Chapter Thirty-Two
The chime of my doorbell made me jump, startling my finger into prematurely pressing the send button on the finished article to Donna and a carbon copy to Stetson.
“Well, shit,” I mumbled.
I hadn’t wanted to press send yet because that meant I would no longer have an excuse to text him randomly anymore. If the article was done, I was afraid we were too.
The doorbell rang again.
“Coming,” I yelled.
My assumption was that Maggie was standing on the other side of my door.
It had been a couple of weeks since I last saw Stetson at the farm—not that I was counting or anything—and communication had been limited to the occasional text regarding my article for the Tribune and his album.
Not a single word was mentioned regarding adoption, the article about me, or us.
And that was the hardest part of it all—the assumption that the us that had begun to blossom wasn’t an us anymore.
Maggie would never say it, but I knew she was worried about me.
“I’m fine,” I said, swinging open the door.
But it wasn’t Maggie.
“Mom?” I questioned, half crying and half laughing.
The emotions that had been festering inside of me over the last couple of weeks reached their limit, maxing out at full capacity. Tears barreled down my face.
“Oh, sweetie.” She dropped her bags and pulled me into a hug. “By the looks of it, I’m not sure fine is the word I would use to describe your current state.”
“You two weren’t supposed to be here until next week,” I said, pulling back from her grasp and dabbing away my tears.
Dad chimed in, “Yeah, well, sometimes plans change.”
They both shuffled inside.
“I’m so glad you both are here.”
“How are you doing? And I don’t want some bullshit answer, I want the truth,” Dad demanded.
“I’ve been better, but I’ve also been worse,” I admitted, snuggling into the blanket I’d been living in on the couch for far longer than I’d like to admit. “The negative press has lingered, but I think it’s finally starting to fade out.”
“Those sorts of things never last. People get bored and move on to the next piece of gossip that’s put out there,” Mom insisted.
“Thanks, Mom,” I said weakly, acknowledging her attempt to dwindle the situation.
“And what about Stetson? Have you two talked?” she asked, clearly having no issue getting right to the point, because I knew my mom and I knew she was dying to know.
“We’ve talked. Briefly. Only about my article and his new album. I actually finished my piece about him and sent it off just as you two showed up.”
Her eyes told me she wanted to ask more, but her mouth never did.
“How do you feel about how the article turned out?” Dad questioned.
“Actually, I think it’s the best thing I’ve ever written.
If anything, after everything is said and done, at least I poured my heart and soul into my words and let them speak for themselves.
I’m proud to be able to showcase who Stetson Walker is and why I think the world owes it to him to give him another chance. ”
“I can’t wait to read it. We’re so proud of you,” Mom said.
“We really couldn’t be prouder,” Dad added. “Now, why don’t you go put on some clothes other than the ones that you’ve been wearing for god knows how long and we’ll grab a bite to eat to celebrate. Say, The Wheel?”
“That sounds perfect. I didn’t have breakfast, I’m starving,” I said, trudging out of my blanket and into my bedroom.
After lunch, Dad started begging me to take him to Rolling Meadows for a quick ride.
“Scarlett, please. It’s been far too long since I had my ass in a saddle and felt the wind in my hair and the sun on my face.”
“You’re so dramatic.”
“I’m serious,” he pressed. “Florida is great, and pickleball really is as fun as they say, but sometimes your old man just needs to feel his country roots.”
I knew he wasn’t giving up until I gave in.
“Mom?” I shot a glance at her through the rearview mirror. Her only answer was a twisted smirk and a shrug of her shoulders. “Fine,” I agreed. “But I should probably let George know.”
“Since when do you tell George when you’re coming over for a ride?” Dad questioned.
I don’t.
It wasn’t George I was worried about.
“Yeah, you’re right.” I pretended to be unbothered as my thoughts invaded my head. “He’ll be so surprised to see you both.”
And he would be. I just hoped he’d be the only one who was surprised.
Dad rolled down the window of my Jeep. “Damn, I’ve missed this smell.”
The gravel under the tires signaled we weren’t far.
“Well, I’ll be damned.” We rolled to a stop, and I knew what Dad had spotted. “Never STOP trusting who you are,” he said, his voice wrangled with suggestion. “Ain’t that some words of wisdom we all need to live by. Someone really intellectual must’ve written that.”
