Chapter 15 Claire
Claire woke from her nap to Jenny babbling happily in her crib and Red frying up a dinner of trout and potatoes.
She was still annoyed at Frannie, and how she’d made poor Jenny miserable, but she felt terrible about blowing up the way she did.
She’d wanted Bridget to see how happy she was here with Red.
Instead, her visit had been one disaster after another.
She hated to think what Bridget would report back to Dad.
When she came out of the bedroom with Jenny in her arms, she gave Frannie a side hug and told her she was sorry.
Frannie actually mumbled a return apology.
Red was quiet, but after the dishes were done he gave her a serious look. “Let’s take a walk to the river.”
Was he going to apologize for being such a bear to her sisters? Not that she blamed him when it came to Bridget. How could she have forgotten how snippy her sister could be?
Frannie sprawled on the couch where Jenny was propped with a rattle. “I’ll play with the little whippersnapper while you two lovebirds take a walk.”
Claire looked doubtfully at Frannie. She hadn’t proven herself terribly trustworthy with the baby. “I’ll just be down the trail if you need me.”
Red took Claire’s hand as they walked to the river.
The setting sun turned the water of the Madison to gold and silver.
On the far side of the river, a red-tailed hawk circled the grassy meadow, landing high on a dead branch like a star on a Christmas tree.
Claire felt a lifting of her spirits that had weighed her down since she got Bridget’s letter—or even before that, when she’d heard about Dell.
The beauty of the out-of-doors always did that for her.
She just had to remember to open her eyes and see it.
With Red’s rough, calloused hand in hers, she felt closer to him. Close enough to ask him about Dell, and what he was hiding from her. Then she could tell him again how sorry she was about Marigold.
They stopped at the edge of the river and Red turned to her. His eyes were shadowed and his forehead creased. “I got fired, Claire,” Red got out. “After the fight at the Otter.”
Her questions about Dell fled from her mind, but his words took a moment to sink in. The fight at the Otter had been days ago. Her mouth dried and she pulled her hand from his grip. He’d lied to her.
“I’m sorry.” His eyes darted to hers. “I just—I didn’t want you to worry.”
Claire crossed her arms over her chest as anxiety crept up her throat.
Red turned her toward him, his touch gentle. “Claire, I’ve got a job lined up already. It pays more than Wormsbecker’s place—a lot more.”
She should have been relieved, but his assurance did nothing to assuage her rioting feelings. It wasn’t about the money, or how they would pay the rent. How could he not know that? It was about trust and not keeping secrets.
“I’m going tomorrow,” Red said.
She didn’t understand his meaning. “Going where?”
“To Libby,” Red answered, his voice firm. “To work in the mine.”
Her pulse pounded in her ears as she looked at his earnest face. Where was Libby, and why was he telling her like he’d already decided?
“It’s up near the Canadian border,” Red rushed on at her confused expression. “The pay is twenty dollars a day. Bucky told me about it. In a month—maybe two—we can save up enough to get us through the winter.”
Claire shivered as the breeze from the river turned icy.
Her numb mind grasped only one thought. Red was leaving.
“No.” She worked her dry mouth as she struggled for words that could change his mind.
“We have the money I got for Marigold.” There was more than twenty dollars left in the cookie tin.
She could make it last. “You can find a job here.”
“I’ve looked,” Red retorted. “Nobody’s hiring. And winter is coming. You know how tough it is to get work here after the snow falls.”
Claire remembered last winter when money had been tight. After the November hunts, Wormsbecker had cut Red’s working days to only two a week. Even when Red started working full-time again, they had yet to catch up on the overdue bills.
None of that mattered because Claire couldn’t breathe.
“You’ve been alone before,” Red said, finally registering her panic. His brows came together and he squeezed her hands. “And you have Frannie to help.”
“Why are you doing this?” Claire asked, her voice rising. Was it because of Marigold? Was he still angry?
“Claire.” Red looked away. “I have to.”
He didn’t have to. Claire’s stomach pitted and her chest felt as if it were being squeezed by a giant fist. Even when Red put his arms around her and pulled her close, she felt no comfort in his warmth.
Red walked with her back to the house as if it was all decided.
Claire put Jenny to bed and made up the couch for Frannie, her mind whirling. In their bedroom, Red shoved clothing in his pack as she tried one more time to change his mind. “Red,” she said, “please don’t go.”
Red didn’t turn around. “Bucky will help with Rosie and Bess, and anything else you need.”
His mind was made up, and Claire couldn’t change it. A cold hopelessness rose like a flood, chilling her to the bone. Claire got into bed and when Red joined her and reached for her, she pulled away.
“Frannie is just outside.” She felt the hurt and disappointment in his silence, but she turned her back to him so he couldn’t see the tears on her face.
Before the sun was even up, Claire held sleeping Jenny in her arms as Red drove to the Depot and parked. The bus that would take Red three hundred miles north idled on the curb.
They’d been in this same spot almost two years earlier.
That time, Claire had been the one leaving, after her summer as a savage at Old Faithful.
She’d made no promises to Red that day. In fact, she’d been determined never to see him again.
Red Wilder was nothing more than a summer romance, one she’d look upon fondly once the pain of separation faded.
Claire was going home to her family and students at Tara School.
Red’s Montana-sky eyes were filled with anguish. “Please don’t go,” he’d said.
Now, Claire said those same words to him, a painful pressure just above her collarbone making every word difficult to get out.
“I have to,” he answered.
Claire closed her eyes and tried to pray. Please, Lord, change his mind. But in the dark with the stink of diesel fuel in the air and the gray light, it didn’t feel like the Lord heard her.
The bus driver honked a warning.
Red got out of the truck and grabbed his pack from the back. Claire followed with Jenny, holding her close.
“Take good care of her.” Red kissed the top of Jenny’s head, his expression determined. It felt to Claire that he was already miles away. Red bent to kiss her goodbye but just like last night, she turned away. She couldn’t accept his kiss when everything inside her was crumbling.
“Go,” she said, dredging up words from a place that was raw and painful. “We don’t need you.” Even as the words left her lips she knew they were cruel and untrue. She saw the flash of pain on his face and wanted to take the words back, but something—a deep hurt she couldn’t name—wouldn’t let her.
The bus blared a final warning.
Claire didn’t watch Red walk away. She held Jenny close and squeezed her eyes shut. If Red looked back before he stepped on the bus she didn’t see it.