Carly
I open my eyes to sun streaming in my bedroom window. A bloom of panic slams into my brain until I remember. I’m not working today. I stretch and smile. My sunny walls smile back. I cradle my getting-bigger belly. Mornin’, Bean.
“Faith?”
I whisper it out loud, trying it out on my mind, on my tongue. I kind of like it. The fact that Austin spent time thinking about the baby does things to my insides. Good things. Traitorous things.
Sitting in the quiet dark last night, I couldn’t help but see differences in him. Before, he’d have chattered away, filling the holes in conversation with stories of him at his last rodeo, him on his last escapade…him. But instead, we talked about me. About life. About Faith. He’s no longer so sure of who he is, and what he believes. I like that.
Not that I want him to be tentative, or insecure, but if you only deal with what you know you know, how do you ever learn anything new? If you don’t test your beliefs, to stir them up now and again, they set like wet cement in August. I don’t want someone who tells me what I think because it’s what he thinks. I want someone I can discuss ideas with. Someone who wants to know what I think.
Like the guy who sat with me in the dark last night.
I discovered something else. Austin was right. He exposed a lie I didn’t even know I’d told myself. I’ll see that my baby is safe, no matter what. I’m not risking her.
If Austin and I get back together, I’m risking my own heart.
I should be brave. From the stories I’ve heard of my mom, she would have jumped in with both feet. But I don’t feel brave. Let’s face it; I didn’t handle heartbreak well the last time. How much worse would it be now, if things didn’t work out, knowing what lies ahead?
But if it did work out, I’d have my dreams back. Nothing grand or original, just a simple small-town country girl’s hand-me-down dreams: love, a home, a family.
I’m caught between two irresistible forces, like a metal bar between two magnets. Both have a push, and a pull.
How do you decide?
“Daylight’s burnin’, missy.” Papaw’s gruff voice booms through the door.
“Coming.” I throw off the covers, grab my robe at the foot of the bed, and cram my toes into my slippers.
My mom smiles down at me from the wall. I miss her especially, today. I’m conflicted, confused, and sure could use a mom to talk to.
“What’re we doing today, Papaw?” He’s already got a pot of coffee on the stove, staying warm. I take out Nana’s cast-iron skillet from the oven and open the fridge.
“I’m makin’ product. And afore you ask, you can’t help. I don’t want you anywhere near that stuff, in case it could hurt the baby.”
I pull out eggs and bacon, and get to work. “Nana sleeping in?”
“She stayed up waiting for someone to come in last night.”
Prepping the pan allows me to keep my back to him and hide my blush. “I hardly think she needs to wait up. I’m twenty-nine.”
“I think she wanted to know what happened.”
I turn, but he holds up a hand. “Didn’t say I did. Save it.”
Nana shuffles in, her hair in a cloud of spun sugar around her head. “Spill it, missy. I wanna hear everything.”
If we were alone, Nana and I, I would. But expose tender feelings around Papaw? Not happening. “Later. Do you need my help around here today, Nana?”
“No. You go have fun.” She steps to me and fluffs my rat’s nest hair. “That’s an order.”
I hug her tight. Damned hormones have my eyes leaking again. “You sit. I’m cooking this morning.”
An hour and a half later, I’m showered and dressed, and Nana’s done grilling me about my date last night. The only spots on the kitchen counter are the worn ones, the living room is straightened, and there’s nothing left to do. Nothing anyone will let me do, anyway.
I’m sick of the war being fought in my head. I need outside input. I fold the rag over the sink and take Fartito’s keys from the hook by the door. “I’m going out, Nana. You need anything?”
Her voice comes from the living room. “Nah. Papaw will need the truck late afternoon, though. He’s got a delivery to make.”
“I’ll be back way before that.”
I swear I didn’t have a destination in mind, but before I know it the truck steers himself to the Davises. Mrs. Davis and I had a good relationship, back when. She treated me like the daughter she hadn’t had, and I was as comfortable at her table as I was at Nana’s—I was there just about as often.
But I haven’t been in touch since the breakup. I know I’m taking a chance—she may be mad at me. After all, she has a dog in this hunt. But I sure could use a mother’s advice, and she always happily filled that space as best she could.
I step out of the truck and force my feet to the front porch, and lift my hand to knock.
