Chapter Eighteen
Eighteen
W illow was awakened the next day to Charly and Aubrey jumping on her bed with a plan . Which led her to exiting the car after a thirty-minute drive, her breath frosted in the crisp air. Charly and Aubrey flanked her, their smiles bright under the farm’s twinkling Christmas lights. The trio approached the barn, a rustic haven transformed into a cozy retreat for this morning’s unconventional festivity: Christmas goat yoga.
“Isn’t this exciting?” Aubrey beamed.
Charly nodded. “It’s going to be so much fun, and these goats are supposed to be total stress relievers,” she chimed, a soothing lilt to her voice that often calmed Willow’s stormiest days.
The scent of pine and a hint of lavender greeted them as they entered, the space alive with the low hum of conversation and the occasional bleat of a goat. Overhead heaters radiated warmth, inviting them deeper into the heart of the barn where mats were laid out in neat rows. Soft Christmas music melded with the sound of laughter, creating an atmosphere that was at once festive and serene.
“This place is legit adorable,” Willow said, her gaze sweeping over the space. Twinkling lights adorned the wooden beams above, and the air was subtly infused with essential oils that promised relaxation. Yet, despite the allure, Willow felt an undercurrent of apprehension, a tightness in her chest that had little to do with the playful antics of the goats milling about.
As Charly and Aubrey chatted with a few regulars from The Naked Moose, Willow took a deep breath, trying to let the peaceful ambience seep into her bones. She settled onto a mat, catching sight of a couple laughing softly together as a kid goat nibbled at the edge of their mat. Eli’s face flashed in her mind—the curve of his smile, the depth of his eyes—and Willow’s heart squeezed painfully—confusingly.
“Hey, you okay?” Aubrey’s voice broken through her thoughts, as she dropped down onto the mat next to her.
“Y-yeah, just...taking it all in,” Willow managed, forcing a smile that didn’t feel honest.
“Remember to breathe,” Charly added gently, taking the mat on the other side of Willow. “This is about healing, about being present. Let the rest fade away, even if just for this morning.”
Nodding, Willow exhaled slowly, trying to silence her mind.
The yoga instructor’s serene voice soon flowed through the space, a soothing balm against the backdrop of twinkling Christmas lights strung around the barn. “Let’s transition into Child’s Pose,” she coaxed, and the group followed her lead, their movements a harmonious dance of limbs and breath.
“Remember,” she continued, her tone infused with warmth, “each pose is a conversation between mind, body and spirit. Listen to what they’re telling you.”
Willow eased onto her feet, pressing the palms of her hands against the soft mat as she surrendered to the stretch. She felt her heartbeat slow, her muscles relax, and for a fleeting moment, the world outside the gentle stretches ceased to exist.
“Willow, your goat is doing the Downward Dog better than you,” Aubrey quipped, breaking the silence with her infectious laughter.
Startled out of the relaxation, Willow lifted her head to see a small goat mimicking her pose with an almost comical seriousness. The sight was so absurd, so unexpected, that Willow couldn’t help but join in the laughter.
“Looks like you’ve got yourself a yoga buddy,” Charly chimed in, amusement lighting up her eyes as she smoothly transitioned into the next pose.
Willow chuckled, feeling the tiny hooves as the goat jumped onto her back. “Does that mean I’m done for the day?” she asked with a smirk. The small creature bleated in response, content to remain perched on its newfound human platform.
“Let’s move into Warrior II,” the instructor directed, her voice rhythmic and soothing like a gentle stream.
Feeling the peace of the stretches, Willow rose, the goat hopping off with graceful agility. She spread her legs wide, arms extended, feeling the strength and resilience of her own body.
Charly and Aubrey mirrored her stance, their breaths synchronized in the collective effort. But the goats, emboldened by the open energy, saw an opportunity for play. One particularly spirited kid bounded toward Charly, nudging her leg with its soft head, causing her to wobble and let out a surprised yelp, which only encouraged the animal further.
“Hey, no fair!” Charly laughed, trying to maintain her pose as the goat enthusiastically headbutted her thigh again, looking for attention.
