Maybe I let myself relax near him because of his warm smile or his cute playfulness or the way he squinted when he looked into my eyes, as if he were trying to see further inside of me, to my soul. Too bad he would never find it.
In the darkness, I wrapped myself in a blanket and curled up on my cabin porch swing. I swung my legs gently, letting the sound of the creaking wood lull me to sleep.
“Ava,” he whispered, his hand cupping my shoulder. I opened my eyes and saw Nate standing over me, silhouetted by the moonlight. “Ava, do you want me to help you inside? It’s getting cold out here.”
“No, I’m okay.” When I stood up a small bottle of whiskey slid from my lap and clinked onto the floor. Nate picked it up and calmly handed it back to me. “I just had a little bit.”
“I don’t judge you,” he said instantly.
I swallowed and then got up and slowly began moving past him toward the door.
“Wait. Why did you run out?” he asked.
“Because they were all mad at me.”
“Mad at you for what?”
I could see his puzzled expression in the dark.
“I don’t know,” I said quietly.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“You wouldn’t understand. I hardly understand it myself.”
“Try me, I’m a good listener.” He hugged his defined arms to his chest. I noticed he was only wearing a black T-shirt, jeans, and flip-flops.
“That’s definitely California footwear. Not proper for a Montana night, even in the summer.” I giggled.
“That’s a nice sound,” he said in a low voice.
“What?”
“Your laugh.”
“Oh, thank you,” I said as my nerves swirled in my stomach.
“Do you want me to come in? We could talk?” The invitation seemed genuine and innocent, but I was surprised by my own thoughts of curling myself into his long body or nestling my nose into his shirt and breathing that new smell in until I fell asleep. When I turned to face the cabin, I looked past him into the window. A vision of Jake’s slumped body flashed in my mind. I gasped.
“What is it?” he asked with concern, his warm hands clasping my arms. I tried to move past him to the door again; he blocked me. “Tell me, please.”
I shook my head, fearing that if I said the words the image would flash in my mind again.
After a few minutes of silence he spoke, his voice low, warm, and soothing. “Listen, Ava. I lost a patient recently. I’m a doctor. . . .” When he swallowed I could see the muscles in his jaw flex. “I lost a patient and it was my fault.” He held my hand, rubbing his thumb over my knuckles nervously. I pulled away. It was as though he was trying to comfort me with the story, yet I could hear his own pain in the admission.
I couldn’t be sure why he was telling me about his patient but his expression was so piteous that it made me feel a little sick. He had obviously heard about my story and maybe he thought we could mope around together or something.
“Was she your wife?”
“No, but . . .”
“I have to go in. I’m sorry about your patient.”
“Wait, Ava.”
I turned back. “Yes?”
“I just thought we could hang out a little while I’m here. I mean, since we’re kind of the same age.”
I instantly felt pity for him. He fumbled for words like no doctor I had ever known.
“Okay. Maybe we can take the horses out to the stream tomorrow?” I said. He nodded and smiled. “We can fish?” I suggested.
“That sounds great.”
“But no talking,” I warned.
“No talking,” he repeated and then stepped out of the way to let me pass.
Like many nights, before bed I went into the kitchen, found the large bottle of whiskey under the sink, and drank three large gulps, praying I wouldn’t dream. My new version of a bedtime prayer after Jake’s death, though it had nothing to do with faith in a higher power. I simply hoped the whiskey would numb my mind enough to allow me to fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.
I packed lunches and saddled up Dancer and Tequila, an old Tennessee Walker we’d had on the ranch for many years. He was the most comfortable horse to ride and had the smoothest gait. I thought Nate would appreciate that—I assumed he hadn’t ridden a horse in some time since he was a fancy doctor in L.A. After waiting for a while with no sign of Nate, I wondered if maybe he had changed his mind about going for a ride. Maybe the thought of being alone with me on horseback terrified him.
I searched the shed for fishing tackle. Redman was a hoarder when it came to the shed and barn spaces, I think because Bea had such a strong arm about keeping a tidy house. It was Redman’s way of rebelling. There were about twelve tackle boxes full of mostly junk, but I managed to find the right lures and line for stream fishing.
Before I heard him, I felt a presence coming toward me from behind. I wasn’t used to being around people so I was very aware when someone was near. I just continued rummaging through the boxes until I found my favorite lure, a shiny golden one in the faint shape of a heart.
“Can I help you find something?” Nate asked.
“No, I’ve got it!” I held the lure up in triumph. “This baby gets ’em every time.”
“Good morning. I’m happy to see your competitive spirit is alive.”
My smile faded. Nothing about me is alive. We were standing inches apart, facing each other in the small, darkened shed. Between us, I held the lure. He took it and examined it. When I looked at the ground, I noticed he was wearing Converse sneakers. I let out a sigh, relieved he wasn’t in Jake’s boots. His black jeans looked to be designer, tight against his legs and slightly pegged at the bottom. He was also wearing a plain black T-shirt. His hair and clothes contrasted nicely against his smooth, sun-kissed skin and blazing green eyes.