“Oh yeah, black Sharpie on a beat-up old Stop sign really screams intellect,” I joked.
“Don’t underestimate a few words scribbled on some old metal. Those tend to outlive any fancy art you could buy,” he said, the tone of his voice more serious than before.
Although, he wasn’t wrong.
I tucked those words into a distant part of my brain as my eyes stuck to the property line like glue, patiently awaiting the barn to come into view. There it was, finally. And there was that souped-up black truck I’d become so familiar with.
“Dammit,” I muttered under my breath.
“Huh?” Dad asked.
“Oh. Nothing. I was just talking to myself,” I lied, my gaze catching Mom’s in the mirror and seeing her inquiring eyes.
I shifted the Jeep into park and the thundering pound of my heart made me sure it was going to beat right out of my chest.
Thankfully, the stables were opposite the recording studio so I could only hope Stetson was busy enough finishing his album to ignore us out here.
“Dad, can you go grab the saddles and stuff from the tack room? Mom and I will get the blankets and then get the horses situated.”
“Of course.”
“Are you good, sweetheart?” Mom asked.
“Yeah. Of course. Just really glad you two are here,” I said, which wasn’t a lie.
“Okay, I’m just a little worried about you.”
“I know, Mom, but I’ll be fine. I always am,” I offered as we took the corner, spotting the stalls. “What the hell?” I questioned.
The stables were empty, except for Winnie who was clearly trying to get our attention. Her long black and white head rested outside of her stable as she threw a few impatient snorts our way.
“I hear ya, girl. Where is everyone else?” I asked, rubbing the back of my hand onto her velvet fur.
“Scarlett! Out here!” Dad yelled.
Coming up over the hill was Cheyenne and Valhalla, and perched on their backs were George and… Stetson.
Mom made her way toward them and I lagged behind, crossing my arms over my chest, needing the weight to balance out the uncertainty in my feet.
“George!” Mom yelled.
“Kate and Kirk! What are you two doing here?” George slid off Cheyenne, meeting my parents in the middle.
I wondered why Stetson was on Valhalla considering he’d ridden Cheyenne ever since he’d gotten to Rolling Meadows.
“We just came to see Scarlett. After our flight got cancelled over Christmas, we rescheduled for the spring. We just grabbed lunch at The Wheel and then I begged Scar to bring me to Rolling Meadows because I’ve been craving a ride.”
I jailed my eyes, forcing them to look at the three of them conversing in front of me. My brain begged me to set them free, but I couldn’t, I wouldn’t.
“I’m gonna go get Winnie saddled up for Mom since these two are already ready to go,” I offered.
“Sounds good.” Dad half-assed toward me, clearly too engulfed in whatever conversation was happening between the three of them.
No one seemed to realize how thick the air had become between Stetson and me, but I was practically suffocating. The fact that just a couple of weeks ago he was a part of my life in more ways than one and now it was like we were practically strangers made the sinking feeling in my belly gape open.
“Hi, how rude of me. I’m Kate Carson.”
“Nice to meet you, ma’am. I’m Stetson Walker.”
I moved as fast as I could to get myself out of earshot of their conversation.
“Hi, girl. Wanna go for ride?” I asked, before sliding the door of her stable open, throwing the blanket over her back, and securing the bridle.
My body snuggled into hers, and a low nicker sound left her muzzle. I wished she and I could’ve stayed like that forever.
I closed my eyes, trying to calm the racing thoughts inside my brain, when I felt the presence of someone standing right behind me. I could only stand frozen like a statue.
“Are we ever gonna talk about what happened?” The vulnerability in my words shocked me.
His fingertips dragged across the back of my hand that was resting in the soft space between Winnie’s eyes. The graze forced my body to shudder. Stetson stepped to the opposite side of her body, and for the first time in weeks, my eyes met his.
The once baby blues were now more of a navy, colored with what felt like nothing but sadness.
For what? I wasn’t sure, but I couldn’t look away. Or rather, I didn’t want to.
His chest rose as he opened his mouth, but just as he was about to speak, we were interrupted.
