TWENTY-EIGHT
“This is going to be great,” Libby said as she put the finishing touches on her own special project, a welcome sign for the Johnsons. She’d labored over it for several days, painting it onto some weathered boards that had come from an old shed the men had removed to make way for the showers.
“Looks great,” Madeline said. She was reviewing the budget she’d made Jackson give her. If there was any money to be saved, she would find it.
Libby stood back and admired her handiwork. “If Luke would ever show up again, we could get this hung.” She glanced sidelong at Madeline. “Do you know where he is?”
Madeline had to swallow down the bitter lump of disappointment. “No,” she said as lightly as she could. “Haven’t heard from him.” She was puzzled by it, hurt by it. He hadn’t come out to the ranch, and the one afternoon she drove into town for some things, she didn’t see his Bronco on Elm Street, or anywhere else. There was a terrible ache in her heart where he had been these last weeks, and she wanted him to fill it back up.
Love. Love was doing this to her. Not anxiety. Now she understood what an incredible, physical yearning love was, and it was turning her skin inside out.
“The first wave of Johnsons is coming this afternoon!” Libby reminded her. “Did you see the little wagon I put coffee and tea on?”
“No.”
“Come and see!” she said, beckoning Madeline up away from the kitchen bar. They walked out the front door, down the porch steps Luke had repaired. There, by the fence next to Madeline’s bulletin board, was a miniature red covered wagon. Big urns of coffee and tea were placed on it, next to creamers, sugars, and Styrofoam cups.
“It’s great,” Madeline said. “Where’d you get it?”
“Dani. Oh, there’s Ernest!” Libby said and flashed a smile at Madeline. “I bet I can talk him into hanging the sign.” She scampered off, her curly hair bouncing behind her.
Their work was done; there was nothing left but the waiting for hordes to arrive. It was a glorious day, a great day for a family reunion. Madeline thought of the Kendricks, and how many reunions they must have had here. Her heart ached—they should still be here.
She decided to walk—it occurred to her that she might not have many more opportunities to do so.
It was funny how she’d taken to walking in the mornings, going a little farther each day. This morning, like most mornings, the four dogs were quickly behind her, settled into her new routine, their snouts to the trail, their tails high. Although she couldn’t keep their names straight, she had warmed to them, too. They were good companions on chilly spring nights.
Madeline listened to the chatter of birds as she walked. She realized, about halfway up, that she didn’t feel so out of breath as she had when she’d first come to Colorado. It was remarkable, that over the course of a little more than two weeks, she had been transformed. She felt the mountains in her now, felt the pull of them in the mornings, the desire to climb up, to see what nature had to offer. When she’d first arrived, Dani had suggested she would feel that way, and Madeline thought she was crazy. Turns out, she was the crazy one. Who could not feel the allure of this patch of paradise?
But this morning, Madeline felt so empty, too. She truly missed Luke. She missed him standing at the bottom of the trail when she came down, missed him building showers and latrines in tight T-shirts and jeans. She missed the way he smiled at her and the way he made her feel when they made love.
Where was he?
The despair she felt for him was so much more powerful than the despair she’d felt when other people had disappeared from her life. Before, she’d felt lonely and undeserving. This despair was something altogether different; it was abrading, chipping away at her soul. She debated driving by his house and actually inquiring, but then she thought of the conversation between Patti and Marisol, and the talk of Julie Daugherty coming around.
Maybe that was it. Maybe Luke had reconciled with Julie. She would hope that he would mention it, but then again, why would he? Madeline had made it clear—too clear—that this would end. She’d been so fearful of it she had done what she always did and backed too far away. She hadn’t even found the courage to tell him. He must believe she didn’t care.
Madeline was lost in thought when she heard the sound of heavy footfall. She stopped on the trail. The dogs stopped behind her, their snouts in the air. One of them, the big one, turned and ran down the trail.
How interesting, Madeline thought, that she didn’t fear a bear. She felt for her whistle around her neck, but she didn’t lift it to her mouth. She stood on the trail, waiting, listening to the sounds of the thing moving closer. And then, just ahead of her, an elk emerged from the woods. The animal was huge, standing as tall as she. The spread of its horns had to be five feet across. It snorted, lifting its head, and eyed Madeline. The smaller dogs began to bark, but the elk didn’t notice or didn’t care. It dipped its head, sniffed at the ground, then slowly, laboriously, moved on, stepping into the woods on the other side of the trail and disappearing into them.
It felt almost like a dream. A majestic, magnificent creature drifting through her morning, appearing from nowhere, disappearing into nothing.
Just like Luke.
She had the strange urge to run after the beast, to catch it. But she was frozen, looking at the point she’d last seen it, wishing she had done something different, had moved to touch it before it disappeared.
Madeline was so lost in the image of that elk, in missing Luke, that she didn’t at first register the sounds from below. Several moments passed before she recognized her name. Libby was calling her.
The first wave of Johnsons had arrived.