Chet

Mom’s been pushing me to move into the main house for years now, but I’m not interested. It’s the home I grew up in, it was my parents place and I know she’s happy there. Besides, I’m right next door in one of the old ranch-hand houses. Gabe put his construction know-how to work and together we’ve remodeled it into a little piece of paradise complete with rough sawn pine floors and custom built oak cabinets in the kitchen and bathrooms. It was more work than I imagined but it became a hobby of sorts, a distraction from the monotony of chores—and since no one else was around to complain about living in a construction zone for all those months, I was able to take my time and do things the right way. I admit there is something appealing about the idea of my children’s little feet pitter-pattering down the same hallways mine did, but now that Christy’s come into my life I like the idea of sharing this place with a family of my own even more. Maybe we can make fresh memories here. Someday.

The last seven days have dragged along like they were seventy. I haven’t seen her since our picnic last Friday. Talking to her for a couple hours each evening before bed and an occasional text throughout the day just hasn’t cut the mustard—I want to be with her, I want to hold her in my arms. The livestock isn’t as good at keeping me company as they used to be, but I only have a few more hours to wait. I’m meeting her in town for supper at Belle’s and I can hardly contain myself. After three hours of one-on-one time with Hank while we worked on the tractor I’m almost at my wits’ end. He and Gabe have been obnoxiously probing for details about our date all week. But today, armed with the knowledge we are actually eating at Belle’s tonight, he’s on an entirely new level. The sun eventually shifts in the sky and I need to get cleaned up before heading out.

“Think you can finish this up on your own, Hank?”

“Ooh la la—is it time already? Sure, sure. You go get prettied up. What are you wearing tonight? Did you need to borrow a suit? You don’t want to be underdressed for dinner now, do you?”

There’s a saying, there’s no point wrestling a pig, you just end up dirty and the pig enjoys it. That about sums up what would happen if I acknowledge him now. Instead, I opt to finish wiping the grease from my hands and toss the rag at him as I walk away. If I think of it, I’ll check on him when I get back tonight. He might still be here rambling. It’s not like he needs an audience, just the sound of his own voice.

I shower and shave, splash on some cologne and pause in front of the mirror. For the shortest of moments, I consider leaving my hat—what the hell is happening to me? I think to myself as I square it on my head and grab the keys off the hook.

I arrive a full twenty minutes early, but I’m not one to be late and I was tired of standing around. I’m glad I did, because I’ve barely taken two sips from my coffee when Christy walks through the door, looking out of this world I might add. I get up from my seat at the counter and when she notices me her brow relaxes and her face is lit up by her smile.

“You’re early, Doc.”

“You’re one to talk, sir.” She laughs.

“Wasn’t sure where you’d want to sit, so I just grabbed a place here while I waited.”

“Hmm,” she says, bringing a finger to her puckered lips. “Decisions, decisions.”

“I’ve heard that booth in the back has a wobble, probably best to avoid it,” I say, hoping to make her smile again, and dispel any awkwardness from our last encounter here.

Playing right along, she looks down the aisle. “I don’t believe it, from everything I know about this place, Belle would never let an issue like that go unresolved. Let’s chance it, shall we? Besides, being at the back offers the most privacy.”

“Alright then, after you.” I motion for her to lead the way.

No sooner have I slid into the booth then our server, Mollie, promptly greets us, asking what we’d like to drink and if we need a few minutes.

“You really can’t complain about service like that, can you?” Christy asks.

I think for a moment before answering. “Small town, I guess.”

“Well, I could definitely get used to it,” she says, looking over the single page menu. “What’s good here? Any recommendations?”

Before I can answer Mollie returns with our drinks, but seeing our faces buried in the menu, offers to give us a few before taking our order.

“The meatloaf is a good bet. It’s about as close to mom used to make as you’ll find,” I say.

“Unless it’s fresh from the freezer, it’s probably got my mom’s beat.”

The brow over my right eye raises as I look up from my menu. “Not a lot of family dinners as a kid?”

“We ate plenty of dinners, but the family part might be a stretch. Mom always did her best, all things considered, but I’m probably more familiar with something from a Stouffers box than something from scratch.”

“Well, you’re welcome to come to dinner at the ranch any time, except Wednesdays. That might not be a good idea.”

“Why? What happens on Wednesday?” She leans her elbows on the table and looks me in the eyes, the corners of her lips twisting up in an adorable smile. “You do realize you just made Wednesdays super appealing, don’t you?”

“Mom likes to have all the boys home for a family meal. It’s usually just Gabe, and my brother Hank, Mom, and me, but sometimes the others make it back too.”

She nods and sits back. “That sounds lovely. It must be so grounding to see everyone on a regular basis like that. I understand wanting to keep Wednesdays for family only.”

I laugh, sending coffee down the wrong pipe, causing me to choke for air. “No, no. Nothing like that. Hell, I wouldn’t attend myself if it wasn’t for our mother. No. I’m afraid one meal with our clan and you might never speak to me again.”

“I doubt that’s true. I’ve met Gabe. He’s charming … in his own way. Is there something wrong with—Hank, was it?”

“There’s plenty wrong with Hank—both of them really, but things get worse when we’re all together. Like the whole is greater than the sum of the parts, if you’re familiar with the expression.”

