Luke waits for me. “Missin’ piece of my heart, ridin’ this range without you, Kane.”
I swallow hard. “Missing piece of myself, not being here.” I look at him. “Not having you. I’m sorry I ran, Luke.”
Ahead, Lilly and Anjalee chat together; Anjalee rides a horse as naturally as she does a motorcycle.
“I get it, son. I do.” He watches the women, like I am. “Not that you need it, but you’ve got my blessing. Not sure if that’s crossed your mind, but, I’m happy as hell to see you’ve found a good woman to love you. Nothing, and I meannothing, heals a broken heart like the love of a good woman.”
“It’s been rattling around in here,” I admit, thumping my chest. “The idea that you’d think I was trying to replace her.”
He shakes his head, riding beside me. “If anyone can understand, it’s me. I lost Liza more than twenty years ago. Funny thing is, I’ve been married to Lilly almost longer than I had with Liz. But…the hole Liz’s death left in me? Took me fifteen years, losing Dellaandyou,anda year of therapy before I could find the balls to let myself look at Lilly like that.”
I nod, watching the women, watching Lilly crack jokes, getting laughter out of Anjalee. “I’m thrilled as fuck for you, Luke. Down to my bones, I’m happy you found her.”
“Not as happy as I am.” He eyes me. “Lilly can’t replace Elizabeth. Lilly ain’t tryin’. Lilly’s Lilly. My relationship with her is a whole other thing than mine with Liz. She knows my past. Knows everything—when she was my therapist, we talked about everything. Every last little thing. Fact is, she knows me more than Liz ever did. Don’t change how much I loved Liz, but…” he shakes his head. “I dunno, son. You live, you learn.”
I try to find words. “Haven’t had a drink since that day. Not a drop. Not once.”
He looks at me, shocked. “Really?”
I nod. “Can’t. The thought of drinking just…turns me inside out. I ain’t placin’ the blame on the booze, or the pain, or that damn horse throwing me. It’s on me, I made those decisions. But the booze…didn’t help. And at least that, I could fix by cutting it out.”
He nods, and we ride in silence a while longer. Finally, we come to a place I know as well as I know the lines on my palm. The creek curves away and back again, and there, nestled in the curve, is a pair of tall white birch trees, their trunks crossed. The mountains rise beyond the river, the pasture and the horses behind. It’s an idyllic spot. Della-Marie called it her calm spot. Something happened to piss her off, upset her, hurt her, leave her confused, she’d come here. Can’t find Della, this is where she’d be.
It’s also the one place on the ranch where we never came to drink or fuck—by unspoken agreement, it’s a sacred place, and we never dared defile it that way.
Now, there’s a headstone at the base of the trees, with a bench facing them.
Lilly and Anjalee have stopped a good fifty feet away, side by side, watching Luke and I approach. My heart leaps in my throat at the sight of Anjalee on a horse, wearing Della’s boots.
Luke halts beside Lilly, and I know none of them are going any further.
I swing off Gutsy, hand Luke the reins.
There’s a bunch of wildflowers growing off in the trees—I pick a handful of them and bring them to the bend in the river. To the grave. At first, I can’t go any further than the bench, and I find myself sitting, staring at the stone: her name, her date of birth and date of death. I fix on the latter date for a long, long time, words stuck in my chest.
Finally, I manage to shift off the bench, to my knees in front of the stone. Set the flowers at the base of it. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I’m so,sosorry.”
She doesn’t answer. But, wind rustles the leaves above me, and I feel her.
“I love her, Della.” I touch the stone, trace the letters of her name. “Crazy, maybe, but I do. Need you to know that…that I…that I never forgot you. Never got over you, not till now. I hope you can understand that I have to…Ihave tomove on, Della. I hope I have your blessing.”
The leaves rustle again, dappled sunlight on my hands, my face.
“Yeah, darlin’, I hear you.” I look up at the leaves moving and whispering in the wind. “Thanks for gettin’ me, honey. Thanks for listening to me.”
As if in answer, the wind skirls playfully, ruffling my hair around my neck, rustling the leaves again.
* * *
We spend the day riding,and Anjalee takes to it like a duck to water. Just like being on my bike, or hiking, she’s eager to see everything. To be, to feel, to experience. When a flight of pheasants burst up from the grass in front of us, she squeals in shocked laughter, joy on her face, watching them wing across the sky. I think to tell her that if she were riding any other horse, she squeals like that she’ll get thrown. But she’s on Patsy, who wouldn’t spook if a bomb went off, and I can’t bring myself to cut into her joy.
Every turn in the trail, she’s clicking and nudging Patsy with her heels like I taught her to do, trotting ahead, braid bouncing at her back, anxious to see what’s around the bend, what’s beyond the rise. Eyes wide with wonder at each new vista, she points out a cluster of trees lit by the sun, breathless, or the way the wind moves the grass in waves, like a green ocean. I think the most exciting thing to happen, though, is when we’re stopped on the crest of a hill, resting our mounts, when a huge stag drifts out from the tree line down the hill, antlers festooned with moss, proud head high, watching us, cautious but confident.
She gasps, hand to her mouth. “Kane, do you see him?” She darts a look at me, then back to the buck. “He is…magnificent.”
I can only nod, agreeing with her. She reaches out and takes my hand, and we watch as the stag nibbles grass for a few minutes, pausing to chew and to look around. And then, with ghostly grace, he vanishes back into the trees.
It’s late afternoon when we return, letting the hands take care of the horses. Anjalee pauses after she dismounts, whispering in Patsy’s ear—not in English. Patsy murmurs back, head bobbing.
