Good Together (11 page)

Always a striking man, Nat was at his most attractive when he was on a horse. Not many men rode with the same calm, commanding presence. He gave her a smile that would have made any of her sisters’ hearts go pitter-patter. But she and Nat were neighbors and she couldn’t afford to have that sort of reaction.

“Your timing is good,” she called out to him. “A storm is coming.”

“I heard. We’re lucky. I meant to get them in a few days earlier, but we had some complications.”

His smile faded, just a little, and she wondered what the complications had been. But before she could ask he was speaking again.

“We missed you—and the twins, of course.”

“Not as much as I missed being part of the fun this year.” But she’d been right to decline the invitation. Without her girls, it would have felt wrong somehow, to spend an entire day out in the mountains with a bunch of men—and with Nat in particular.

“How’s Tuff?”

“Eating me out of house and home. And I love it.” She nodded toward the back where she’d stowed her groceries. “I’ll be all stocked up when the storm hits.”

“If you need anything at all, give me a call. I take it Wes is still—”

She nodded, glancing away from the concern in his blue-gray eyes.

“Well—” Nat looked like he was going to say something else, but instead he just patted the roof of her truck. “Take care, Mattie.”

One minute later the road was clear. But instead of shifting into Drive, Mattie stayed where she was, watching until Nat and his herd had disappeared beyond the cottonwoods.

* * *

F
or the next month Mattie worked harder than she’d ever done in her life. She worked through the blizzard, which lasted four days, then the next two weeks brought a thaw and milder temperatures. Her body ached at the end of each day—which was the point. It was easier to sleep if you were exhausted and she made sure she was. She was losing weight—a fact Jake kept pointing out as he urged her to slow down.

And he really gave her a scolding when he caught her in the tack room adding a notch to her belt so her jeans wouldn’t keep falling down.

“Maybe you should see a doctor.”

She put away the leather hole punch, then slipped her belt through the loops of her jeans, pleased to see the fit was snug once more. “I’m fine. I couldn’t work this hard if I wasn’t.”

“That’s kinda the point. You’re driving yourself to exhaustion. And while we’re on the topic—you clean this tack room one more time and I’m going to be afraid to walk in there with my boots on.”

“That’ll be the day. But don’t worry. I won’t be in your hair much this week. Portia and Wren are coming home on Wednesday. I’ve got to start baking my pies for Thanksgiving. Apple for you, lemon for Portia, and pumpkin for Wren.”

Jake always joined them for the holidays. When his wife had been alive, they’d come as a couple.

“That’s plain nonsense—baking three pies when you’ve only got three people coming for dinner.”

Mattie paused, meeting Jake’s gaze directly and holding it a few seconds before saying, “Wes is supposed to be here, too.”

“He said he was coming?”

“He did.” But she hadn’t spoken to him since then... and the silence between them grew more painful each day. She was too proud to beg, so she’d just have to wait and see if he followed through on his word.

She could tell that Jake didn’t think he would. She could see the skepticism in his eyes. As well as the pity.

But all he did was shrug.

“Three pies is still too much.”

* * *

T
he last few days before Thanksgiving passed in a blur. Mattie dusted and vacuumed the girls’ bedrooms, washing the clean linens so they would be fresh and putting a potted mum on each of their nightstands.

She didn’t stop at three pies—she made six—freezing the extra apple ones, just to have on hand. She also baked chocolate chip cookies and pumpkin spice muffins, and went to Green Valley Farm near Ronan to pick up the fresh, organic turkey that was her standing order.

Ten years ago, back when Wes’s parents, Garth and Jude, were still alive and they had at least three or four men working on the ranch, her table had been at capacity for Thanksgiving and Christmas. Now it seemed, every year she set the table for one or two fewer people.

She didn’t like this empty nest phase of life, not one bit.

Tuff was growing, healthy and relentlessly energetic. Mattie had laughed, watching her jump and run with delight through her first snowfall. Every day she did something cute that made Mattie smile. And something naughty that had the opposite effect. Tuff loved tussling with Mattie’s leather cowboy boots more than any toy. She’d almost decided to give up and let the pup have them. She needed a new pair anyway.