The door is opened, and after a moment of startled hesitation I’m wrapped in Mrs. Davis’s hug. “Oh, Carly Beauchamp, I can’t tell you how many times I’ve picked up the phone to call you.”
I’m suddenly so aware of how much I’ve missed her. Hormones clog my throat. She sees, takes my hand, and pats it. “You get yourself in here. We’ll have coffee and a long chat.”
In two minutes, I’m in a chair at the glass-topped umbrella table on the patio, a cup of coffee and plate of Danish at my elbow. “I—I didn’t know how you’d feel about everything.”
“My heart hurts for you both. That’s how I feel.” As she studies me, her eyes narrow. “You didn’t come here for me to tell you what to do. You’re capable of working that out for yourself.”
“I know. I was just so missing having a mom this morning. I’d’ve called, but I ended up here before I realized I was coming.”
She sits beside me, doctoring her coffee with a generous dollop of cream. “Did I ever tell you the story of how Bob and I met?”
“I don’t think so.”
She takes a sip, then sets the cup down. “We fell in love over a microscope in chemistry class.”
“Aw, that’s sweet.”
“Except things were different then. The spur had shut down, and times were hard. The town pulled in on itself, and if your daddy hadn’t fired grapeshot at the Yankees you were on the outside, and his mother was from Detroit. Add to that a single-wide trailer on the south side of the tracks, and her never being married…let’s just say my parents were not fans of Bob Davis.” The corners of her mouth rise in a soft, but so-sad smile. “The day of graduation, we eloped. I lost the baby three weeks later.”
My hand flies to my open mouth. My chest tightens to hold the swirling rush of sympathy.
“It could have torn us apart. He could have gone home. After all, he had no reputation to lose. But I couldn’t—my parents made it clear when I left that I wouldn’t be welcome. That’s when I truly saw the man I married. The experience forged him into someone the same, yet different. He was stronger, truer. He put on his best clothes, marched down to the bank on the corner, and talked them into giving him a job. That was the beginning.”
I knew that Austin’s dad had retired the head of Unforgiven Bank & Trust, but I had no idea what that said about him, until now.
Her soft gaze finds me, and her hand covers mine. “I won’t be one to judge you, Carly. I’m proud of you. Despite the heavy responsibilities on those fragile shoulders, you’ve grown to be a strong young woman. You’re going to be a wonderful mother.”
I use the napkin under my coffee cup to blot my eyes.
“But I’m getting off the point of my story. I learned not to count a man out until he’s been forged in fire. That’s when you’ll see what he’s really made of.” She sits back, and the lines on her face clear.
I would have never guessed what was hiding behind that smile, all those years. I’m so glad I know now.
“Enough of that. So, tell me all about that baby. What are you going to name her?”
I realize that sometime in the past hour, I’ve decided. “Faith. Her name is Faith.”
* * *
Carly
“Jess, what are you doing tonight? Want to hang out? Got any bathrooms you need cleaned?”
“Holy Lysol, Carly. You want to clean? Are you sick?”
Sick of thinking. “No. Just bored.” I plop onto my bed. “I’m off today, and no one will let me do anything. If I sit around much longer, I’m going to start cleaning out our junk drawers.”
“Oh man, you need help. Okay, hold tight, I’ll be by to pick you up in a half hour.”
“Oh good. Where are we going?”
“Do you care? It’s bound to be better than heading for the junk drawers.”
“Good point.” I end the call and get ready for wherever. Luckily, nothing in Unforgiven is dressy, so I’m safe in my can’t-button jeans, blousy maternity top, and my Fightin’ Billy Goats ball cap, my ponytail pulled through the hole in the back.
Forty minutes later, the sun is almost down when Jess pulls into the yard in her mommymobile, with her oldest, eight-year-old Travis, in a booster seat in the back. The window rolls down, and Jess yells, “Travis said it was okay if you come, but it’s going to cost you.”
I pull the door open and slide in. “Travis, your next Mickey D’s is on me.”
He glances up from his iPad. “Score, Dude.”
Jess glares into the rearview mirror. “We’ve got to work on your gender slang.”
“‘Dude’ is unisex, Mom.”
I love all Jess’s kids, but Travis always was the smart one. “He’s going to be a lawyer when he grows up, mark my words.”
