Steely-eyed as ever. A look on her face like she doesn’t approve of the idea.
I push down every emotion that comes threatening to bubble out if I think too hard on what she said.
“It doesn’t matter,” I say. “I’m leaving tomorrow.”
There’s a brief flash of relief across her face, and then she’s pulling her pack of cigarettes from her pocket and lighting up.
“You're a good girl,” she says, blowing smoke sort-of out of my way. “You always were.”
From my mother, that's everything. That's the whole goodbye speech.
I hug her then, and she lets me. Her arms come up after a moment and the hand that isn’t holding a cigarette pats my back twice, quick and firm.
“Love you, Sadie.”
“Love you too, Momma.”
Then she steps back inside and closes the door.
I stand on the sagging step and look at that closed door for a while.
No matter what direction my life takes me, it won’t be back here. I did it. I made a different future for myself.
I just wish I were feeling happier about it.
I get in my car and I don't look back.
Chapter 40
Lullaby
SADIE
Iwake in Walker’s bed to the morning light hitting my eyes.
Once upon a time, the first thing I saw out the window was the chainlink fencing around the edge of our trailer park and the railroad tracks beyond.
Now it’s all purple mountain majesties and big sky country and a handsome cowboy in bed beside me.
Tomorrow, it will be a different window, a different bed. All alone, once again. No more mountains but a concrete jungle instead.
Walker is still asleep when I get up. I stand in the doorway of his bedroom and look at him for a long moment. The suntanned skin against white cotton sheets, the one strong arm thrown over the empty space where I was, like still he’s holding on to the imprint of me even when I’m gone.
Today I'm going to do every ordinary thing one last time.
Make breakfast together. Feed the horses. Sit on the porchwith my coffee. Work with Jonah on one more chapter of his book. Dance in the kitchen after dinner.
Tomorrow, I'll get on a plane.
Jonah wants pancakes, so we make pancakes. He stands on his step stool at the counter and stirs the batter so excitedly he gets it on the ceiling somehow. It’s happened before and will happen again, though not with me here to see it.
Walker makes coffee and we eat breakfast on the porch because the morning is perfect, clear with the tiniest bite to the breeze, the first hint that summer is fading to autumn. Jonah sits between us and chatters about school starting Monday, his new teacher, whether or not his best friend will be in his class.
I reply as enthusiastically as I can, trying not to think about the fact that I won't be here for any of it.
Afterwards, we get the horses saddled and take Walker and Jonah’s favorite trail ride, the one that winds along the creek for hours, eventually dismounting to let the horses drink water and graze.
We devote the afternoon to a long, lazy picnic beneath the shade of a cottonwood tree, eating huckleberries off the vine and dipping our feet in the cold water of the creek when the sun gets too hot.
