“Mom still lives out on Long Island, so she’s not far away. I don’t think she’ll ever sell the house we grew up in. There are too many memories of my dad there.”
“What was he like?”
A sad smile curved her lips. “He was a working class guy who had a factory job at Grumman. He mowed the lawn on Saturday and watched sports on Sunday. Salt of the earth type of guy. We adored him.”
“Sounds like it,” I said.
“The thing I respected most about him is that he loved us unconditionally. Dad thought that after twin girls, he was getting a boy who would play sports and work on the car with him, but he got a son who hated football and wanted to be Boy George for Halloween.” She glanced over at me. “I know some gay kids love sports but my brother wasn’t one of them.”
“Wow. How did that go down in your house?” My father would have disowned us for a lot less than being queer, of that I was certain.
“Tori and I were the ones charged with telling him Rocco was gay. My brother was scared to come out to Dad, and my mother didn’t want to be the person to break the news to him. Rocco was out of college by then, but we all thought Dad was going to flip out. Instead, he looked at us like we were idiots and said, ‘You think I didn’t know? Who cares? He’s my son, and I love him.’ I was so proud of him in that moment.”
“That’s amazing. You’re lucky you had a dad like that. My dad couldn’t even handle it when Bowie said he didn’t believe in God. They fought about religion, politics, and everything else until my brother left home and never came back. Never saw my father again or spoke to him before he died.” Bowie also never expressed remorse about the fact that he didn’t mend fences with our father, but it must have eaten away at him. He wasn’t made of stone, but he sure was stubborn and controlling sometimes, not unlike our old man.
“That’s so sad,” Lauren said.
Gigi turned and looked over her shoulder at us. “This is a good spot,” she called out.
“She loves to stop by this creek.” I pulled up Roan Pony, hopped off him, and went over to help Lauren down from Alma. She was already halfway to the ground and could have made it without my assistance, but I wanted to be there to spot her, just in case.
She looked up at me after she set her feet firmly on the dirt. “I did it. I rode a horse for the first time in almost forty years.”
“You sure did. How do you feel?”
“I’m going to be sore later,” she said, rubbing her legs, “but right now I feel amazing. I’m proud of myself. Thank you, Matthew. I’m not sure I would have had the courage to do this if you hadn’t been so kind, introducing me to Alma and making me feel safe.”
Her sweet words made me melt like butter on a biscuit. “I’m honored to be the one to get you back out here.”
We walked over to the stream where Gigi had stopped to wait for us in what was just about the perfect spot. There was some shade from aspen trees and sun-warmed rocks that made excellent seats for resting by the water. I couldn’t believe I’d let the whole summer slip by without a trip here.
Gigi unsnapped the chinstrap on her helmet, unleashing her sweaty hair, strands of which were stuck to her face. “I’ve got snacks and drinks.” She slung her little backpack off her back and unzipped it. Holding out two types of Capri Sun, she looked directly at Lauren. “Fruit Punch or Grape. Pick your poison.”
“Fruit punch, please.” Lauren was clearly trying to hold back a smile at Gigi’s choice of words.
“Grape for me,” I said.
As Gigi set up our picnic area, I showed Lauren how to secure the reins so we could set the horses free to have their own snack on patches of grass nearby. Then the three of us sat down on large rocks next to the burbling creek where Gigi set out our drinks and little bags of pretzels and fruit gummies. It was the most adorable food presentation I’d ever seen, but I made sure not to say so since she clearly was feeling like quite the grown-up tour guide.
After we finished our snacks, Gigi skittered off to walk the bank of the creek in search of fish, while I moved over to the grassy meadow and leaned back on my elbows, enjoying the soft breeze against my skin and the view of the horses grazing, flicking their tails as their long necks remained bent toward the grass. Not even my looming to-do list was going to ruin this day for me. If I couldn’t take some pleasure in southeastern Wyoming in the summertime, I’d never bank enough memories to make it through the long winter.
Lauren surprised me by stretching out next to me. Not only did this move put our bodies close together, it also meant her clothing might get a little dirty. I hadn’t known this lady long, but I already knew she valued looking immaculate. Even today, after wearing a helmet, her hair somehow managed to appear clean and freshly brushed, unlike my own, which was mashed down by my hat. When I thought back to picking her up at the airport and taking off my sweaty shirt, then tossing it into the Suburban…she must have wondered what the hell she was getting into.
Oh well. I was Wyoming through and through and sometimes a shirt change had to happen on the fly. Life here wasn’t all starched, pressed and picture perfect. So far, she seemed to be enjoying the ranch, and as long as she was with us, I wanted to show her more of the beauty of Silver Sage.
Lauren and I let the sunshine warm our faces, and I felt my sleepy eyes flicker shut. Suddenly, I realized I had no idea what time it was. When was the last time I let the day unfold before me without any kind of plan? Work had become incredibly stressful, and that wasn’t how I imagined my future when I took over the ranch after my parents died. I knew it wouldn’t be easy but I wasn’t expecting it to be relentlessly difficult and exhausting.
“I can’t believe your brother left for so long,” Lauren said. “I’m not trying to pry into family drama. It’s just so peaceful and perfect here. If my family owned this ranch, I’d want to visit as often as possible.”
Her compliment brought a smile to my lips. “Summer is pretty magical here.” I stared up at the blue sky and kicked one ankle over the other. “Wintertime is another story. It’s not everyone’s cup of tea.”
“I hear it gets pretty cold.”
I laughed quietly at her assessment of Wyoming weather. “Pretty cold is an understatement. Winters are harsh, to say the least. It can feel very isolating living out here.”
I thought about how the meadow we were in would look during the winter, snow blanketing the grass and weighing down tree limbs. The animals would hibernate or burrow down in their homes through the worst of it. All extracurricular ranch activities would be at a standstill as we focused on the chores that needed to be done during the off-season.
“It gets cold in New York too, you know,” she teased. “We have blizzards.”
