TWELVE
“Aw crap,” Dave muttered when he walked into the kitchen the following morning to see Vivian standing at the stove, finishing a pot of grits made just the way Gretta’s handwritten notes ordered.
“Now, now,” Kenny soothed, “there’s no smoke or fire today. Have some faith.”
“I got a cramp last time,” Dave continued complaining until Nash showed up and effectively shut him down.
“Give the woman a break. She’s got big shoes to fill.”
Meaning no one could live up to the greatness of Ms. Gretta’s expertise in the kitchen. He was right, it was a tall order, and Vivian was new to everything, so the whole experience was a crash course in How to Fail Bigly 101.
Turning off the stove, Vivian carried the hot pan over to the table and placed it on a cooling pad beside the stack of pancakes she’d managed not to totally screw up. “I did my best to make everything edible,” she said as she took her place beside Big Steve, who was a veritable giant in overalls and a white T-shirt with dark yellow stains under the arms, “but I can’t promise anything.”
“Are you saying we might die from food poisoning?” Nash asked, feigning seriousness.
“There’s a fifty-fifty chance,” she said, playing along. “May the odds be ever in your favor.”
There was a snorted laugh and a few guffaws, then everyone dug in. Nash watched her for a moment as the plate of pancakes was passed around. When it reached him, he gave it a look, selected a couple, and passed it on.
The meal was eaten without complaint, surprising Vivian and boosting her mood. As she ate, she felt she’d done a decent job of it, but it was nice to see others seemingly enjoying it, too. There was still a bit of everything left over by the time everyone finished, but they’d mostly cleared their plates and appeared satisfied as they rose from the table and thanked her for the meal before heading out to the fields.
Pride filled her as Vivian began gathering the dirty dishes.
“Great job,” Nash said, carrying a few of the glasses over to the sink. “Especially on the grits.”
“Oh, um, thank you.” Vivian felt that touch of heat in her cheeks again and hoped he didn’t notice. “I’m no Gretta though.”
“No,” he agreed, “but you’re improving. Keep it up, and you just might catch up with her. Maybe even beat her.”
“Now ya know the good Lord frowns on lying,” Gretta’s sharp voice spoke out as she entered the kitchen. “Pastor Winslow is going to make you stay late and clean the pews if you don’t watch that tongue.”
“Mornin’, Ms. Gretta,” Nash said with a warm smile. He opened his arms, and she stepped into them for a brief but loving hug. “How are you feelin’ this morning?”
“Well, I’m not twenty anymore, but I can still give those youngins a run for their money,” she claimed.
“So…good?”
“Right as rain, sweet pea,” she assured him. “Did you get enough to eat?”
“More than enough. Those lessons are starting to pay off.”
Her eyes narrowed up at him. “So I heard.”
“Don’t worry, Ms. Gretta,” Vivian interjected, “I’ll never be able to fill your shoes.”
“Oh, I ain’t worried about all that. Nobody ever outshines me in the kitchen.” She grinned and winked, and Vivian laughed. The woman was too much sometimes.
“Yep,” Nash said, “you’re just fine, all right.”
Vivian stifled a smile. Gretta certainly had a mouth on her, and she wasn’t afraid to use it. How someone so small grew such big cajones was a mystery to her.
“Well,” Nash announced, as he turned and scooped his typical cowboy hat off the dining bench and plopped it on top of his head, “I best be headed out. Maxine isn’t going to be too happy if I’m late again with her morning apple.”
Vivian frowned, wondering who in the hell the woman he was talking about was. When his gaze skated to hers, he winked again, making her heart do that fluttery thing she wasn’t too sure she liked, and he set off.
“Oh, don’t look so put out,” Gretta admonished her as she picked up a damp cloth and started cleaning the countertops.
“I’m not upset,” Vivian said, her voice a touch too high for her to even believe her own lie.
“Yes, you are, dear. But I assure you, he ain’t off to see another woman. At least, not the kind you’re considerin’.”
“What do you mean?”
“Just that the boy has only one woman in his heart right now, and that’s his noble steed.”
Vivian took a moment to wrap her head around that. “You mean a horse? Maxine is a horse?”
“Not just any horse,” Gretta clarified, a touch of sadness entering her voice. “Maxine was his wife’s.”
“Oh.” Vivian frowned again, wondering when Nash had been married and why he no longer was. Could it be his cantankerous attitude that drove her away?
“I see that head spinning,” Gretta said, ever-observant. “Go on, give voice to those thoughts before they drive ya nuts.”
Vivian smiled half-heartedly. “I don’t want to pry…”
Gretta belted out a laugh. “Yes, you do, dear. Now out with it.”
Refilling her coffee mug, Vivian gave up cleaning and sat down in the chair she’d occupied earlier for breakfast. “Well…what happened? To his marriage, I mean.”
Gretta filled her own mug and joined her at the table, her demeanor sobering considerably. “That’s a loaded question, but a valid one. I’ll tell ya, it wasn’t a good day for anyone, but most especially Nash. That poor boy,” she said, shaking her head as she stared at her reflection in the coffee. “He loved Carlene more than any man’s got a right to. Losin’ her tore him to pieces.”