“What, and break his daddy’s heart?” Jess turns the car around in our yard and heads down the long dirt drive. “Jake is determined he’s going to be a major-league second baseman.”
“Jake is dreaming. Luckily, you have a spare. Maybe little Beau will like baseball.”
“We can hope.”
“So where are we off to?”
“To do what this one really loves—”
“Rodeo!” Travis throws his fists in the air.
Jess rolls her eyes. “Jimbo Jones has a kid’s rodeo school. Travis drove us nuts until we signed him up.”
“I’m a goat-tier, but only ’til they let me ride the mini-bulls.”
Jess shoots a look in the mirror. “If, son. If.”
“How did I not know about this?”
“You were off having adventures, girlfriend.”
“Yeah, despite a disastrous beginning, there have been lots for the highlight reels.” I pat Bean—Faith. “And the real adventure begins in a couple months.”
Jess chuckles. “You don’t know the half of it, Grasshopper.”
I chat with Travis about the finer points of goat tying, until we pull in and park at the side of a floodlit arena.
Travis is out of the car like he’s been shot from a grenade launcher.
I peer through the windshield at the lambs, mini-bulls, ponies, and goats milling in the arena. “It’s like somebody took a rodeo and miniaturized it.” A few men are trying to sort out the menagerie.
“Ruh-roh.” Jess turns to me. “I swear, I had no idea.”
I squint at the men, but I don’t need to see their features. I recognize the loose-hipped roll of that tight butt. A burst of adrenaline fires down my nerves. “It’s fine.” I unsnap the seat belt. “I’m fine.” But I’m not.
And from her look, Jess knows it. “Let’s go sit in the bleachers with the other parents.”
When we get there, I tell Jess to go on ahead, and I hang back in the shadows. I’m not sure why, but I don’t want Austin to know I’m here.
The sorted animals are being hazed to different pens when the loudspeaker crackles to life. “Howdy, folks, and welcome to the Monthly Unforgiven Youth Rodeo!”
The parents cheer. The kids mill in a group that’s no less chaotic than the animals’.
“We’re going to open with Ribbon Roping. The teams are queued up and ready to go. First in the chute is Hazel Montoya and the ribbon girl is her little sister, Brandy.”
The little calf is released, and Hazel, who looks to be around thirteen, comes out of the chute on a pretty sorrel, spinning her loop. Her little sister takes off on stubby eight-year-old legs, trying to keep up, and to haze the calf toward the horse. With perfect form, Hazel releases and the loop settles over the calf’s head. Hazel does a flying dismount, runs down the rope to the struggling calf, and tries to hold it as her little sister runs around, trying to pull the ribbon off the calf’s tail.
The crowd screams encouragement.
When Brandy has it, she takes off for the finish line.
“Twenty-four and two-tenths. The Montoyas have set a blazing speed, but Randy Belcher and Raye Cameron will try to match it. They’re up next.”
Austin stands in the squeeze chute, tying a pretty pink bow on the next calf’s tail. The rough-stock-riding cowboy I knew a year ago wouldn’t have been caught dead doing that.
The events tick by, and Austin is right in the middle of everything, putting kids on sheep, setting up poles for pole bending, picking up the mini-bull riders when they fall off. He dusts red dirt off each, dispensing high fives or words of encouragement. I’m trying to hold tough, but I’m awash in cuteness. And old dreams.
It’s clear from his face he’s enjoying it all. I always knew he was good with kids. He would stop everything to sign an autograph, or talk to the kids at the rodeos.
He says he’s changed his mind about Faith. I believe he believes it. But what if she doesn’t look like me? What if she has black hair and ice-blue eyes? Would he see a sweet baby, or the guy I slept with?
“Folks, Sub-Junior goat-tying is up next. Contestants, report to the squeeze chutes, pronto. You’ve got bedtimes, remember.”
I step out of the shadows to scan the bleachers until I find Jess on the lowest bench, her knees bouncing in the nervous-mom dance. When I sit beside her, she grabs my hand and squeezes hard enough to make me wince. “I’ve been sitting here praying. Travis is so little, and the horse they’re putting him on is so big. What if he falls off? What if it bolts? What if—”
“Jess. Take a breath. Travis is a strong rider. I taught him, didn’t I? And his dad has been working on his roping skills. He’s going to be fine, you’ll see.” I peel my hand from her grip and put my arm around her shoulders. “Now buck up. If you show you’re scared, he’s going to be.”
