Good Together (13 page)

“Eadie’s jam always is. Thanks Nat. And the flowers are lovely.” As she added water, then placed them on the sideboard in the dining room, Nat gave both girls a bear hug.

“You’re both too skinny,” he said. “What happened to the freshman fifteen?”

“I don’t understand why people gain weight when they go to college,” Portia said. “The food is way better at home.” She gave Nat another squeeze. Both girls were as comfortable around Nat as they were around Jake. They’d known him forever, had been going on the spring and fall roundups ever since they could sit on a horse.

“You smell like Christmas,” Portia said.

He laughed. “I was chopping up an old pine tree this afternoon.  I did shower, but that resin sticks like crazy.”

“Would you like a beer?” Mattie offered. “I’m sorry, I forgot to buy wine.”

“Just water is good.”

“Want it fizzy? With a little cranberry?” Wren offered. This was their usual drink for special occasions and a pre-mixed pitcher was ready in the fridge.

As Wren filled the tall crystal glasses, Mattie went to pull the turkey from the oven. Right away Nat was at her elbow. “Let me get that. Looks like a twenty-pound bird.”

“Only eighteen,” Mattie murmured, but she handed him the oven mitts and let him lift the roaster out to the counter.

Nat inhaled deeply. “Can’t beat the aroma of freshly roasted turkey. Looks amazing, too.”

“We’ll let it sit for about half an hour before we carve.” Mattie passed him two big forks, which he used to transfer the roasted bird to a wooden cutting board, so she could make gravy from the drippings.

Jake arrived next, exactly on time, and the girls gave him an equally warm welcome. Jake had bought a gift too, a potted ivy in a pumpkin-shaped ceramic container. Mattie gave him a solid kiss on the check. “Oh my gosh, you even shaved.”

He patted his face as if he could hardly believe it, either.

It felt good to have men in the house again. Their solid bodies and deep voices added balance and stability. When it came time to carve the turkey, Mattie proffered the knife to Nat. But he shook his head. “Let Jake have the honors.”

Was he being courteous to the older man? Or overly sensitive about not stepping into the role of man of the house? Unsure, Mattie was grateful when Jake stepped up and got the job done, turning the conversation to cattle prices at the same time and smoothing over what might have been an awkward moment.

Wes wasn’t so much as alluded to after that. Even when they sat around the table no one commented on the one man who should have been here, but wasn’t.

The meal was a success from both a food and a conversation perspective. Nat had a friendly, non-judgmental way of talking to the girls that drew them out and Mattie heard tidbits that until now hadn’t been shared.

Like that there was a boy who’d gallantly walked Portia home one night but hadn’t told her his name.

And, even more surprising, that Wren had met a boy in her political science class who’d asked her out to coffee and who wasn’t “a total loser” in Wren’s words.

Once everyone had their fill of turkey and vegetables, they bundled up and went for a walk to Chatterbox Creek, as was family tradition.  With temperatures hovering above zero and a full moon and clear sky, conditions were perfect. The girls took turns throwing small sticks for Tuff, who was already showing signs of becoming a master retriever.

After the walk, Nat pulled a couple decks of cards from his coat pocket and announced it was time the girls learned how to play poker. “What makes you think we don’t already know?” Wren asked slyly, taking the deck and shuffling like a pro.

From her bedroom, Mattie brought out the penny jar and they played for over an hour, everyone surprised when it was she who ended up with the largest pile of pennies on the table.

“Mom! How did you do that?” Portia wanted to know. “You acted like you didn’t even understand the rules.”

“When it comes to playing poker, it’s smart to let people underestimate you.”

Nat grinned. “Well done, Mattie.”

After that everyone was hungry enough to eat two pieces of pie each and Mattie gave Jake a smug wink.

The men wouldn’t leave until all the dishes had been washed and the kitchen was spotless. By then it was almost midnight and Mattie thought the big talk she’d been planning to have with the girls would wait until morning. But Nat and Jake were no sooner in their trucks, than Wren shut the door and faced her mother.

“So what’s up, Mom? What’s the real reason Dad isn’t here?”