“I’m familiar. But now I’m dying to know what happens at one of these Wednesday dinners.” She sits back, laughing lightly. “Wilde Wednesdays. I like it.”

“Well. You’re welcome any time, just remember if you come to a family meal, you were warned.”

“Deal,” she says, smiling. “Now, back to the issue at hand. Have you decided what you want to eat? Because I’m starved.”

“Think I’ll go with the meatloaf and mashed potatoes. You?”

“Same, actually. If it’s close to homemade, I’ll be in for a treat.”

I motion to Mollie behind the counter to let her know we’re ready to order.

“Here you go, dear,” she says when she returns, handing Christy a glass of water. “And I thought you might like some fresh rolls while you wait.” She tops up my coffee before bustling back toward the kitchen to get our orders in.

I reach across the table and place my hand on Christy’s. “Has Mark let you be? Or are things still unfinished between you?”

She rolls her eyes. “He’s down to only a handful of messages and phone calls a day. Not that I ever respond. I know better than that.”

“Really? Things are still that bad?”

“Oh, no. That’s not bad at all. He seems to be past the angry part of his crazy cycle where he calls me names and blames me for everything.”

“He did that?” My hand clenches.

“Like I said, it’s a whole cycle. I think we’re on to the part where he professes it was all his fault and he’s going to change.” She digs through her purse to retrieve her cell phone and then taps around on the screen briefly before reading out loud, “Baby. I’m nothing without you. The apartment feels so empty. I’m depressed and can’t do this anymore. Please call me. I just want to know you’re okay.”

“Sounds like he’s really learned a lesson.”

“Oh, please!” she scoffs. “Do not let him fool you. That could have just as easily been a message from two years ago as one from a month ago. He’s done this more times than I can count and I’m sure he thinks because I’ve taken him back in the past, he only needs to stick to the plan and be patient and I’ll come around. Little does he know.” She puts her other hand on top of mine and looks me in the eye. “Even if I hadn’t found you, he’d be out of the picture permanently. But … with you …” She blushes and drops her gaze before lifting it right back to mine. “You make everything better.”

If hearts could glow, mine would be lighting the place up right now, but before I can form a response, a voice calls out from halfway across the room.

“Christy? Christy Harris, is that you?”

A woman approaches the table, eyeing us both. “I’m so sorry to interrupt your meal, but you are Christy Harris aren’t you?” she asks, second guessing herself.

“Yep. That’s me.” Christy studies the woman intently. “I’m sorry, I’m still fairly new to the area. Do we know each other?”

“Will wonders never cease? You and I used to play together when you came to visit Doc Hawes for the summer. My family lived next door at the Scott place, well I guess technically they still do, do you remember? I’m Julie. Julie Scott.”

Christy’s eyes light up. “Oh my God, yes. Julie! How are you? I didn’t recognize you. How have you been?”

“I’m well. I live here in town now, guess I got tired of the isolation you get living on a farm. Oh yeah … I heard about your uncle passing. I’m sorry about that.” She pauses only long enough to draw a breath before babbling on. “How about you? Is that what brought you back out here? Or did I hear you say you moved here?” Julie asks.

“Yes, umm… thank you.” Christy blinks, looking a little overwhelmed by Julie’s verbal diarrhea. “I did mention moving here. Actually, I suppose I’m your parents’ new neighbor. My uncle left his home to me when he passed.”

“How wonderful. Have you settled in yet? Do you need anything? Here, let me give you my number. You’ll have to promise to call sometime so we can catch up.”

“Uh, sure. That would be great,” Christy says, looking mildly uncomfortable.

“And where are my manners?” Julie asks, oblivious to Christy’s discomfort. “I’m so sorry. I just keep running on at the mouth. And you are?” she asks, sticking her hand in my face.

“Chet Wilde. Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Julie.”

“Well! Mr. Wilde. The pleasure is mine. I went to school with your brothers Hank and Jack. Well, I was a year between them …” She trails off, apparently realizing she is interrupting a date. Her cheeks flush as she hastily jots down the rest of her number on a napkin and hands it to Christy. “Be sure you call me now, k?” she says before departing.

Christy smiles at her as she leaves, but once she’s officially out the door, she turns her attention back to me with a look of surprise and mild exasperation. “Well, that was … unexpected. She was just about the only other person I knew out here besides my uncle. We had the most fun together when we were kids.”

“That’s nice. Maybe you can rekindle that now. Probably be nice to have a girlfriend out here to talk to—assuming you don’t already. One thing though. If she’s from around here you should know, by the time church lets out Sunday the whole town is going to know you and I were on a date. Nothing personal against her, it’s just another facet of living in a small community.

“Oh no. Does that bother you?” Christy asks.

“Me? Not a bit. I’d be happy for folks to know I was dating the prettiest doctor in three states.”

“That’s sweet, but you know I’m not a doctor, right? I’m a veterinarian. The rest, I suppose we can let slide.”

Try as I might to eat slow, eventually I’m just about out of ideas to keep the evening going. Dinner, pie, coffee, I’ve exhausted just about every option I can think of. I pay the check and tuck a tip under the salt and pepper shakers before sliding out of the booth.

“I wish the evening didn’t have to end,” I say. I wrap her in my arms and hug her goodbye, before she opens the door and climbs in her truck.

Driving home, the thought circles around again and again. I need more of her.