“You’re right. I know you’re right.” Her knees hammer like pistons. “Why didn’t he like something sane, like football?”
The chute opens, ejecting a large, bawling goat. He sprints for the other end of the arena, with a bay quarter horse in hot pursuit. My heart squeezes. Jess is right. Travis looks tiny up there. But he’s spurring and spinning his rope like a pro.
“Get him, Travis!” I yell.
“Hang on, son!”
The loop settles nicely and the horse squats in a pretty stop that catches Travis leaning forward. He’s ejected, does a perfect somersault, and lands on his back pockets in the dirt.
Jess is up and heading for the pole fence. I just manage to catch her arm. “He’s okay! Look at him go!”
The parents yell encouragement as Travis gains his feet and runs down the rope to the thrashing goat. He grabs it, and despite the fact that it weighs more than he does, dumps it in the dirt and scrambles to collect its feet to tie them.
One of the goat’s flailing back feet gets free and smacks Travis square in his face.
He freezes, stunned, then falls on his back in the dirt, his mouth wide open as he sucks in enough air for a gale-force wail.
Several men run into the arena but Austin beats them to Travis’s side, where he pulls the kid’s hands away from his bloody face to inspect the damage. He tips Travis’s head forward and pinches the bridge of his nose.
Jess bolts into the arena and drops onto her knees in the dirt beside her son. I follow, but I stand behind Austin, to be out of the way.
“Travis! Talk to me, baby. Are you okay?” Jess tries to gather him in her arms, but Austin stops her with a hand.
“Let him be, Jess. He’s just got a bloody nose.” He looks down at Travis, who’s now just snuffling, trying not to cry. “You can’t be a cowboy without a few bloody noses. Everybody knows that. Right, Travis?”
“I’b okay.”
“I broke my nose, twice.”
“You did?” It comes out like he’s talking through cotton.
“Sure did. Feel this.” He takes Travis’s blood-smeared hand and runs his fingers over that cute bump that I always thought saved Austin from being too pretty.
“Wow.” Hero worship replaces the tears in his eyes. “I’b okay, Bom. Cowboys are tough.” He sits up.
“You dizzy?” Austin runs his hands down the boy’s limbs. “You hurt anywhere else?”
“Nah, I’b okay.”
Austin takes Travis’s hands and lifts him to his feet. “You’re going make a bada—I mean good cowboy, Travis.”
Jess takes her son’s hand. “Maybe, but that’s enough cowboy-ing for one day. We’re going home to put some ice on that.” Holding the pressure on his nose with the other hand, she heads for the stands.
The crowd cheers. Travis waves.
Austin turns and walks right into me.
“Tig!” He grabs my arms to steady us both.
“Austin.”
“I didn’t know you were here. Did you come with Jess?”
“Yeah.” I glance to the stands. Jess is gone. I look to the parking lot, to see her van back up and pull out. In full-on momma-bear mode, she’s totally forgotten me. Not that I blame her. I’d’ve done the same. “There goes my ride.”
“I’ll give you a ride home, but it’ll be a bit. This is the next-to-last event, but I have to help shut down after that.”
“No rush. Thanks.” I’m unaware of the last rounds, lost to my thoughts. Seeing Jess and Travis tonight brought back my old dreams. That could be me in a couple of years. I realize, watching Austin with the kids…everything I ever wanted, somehow, miraculously, is still possible. Austin has put out his hand, and all I have to do is be woman enough to take it.
It’s time to cowboy up, or sit in the stands.
I still want Austin. I want our dream. I want that wreck of a homestead house. The babies he promised. C&A Rough Stock. I want all the hardships, heartaches, and happiness a future with Austin could bring.
But if I want it, I’ll have to take a chance. That long-leap-over-a-deep-chasm chance he spoke of last night. Trust that the new Carly is strong enough to step into the old Carly’s life, and not become her.
I loved Austin my whole life, but the road forked at Albuquerque, leading me here, to this bench, feeling a butterfly kick of the baby in my womb.
I’m not blaming him for decisions I made. But I’m no longer blaming myself, either. Stuff happened. I’ve learned a lot since that naive young woman fled to the big-city lights for the oblivion of booze and music.