But was it worth investing in new boots—if Wes ended up selling the ranch?

Almost every hour she butted up against thoughts like this. She hadn’t realized how much her expectations of the future impacted her everyday activities, but they did. In the end she decided there was no way to function except to assume she would stay at Bishop Stables.

And so that’s what she did.

But her appetite remained dull and her sleep was plagued with disturbing dreams. The night before she was to pick the girls up at the airport, she could feel Wes in bed beside her. The weight of his body on the mattress, the heat of his skin, the smell of his hair. The relief was incredible.
You’re home.
She reached out to touch his face but like magic he vanished and she opened her eyes to face a cold, empty bed.

Knowing it was not a habit to encourage, she couldn’t resist pulling Tuff up from her bed and placing her on the quilt near her feet. The puppy snuggled in happily. And she decided she didn’t give a hoot what the dog training books said.

The next morning she felt a buzz of happy anticipation. In six hours, she would see her girls. She couldn’t wait.

She hummed along to the radio as she did the morning chores. She caught Jake smiling a few times, too.

“What time do they get in?”

“Around noon. I booked their flights so they arrive about thirty minutes apart. Hopefully they’re both on time. I checked when I got up and so far everything’s on schedule.”

The drive to Missoula took a little over an hour. Mattie had showered and styled her hair. She was wearing a bulky sweater with skinny jeans and boots—fashionable ones, not the pair she used for work which Tuff had now all but destroyed. Hopefully the sweater would disguise her loss of weight. But some changes couldn’t be disguised. The sharper angle of her cheekbones. The lines around her eyes. The jutting of her clavicle.

Wren’s flight arrived first, and she came off the plane looking just like the girl who’d left three months ago. Skinny jeans, Ugg boots and a plaid shirt layered with a sweater, then a vest, and scarf wrapped haphazardly over it all.

“Mom. It’s so good to see you.”

Mattie hugged her tight, not able to say a word. Tears were flowing, she couldn’t seem to stop them. She clung to her daughter, thinking no hug had ever felt so good.

“Dad’s not here.” Wren’s voice was flat. Not a question. She had expected this.

Reluctantly Mattie eased her hold. “No. Not yet.”

Wren didn’t challenge that. Instead she suggested they get a coffee while they waited for Portia.

“Good idea.” As they stood in line at Montana Traders, Mattie kept stealing glances at her daughter’s face. She’d been wrong when she’d thought Wren hadn’t changed. There had been subtle shifts in her face and her posture, reflecting a young woman who was more confident and independent than she’d been a few months ago. The change could be heard in Wren’s voice when she placed their orders for lattes, and in the way she organized the lids and napkins, taking care of Mattie the way Mattie was used to doing for
her.

“Tell me more about the poli-sci class you love so much.” Once Portia arrived, there wouldn’t be time for serious topics, and besides, this might prevent Wren from asking awkward questions about Wes.

“It’s amazing to me how much Aristotle figured out. That was thousands of years ago! And yet we seem to have a lot of the same problems today as the Greeks did back then.”

“That’s a profound observation. I can see why you’ve impressed your prof.”

“Oh, Mom. I’ve really missed you. Talking on Skype just isn’t the same.”

Mattie’s shoulders tightened. Was Wren going to mention her father again? “No. It isn’t.”

“I wish we had more time to ourselves before Portia comes. It’s selfish of me. But she’d going to get off the plane looking like a fashion model and talking about all her friends and sorority parties... and make me feel like such a loser just because I went to college to study.”

Relief washed over her... along with a dose of motherly concern. If only her girls could learn to be happy with who they were and stop the comparisons. But how did she help them do that?

“Wren, figuring out who you are is one of the hardest things in life. But once you truly are comfortable with your own identity, you’ll find other people’s attitudes won’t bother you so much.”

“Are you saying you don’t have a problem with how obsessed Portia is about her looks? I mean—it’s vain, right?”

“There’s nothing wrong with dressing fashionably per se. The question is, why do you do it? Is it because you enjoy and appreciate nice clothing? Or is it because you feel you need to dress that way to make people like you, or to fit in? Being true to yourself doesn’t mean dressing in rags. At least, it doesn’t have to be.”

