Chapter One

Lauren

 

Every artist needs a creative space to call their own. I’d claimed this little gorge when I was nine. My dad even put up a sign that said “Lauren’s Studio” in bold, black letters.  For the last eleven years, I had drawn and painted here every chance I got.

There was nowhere I felt as sublimely happy as I did here in the cool shade of the over-hanging rock. I could look out and see the thin ribbon of the nearly dry creek bed glinting in the sun, the smooth red rock rising on either side of me, and the stark landscape of northeastern New Mexico stretching out to the horizon.

Though the cattle occasionally meandered into the shade not far below me, I didn’t mind their company. When you rarely saw anybody besides your own family and a few neighbors, you learned to find companionship where you could.

Thinking of my family made me feel guilty. I should have been back at the house, packing or helping mom with my farewell dinner. Maybe it was crummy of me, but my soul needed this today—these brief hours I’d stolen away to paint in my outdoor studio. Dabbing my brush in the cobalt paint on my palette, I streaked a line across the hardboard I painted on. Reveling in the smooth glide of the dense oils, I barely caught the distant rumble of an ATV heading my direction. Coming at that speed, it had to be one of my brothers.

Sitting back, I studied my painting and sighed. In that moment, I wanted to push pause on my life. Just stop it right here, with paint on my fingertips and no difficult goodbyes or scary new places.

The ATV braked, sliding and spraying loose gravel. I heard it, but went on blending the colors of my sky.

“Lauren, Mom says you need to come back to the house.” It was Trent, my youngest brother.

“I’m almost done.”

“You’re never almost done, and she told me not to come back without you.”

“Fine.” Since I’d become an adult, my parents had eased up on issuing orders, but she had a right to demand my return since I’d left her to do all the work back at the house.

I stood and walked over to prop up the half-painted board along the narrow ridge in the shallow cave behind me. Long, long ago, pictographs had been painted on the walls of this cave, and now I’d added my own art to it. I’d learned through experience to paint on boards instead of canvas, which warped with changes in the environment. Occasionally I painted something for Mom to hang up in the house, but this was my gallery. This painting was a promise that I’d return to finish it.

Loading my paints into the ammo box I kept them in, I strapped it to the rack on the ATV with a bungee cord. Wiping my hands carelessly on a rag from my pocket, I climbed up behind Trent, who tapped his fingers on the handlebars in impatience as the motor idled.

“Find something to hold onto besides me,” he said. “I don’t want paint all over my shirt.”

“Like it hasn’t already been ruined with grease from the tractor,” I said, grabbing him anyway. The way he drove, I wasn’t about to take chances.

With no other warning, he took off for the house. In no time, we rattled across the cattle guard, and he pulled up in a swirl of dust in front of the house. I climbed off and he waited just long enough for me to grab my paints from the back before he roared away again toward the barn.

I scuffed my boots in the gravel driveway, still trying to make these last few hours at home stretch out longer. I was excited to head off to Slaytonville, Arkansas with Nick in the morning. Really, I was.

I mean, after all these years, he’d finally been interested in me. Every summer, he and his sister Natalie had come for a long visit to their uncle’s ranch, which was next to ours. Having kids my age to play with was better than Christmas. The three of us had always been inseparable, but I don’t think Nick ever knew how to label me, especially as we got older. I wasn’t like Natalie, into fashion and pop culture, but I also wasn’t buddy material—even though I could do most things as well as my brothers could. Some things better.

But this year, things changed. My brothers teased me that it was because I’d finally put on some much-needed weight when I’d started going to college during the day instead of literally working my butt off on the ranch. Maybe it was my fuller figure, or the fact that Natalie hadn’t come this time—I don’t know—but Nick noticed me the way I’d always dreamed he would.

My eyes lifted and followed the ridge behind the house, with its red rocks and scrubby bushes. I knew every inch of this weather worn, bare boned property where the sky and the sun dominated the view. They hadn’t changed much in all the twenty years since I’d been born here. The sameness was comforting, but I also longed for something new. Most people, when they felt this way, headed for New York or LA. I had a feeling a small town in northwest Arkansas was more my speed.

A breeze swept past, carrying the smell of roasting chiles, so I knew my dad was in the back charring them over the grill. I breathed deep, thinking that surely there wasn’t a better smell in the world.

Walking up the two rickety steps to the screened in front porch, I kicked off my heavy boots and walked into the kitchen. My mom was peeling chiles at the table. Dad must have already brought the first batch in. I washed my hands at the sink and sat down across from her to help.

“I can’t say I’m going to miss this part,” I said, smiling as I pulled at the loose, charred skin of one of the smoky chiles.

“You’ll miss eating them though.” Her voice was dry and short.

Laughing, I shrugged. “That’s true. I’m sure they have good food in Arkansas too though.”

She raised her eyebrows. “I’m sure they do. And better schools and more kids your age, and…”

“I never said the schools were better. I learned a lot at the junior college. But I already took all the basic art courses, and there wasn’t much more offered there. You know I was going to have to go away to a four-year college eventually to get my degree.”

She got up, leaving me to on the chiles, and pulled out a giant package of corn tortillas to fry. “I kept hoping you’d switch over to land management, or at least one of the technical art programs like leather working or gun-smithing.”

“I know you did. But Mom, just because I’m going to school somewhere else, doesn’t mean I’ll never be back. It’s only a twelve-hour drive.”

“Yeah, but you’ll end up getting married and only coming back as a visitor.”

I dropped a cleaned chile into the pan. “Are you trying to make me cry? Or just guilt me into staying?”