“What happened?” Vivian asked again, eager to get to the meat of the story that was unfolding too slowly for her taste.
Gretta’s gaze lifted and met hers, filled with a sadness that instantly made Vivian regret ever asking for answers, fearing she already had them.
“It was a bitter January morning when the truck hit her.” She shook her head again, as if in disbelief. “Nash had been working so hard here and then going home to work his farm, trying to get it off the ground and profitable so he’d have something solid to raise his family on. He worked himself day and night, and I used to warn him, ‘Boy, you’re gonna work yourself to death.’ But he never listened. He was determined. Still is.
“The night before, he’d been so tired, he forgot to latch the barn doors. The horses got out, and he and some of my hands had to go corral them. Ornery buggers. Maxine was Carlene’s horse. She’d broken her herself, and they had a bond. When they found Maxine wandering down the road heading into town, it was Carlene who went to get her, ‘cause no one else could make that damn horse listen. Always reminded me of Nash,” she said with a soft, reflective smile.
“That truck came out of nowhere. Blindsided Carlene and kept on going.”
Vivian covered her mouth on a horrified gasp. “Did they catch who did it?”
“It was just some dumb kid. He’d been drinkin’ all night with his friends. Was rushin’ home, tryin’ to make it back before his folks found him gone and he got grounded. Ruined his life, he did.”
“And a lot of others’,” Vivian commiserated. Her heart ached for Nash and what he’d gone through. “So he kept her horse in her memory?”
“That’s right. He sold off all the animals after that, except her. He treats that horse like his child. She’s spoiled rotten, but I’d say she loves him almost as much as she loved Carlene.”
Thinking back to the day she’d broken down on the side of the road, and he’d ridden to her rescue, Vivian said, “I think I’ve seen it before. Maxine.”
“Big brown beauty, white sunk stripe down her nose, fire in her eyes?”
“Yep, that’s her,” Vivian confirmed. She could still picture how he’d ridden up, full-steam, to that fence. Nash had been as majestic as the horse itself, but it hadn’t been the horse she’d been focused on that day.
“It took him a while to get that beast to trust him enough to let him ride her. But I always thought he and Maxine bonded over their mutual loss. Death has a way of bringing people—and animals, I guess—together.”
“I’ve never lost anyone close,” Vivian admitted, feeling once again on the sidelines looking in. Here Gretta and Nash had both lost the most important people in their lives, and she couldn’t relate one bit.
Extending her hand across the table, Gretta covered Vivian’s. “Don’t feel bad. Be glad you don’t know the pain of death. It’ll strike us all one day, but the longer it takes, the better.”
Vivian nodded. It wasn’t that she wanted to lose anyone she cared about, but she felt guilty realizing that she might not miss the people she was connected to in life as much as she should. Anytime she reflected on it, she was filled with emptiness because none of the relationships she had, even with her own parents, were very deep. It was all superficial, a responsibility to one another to be sure everyone was taken care of and maintained the right look and property to keep up with their social circle. It had always been about appearances, for as long as Vivian could remember.
What it must feel like to truly love and be loved, she wondered.
Gretta lifted herself from her seat and carried her empty mug to the sink. “I think I’ll throw a bit of laundry in the wash and check on the tomatoes.”
“Do you want some help?” Vivian offered.
“No, no,” Gretta dismissed with a wave of her hand. “I can handle it on my own. You should go see if Nash wants any company, though. Lord knows the man could use a distraction or two. He’s too serious.”
Vivian wasn’t too sure about that suggestion. Although Nash had suddenly and unexpectedly warmed up a bit toward her, she still didn’t feel welcomed by him. To invite herself into his personal space and interrupt his time, especially with his beloved wife’s horse, seemed intrusive.
“I think I’ll find something else to do, thanks,” she said.
Gretta shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
Vivian gave her a half-smile and headed toward the stairs and what she was coming to think of as her bedroom.
“Just remember, you can’t fall in love if you don’t put yourself out there,” Gretta called after her retreating form.
Vivian’s foot paused, hovering over the first step, her hand gripping the banister as those words hit home and sank in.
Was that what she wanted, what she was ultimately aiming for?
A look back at the open screen door revealed a beautiful, sunny day, the heat already clawing its way inside. She could go out there right now, find Nash riding in the field, and explore just how deep their connection might go.
But she’d never done such a thing, and being the aggressor was a terrifying thought. He’d likely laugh, and she’d return with egg on her face. It would be the deciding factor on her leaving, moving on. Because there was no way she’d be able to show her face around there again or look at his without feeling the sting of rejection.
No, Vivian wasn’t going to risk it. She’d already risked quite a lot in her decision to leave home and ending up here. Now she had a friend—maybe more than one—and she was comfortable. Why throw all that away on a whim?
Decided, but not at all satisfied, Vivian climbed the stairs and closed herself inside her bedroom. She’d read a bit, maybe take a nap, and then she’d head into town for some light dress shopping.