Aubrey was faring no better; a pair of twin goats had taken an interest in her feet, nibbling on them as if convinced they were hay. “Ouch, okay, that’s my toes, not a snack,” she scolded them playfully, her laughter mingling with the soft jingles of Christmas music.
“All right, everyone, let’s acknowledge our furry little helpers and find our way to a seated position,” the instructor suggested, her voice laced with laughter as she observed the chaos unfolding around her.
As they settled onto their mats, cross-legged and still chuckling, the goats meandered between them, seeking out scratches and affection. Willow reached out to stroke one that approached, its coat warm under her fingers. In that moment, surrounded by friends and the innocent antics of the goats, Willow felt a surge of gratitude. Here, in this space of lightheartedness and connection, she could momentarily shed her armor of all the thoughts clogging up her mind.
“Deep inhale,” the yoga instructor instructed. “And exhale all that does not serve you.”
Willow closed her eyes, breathed out slowly, and allowed herself to just be—one with her breath, her friends and the playful spirits of the goats.
The class came to a gentle end. The playful goats were back, nuzzling against their hands, looking for treats.
“Anyone up for some hot apple cider?” Aubrey suggested, her voice bubbling with enthusiasm.
“Definitely,” Charly agreed, taking the lead toward the small counter where steaming mugs awaited.
Willow followed, the spicy aroma of cinnamon mingling with the earthy scent of hay. They each took a mug.
“To friendship,” Aubrey toasted, raising her mug.
“And to Christmas goats,” Charly added with a giggle, clinking her mug against the others.
“And to being here, together,” Willow concluded, finding truth in her own words. She took a long sip and set her mug down, watching as a mischievous goat, adorned with a tiny Santa hat, nudged Aubrey’s side, seeking attention.
“Okay, spill,” Charly said, her tone soft but insistent. “You’ve been miles away all morning. What’s going on in that head of yours?”
The question hung in the air, mingling with the soft strums of “Silent Night” playing in the background. Willow hesitated. “I’m still just trying to get my thoughts together.”
“That’s okay. Take your time. You don’t need to rush any of this,” Aubrey said gently. “We’ve got you, okay? No matter what happens.”
“Exactly,” Charly chimed in, offering a supportive squeeze to Willow’s shoulder. “You’re not in this alone, and you never will be.”
The words seemed to wrap around Willow like a warm blanket, their truth sinking into her skin. “I know I can be...a lot,” she whispered, feeling the vulnerability sliding through her veins.
“Everyone’s ‘a lot’ in their own way,” Aubrey said with a chuckle that held no judgement, only affection. “And we love every bit of your ‘a lot,’ Wills.”
“Besides,” Charly added with a knowing smile, “being ‘a lot’ means you have that much more to offer. Your heart is huge, which can sometimes be emotional, and that’s not something to ever apologize for. It’s the most wonderful thing about you.”
Willow looked from one friend to the other, their faces alight with earnestness and care. A small laugh bubbled up inside her chest, surprising her with its lightness. “I love you both so much.”
“We love you too,” Charly said.
“Always will,” Aubrey agreed.
Willow leaned into their warm embrace as they threw their arms around her, until a goat began nibbling on her ankle.
She glanced down and told it, “I’m not food.”
It kept on nibbling.
Aubrey laughed. “I think it disagrees with you.”
Out in front of his house, Eli stood at his table saw. With every deliberate movement, he sent sawdust spiraling into the frosty air, the rhythmic hum of the sander pulsating against the raw wood. It was a desperate attempt to silence the chaos in his mind. His hands knew their task, rough and steady as they glided over the planks, but his thoughts were elsewhere—entangled in a mess in his mind, lost in thoughts of Willow.
He wasn’t sure what he was building. A bench? A table? A chair? It didn’t matter. He needed to keep his hands moving, to somehow carve out a new purpose from the cedar beneath his fingers because nothing made sense anymore.
A sudden crunch of gravel broke through the monotony of his task, snagging his attention. Eli’s hand stilled, the persistent drone of the sander falling silent as he straightened up, eyes narrowing with curiosity.
