25. Julius #2
“Same thing.” She rides Pearl over until our knees touch. The feed store brothers are watching from the rail. Half the fair is watching from the rail.
I get down, pick her hat out of the dirt, and hold it up to her. She takes it. Then she leans out of the saddle and kisses me in front of all of them, one hand twisted in my shirt, long enough that somebody on the rail whistles.
“You were good.” She says it against my mouth. “You were so good, Julius.”
She puts her hat on crooked and rides out of the pen ahead of me. I stand there in the dirt with Cash’s reins in my hand and let her, because I want to watch her do it.
***
The new shelf goes up crooked because I’m watching Ramona kneel beside the lower cupboard.
She sits back on her heels and looks from one end of it to the other.
“That isn’t straight.” She points before I can pretend I’m finished.
“I was checking the screws.” I loosen the nearest one while she stands.
“You were checking my jeans.” She puts the level on the shelf, keeping her face turned toward the wall.
I laugh and hold the board while she adjusts it.
“I was trying to do both.” I wait until she tells me it’s right.
“You’re terrible at multitasking.” She takes her hand away so I can fasten it properly.
“Apparently, I need supervision.” I put down the drill and turn toward her.
She meets me halfway. Her palms settle against my shoulders while I keep my hand at her back. I kiss her until she draws away smiling, and I stop before asking for more.
My phone vibrates on the workbench.
She looks toward it, then returns her eyes to mine.
“You can check.” She steps aside to pick up her notes. “I need to mark where the next shelf goes.”
I wipe my hand on my jeans before taking the phone.
A message from Ben is waiting above another from a rider I know.
Ben: Julius, somebody’s put messages online. I think Ramona needs to know.
Rider: Is this real? Your name’s on all of it.
I open the link.
The first screenshot is the one sent to Ramona at her door. Under it are more images of conversations with my name attached. One shows a message I recognize about missing riding. Another shows words I don’t remember writing.
Julius: I can’t stop thinking about last night.
I move to the next image.
Julius: She doesn’t know. She can’t know.
Shit.
“Julius, what happened?” Ramona sets her notes down before I answer.
I turn the screen toward her.
“Somebody posted the messages.” I wait while she comes close enough to read. “There are more than the one they sent you.”
She takes the phone from my hand.
I stand beside her while she moves through the screenshots. Her free hand finds the workbench, and she stays there with her fingers spread against the wood.
“What happened that night?” She points to the message about last night without looking at me.
“I don’t know which night that is.” I lean close enough to read the cropped image. “There’s no date.”
“Then tell me whether you wrote it.” She turns toward me.
“I remember talking about nights at the barn.” I make myself hold her gaze. “I don’t remember writing that sentence. I’m not going to tell you it’s fake because I want it to be.”
Her eyes fill, but she looks back at the screen.
“What about this one?” She scrolls to the message about her not knowing.
“I don’t remember that either.” I feel sweat beneath my collar. “I hid the conversations. I won’t deny that. But I can’t tell you what came before those words when it isn’t here.”
She puts the phone on the workbench.
“You deleted the part that could have told me.” Her voice catches, and she presses her lips together before continuing. “Now I have to stand here trying to remember whether you came home differently.”
I take a step back.
“I know.” I look at the phone between us. “I’m sorry.”
She presses the heel of her hand to her face, then picks it up again. This time, she scrolls below the images, where the comments are already waiting.
@rodeogirl84: His wife was right there at the exhibition.
@stockcountry: She never wanted him riding anyway.
Ramona stops on the second one. Her thumb stays against the screen until it goes dark.
“They’re talking about me.” She looks up at me, her face wet now. “People who’ve never met me are deciding what I did to you.”
I want to promise I can make it disappear. I have people who could get the account’s owner an intimidating letter before the afternoon is over, and none of them can unread it for her.
“I’ll tell them what I did.” I don’t reach for her. “I won’t let that go unanswered again.”
“You’ll show me before you post it.” She picks up her notebook and closes it carefully. “You don’t get to explain my part without me.”
“I’ll show you.” I wait while she reaches for her own phone.
It vibrates before she opens it. She reads the message, then sits on the unfinished bench beside the wall.
“Dad’s seen it.” She turns the screen toward me.
Dad: Are you alone? I’m coming to get you.
I crouch far enough away that she doesn’t have to move.
“Do you want me to leave?” I ask while she keeps looking at her father’s message.
“I want you to stay while I read the rest.” She lifts her face. “I’m done finding out about my marriage while you’re somewhere else.”
I sit beside her without touching her.
She opens the link again. A new image has appeared beneath the others, and I know the photograph before she makes it larger. It’s my truck outside the program barn at night.
The caption beneath it reads: Ask him how long he stayed after the horse was fine.
Ramona lowers the phone onto her lap.
“You told me about this one.” She turns toward me slowly. “At least I didn’t have to read it first.”
I look at the woman who kissed me in this room an hour ago.
“He was eating when I arrived.” I say it again while she watches. “I stayed to talk to her.”
She puts her notebook between us on the bench.
“Then we start there.” She picks up the phone again. “Tell me which of these you actually wrote.”