* * *

I
n her mind Mattie had delivered the news to her daughters hundreds of times in a hundred different ways. Now she found the words wouldn’t come. Wren’s expression softened and she put her hand on Mattie’s shoulder.

Speaking softly, as if
she
were the mother, she led Mattie back to the family room. “Let’s sit down here, by the fire. Portia, can you grab Mom a glass of water?”

Mattie took the arm chair and waited until the girls were side by side on the sofa, facing her. They looked so young and sweet, and she hated the apprehension and worry on their faces.

“Are you okay, Mom?” Wren finally blurted out. “You look so skinny. You’re not sick are you?”

“No. Not sick. And neither is your father.”

She could see the momentary relief wash over them. But it didn’t last.

“Then what’s going on? I can’t remember Dad ever missing a holiday or important family gathering before.”

It was true. Wes traveled a lot, but he’d always made a point of being here for birthdays, anniversaries, and holidays.

Mattie realized she couldn’t avoid it anymore. She had to say this. “I’m sorry to have to tell you this. But your father—left me. He said he needed some time alone.”

“When?” Wren asked, at the same moment that Portia burst out with a “Why?”

Poor Portia looked instantly devastated. But Mattie could tell that Wren had been expecting exactly this news.

“Two weeks after the Copper Mountain Rodeo. Your Dad came home from Billings and that was when he told me that—he wasn’t happy.” She stared down at her hands, fingers linked, lying placidly in her lap. Then she glanced up. Wren looked stunned. Tears were already streaming down Portia’s cheeks.

Mattie felt bulldozed by sadness. She felt like she’d just laid waste to her daughters’ happy childhoods. Today would be a dividing line for them. The before... when they were a family. And the after... when they weren’t.

“I was worried it was something like this,” Wren said quietly. “But actually hearing you say the words... I can’t believe it.”

Portia’s tears turned to sobs then. The poor girl looked broken, her face crumpled, black tears laden with mascara rolling down her cheeks. Mattie wiped them away with her thumb, then sat between her daughters, wrapping her arms around their slender backs, wishing they were small enough to gather into her lap.

“I’m so sorry. I wish I could explain how this happened. But—your dad and I, we haven’t really talked. He was supposed to be here tonight. We were going to break the news to you together. I don’t know where he is.”

No excuse he gave would be acceptable. Unless, of course, he’d been in an accident or something. But Mattie didn’t think that had happened. On some level she’d known he wouldn’t show up.

Once she’d been able to count on Wes keeping his word. Now she wondered about the other promises he’d made and realized she’d been a fool to think they would bind him in any way.

“Th-this doesn’t make sense,” Portia took a gulp of air. Steadied her voice. “Why wouldn’t he be happy? You two are perfect together. Even my friends are always saying they wished their parents would be more like you guys.”

“Even the strongest of marriages can sometimes come undone if they’re tested too hard. Do you remember last spring, when one of the cowboys was killed at that rodeo in Texas?”

Wren nodded soberly. “He was a bull-rider, like Dad.”

“Yes. Your Dad took that hard. He’d seen plenty of injuries in his career. But not a death. That cowboy was younger than him by quite a few years. I believe it made him re-evaluate a lot of things in his life. Not just his career...”

“But that should have made him appreciate you
more.
” Wren had never been as quick to cry—or to laugh—as her sister. But a fat tear had been accumulating in the corner of one eye and Mattie watched as it slid slowly down her young, perfect skin.

“Tragedy affects people differently. I can’t explain it, Wren.” She gathered her nerve. There was something else she had to prepare them for. If she could have thought of a way to cushion the blow, she would have.

But they simply had to be told.

“There’s something else your Dad is considering...”

She could feel the girls holding their breath. They could tell by her tone that this was serious. But what could be as bad as the family breaking up...?

“Selling Bishop Stables.”

That took longer to sink in. Portia fell back into the sofa cushions. Wren brushed her hair away from her face and squared her shoulders. “He can’t do that, can he? It belongs to you, too, right?”

“Why would he
want
to sell in the first place?” Portia moaned. “He grew up here. He was always talking about heritage when we were growing up and telling stories about when he was a kid. He made it sound like this place was important to him. And that it should be important to
us
.”