“Is that how you think I dress? In rags?”

“Honey, no! You look beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.”

And it was a good thing she got those words out when she did, because Portia was running toward them now, and she did look as put together as a fashion model in a skirt, tights and a short red wool coat. Taking a firm grip of one of Wren’s hands, Mattie abandoned her coffee and rushed forward to greet her second daughter, this time all three of them forming a nice, tight knot.

“It’s so good to see you guys.”

To Mattie’s relief, she didn’t ask about her father.

“I can’t wait to get home.”

“And see Tuff,” Wren added.

“Oh my God, I was so excited to see you guys I almost forgot we have a new puppy! Let’s get going!”

* * *

T
he puppy was a huge hit with the girls, but to Mattie’s surprise, once they’d settled in a bit and had a late lunch, they both wanted to go out riding.

“Seriously?” The last few years she could hardly get either of them on the back of a horse, unless it was for something major like the Double-D roundup.

“I’ve missed the horses more than I thought I would,” Wren confessed.

“Me, too,” Portia added.

Mattie couldn’t have chosen a better way to spend the afternoon with her daughters. The only dark spot was Wes’s continued absence. The girls didn’t mention him though, until later, after they’d had chili and cornbread for dinner and finished a movie about zombies that turned out to be more entertaining than Mattie expected.

“So when is Dad getting here?” Portia asked.

To Mattie the room seemed suddenly far too silent. “I was hoping he would be here by now... but it may not work out.”

“Oh well. It’s still good to be home in our very own house, with you... and Tuff.” Portia patted the puppy sleeping in her lap.

Wren said nothing, but Mattie could feel her gaze, and the worry that lay behind it.

Unfortunately there was nothing she could say to set Wren and Portia’s minds at ease. Whether or not Wes showed up for Thanksgiving, she was going to have to tell her daughters what was going on this weekend.

But until that moment, she’d do her best to keep cheerful and enjoy their company.

“Tomorrow I expect you girls to help me with the dinner,” Mattie said briskly, getting up from the armchair. “You need to start learning your way around the kitchen, and so, I’ve pulled out all our usual Thanksgiving recipes.” She grabbed the cards from the counter and fanned them in one hand. “Do you want to choose what you’re cooking? Or make a random pick?”

“Random will be more fun,” Portia said. “I’ll go first.” With Tuff still sleeping in her lap, she covered her eyes and held out a hand. Mattie moved closer putting the cards within reach. Portia’s hand hovered... then she selected one.

“Sweet potato casserole.” She studied the card a moment. “This doesn’t look like your handwriting.”

“It’s Grandma Carrigan’s.” Sadly, to her daughters, the name meant little. They only knew her mother from photographs and stories she’d told of her childhood.

She held out the remaining cards to Wren who closed her eyes, then plucked out another of Grandma Carrigan’s recipe card. “Cranberry coleslaw. Whew! I was afraid I would have to do the dressing and turkey.”

Mattie put the remaining cards back into her copper recipe box. “I’ve already made the pies, so with you girls helping out tomorrow, dinner will be a snap.

“Oh, that reminds me,” Portia slid off the sofa and went to wash the dog hair off her hands. “Nat Diamond called while you were in the shower. He wanted you to know he’s moving hay tomorrow morning and did you need any?”

With only twenty-two horses? “We don’t.”

“That’s what I thought. But then I asked him why he was working on Thanksgiving and he said it was just another day to him. So I invited him to dinner.”

Mattie froze for a second. Then smiled. “Good.”

But it wasn’t. If Wes did happen to show up tomorrow and found Nat at the table—he might not be too happy. Then again, that was his problem. She’d raised her girls to be hospitable and of course Portia was right. It wouldn’t do for Nat to be on his own at Thanksgiving. Not when he’d done so much for them over the years. And they’d certainly have enough food to go around.

Not to mention pie...

“Mom, Nat used to be married, didn’t he?” Wren was taking her turn with the puppy now, playing tug-of-war on the carpet by the fire. Tuff reveled in the extra attention, had barely napped since the girls arrived. The pup would surely sleep well tonight.

“Yes. Her name was Julia.”