“I’m just being grumpy. You’re leaving me alone on this place with four males. How would you feel?”

I winked at her. “You could come with me.”

Chuckling, she shook her head. “Be careful making offers like that. I might go pack a bag.”

“That would be awesome, except we both know the only thing dad loves more than his land is you. And you’re the same way.”

“Yeah. All I can do is pray that you find the same crazy kind of love.”

“Look, mom, I know you aren’t a big fan of me and Nick, but I promise we aren’t even talking about getting married. We just want to give our relationship a chance by staying close to each other. And I’ve prayed about this, remember? I’ve never had such a strong answer to a prayer before. I know God wants me to go to Arkansas. Please don’t worry about it anymore.”

She looked up from the now sizzling tortilla she was tending and smiled tenderly. “I know you’ll be fine. Just remember that sometimes God’s plans aren’t the same as ours.”

I nodded. “Sure. But let’s not talk about anything sentimental right now. If you make me cry and I wipe my eyes with chile juice on my fingers, it won’t be pretty.”

Mom and I worked in well-practiced unison and soon had three massive pans of enchiladas in the oven, covered with my mom’s incomparable green sauce. In a state full of people who loved their enchiladas, every family had their own recipe, but I was sure no one’s compared to hers.

The sound of truck engines and voices outside alerted me to Nick’s arrival. I paused on the porch long enough to throw on my boots, then ran outside to greet him and his aunt and uncle who pulled up right behind him.

“Hey, babe,” he said, hugging me as soon as I was close enough for him to grab. “Are you excited about tomorrow?”

“Yeah. But nervous too. And sad.”

“What? Hey, no worries. You’re going to love it.”

There was nothing to say to that, except, “I hope so. Dinner’s almost ready.”

“I can’t wait,” he said, before wandering over to where my brothers were working on my car, checking to make sure it was ready for the long road trip tomorrow. I watched anxiously, knowing Nick annoyed the heck out of my brothers. But they’d be nice to him for my sake.

Soon we gathered around the long dining room table, scrunched together with the extra chairs squeezed in around it. My dad, looking funny without his hat on since his hair was flat and his tan line showed, blessed the food more solemnly than usual. When he finished, he rested his hand briefly on mine and smiled. It was his way of saying he’d miss me. My eyes were watery as we started filling our plates.

“You got everything ready for my girl out in Arkansas?” My dad asked in his quiet voice. Everyone turned to Nick, waiting for his answer.

“I sure do, sir. Natalie is so excited to have Lauren living with her that she and her other roommates got their office all cleaned out and painted for her to move into. It’s small, but bigger than her room here.”

I knew Nick hadn’t meant to sound like he was trashing my dad’s house, but from my dad’s raised eyebrows and the stony set to my brother’s jaw, I knew they’d all taken it that way.

“I’m sure it will be nice,” my mom said, her pleasant but sharp voice slicing through the tension.

I wrapped my fingers around my dad’s sinewy arm. “Everything is taken care of. I have a place to live, I registered for classes and my tuition is paid, thanks to you.”

After dinner was done and cleaned up, Nick’s uncle and my Dad wandered off to the barn to talk about the things cattlemen talked about when they got together, giving and getting advice. Out here, a good neighbor was truly a blessing. My brothers headed out to secure the animals and outbuildings for the night, and Nick helped me load nearly everything I owned in my car.

When we were done, I sat on the hood, happy to have some time alone with Nick. I always felt jittery when my family was around him, but when it was just the two of us, I could relax.

The car dipped as Nick leaned back next to me and wrapped his muscular arm around my waist. The sun was going down and, as always, the sky looked like it had been set on fire. Though I’d seen countless sunsets like this, I’d never yet managed to capture one on canvas. Such brilliant colors always seemed overwhelming and unrealistic when painted by any hand but God’s.

“What are you thinking about?” Nick asked.

“Just how beautiful it is.”

“Funny. I was just thinking the same thing about you.”

I laughed and elbowed him. There was no doubt Nick knew how to deliver a charming line. And when a guy as hot as Nick tells you he thinks you’re beautiful, you let him kiss you, even though you know your dad or an overprotective brother might walk up on you at any moment. And while he kissed me, I couldn’t help but think how nice it was to be with him away from the sardonic eyes of my family. I mean, I knew they’d be suspicious of anybody I dated since I was the only girl, but I just wanted to worry about my feelings.

After a few minutes, Nick sighed and stood up. “I’d better go. I still haven’t packed and if we’re going to get on the road by seven-o-clock, I’ve got some work to do.”

“Okay. It’s not like we won’t be seeing each other all the time from now on.”

He kissed me one more time, and said, “That’s right.”

I walked him to his truck, then drifted around my house. With everything gone from my room except a few childhood relics and with a different quilt on my bed, it felt like I didn’t belong here anymore. But then the guys all came back in and my dad called us together for family prayer. We knelt together on the rug my mom and grandma had made from fabric scraps, and my dad said the prayer. It hit me then that I would no longer be here for this.

I began sobbing, though I tried so hard to be silent. After we said amen, my mom looked appalled to see the state I was in and reached across the circle to hold me. “What’s wrong, baby?”

“I’m just going to miss this,” I said.

“Don’t worry, you’ll still be here with us because we’ll be praying for you every morning and every night.”

We all hugged, and hugged again the next morning before I drove away. And ironically, as I watched everything I knew and loved disappear in my rear-view mirror, the thought of their prayers was the only thing that gave me the strength to leave them.