‘I’m Rodney.’ I swallow, then give her an awkward little nod of acknowledgement. ‘I’m from Massachusetts.’
Something flickers in the woman’s eyes. My heart skips a beat when I think it looks like a hint of recognition, familiarity, but I can’t get my hopes up. I’m so far out of my depth that I’m surprised I’m still in one piece, at my destination safely. ‘Massachusetts?’
‘Yes, ma’am.’
‘What’s … well, what can I help you with?’ she continues. She blinks rapidly, her eyes a little more homed in than they were; soft, more analytical now.
‘I’m looking for Jordan? Jordan Gutierrez-Hawkins, is she here?’
Her name. Feels like I haven’t totally earned the right to say it aloud. What right do I have to come looking for her like this, honestly? I screw the toe of my sneaker into the sidewalk. The more I think about this, the stupider it starts to seem.
The woman doesn’t say anything for a beat or two. Once it’s been a decidedly awkward stretch of time, I sigh, wring my hands. My stomach plummets right down to my shoes, a slow elevator descent that takes its time filling my body with dread. I’m too late.
‘I’m sorry to bother you,’ I give in. ‘Thanks for your—’
‘You know, honey, when she doesn’t want to be found …’
I look up. My eyes widen on instinct. When she doesn’t want to be found, there’s usually a reason. The sentiment I seem to have been getting from just about everyone who knows Jordan. Everyone’s got the memo, including this woman, but I’m not quite there. There’s still a shred of hope telling me that if I can just apologize to her, even if she doesn’t want anything to do with me, even if she’s satisfied with never speaking to me again, this whole escapade will have been worth it. Either way, it’s taken me too long to realize it, but she’s always going to be worth it. For her, I’d travel all the way to Montana, all the way around the world, once, twice, twenty times. I’d hang the stars and watch them reflect back in her eyes. I’d get her the dust from the moon if it meant she’d giveme that curious, mischievous smile that yearns for an adventure, a journey. I’d go out and try to find her if she were in another state, if she were in another universe. It wouldn’t make any difference to me.
‘I’m willing to try.’
The ghost of a smile crosses the woman’s face. She looks out over my head for a moment, at the emptiness and the fields and the fences that lie past the house, and then, she trains her eyes on me again. ‘She needs this time for herself,’ she says. ‘She’s been workin’ with problem horses.’
Of course. I almost chuckle in relief, until I think about that for a beat longer, roll it around in my brain. Genny used to do that kind of work, break in horses that were a little stubborn, hot-tempered, until she had her boys, and she gave it up for something a bit calmer. It took immense patience. Sometimes, it took getting clobbered once or twice. But Genny called it ‘healing’; where, for a moment, you’d see eye to eye with the horse, share every emotion, every bit of fear and pain, and it would feel like magic. Like somebody finally understood.
‘But why don’t you,’ the woman reaches around the back of the door and grabs something off a side table before slipping it out to me, ‘come back in a couple of days.’
I take it. It’s a postcard-sized flyer.CASAS CREEK 45TH ANNUAL RODEO AND FAIR.There are pictures of men and women on horseback (and bull-back), listed events, food trucks.
‘Thank you,’ I tell her.
‘We’ll see you soon,’ she replies.
The door closes with a quiet click, and as I slowly make my way down the sidewalk, I run a finger over the printed wordson the card. That familiar mixture of hope, fear, sadness and confusion fills my chest again.
Back at the hotel, I call Colt back with my update. I tell him about the ranch, the woman I met, the card I still hold. About the problem horses. On a video call, I watch as he listens intently, his eyebrows scrunching together in thought.
‘How do you feel about it?’ he finally asks me at the end of it all.
‘I feel …’ I let out a sullen laugh. ‘I don’t know. Afraid? It feels like I have a set date to my fucking undoing now, so probably just freaking out. Like, do I do this? It’s—’
‘It’s pretty big,’ Colt finishes aptly.
Simple, but effective. I nod. ‘Bigger than big.’
‘And?’
‘I just … man, I’ve never done anything like this before.’ The words tumble out before I can so much as vet them. ‘I’ve never cared about a woman enough to do this. But she … she just gets everything, she gets me, she sees me as the man I am and the man I want to be. I didn’t want to take the chance. It felt so wrong to jump in and possibly hurt Tali again, but instead of helping anyone’s feelings, I hurt them all. And I know it’s not always something I can help. Just … this time, I really want to make it right. I need to. Not for my sanity, but for her, what she did for me.’
Colt hums.
Then, ‘What’s parenting been like for you?’
‘Parenting?’ I practically choke out. I fight the irrational urge to spin the desk chair I sit in around, grab a pillow off the bed, and scream into it. I just tore my heart open and poured thecontents out to this guy. Colt’s my best friend, but I could reach through the phone and give him a good shake. What the hell?
‘Hard,’ I finally decide. I can still remember it pretty clearly, starting out. It didn’t help that I was just figuring out my medication dosage, so I felt like crap all the time. I’d been thrown into foreign territory, and all I knew was I had to do my best to do right by my daughter. ‘I didn’t know what I was doing.’
‘We rarely do.’ Colt, who is probably the least deep person I know, leans forward in thought. ‘Like right now.’
