35. Straight into the Twilight Zone
STRAIGHT INTO THE TWILIGHT ZONE
EMBERLEIGH
I’m so over crying.
I’m so over being this fish out of water.
I’m so over the last couple of months.
I jog quietly to the large oak tree that is a focal point on the ranch. I slide onto the ground behind it as the tears run down my cheeks.
That foal has his mom. Colt doesn’t.
Colt has two families. Emerson doesn’t.
He has a home. I don’t know anymore where I even belong.
I’m not trying to pull the “Oh, woe is me” thing.
That’s not it. I want everything for Colt.
I want him to have it all. And if he can’t have Emerson, I’m beginning to see why she wanted him to have Braxton.
He can be an ass, sure. But this family is just that—a family.
They love each other, praise each other, and support each other.
I bet Brighton has never gotten a lecture from Kimpton about being more proper, or thinner, or whether her hair should have a treatment to tame it.
I bet he doesn’t notice her nails and is simply proud of her because he loves her, not because of some performative measure.
That brings more tears to my eyes.
Seriously, I’m over my own tears. This grief that lives inside me is eating me alive. My worries for Colt, for my presence in his life… it’s cancerous.
How in the world do I move on? I don’t want to move on. I want to back up to three months ago and live in that reality, because this one is killing me.
I wipe my eyes and lift my head, staring out as the sky lightens and the day comes to life. Another day. Another day with Colt.
Two deep breaths later, I hear the crunch of boots on the rocky terrain behind me.
Kimpton moves around the tree, holding Colt. To my surprise, he slides down near me onto the ground and stares out at the same ranchland he’s worked for years.
“You make doing that with a baby look easy. I’d complain about that, but I’m tired of my own whining.”
“Darling girl, it’s not my first rodeo. It’ll come.”
He releases Colt who crawls and promptly sits, throwing his grubby hands into his mouth. I gasp, and Kimpton laughs. My father would be mortified, and Kimpton is laughing.
“Won’t be the last stupid thing he puts in his mouth. No need stressin’ over it.” The warmth in his words infuses me with some peace. “What got you?”
“Pardon?” I reply.
“You looked like you saw a ghost before you tore out of the barn. What got you?”
“Some days the grief is front and center; some days it blindsides me. Today’s was a sneak attack, and Marron with her baby just hit me hard.”
“Yeah. Emilia was my life. Didn’t think I’d survive losing her. Don’t know how I have, except that time just keeps on ticking.”
“I’m sorry, Kimpton. I understand.”
“I know you do. It’s terrible, and you never stop missing them. I had a moment this morning thinking she should be with us. The ache dulls, but you never don’t miss them.”
He stares down at Colt, and a grin breaks across his face. “He would’ve been her undoing. She’d have been wrapped around his finger and given in on everything. I’m telling you. That is, after she tore Brax’s ass up about getting a girl pregnant.”
He turns to me, face bright with a smile or what could be, but his eyes tell a different story.
“Wish I could’ve known her.”
“Me too, Emberleigh. She’d have liked you. You have a good head on your shoulders and a will of steel. She respected those traits.”
“Although, my real wish is that I still had Emerson and that he”—I look at Colt who is crawling his way over my outstretched legs—“did too.”
“I wish he had her, too. But I can’t complain that he’s here.”
He stands, brushes the dust off the back of his jeans and grabs Colt, swinging him up into the air, his giggles fill the morning sky.
Kimpton surprises me by stretching out his hand to me.
“Up you go. It’s time for breakfast.”
“But I—”
“But you, nothing. Won’t take no for an answer. Let’s eat.”
I slide my hand into his calloused palm and, with a tug, I fly off the ground with a hop.
“Crack them all.”
“But there’s a full dozen here.”
“Yeah, so?”
“So, that’s a lot of eggs.”
“For you, maybe, but for the five of us, it’ll do.”
“It’ll do,” I mutter under my breath.
“Heard that,” he says, moving frozen biscuits on a pie plate into the oven.
Braxton
The foal stands and wobbles on unsure legs toward Marron, and Bright and I give each other a high five.
She might’ve been born early, but everything looks good. Need to see her nurse, and then we can truly exhale.
“You did it again,” I say, ruffling Bright’s hair.
“Of course I did. And stop tangling my hair.” She ducks out of my attempt to do worse and with both hands this time.
“I know you know, but you’re talented. Thanks for this morning.”
“Yeah, yeah,” she says, faking a deep voice.
“Hey, that’s my line.”