Yes. That was the unfair part. Both she and Wes had instilled values in their children that had taught them not to be selfish but to respect the land and put the ranch and the horses first, in almost all things. To then turn around and sell out, denying them the birthright they had been implicitly promised, was against everything they’d stood for as parents.

“He may change his mind. I hope he will. But just in case—I didn’t want you to be blind-sided.”

Little Tuff picked that moment to scamper over. She placed her paws on Mattie’s knees, waiting to be picked up. As soon as she was, she cuddled in among them.

It was odd that a cute little puppy should be able to offer comfort in the face of so much awful news. But she did. The three of them curled in around Tuff, arms entwined, and Mattie could feel their strength returning.

“At least we have each other,” Wren said.

“You still have your dad.” The words were hard to say without breaking into uncontrollable sobs. Mattie had to take a breath between each word. “He left me. Not you.”

“It doesn’t feel that way,” Portia said softly.

No. Mattie supposed it didn’t.

* * *

H
er daughters clung close for the remainder of their five-day visit, turning down opportunities to go to town and visit with their high school friends. Mattie felt bad about that but she couldn’t deny their presence was a comfort. On the day they were to leave and fly back to their respective colleges, no one had much of an appetite except Tuff.

The puppy gobbled down her breakfast as usual, then proceeded to start pulling clothes out of the girls’ suitcases almost as fast as they were packed. Despite everyone’s low mood, they couldn’t resist giggling as Tuff snatched one of Portia’s socks and led them all on a merry chase around the house.

“She’s so fast,” Wren marveled.

“And tricky.” Portia fell to her knees and looked under the sofa, where Tuff was hiding out with her prize, just out of arm’s reach.

Never had Mattie been more thankful to Nat for his gift of the adorable puppy. Tuff was a reminder that in the worst of times, there were still reasons to smile, love, and be grateful.

At the airport, she hugged her girls one final time. “I’m so thankful to have daughters like you. Go back to school and try not to worry. Hopefully by Christmas your dad and I will have some things sorted out.”

And hopefully by Christmas, Wes would have been in touch with them, as well. Mattie had noticed lots of surreptitious texting going on in the past few days. She suspected they’d been trying to get in touch with their father.

If he’d responded, she would have heard about it, and since she hadn’t, she could only surmise that Wes was ignoring their daughters in the same callous way he was ignoring her.

And she would never forgive him for that.

* * *

P
ortia was relieved to say goodbye to her mom at airport security. They shared final hugs and waves, all of them too tearful to say much. Then she and Wren went through the security drill, meeting on the other side of the conveyor belt to put their boots back on, and grab their jackets and backpacks. Finally she was alone with her sister. They only had fifteen minutes before Wren had to board for Denver, but at least they could drop the brave acts they’d been putting on for their mom.

“That was the worst Thanksgiving
ever.
Can you believe it? What is up with Dad?”

“I knew something was wrong between them. But I didn’t think it was this bad,” Wren admitted. “Keep going,” she instructed as she checked their boarding passes for the gate numbers. “We’re at the end of the line.”

“Has dad answered any of your texts?”

“No.” Wren scowled. “He didn’t even call on Thanksgiving Day. How lame is that?”

“Do you think something bad happened? Like, he had an accident or something?”

“The authorities would have called Mom. Besides, I heard her on the phone, checking with police and hospitals one night. No, he just doesn’t want to talk to us.”

That was the conclusion Portia had reached, too. And it really hurt.

She thought back to the last time she’d seen her father—when they’d all driven to the airport together in September. He’d schlepped the bags as usual, complained that they’d packed too much, but she’d seen a tear in his eye when he hugged her goodbye.

“Maybe he was injured at the last rodeo he was in. Hit his head and suffered some sort of brain injury.”

“More likely he fell in love with someone else.”

Portia stopped in her tracks. “That’s an awful thing to say.” But it could be true. Why else would he want to leave Mom, forget to call them, and want to sell the ranch? She got an awful, sick feeling in her stomach.