The driveway was long, gravel crunching under my tires. The farmhouse sat at the end of it, white paint peeling in places butsolid. Barn out back, pasture stretching east. Joan’s truck was parked by the porch, rust spots blooming on the wheel wells.
I pulled up and cut the engine.
Joan was on the porch before I'd even gotten out, seventy-something and weathered, arms crossed, a cigarette dangling from her mouth.
"Matthew Reeves," she called. "If you're here because Diane Morris called in another one of her concerned citizen reports, you can tell her I'm fine and she can mind her own damn business."
I climbed the steps. "Morning, Mrs. Patterson."
"It's Joan." She took a drag, exhaled. "And I'm not dead, as you can clearly see. Been mucking out stalls all morning. Guess that doesn't count as activity to Diane."
"She probably just wanted to make sure."
"She wanted to be nosy." Joan stubbed out the cigarette in a coffee can by the door. "But since you're here, you want coffee? Least I can do for dragging you out."
"I'm good, thanks."
"Suit yourself." She sat down in one of the rocking chairs, gestured for me to take the other. "How's your mom?"
"Some days are better than others."
Joan nodded slowly. "Carol's tougher than anyone gives her credit for. She'll fight this thing as long as she can."
"Yeah."
"And your dad?"
"Hanging in there."
"Bill's a good man. Always has been." She pulled out another cigarette, lit it. "You doing okay? Can't be easy, coming back to all this."
"I'm managing."
She studied me through the smoke. "You look like Bill did at your age. Never said shit about what bothered him either. Drove your mother crazy."
I shifted in the chair.
"You used to come out here with that girl. What was it, haying season? You'd work your ass off all afternoon, then sit on the tailgate sharing a Coke like you'd invented romance." She snorted. "Figured you'd end up married with six kids by now."
"Mrs. Patterson?—"
"It's Joan, won’t tell you again. And I'm not trying to make you feel like shit, I'm just saying. You were good kids. Both of you." She tapped ash into the can. "Still are, probably. Just made a mess of it."
"That was a long time ago."
"Three years isn't that long when you get to be my age." She rocked slowly. "She's coming by today, actually. Foal's doing better but she wants to check that front leg one more time."
Heat crept up my neck.
Joan caught it, of course she did.
"Don't worry, I won't tell her you're here pining on my porch." She took another drag. "Though she'll probably show up in about ten minutes." She rocked slowly, watching me.
I should leave, I knew that. And yet…
"Your mother asks about Elena sometimes. On the good days."
I didn't say anything.
