‘Oh, sure.’ Margot is joining in now, too. She folds her hands in front of her, giving me that warm smile of hers. Her hair, all taken up into a pretty chignon, bounces with her. ‘And summer camp?’
‘Good,’ I say shortly.
‘You plan on ever talking about it?’ Rather than just warmth, concern enters Margot’s voice. Her brow is furrowed. She may not be related to my mom, but she has the same demeanour when it comes to worry over me.
‘Probably not.’
‘It’s not our place to say anything.’ Julius’s tone is kind, yet firm. ‘But running …’
He’s right – he can’t really say anything. It’s exactly what we all do in this family. We run from our problems, the same way my mother threw herself into the ranch so she wouldn’t feel the pain, same way Julius moved to Montana when myabuelopassed away, so he wouldn’t have to deal with the grief. It’s all we know. Doesn’t help that the Hawkins in me is a little too good at running, too.
‘Will you go back?’ asks Margot. She’s quiet, but she presses a pale hand to mine.
I smile tightly. ‘No, Auntie. I’m not goin’ back.’
‘How about home?’ Julius has the air of a dad who’s just trying to figure out how to navigate teenage heartbreak. Hesitant, yet well-meaning, his eyebrows draw together, and the corners of his mouth tilt down beneath his moustache.
‘Not yet.’ I take a deep breath. I immediately think about the stables – one of the best parts of my childhood, gone, gentrified, replaced, just like that. It was never going to be the place I went back to after things ended with Rod. I don’t know when it’ll feel like home again, but I’m hoping time will smooth that over. ‘I’ll head over for May and Colt’s party in a few weeks. Then back to Rhode Island. They’ll need me by then, anyway.’
‘Your mama’ll need you, too.’ Margot squeezes my hand. My heart clenches, and I squeeze back, my eyes suddenly trained on my half-eaten steak. I know she’s right. I’ll have to go back eventually. But now, my entire world feels like it’s just splintered and fractured, and I need steady ground. In Casas Creek, I have that. The moment I return to Oklahoma, I’ll have to contend with all the change and the memories, and the fact that I thought for a minute that I’d found the sort of man who’d convinced me it didn’t have to be all bad.
‘She’ll be fine. She has a new foreman. A whole army of ranch hands,’ I try and joke, but it doesn’t come out as lightly as I intended. ‘Besides. I wanna stay and help with the rodeo, you know that.’
Sensing the turn in conversation, Julius jumps right in. ‘You should do more than help,’ he suggests ominously, with a tap of the table. ‘Why don’t you compete again, huh?’
‘Oh, come on.’ I snort. I’m grateful for the diversion, although I sense Margot beside me wishing I’d nipped this thing in the bud. ‘I can’t just get right on back to doing that stuff. You know it takes practice.’
Julius, a former bareback bronc champion, swats the air. ‘That’s not true. It’s in your blood,mija. No need to come up with excuses.’
‘It’s in her blood till we gotta turn her round to her mother with her head split open,’ Margot points out wisely. She’s trying to be so serious, it cracks me up.
‘That’s why we wear …’ Julius stops himself with a raised hand. ‘I lied. We don’t wear helmets.’
Margot just throws her hands up in the air, her point proven, but Julius is still out to prove his.
‘You should,’ he says again, ‘you know. Even if it’s just for fun. You’re still young. Granted, you’re probably supposed to protect yourself from injuries because of lacrosse,’ he adds, more to himself than anything else. I watch my uncle calculate in real time, and then finally, a lightbulb. His eyes crinkle with a smile. ‘Tell you what, you don’t even have to compete. You could just do the flag this year. Practically guaranteed you won’t hurt yourself, so we can return you to Rhode Island without a scratch.’
He turns to Margot for approval, and with a sigh, she nods,a grin creeping out. ‘I can’t lie, honey, I have missed seein’ you ride. There’s nothing else like it.’
I let out a laugh. ‘Can you guys see me in those sparkly chaps? I’ve never been a flag girl before.’ Probably for good reason – it was never the thing I was into. The pageantry, the prim-and-proper of it all: it’s the total opposite of riding rough stock.
‘I don’t know, but … I think it’ll do you good.’ Margot’s voice moves to an undertone of pity, which still feels warm and comforting coming from her, but makes me feel some kind of awful deep in my chest. ‘To get your mind off of everything.’
I’d love to. That’s why I’ve been slogging through my chores and then some. Trying to move forward with things, same way my mom did, the way we all do. But this one, as much as I hate to admit it, he was different. In my head, he was supposed to stick around. We were supposed to decide we maybe, just maybe, wanted this beyond just one season, wanted this for all of them. And I craved every drop of it. The dogs, Tali, the horses out back. It was, altogether, what Margot would have called ‘scarcer than hen’s teeth’. Something about it all filled the gaping hole I’d resigned myself to embracing, cut the monotone life of self-preservation I’d been living. I had gotten used to the numbness and the sting, until I realized that I could have more. I could have Rodney Wilson, in all his sainted glory and his hidden struggles, his happiness, his sadness, and everything in between. At least I thought I could. How the hell do you get your mind off that?
But at the end of the day, Margot means well. She means so well that it practically hurts. She’s only made me my favourite foods the past few days. I think she was about to go out andfind a KFC to get me those chicken and waffles combos I like. Even Julius gave me the shit to do on the ranch that he knew I’d get something out of. If the ‘teenage heartbreak dad’ vibe didn’t tell me how hard he was trying, I had no idea what would.
I sigh. ‘So. What’s a flag girl got to know how to do?’
Chapter Forty-Six
Problem Horses
Rod
‘How many Julius Gutierrezes can there be in Montana?’
Colt’s comment is probably intended to make me feel better about this wild goose chase, but it actually seems to make things worse. My temples throb as I drag my carry-on luggage bag behind me, down the glass bridge that leads away from the airport terminal and towards the Kiss and Fly, where I’ve already ordered a ride-share. ‘What if there’s more than I thought?’
