Chapter 7 #2
“My grandfather was an important man. A proud man. He cared about this community. Where he came from. What legacy he wanted to leave behind. If you asked him why he decided to go into politics, he would say it was because he wanted to contribute something back to a place that had given him so much. That when he left Landry for college is when he truly appreciated all that it had given him. I thought it was just a soundbite one of his aides came up with during his first campaign.”
Polite laughter ripples through the crowd.
“But once we moved here, I understood what he meant.”
I frown at that, but everyone else looks enchanted.
“My grandfather did a lot of incredible things,” Caleb continues.
“For this country. For this state. For this town. But no matter what happened with his career, what he loved most was the land we’re standing on now.
He was never happier than when he was sitting in his study or watching one of his horses win the Landry Cup.
Those moment are always how I’ll remember him.
How he would have wanted to be remembered.
Thank you all for coming. I know it would have meant a lot to my grandfather. ”
Caleb steps away from the lectern, and the minister’s voice replaces his.
“That concludes the service. The Winters family would like to invite you all to remain for some light refreshments. There will also be guest books circulated for any messages you’d like to convey or memories you’d like to share.
” The service ends, my view of the lectern obscured as attendees rise from their seats to mill about.
“Did you know Caleb was giving a speech?” Cassie whispers to me.
“No, I had no idea.”
“Weird his parents didn’t speak, no?”
“I guess.” Truthfully, I know nothing substantial about Caleb’s family. Whether he’s close to either of his parents.
Cassie’s no longer paying attention, busy scanning the crowd instead. “I see Shannon and Eliza.” She waves. “Let’s go say hi.”
“I’ll come find you guys in a few minutes. I’m just going to grab a drink,” I tell her before weaving through the crowd over to where the refreshments are spread out.
I fill a glass with lemonade and head toward the periphery of the nearest field.
There’s a gray filly grazing only a few feet away from the fence.
I lean against the closest post to study her.
I hold my hand out, but the filly doesn’t venture over.
She trots to a fresh patch of grass, tossing her mane haughtily.
“Is the whole town obsessed with horses?” I turn to see Josh walking over toward me. “No one here seems to want to talk about anything else.”
“Pretty much.”
“They are nice to look at,” Josh states. “Is this one old? He’s all gray.”
I laugh. “You don’t know much about horses, huh?”
“Nothing.” He grins.
“I’d guess she’s about two,” I inform him. “Wrong on both counts.”
“Tell me something else,” Josh says.
“What do you want to know?” I ask.
“You came.” A new voice joins our conversation.
I look to the right, and Caleb is standing there, hands tucked into the pockets of his slacks.
“Yeah.” My voice comes out too quiet, so I clear my throat. “I’m really sorry, Caleb. About your grandfather.”
“Thanks.” That’s all he says in response.
A heavy pause stretches between us, exacerbated by the sound of dozens of conversations happening around us. Moist mist swirls, coating my skin and infusing some texture into my ordinarily straight hair in what I hope is a flattering way but probably is not.
Josh senses the awkward tension, taking a few steps away. “I’m going to grab some food,” he states, before disappearing into the crowd.
Neither Caleb nor I say anything once he’s gone.
I can’t think of anything to say besides bringing up how our last conversation was not exactly a cordial one.
He takes a couple steps closer. “I’m sorry—”
“It’s fine,” I interject, cutting off his apology.
“I would have called to say I wasn’t coming, but I don’t have your number.”
I figured—understandably—that Caleb had totally forgotten he was supposed to meet me Wednesday morning. The knowledge he didn’t isn’t entirely welcome, causing an uncomfortable twinge in the center of my chest.
“Your speech was nice.” Caleb scoffs. I think it’s in response to my words, so I feel obligated to explain them. “I judged what people said to me after my parents died. But it wasn’t because I knew what they should say instead. I still don’t, obviously.”
“He was a dick.” The words are so quiet, I barely hear them.
“What?”
“My grandfather. He was a dick.”
“Oh.” I look away, back at the gray horse. I know I should follow that solitary syllable with more, but I’m too busy processing the curveball Caleb just threw at me. Why didn’t he just say thanks?
His honesty draws a little of my own out. “At least you tried,” I offer. “I didn’t—couldn’t—say anything about my dad. I just tossed some dirt. And that was that. I didn’t say anything. True or made up.”
I feel Caleb’s eyes on my face, so I keep mine fixed on the gray horse moving steadily away from us. “What about your mom?” he asks.
A long exhale of air rushes out of my mouth as I run a finger along the top of the rail. The white paint is flawless. There’s not even a small chip. “I read a poem. I was too young to come up with anything else, and it—losing her was different. She didn’t choose to go, you know?”
“Yeah,” Caleb says softly. “I know.”
And then he reaches out and rests his hand on top of mine. An electric jolt travels up my arm and shocks my entire system. It’s the accidental brush of our fingers amplified times a thousand. Because this isn’t accidental. It’s purposeful.
Heat spreads throughout my entire body, making my lungs tighten and my heart pound erratically.
“I should, uh, I told Cassie I’d be right back.” I pull my hand away, gnawing on my bottom lip.
Caleb nods, his face impassive. “Okay.”
“I’ll see you?”
“Yeah,” he replies. “You’ll see me.”
“Okay.” I feel off-kilter and confused. Unsure. It shouldn’t be this difficult to have a conversation with Caleb Winters.
I turn and head back into the throng of people in search of Cassie.
Leaving him standing there.