At the cabin, I parked, leaving as much room as I could for the big red truck that would soon visit us. Getting out, I went to Blue’s side of the truck and opened his door, not because I didn’t think he couldn’t do it for himself, but as a welcome to the cabin I considered, now, ours. Not just mine.Ours.
Blue jumped out of the truck and, leaving the door wide open, rushed into my arms, and I hugged him. Buried my face in his hair. Did my best to still his jumpiness with my own stillness, and took a deep breath of the wide, Montana-fresh country air.
“It’s going to be okay,” I said. He shivered and pressed even closer, tucking his head beneath my jaw. “We’re going to find him, and it’ll be okay.”
Inside the cabin, we took off our boots and hung our jackets. I opened the windows to let in fresh air, since the temperature was a balmy forty degrees. With my hands on my hips, I looked around, thinking where to start. That’s when Blue dragged me to the bedroom and began undoing the buttons on my flannel shirt. I placed my hands on his and looked down at him.
“We’ve got hours yet,” Blue said. “The place is fine. It’ll take ten minutes.”
I wanted to put the sheets in the laundry and sweep the floor and tidy the workshop. Then Blue rose on his toes, his hands on my shoulders, eyelashes dark on his cheeks, his mouth soft, and kissed me. I forgot all about chores.
We wereready well before five o’clock, having done everything possible to make the cabin presentable. And I knew Blue wanted the cabin to make a good impression. Maybe even to make Jack a tad jealous.
“Why?” I’d asked.
“He’s got a nana,” Blue had said.
“She’s yours too,” I said with a kiss to his temple. “She doesn’t pat just anyone on the cheek like that.” I didn’t really know if that was true, but I felt it was. “Only the special ones.”
At two minutes after five, when the sun was hovering over the tree line, casting dusky, slanted shadows as the chill in the air grew, the shiny red truck showed up, and Morgan and Jack got out. The front door was wide open for them, and I waited to let them in.
Inside, Blue was standing by the kitchen table, twisting the hem of his t-shirt. We’d moved the table to the center of the kitchen, set it for four, adding a bench seat so everyone would have a place to sit. And I thought, with the way Blue was holding back, that he didn’t really want the two of them there, in which case, the dinner would be quick, as I had no wish to put Blue through that, no matter how good the lemon cake was.
Instead, Blue pushed past me to hug Jack, who had to put the two takeaway bags he was carrying on the floor, and for a moment they stood there together, a second reunion in the same day. Morgan flicked me a glance as he moved toward the table.
“Mind if I go ahead and sit down?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said. “Can I take your cane?”
“Sure.”
I took the cane and put it against the wall near the back door. My nerves were climbing. I wasn’t a good host to begin with and had no idea how to make this easier than it felt.
Then Jack pulled back, his hands on Blue’s shoulders, and said, “Trust you to end up in the prettiest place I’ve ever seen.” He waved a hand toward the back door, at the light glowing through the trees beyond the rise. “I’ll bet you go out and watch that sunset every night.”
“Sometimes.” Blue ducked his chin, but I could tell he was pleased. “The Yellowstone River is on the edge of the property.”
And all at once I figured it out. There was a rivalry between these two. Who had what. Who was better at what. They would settle it between them eventually, perhaps over the goal of finding Star.
“You fellows want to go and take a look?” I asked. “I’ll play mother. You go on.”
They were up and outside before I even picked up the to-go bags from the floor. I placed them on the counter, then looked at Morgan, who was leaning forward, his elbows on his knees, his coat still on, looking like he wanted his cane so he could tap it.
“The energy,” he said, looking up at me. “It’s twenty-four seven every day.” The words were a complaint, but could see in his eyes the love he had for Jack. He shook his head, his jaw working as he straightened up, his eyes bright. “Don’t know what I’d do without him.”
“Don’t know what my life would be without Blue.” My throat felt thick as I said it. I turned to the food, taking out containers, focusing on the rustle of paper bags, the impossible question of how to lever open tiny edges of aluminum that curled over the edges of plastic containers.
“What’s his real name?” Morgan asked from behind me. I heard the sound of him taking off his coat and went to grab it so I could put it on the couch.
“That’s his story to tell,” I said, gripping the fabric in a near-fist.
“Fair enough,” he said. “Can I help?” he asked. “Jack made me start exercising so I can stand for a good deal longer now.”
“You can get the to-go boxes open,” I said. “My thick fingers can’t manage.”
He came to my side and started on the task, and something in my chest relaxed. Together we put the two quarts of red sauce in a pan to heat up and put the chilled homemade spaghetti in the colander to heat it up in the water I put on to boil. The garlic bread went on a pan in the oven, set to low; the antipasto dish we put in the middle of the table. Within minutes, the house began to smell amazing.
I made tea, and Morgan and I sat down at the table. The back door was open, and we watched the sky grow dark, the shadows lengthen.