I’ve learned that I can live without Austin Davis. I can face down the whole town, if I have to. So what am I afraid of? If I’ve learned anything the past months, it’s that I can bear a lot more than I thought I could. I’m a Beauchamp woman, after all. I can pick myself up, dust myself off, and move on.
I can do that again, if things go bad.
But if they don’t…oh, if they don’t…
Austin has changed, too. After watching him the past weeks, and especially today, I know it, deep down.
My lighter-than-air heart lifts, floating on the helium of hope.
Austin yells just before the arena lights go out, “Stay where you are, Tig. I’ll come get you!”
I sit in the dark with my uncertainty, my nerves, and whatever courage I can muster. Only my entire future, and the future of my baby, depend on my ability to articulate. And I failed speech in high school.
No pressure.
But beneath the jitters is bedrock that wasn’t there three months ago. One thing about surviving the worst thing that can happen to you—you have a rain gauge to measure bad by.
It’s like swimming in a deep lake; you always wonder what’s down there, and because you don’t know, you’re afraid. Once you’ve sunk to the bottom, you find the bottom is useful, because you can use it to push off from. When your head breaks the surface, you’ll never be that afraid again, because you know where the bottom is.
“Blacker’n the inside of a bat’s butt out here. Tig?”
“Right here.” I slap the bleacher to give him a homing beacon.
His hand finds mine. “Ah, there you are. You ready to go?”
I pull his hand. “Can we sit for a bit? I need to talk to you, and if I put it off, I’m going to chicken out.”
He sits beside me, and I hear him take a deep breath. “Okay, I’m ready.”
“You sound like you’re going before a firing squad.”
“Am I?”
“I deserve that. It seems lately that if you say it’s dark, I’m going to point out some spot of light somewhere.” I take my own deep breath. “I’m sorry for that, Austin. I’ve been thinking and thinking, and other people have been trying to tell me, but I’ve just figured it out.”
“What?”
“I cruised through the beginning of my life. I worked hard, but lots of stuff just came to me: popularity, horsemanship, grades…you.” I turn, rest my leg on the bleacher between us. I can’t see much of his features, and I’m good with that; it’s easier, this way. “Then, when you didn’t take me seriously about wanting to get married, instead of explaining until you understood, or we came to an agreement, I stomped my foot and threw a fit. Heck, the patrons in the diner even told me that I did that every year. It’s embarrassing.”
“Tig, I shouldn’t have needed a boot upside my head to—”
“There’s enough blame to go around, Austin, but I’m not going there. It’s time for us to forgive; ourselves and each other. I’m trying to explain what I’ve learned from all this.”
“Shutting up now.”
I squeeze his hand. “Then I made that trip to Albuquerque. Looking back now, I see every mistake along the way. Because things came easy to me, I thought they always would. I never understood the most basic thing that most people learn way earlier. If my life isn’t the way I want it, it’s up to me to change it.” Saying it out loud resonates through me like the tolling of a bell. “You were right last night. I think we had to be apart to grow up—to discover the people we want to be.”
He squeezes my hand. “Tig.”
“Shhh. I need to finish.” Now I wish for light, so I could see his expression. His hand shudders in mine; a thrumming of nerves that my body picks up like a tuning fork. “I’ve learned that I’m strong enough to stand alone. That’s an invaluable lesson. But I also learned that I don’t want to.
“You’re my dream, Austin Davis. You always have been. Can we start again? See if—”
He puts a finger over my lips. “I’m sorry to interrupt. But would it be okay if I kiss you now?”
My leap of faith ends in Austin’s arms. His lips find mine in the dark, and he pulls me to him, like he’s afraid I’m going to run. No chance of that. I pull him tighter, trying to show him I’m all in, with my hands, with my lips.
His kiss is the same, dear and sweet and warm as the kiss of the sun. But there’s also a change. Not a hesitancy, exactly, more a waiting, letting me take the lead if I want.
I want. I drink him in like cold well water on a hot day, and just like that, we click back together. Different, maybe, but I feel the strength of the bond surging through me.
I open my eyes to the black-velvet heavens. “Thank you, God,” I whisper against Austin’s lips.
“Amen to that,” he whispers, pulls the ribbon out of my ponytail, and buries his hands in my hair. “I’ll always love you, Tig.” He tips my head to kiss me again.