The old truck that came into view was familiar. It rumbled toward him, kicking up a cloud of dust in its wake, the sound growing louder as it approached. Eli wiped his hands on his jeans, the fabric stained with oil and sawdust.
He watched, rooted to the spot, as the vehicle rolled to a stop and the engine cut off. A brief silence fell, one that seemed to hold its breath, before the door creaked open. Eli’s gaze followed the figure emerging from the truck.
Clay’s boots crunched over the gravel as he ambled toward the house. “Hey, Eli,” Clay called out, his voice raspy like gravel tumbling in a tin can. “Got a minute?”
Eli turned off the sander, its whirring protest ceasing abruptly as sawdust settled onto the snow-covered ground. “Hey,” Eli acknowledged, with a nod. “How ’bout we crack open a cold one?” Clay always loved his beer.
“Thought you’d never ask.” Clay chuckled.
Clay followed Eli up the porch steps, and Eli retrieved a couple of beers from the fridge, quickly returning outside. With a flick of his wrist, Eli popped the caps off, the sound crisp and satisfying.
Clay took a long pull from the bottle before he said, “Remember that summer in Stone Creek? The whole circuit thought you were gonna be the next big thing.”
“Feels like another lifetime,” Eli replied. He took a swig, the bitter tang of hops lingering on his tongue.
“Sure does.” Clay took a seat, the wood of the chair creaking under his weight. “But you rode like hellfire.”
“I did, didn’t I?” Eli mused softly, leaning against the post.
“Every damn time.” Clay nodded, his gaze fixed on Eli. After a pause, he asked, “You ever think about getting back in the saddle? Back to the rodeo?”
Eli felt the question like a jolt, his heart thudding against his chest. There was a part of him, wild and untamed, that hungered for the roar of the crowd, the adrenaline surge of eight perilous seconds atop a beast made of muscle and fury. But there was another part, scarred and tender, that wouldn’t leave Timber Falls again.
“I’m not interested in anything that takes me out of Timber Falls again,” he admitted.
“I get that.” Clay’s words were simple, but they held a depth of understanding. He took another long gulp of his beer. Then he shifted in his seat, clearing his throat. “Ya know, Eli,” he began, “I’ve been doing some thinking about my own sunset years.”
Eli arched an eyebrow, a silent invitation for Clay to continue.
“I reckon I’m ready to hang up my spurs for good. The wife wants to travel.” Clay’s gaze was steady, almost piercing, as he studied Eli’s reaction.
Eli felt a surge of respect for the man before him, knowing full well the courage it took to step away from the life that had defined you. But it was the next words out of Clay’s mouth that truly caught him off guard.
“I’ve been pondering over who could take the reins of teaching the young bull riders coming up. You ever thought about passing on your knowledge, Eli? Teaching bull riding at my ranch?”
Surprise jolted through Eli, sizzling down his spine and igniting something deep within him—a spark of possibility. He searched Clay’s face, seeking any sign he was pulling his leg, but found none.
“Teaching, huh?” The idea rolled around in his mind.
“Yeah,” Clay said, nodding slowly. “You’ve got a gift. And it ain’t just staying on a bull. It’s understanding them, reading them. Kids could learn a lot from you.”
Eli let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding, feeling the weight of the decision already bearing down on him. “Appreciate the offer, Clay,” Eli finally said, his voice gruff with emotion. “Means a lot, really. I’ve never considered myself much of a teacher, but...” He trailed off, unsure of how to articulate the thoughts and feelings swirling inside him.
“Take your time. No pressure.” Clay’s eyes twinkled with a mix of mischief and wisdom. “Just think it over and get back to me when you’ve decided.”
“Thank you,” Eli said, tipping his bottle in a salute. “I will.”
Clay polished off his beer in three big gulps and belched, like he always did. He handed Eli the empty bottle and the corners of Clay’s mouth twitched upward. “There’s honor in shaping the future. Not just in living your own past.”
Eli nodded, the truth of Clay’s words seeping into him.
“Think on it.” Clay waved, heading for his truck, like he hadn’t just dropped a bomb on him.
It was a big decision, but then again, so was every ride he’d ever taken. And this one was tempting...