After the Rain (6 page)

“Jenny, that neonatal nurse told me that she would be willing to pay
you
to let her suck
your
dick,” he said, pointing at my crotch dramatically.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because you’re weird, man. You look like a model and women are lining up for you and you haven’t had sex since when? Tell me.”

“I don’t know. Olivia, I guess.”

“What?” His voice was high. “That was five fucking years ago at least. That is not normal.”

Shaking my head, I finally laughed. “Yeah. You’re probably right.”

I landed at Great Falls International Airport in the early afternoon. I had brought one small carry-on suitcase and my laptop—nothing else. When my aunt Trish pulled up to the curb, she rolled down the passenger-side window of her gray dually. I hadn’t seen her in eight years, but she looked exactly the same.

She lifted her sunglasses in a dramatic gesture and said,
“Well, well, look at you, all grown up. Get in here, you handsome thing.”

Once I was inside the truck, she leaned over and kissed me on the cheek.

“Hi, Aunt Trish.”

As she pulled away from the curb she shook her head, her blond curls bouncing around. “It’s been too long, dammit. I know you and your pop have been busy but we miss you out here. Your uncle Dale misses your father so much.”

“It’s been hard to get away.”

She glanced over and pursed her lips. “Is that so?”

I smiled sheepishly.

“Well, you’re here now. Redman and Bea and your uncle will be thrilled to see you.”

We drove across miles of land as the sun slowly sank toward the horizon. I looked out the passenger window toward a field and saw a few pronghorn antelope grazing.

“Stunning creatures,” I said.

“Yes, they’re gorgeous.”

“God, it’s really beautiful out here, isn’t it?”

“You’ve been trapped in that concrete jungle for too long. You’ll feel more alive out here. The clean air gets into your bloodstream.” A beatific smile etched across her face. “You’ve changed a lot since the last time I saw you.”

“How’s that?” I asked.

“You’re thinner.”

“I work out.”

She chuckled. “You do that L.A. kind of workin’ out. I see those muscles, honey, but those are skinny muscles. We’re gonna beef you up out here.”

I laughed. “Okay, Aunt Trish.”

“When we get to the ranch, I’ll show you around and
introduce you to the other folks we have there with us. We’re puttin’ you to work—you know that, right?” She looked over and winked.

I looked down at my smooth, hairless hands. Prized surgeon hands were not meant to shovel shit on a ranch but I smiled at her anyway. “Who lives there with you all now?”

“It’s just Redman, Bea, Dale, me, and Caleb. He’s a young guy, like you. He’s been doin’ the ranch thing most of his life. He works hard. I’d say you two will get along but Caleb can be a little, well . . . he’s a bit of the macho type, and you’re more like . . . what do they call it out there? Metrosexual?”

“What?” I laughed in surprise. “I’m not metrosexual.” Her own laugh rang out.

“Well, you look pretty well groomed to me, and aside from that mess of hair on the top of your head, it looks like you wax every inch of your body.”

“Aunt Trish!” I scolded her playfully.

“But I’m your auntie so I don’t really need to know ’bout any of that.”

After we fell into a few moments of companionable silence, she said, “Anyway, Avelina is still with us. She’s a hard worker, that girl, but she keeps to herself.”

I remembered hearing a story of a man who killed himself on the ranch. I was pretty sure that the woman my aunt spoke of was the man’s wife, but I knew very little other than that. “Avelina is the woman who . . .”

“Yes.” She stared ahead and sighed. “So young to be a widow. It’s been four years since she lost Jake.” My aunt shook her head. “Like I said, she keeps to herself, but she’ll help you with the horses. She’s extremely skilled with the animals. Not so skilled with humans anymore, though.”

“Hmm.” For the rest of the hour-and-a-half drive to the
ranch, I thought about how my aunt described Avelina and wondered if I was lacking some social graces as well. Had my career taken such a hold of me that I had lost sight of why I wanted to be a heart surgeon in the first place: to help people live their lives more fully? Yet lately, I hadn’t considered my patients much at all beyond the unconscious bodies on the operating table. It took losing one, so vibrant and young, to wake me up.

“Here we are,” she said, turning the truck up a long dirt road. As we approached the barn, cabins, and main house, the ranch appeared like a photo taken right from my childhood memory. Little had changed. The ranch house had a wide wraparound porch, and sitting there in wooden rockers, the picture of cowboy nostalgia, were Bea and Redman, smiling from ear to ear.

I hopped out of the truck and headed toward them. “Get up here so I can smack you!” Bea yelled, still smiling. Redman and Bea were like alternate grandparents for me.

Redman stood up and hugged me first and then held me out from the shoulders and scanned my face thoroughly. “You’re skinny. We can fix that, but what in God’s name are you wearing on your feet?” he asked, staring at my shoes.

“They’re Converse.”

He ignored me and turned to Bea. “We have something lying around for this kid so we can put him to work?”

She stared at me adoringly. “I’m sure we can find something suitable.” Skirting around Redman, she took me in her arms. “Hello, Nathanial. We’ve missed you.” I could tell by her voice that she was on the edge of tears.

“I’ve missed you, too.”

Someone walked up behind me and put a hand on my shoulder. “Nate,” a male voice said.

I turned. “Uncle Dale, good to see you.” We hugged.

“Glad you decided to come out. Wish I could get your father out here more.” His smile was guarded. He was a much quieter man than my father but just as compassionate and the best in his field of veterinary medicine. He, my father, and I shared the same dark hair and light eyes. When the three of us were together there was no question we were related.

“Let’s get your stuff into your room, honey,” Bea said. “And then we’ll show you around and refresh your memory.”

I followed her into the main house, down the long hall, and past a grand fireplace made of river rock. The guest room was small with a queen-size bed covered in a simple blue comforter. The nightstand was full of framed pictures and the desk on the other side of the room had a small task lamp. I studied a picture of my father and Dale, standing in front of the main house and outfitted for fly-fishing. I could see myself in the background, maybe five years old at most. I looked as though I didn’t have a care in the world. I loved the ranch as a kid; it was like Disneyland to me.

The window in the guest bedroom looked out on the front yard toward the barn, stables, and corrals. Far beyond them were the majestic mountains of Montana. Some in the very far distance were still capped with snow.

Bea stood in the doorway. “Will this do for you, honey?”

“Of course, Bea.” Redman walked up and stood behind her.

“Thank you so much, both of you, for having me. This will be wonderful.”

Redman laughed. “Don’t be mistaken—you’re here to work, son,” he said before walking away.

“Get settled and relax for a bit and come out when you’re ready. We’ll have dinner at the big table around six thirty. I’m making shepherd’s pie. Is that still your favorite?”

“Yes. Thank you, that sounds delicious,” I lied. I had been a vegetarian for years but the pure love and hospitality I felt from Bea was touching—and, frankly, something I hadn’t felt in a long time. Back in L.A., even my mother had stopped asking me over for dinner because I constantly turned her down to stay at the hospital.

I unpacked my bags and set up my laptop but before I could turn it on, something caught my eye—a movement outside the window. There was a woman riding a spotted horse toward the barn. I watched her hop down and tie the horse up to a gatepost. An ugly little dog followed her around as she removed the saddle and took it into the barn. She came out with a large horse brush and began brushing down the long body and mane of the spotted creature.

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.”