We wander toward Pop’s a few minutes after seeing the babe latch on and Marron not push her away.
When we get to Pop’s, we walk straight into The Twilight Zone.
Pop is setting the table, and Emberleigh is scrambling eggs on the stove. The table is piled high with bacon and biscuits. The butter, jelly, and honey are already there. He sets the salt and pepper down and coos at Colt.
The baby is in his high chair, fistfuls of eggs squeezed between his fingers and dribbled all over his front. He clearly got served first. He claps his hands on the table and then together and gets another laugh of approval from Pop.
“We were never allowed to act that way,” I say to the room. “But one grandkid, and Pop has no rules. Softy.”
“One, you don’t remember everything clearly, and two, he’s perfect.” He points a finger at me as he carries glasses of orange juice to the table, before continuing, “You weren’t.”
“I was and I am.”
“Bullshit,” Bright says, faking a cough into her hand.
“Seriously. Colt, back me up on this. Clap if you agree.”
My boy, the little shit, opens his hands wide and makes an oh with his mouth, until the whole room erupts in laughter.
“Knew you were my favorite,” Bright says to him.
“You’re so smart,” Emberleigh coos almost in unison.
“Yeah, yeah.” I might as well grab some coffee because this keeps going downhill.
I have a full mug when I plop into a chair next to Colt and whisper, “Traitor,” just before the room erupts again.
He’s eating up the activity, but his little eyelids tell another story.
He was up too late last night and again early this morning and he’s off schedule. We’ll pay for this.
But I wouldn’t change a thing.
“So,” Pop starts after everyone is seated and the platters are being passed. “What are we going to name the filly? I’m assuming she latched before y’all came in?”
“She did,” Bright volunteers.
“Emberleigh?” he asks.
Her eyes are huge as she meets his gaze. “Yes?”
“Ideas on a name?”
“I don’t know anything about horses, except what I saw today.”
“But you know your nephew and your sister. What would she have named her son’s horse?”
The table falls quiet. There’s not even the sound of forks scraping the plates or the dull thud of a cup being replaced on the table.
“She was a runner. And I’m guessing the filly will be too. So maybe something to do with that?”
“Windrunner,” I offer quietly. The jovial gathering has turned somber, and I don’t want to be the ass who fucks this up.
“Windrunner.” She turns it over in her mouth as if she’s tasting it.
“Windy for short, if Colt goes that route.” Bright takes another sip of her coffee before reaching for another rasher of bacon.
“I like it,” Emberleigh replies. A grin breaks across her face before she adds, “I hope she’s fast.”
“Colt will be on her back.”
“Well, I hope she’s slow then,” she retorts.
Pop lifts his coffee mug and toasts, “To Windrunner.”
“To Windrunner,” echoes a chorus in unison around the table.
Colt, we soon find, has fallen sound asleep through the whole thing.
“I’ve got him,” Emberleigh says when she returns from clearing the table with Bright.
“No, I’ve got him.”
“Either way, I’m grabbing a nap while he does.”
“Same here. Ready?” I don’t extend my hand. This morning’s little touches were too much. Too intimate.
“Thanks for breakfast, Kimpton. Good seeing you, Brighton.”
Emberleigh may as well be a beauty contestant. She delivers the lines like an actress. No doubt she means them. But they don’t come from a place of security or comfort.
Colt stays asleep the whole ride home. Having my truck close by was convenient.
“I’ll fix his diaper. You fix his bottle?” Emberleigh finally asks as we arrive back home.
“Sure thing.”
We divide and conquer, but the whole house knows when that diaper comes off. Colt would rather sleep and not be disturbed. Lucky for him, going back to sleep should be quick with a full belly.
He reaches for me when they return—that’s twice today—and I fight to not let my chest explode from the relief and joy of that.
“Come here, tiger.”
He comes to me, and I sit in the corner of the sofa. I’d rather be in the recliner, but don’t trust I’ll stay awake longer than Colt. Coffee or no, the early morning wake-up call and the thick biscuits combine for a potent sedative.
He settles onto my shoulder and snuggles into my neck. Just about the moment his breathing slows and gets deeper, his head pops up and he rolls toward Emberleigh, who is curled up on the other end of the sofa.
His little whine grabs her attention. “What is it, Colt?”
He stretches his little fingers out but doesn’t lift himself up to go to her. She slides over, sitting closer to us both and drops her head onto the back of the sofa, raising her hand to hold his hand and rub her thumb over his cheek.
What happens beyond that, I’ll never know. Sleep swallows me.