“Scarlett! Are you ready?” Mom’s voice piped in from just outside the stable. “Your dad just can’t seem to hold his horses.” She laughed, presumably at her own joke, but her laugh ceased when she peered into the stable. “Oh. So sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“You weren’t. And yeah, I’m ready, I just need to get the saddle from Dad.”
“Okay. Are you sure?” she asked.
“Uh-huh,” I replied, ushering Winnie out.
She led me, her four hooves walking out of the stable. Just as I stepped one foot out, Stetson grabbed my other hand. Our eyes met again, and this time I had to look away because if I didn’t, I never would.
The truth was, even if we were going to talk, this wasn’t the time or place.
I pulled my hand from his and made my way out of the barn.
A rogue tear threatened my composure, so I quickly swiped it away. “Ready?” I asked, doing everything I could to smile.
“Your dad ended up going ahead. I guess he just couldn’t wait.” She smiled. “Imagine that.”
“No surprise there.” I handed Winnie over and took Valhalla from her hands. Valhalla was basically my horse and everyone knew it, including Valhalla himself. I threw my leg over and pulled myself into the saddle. “Let’s do this.”
“Right behind ya,” Mom replied.
We rode in silence for a while before coming to the top of a hill that overlooked the mountains.
“I forget how beautiful this place really is,” Mom said.
“It will never not be perfect,” I admired.
“Did you and Stetson have a chance to talk at all?” Mom was like me—very aware of others and their emotions. My forced smiles and short answers had never fooled her, so I wasn’t sure why I thought they would today.
“No. But that’s okay.” I sighed. “I don’t even know if there’s anything to talk about.”
“What do you mean? Of course there is.” Her voice demanded my attention.
“That article didn’t tell him anything about who you are, or why you made the decision you did, or even how you made the decision.
The article simply told him that you put a child up for adoption.
Everything else was just words used to try to feed a narrative. ”
Feed a narrative.
That was the same thing Stetson had said regarding the articles written about him.
“But what if that was all he needed to know?” I questioned. “What if he doesn’t care about any of the other parts?”
That was my fear—that my decision to put a child up for adoption was something he’d never be able to understand.
“Shouldn’t you let him be the judge of that?
” she asked. “If I’m being honest, I think maybe this whole thing has dredged up some unresolved emotions for you.
And unfortunately, when things in life get hard or messy, you tend to turn and run, which is no fault of your own.
I take full responsibility for that.” She offered a smile.
I pursed my lips together, attempting to return her smile. “I just wish I could’ve been the one to tell him, ya know? At least then it would’ve come straight from me and I would’ve had the chance to tell him the entire story instead of him getting bits and pieces of the truth,” I said.
“Well then why don’t you just go tell him your story? The real story,” Mom wondered. “The one you and I both know. The one you’ve carried with you every day since you made the decision thirteen years ago.”
“What’s the point?” I said, throwing my hands in the air. “He’s already heard the story once and now he’s had time to sit with it. The truth is, he’s probably already made an opinion about the situation. Why would he want to hear it again?”
“First off, you just said yourself that the story he read and what really happened are two very different things. Secondly, don’t you think he at least deserves a chance to tell you his thoughts about the situation instead of you just assuming you know what those thoughts are?
You and I both know assuming never leads anywhere good. ”
Her words fluttered through the air between us, hanging around like a couple of birds floating in the wind.
“I guess,” I responded. “I’m just not convinced he wants to hear anything from me.”
Mom’s silence wasn’t normal. I shifted my weight on Valhalla and moved my head in her direction, searching for a response. Her response might not have been in the form of words, but her expression said everything I needed to know.
“Were we in the same stable about twenty minutes ago?” The sarcasm in her voice could’ve been heard for miles.
“Because based on the amount of tension that littered that stable, I don’t think that could be further from the truth,” she said.
“Not to mention the agony in his eyes could’ve drowned all three of us. ”
“Mom,” I objected with raised eyebrows. “There was no tension. You’re being dramatic.”
I thought back to the few minutes we had in the stable together, and maybe she was right. Maybe that was what I felt between the two of us, or maybe we were both just too uncomfortable to know what to say or do.
“Maybe a little, but I want you to promise me you’ll at least think about giving him a chance to hear the whole story. Your story,” she pleaded with what I could tell was genuine concern.
“I’ll think about it,” I said. “I promise.”