23. Julius #2
She presses her face against my shirt. I rest my cheek against her hair, keeping my other hand where June can see it.
There is nowhere else I want to be. I don’t need Ramona to thank me or promise me a morning at the house. I want her to be able to stand here and cry without worrying that I’ll decide it means we’re fixed.
“I was so scared.” Her words catch against my chest.
“I know you were.” I move my palm slowly over her back.
She stays there until the vet asks for room to check June again. We step into the passage, and she keeps her hand tucked into my arm.
***
By the following dawn, we’ve spent another night beside June’s stall. A hand brings us fresh water and a packet of crackers. He tells us the vet is happy with June’s last check and that the hands have started on the gate to the small pasture.
Ramona closes her eyes briefly.
“Thank you for telling us.” She takes the water, then looks toward June’s stall. “I’ll come see it when the vet says she’s settled.”
“You can eat while you wait.” I open the crackers and hold them out.
She takes one, breaking it between her fingers before she manages a bite. I sit beside her while she eats, our shoulders touching.
“Thank you for getting him here.” She rests the half-empty packet in her lap. “And for asking me first.”
“I didn’t want to decide over your head.” I look toward the specialist reviewing his notes. “You know her.”
“You knew what I needed tonight.” She turns her face toward mine.
I want to kiss her. I wait instead, and she leans close enough to put her lips against my cheek.
My phone vibrates before she moves away.
I leave it in my pocket, but she sits back when another message arrives.
“Check it.” She takes the packet from my hand. “The vet may have sent the instructions.”
I pull out the phone and find an unfamiliar number.
Unknown number: You should have chosen someone who understood you.
I read it again, my thumb still against the side of the screen.
Ramona watches my face. Her hand leaves my arm, and that movement makes me turn the phone toward her before she has to ask twice.
“I don’t recognize the number.” I hold it between us. “But I think you need to read it.”
She leans closer, then takes the phone when I offer it.
“Do you think it’s Dakota?” She looks up after reading.
“I don’t know for sure.” I keep still while she reads it again. “I haven’t heard from her since she left.”
Ramona looks at me, then back at the screen. I wait while she checks the number, resisting the urge to explain why I almost put the phone away.
Another message appears before she hands it back.
Unknown number: She’ll never be enough for you. You know that.
Her fingers tighten around the case.
“Don’t delete it.” She holds the phone out, watching my face.
“I won’t.” I take it without closing the conversation. “You can keep it if you want.”
“I don’t want to keep your phone, Julius.” She draws her hands into her lap. “I want to know you’ll show me when this happens.”
I leave the screen visible between us.
“I’ll show you. Even when I’m afraid of what you’ll think.”
She nods slowly. Inside the stall, June shifts in the bedding, and Ramona turns immediately toward the sound.
The vet looks over the door.
“She’s resting.” She keeps her hand against the mare’s neck. “You can take a break. We’ll stay with her.”
Ramona gets up to look for herself. I remain on the bench while she speaks to the vet, then stand when she comes back.
“I need to wash my face.” She gathers her notebook against her chest. “And I need clean clothes.”
“I can walk you to the cottage.” I put the phone away only after she’s finished looking at it.
She watches me for a moment before reaching for my hand.
“I’d like you to stay for a while.” Her fingers close around mine. “I don’t want to be alone yet.”
I squeeze her hand.
“I’ll stay.” I take the notebook when she offers it and follow her toward the doors.
Outside, the yard is wet from the hoses. Ramona steps around a puddle, keeping her hand in mine while I look toward the truck parked beside the barn.
A black sedan waits farther up the drive, near the house.
I slow when I see the woman standing beside it. Dakota turns from the front door at the sound of our boots. Ramona stops, pulling our joined hands taut. Dakota starts toward us.
“Julius, I’ve been trying to reach you.” She carries her phone in one hand, her bag over the other shoulder.
Ramona’s fingers loosen, but I hold on until she looks at me.
“I didn’t ask her here.” I keep my voice low. “I didn’t know she was coming.”
Dakota stops when she sees our hands. Her eyes move over Ramona’s wrinkled clothes, then settle on the notebook tucked beneath my arm.
“I need to talk to you.” She takes another step. “Just the two of us.”
“We’re not having another private conversation.” I stay beside my wife. “How did you get onto the property?”
Dakota looks past us toward the barn. A hand has come outside carrying an empty bucket, and she waits until he moves away.
“I used the side gate.” She reaches into her bag and brings out a small remote. “You gave me this when I was staying here.”
Ramona lets go of my hand.
I look at the remote I never asked anybody to collect. Dakota presses it into her palm while I stand between my wife and the woman I told her was gone.
“I wanted to talk before you decided I was the one sending those messages.” Dakota lifts her eyes to mine.
Ramona turns toward me, then back to her.
“We haven’t told you about the messages.” She stays beside me, her voice steady. “How did you know what they said?”