A Forty Year Kiss

20

She awoke before dawn. The eastern horizon painted in pale pink and peach. She’d left her change of clothes and her toiletries in the truck before he showed her the horse the night before, so she dressed in the same clothes and quietly made her way through the house. The old dog followed her outside, relieving himself in the snow and then pressing against her hip as they walked together to the barn.

Good morning, sweet man, she said to Blueberry, happy for the dog’s company, scratching behind his ears. He stretched and yawned in satisfaction.

In the barn she found Shelby standing, waiting for her. She rubbed the creature’s muzzle for a long time, breathed in her scent, whispered sweet nothings to her. She refilled her water, fed her some oats, and then walked back out into the cold.

For a man who seemingly knew next to nothing about horses, Charlie had done his due diligence. There was a ten-acre pasture all properly fenced with a feeder and a cattle trough, both of which looked to be brand-new. The water of the trough gave off a ghostly cloud of steam, and as she approached it, she saw that he kept the water free of ice with two electric heaters, their long orange extension cords running through the snow.

Morning, he said from behind her. You’re up early.

He gave her a big hug from behind, held her close. The sun was rising now. The dog peered up at their faces.

What do you know about horses? she asked him.

Not much, he admitted. But there’s a neighbor girl who does. She comes over every day after school. Brushes her out. Mucks out her stall. The deal is that if she helps me for three months, she can stable her own horse out here. I’m told they’re social creatures.

She rested her head against his chest. The morning air felt sharp in her nose, in her lungs. I’ve got to get back, she said.

Do you?

I do.

But it’s so far. Couldn’t you stay? Just another day?

I know, I know. You must be tired of all this driving. But I do have to get back, I do. We’ll plan it better next time. Maybe a whole weekend.

Or a week? he suggested.

He drove her back to Chippewa Falls, idled the truck at the curb outside her house, and she waved to him before ducking into the house. Immediately she felt too warm. Checked the thermostat: seventy-five degrees. She sighed, irritably, she might have admitted, and turned the dial back to sixty-two.

In the living room, Melissa was watching cartoons with the girls.

Vivian poured herself a mug of coffee and sat at the kitchen table, staring out the window above the sink into the backyard at a bird feeder perennially empty of seed. By and by her daughter joined her. Took her hands in hers, broke her melancholy reverie.

You all right, Mom?

Oh, I’m fine. I’m fine.

You must be all right, Melissa said with a smile. You spent the night. Her comment had the quiet curiosity of a question. She ran her fingers over her mother’s hand gently, massaged the palms.

Hmm, that feels nice, she admitted.

So it was all right?

He bought me a horse.

Get out.

She shook her head slowly. I really couldn’t believe it either. Beautiful horse.

Well, where are you going to keep it? How are you going to feed it?

Oh, she sighed, I think he’s going to handle all that.

Mom, she said excitedly, really? But that’s great, isn’t it?

She nodded, stared into her coffee mug. I think he wants me to move out there. She looked up at Melissa. She was surprised to see that her daughter wasn’t offended or surprised.

Well, she asked, is that what you want?

I don’t know. This all just feels like it’s moving very fast. There’s a lot to consider. Jessie for one. I don’t know how I feel about living somewhere else. Feels like I’d be leaving her.

Mom, you wouldn’t be leaving her. You’d still visit her. I know you would. And she’s a woman. She has her own life. If you missed her that much, you could move back. Or ask her to move up there with you.

I don’t know. I haven’t even told Charlie about her yet.

Well, yeah, Mom. That’s overdue. Don’t you think?

Vivian didn’t respond. Took a nervous sip of her coffee.

Mom, I don’t get it. Are you happy?

Yes.

And you like him? You trust him?

She felt herself smiling, felt herself blushing.

Then…what do you want? Something different? Something worse? I wish I had someone in my life that was so nice to me.

But what about you and the girls?

Melissa pushed away from the table just a bit, glanced in the direction of the living room. I mean, we’d definitely miss you, she said, but—look, in a year, Ainsley will be in school full-time. Both girls are going to need us a lot less. I can find something for Addison. The truth is, we’ve been spoiled, having you. All your help. And it’s not like you’d be moving to Hawaii. You could come over whenever you want. Listen to me; I can’t expect you to make all your decisions based around us. That isn’t fair. If I’m being honest, I can’t believe you’ve helped this much.

Vivian swallowed, focused her eyes on the table, held the mug as if it were a wooden fence post, something solid. Now that the notion of leaving this house and her daughter had been established as a possibility, she was not even sure she could. Or wanted to. Because then what? Just Charlie. And his big house. How much of her life would be directed by his manic romantic energy, his money? What if all this blew out just the way it had somehow rekindled? Was she prepared for that disappointment? To move her things into his house only to move them back out again? And even if it did work, would his house ever feel like her house? Her place?

She stood somewhat abruptly from the table and walked to the sink. Held the edges of the stainless-steel sink and gazed at that sad little wintry backyard. A frayed wind sock swaying with the wind.

Mom? Melissa asked. Mom, you okay?

Yes, she replied, because she knew she should. That was the word she was supposed to say. But all she could think about was time. How much time had passed. In her life. And what time was ahead of her? How much easier was it not to change at all, to simply dwell in the comfortable little eddy time had carved away for her in this old river town? Or was there something to letting go? Letting go and drifting into the current, down and away from that eddy and into gliding waters she could not predict.