I watched her go, the way she moved, purposeful and sure. Like she knew exactly where she was supposed to be. Joan appeared in the barn doorway, looked back at me, didn't say anything.
Just shook her head slightly and disappeared inside.
Three weeks later,Diane Morris called in another wellness check on Joan.
Second time in a month. Diane had probably seen Joan's lights off at eight PM and assumed the worst, never mind that Joan went to bed early because she got up at four-thirty to feed the horses.
I could've just called Diane back, if I were to be honest. Told her Joan was fine, saved myself the drive. But it was a slow Tuesday, and I told myself I should check in person.
The leaves were mostly gone now, bare branches reaching up against a gray November sky. Joan was already on the porch when I pulled up. Arms crossed, cigarette already lit.
"Let me guess," she called out. "Diane thinks I'm dead again."
I climbed the steps. "She's concerned."
"She's bored, that’s what it is." Joan took a drag. "That woman needs a hobby that isn't monitoring my porch light schedule."
"I'll let her know you're alive."
"You could've called."
"Wanted to make sure."
She studied me for a moment, then gestured at the other rocking chair. "Sit down, then. Long as you're here."
I sat. She rocked slowly, smoking, looking out at the pasture where the mare and foal were grazing.
"Diane needs a man," Joan said.
"She means well."
"She means to be a pain in my ass." She looked at me and squinted. "Hoping to run into Elena again?"
I opened my mouth, closed it again.
Joan's smirked. "She was here yesterday. Foal's doing great, case you're wondering."
"That's good."
"Mm." She took a drag, still watching me. "You're many things, boy, but you’re not subtle."
Joan let the silence sit, rocking. Out in the pasture, the foal was running circles around the mare, all legs and energy.
"That bother you?" Joan asked. "Missing her by a day?"
I cleared my throat. "No."
"Liar." She stubbed out her cigarette, immediately reached for another. "You got a tell, you know. Same one your father has. Jaw gets tight."
I looked out at the pasture.
"She's with Caleb now," Joan said, matter-of-fact. "But you knew that already, didn’t you?"
"I did."
"You sure?" She studied me. "Because you're sitting on my porch looking like a kicked dog, and I'm trying to figure out if you came here hoping she'd be in my barn or if you just like my company that much."
I didn't say anything, but that didn’t bother Joan. She was more than okay with talking for the both of us.
