to Bodhi, feeling like an idiot at the end of a first date.

  “I’m going to put on a clean shirt,” Bodhi finally said. “See you inside.”

  “Yeah, see you,” she said. But by the time she got it out he was already on his way to the barn, her words aimed at his retreating back.

  Fifteen

  Bodhi’s mouth watered the whole time Rose and Marty cooked. He offered to help, but Marty wouldn’t hear of it.

  “You’ve done your part for the day,” she said. “There’s lemonade in the fridge. Pour yourself some and take a load off.”

  The mood had been easy and light, the opposite of the atmosphere between him and Rose while they’d worked. Then Marty pulled a binder from the counter and flipped it open, and Rose suddenly went stiff. She crossed her arms, green eyes flashing.

  “You’re going to use that?” There was a note of accusation in her voice.

  “Yes, I am.” The look Marty Jacobsen leveled at her niece made it clear she didn’t expect an argument.

  Rose pressed her lips into a straight line, like that might be the only way to keep from giving Marty a mouthful.

  “Now help me with this biscuit recipe, will you?” Marty said.

  Rose moved woodenly into action and said very little while Marty talked easily, drinking from a glass of red wine while she moved around the kitchen. She grumbled good-naturedly when she made mistakes, which was often enough that Bodhi probably should have been worried about dinner, none of which was coming from the stockpile in the Darrows’ freezer. Marty was both out of place and in her element, a tropical flower planted in the desert that does its best to grow anyway.

  “I’ll go get your dad for dinner,” Marty said to Rose when everything was done. “Why don’t you and Bodhi put everything on the table?”

  “I can get Dad,” Rose said.

  Marty placed a firm hand on Rose’s shoulder. “I’ve got it,” she said softly.

  A sigh escaped Rose’s lips as she watched her aunt walk from the room. A few seconds later Bodhi heard murmurs coming from upstairs, the soft rise of Marty’s voice and an answering rumble from Rose’s father. Bodhi glanced around, looking for a way to break the tension.

  “Any method to this madness?” he finally asked.

  Rose turned her eyes on him. “What?”

  He gestured to the food lined up on the counter. “Any specific way you want this on the table? Or should I just have at it?”

  Her shoulders sagged a little. “It doesn’t matter. Put it anywhere.”

  They worked together, moving platters of meat loaf, mashed potatoes, corn, green beans, and biscuits to the table. Bodhi could hardly wait to dig in. This was the kind of food he was used to. Stick-to-your-ribs food. The kind of food you looked forward to after a long day wrangling animals and lifting bales of hay. Rose had just set a dish of butter and a jar of honey on the table when Marty returned.

  “He’s not coming,” Rose said flatly.

  “Oh no. He’s coming,” Marty said. There was a thread of steel running through her voice, and Bodhi thought that for all of Marty’s lightheartedness, he hoped he never had to tell her no.

  They sat down, Rose across from Bodhi, Marty at one end of the table. A few seconds later, an older man with graying hair and a wiry build shuffled into the kitchen.

  “Hi, Dad,” Rose said.

  “Hi, honey.” He touched her lightly on the head as he made his way to the chair across from Marty.

  Bodhi stood. He could almost see the weight of the world on the man’s shoulders.

  “John, this is Bodhi Lowell,” Marty said. “He’s the one I hired to help out for the summer.”

  Bodhi held out his hand. “Nice to meet you, sir. Beautiful place you’ve got here.”

  John Darrow took his hand, gave it a half-hearted squeeze. “Thank you.”

  Marty smiled. “Why don’t you sit down, John?” she suggested.

  John sat, his eyes moving listlessly over the food spread out on the table. “Looks good,” he said.

  “I have to say I agree with you, sir,” Bodhi said, trying to make conversation. He waited to see if they would say grace. Instead, Marty raised her glass in a toast.

  “To new friends.”

  “New friends.” It was a funny
kind of chorus. Bodhi enthusiastic, John barely audible, Rose a little annoyed. Or was that his imagination?

  Marty talked about her travels while they ate, sharing stories from Thailand and Indonesia, Germany and Holland. It was the best conversation he’d had in a while, and he took full advantage of the opportunity to ask her questions about all of her experiences.

  “Have you ever been overseas?” Marty asked as she was clearing the table.

  Bodhi shook his head. Should he tell them he was planning a trip at the end of the summer? He wasn’t sure. It felt too personal. In fact, he realized he hadn’t yet told a soul about his plans. He had guarded it like a secret, like deep down he was afraid someone might try to stop him from starting over. He was still puzzling over this when Marty spoke again.

  “Well, you should definitely go,” Marty said, running water over the plates and setting them in the sink. “It’s life altering. Rose has always wanted to travel, you know.”

  He looked at Rose, sitting next to him with a faraway look in her eyes. “Where do you want to go?”

  She shot a glare at her aunt’s back. “I don’t know. It’s just something I’ve thought about. You know, a someday kind of thing.”

  He nodded slowly, wondering why it felt like she was lying and why she would bother about something so minor.

  “I think I’m going to read for a bit,” John Darrow said, rising from his chair.

  Marty turned around. “But I have cherry pie! I bought it from Marie, but still . . .”

  “Save me a piece,” John said. “I’m doing some research on the weather this season.”

  “Okay, then . . . ,” Marty said.

  “It was nice to meet you, Bodhi. Please make yourself at home, and let us know if there’s anything you need.”

  Bodhi stood. “Thank you, sir.”

  John stopped to kiss the top of Rose’s head on his way to the stairs.

  “Night, honey.”

  “Night, Dad.”

  A leaden silence fell over the room in the moment before Marty clapped her hands.

  “Pie! It’s time for pie.” Her voice was unnaturally bright as she opened the bakery box on the counter. She had just set it on the table when the front door opened and a voice called through the house.