The woman had long, dark hair, almost down to her waist, wrapped in a loose tie at the nape of her neck. When she turned and looked toward the house, she froze and stared at me where I stood in the window. I smiled very subtly. Even from that distance I could tell she was stunningly beautiful. Her face held no expression at all as she stared back. A second later she turned away and quickly untied the horse, taking her into the barn and disappearing from my view.
“Avelina,” I said to myself.
“Yeah, that’s Avelina.” A strong, unfamiliar voice startled me from behind.
I turned to find a large, foreboding man standing in the doorway, holding a cardboard box. “You must be Caleb?” I asked.
He set the box down and moved toward me, reaching his hand out. “That’s me. And you’re Nathanial.” It wasn’t a question. He had a deep, monotone voice.
“Nice to meet you. So that’s Avelina out there?”
“Yeah.” He paused then with a sardonic smile and said, “Damaged goods.”
“Oh.” Shocked by his callous remark, I couldn’t think of how to respond. He pointed to the box.
“There’s a pair of boots that Red said would fit you and some other clothes that Bea pulled together. Good to meet you,” he said, as he walked out the door.
I turned my attention to the window and saw Avelina again. She was standing in the bed of a large blue pickup truck, lifting white bags that must have been at least thirty pounds. She was tossing them into a big pile on the ground near the barn. Quickly, I changed out of my pants and into a pair of old Wranglers from the box. I slipped on the dark brown boots, which were worn but fit me perfectly. From my bag, I found my gray UCLA hoodie and threw it on. I studied my reflection in the mirror. Clean-shaven with Wranglers that were two sizes too big; old, ugly cowboy boots; and a university sweatshirt. I would make for an interesting-looking character on the ranch. I wondered how my first impression with Avelina would go over and then I wondered why I cared. I was intrigued by the unexpected beauty she possessed, which mesmerized me even at a thirty-yard distance. After seeing Avelina in person, my aunt’s words about her rang over and over in my head. I had a sudden desire to prove my aunt wrong. I headed out, marched down the steps of the house, and waved to Redman, who was rocking in his chair on the front porch.
“Gonna go help Avelina.”
“Good luck with that,” he mumbled.
I approached her as she was bending to lift another bag of what looked like grain. She stood, holding it over her shoulder. I looked up at her from where I stood next to the truck. There was a moment where neither one of us spoke or moved. She had on a checkered black and red long-sleeved flannel shirt tucked into a pair of tight black jeans. She couldn’t have weighed more than one twenty, and from where I stood she looked to be of average height, but she held the huge bag over her shoulder like it was filled with air.
She blinked twice, looked down at my boots, and then looked back up into my eyes but didn’t say anything.
“You’re Avelina?” I asked. She nodded and then bit down on her full bottom lip. Her eyes held no expression. She looked down at my boots again. “Can I call you Lena for short?”
“No.” Her voice was low and urgent.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” I stood there, stunned, not knowing what to do as she hovered over me with the giant bag.
“Call me Ava. Everyone calls me Ava,” she said quickly before tossing the bag toward the barn.
“Can I give you a hand with the rest of the bags?”
“Just toss them into that pile.” She didn’t look at me when she spoke. “I’ll be right back.”
She jumped down and walked off toward the house at a determined pace.
I unloaded all of the grain and pushed the tailgate back into place. When I got up to the porch, Ava was gone but Red was still sitting there, smoking his pipe.
“We’ll go into town tomorrow and get you some boots, kid.” It was almost dark out and the light from the lantern hanging above him only lit one side of his face. The other was hidden completely in the darkness. I studied the deep wrinkles on Redman’s forehead and around his eyes.
“These boots won’t work?”
“Ah, I shouldn’t have given you those boots.” He puffed on his pipe, blowing a small plume of smoke toward my face. “Ava wasn’t too happy.”
“Why?”
“Well, those are her dead husband’s boots,” he said matter-of-factly.
“Jesus, Redman.” I ran my hand through my hair. “I feel terrible. Why would you give me—”
“Supper’s ready. Don’t be letting that get to you, okay? Ava’s got a whole gaggle of demons flockin’ around her. You’re better off keepin’ away.”
“Has she been to counseling?” I sat in the rocker next to Redman but he didn’t look over to me. He stared into the darkness and smoked his pipe.
“People like Ava, people like us, we don’t go to counseling. We turn ourselves over to the Lord.”
“Redman, honestly, that’s crazy. Maybe she just needs someone to talk to.”
He finally turned and faced me. “Her husband blew his head off right in front of her . . . that fucking coward.” It was the first time I had ever heard Redman use that kind of language. “She cursed the Lord instead of turning to him. She cursed herself, and now she’ll pay.”
“With all due respect . . .”