Maisie
. . .
THREE
Lupine, Montana.
The plane ticket feels like it’s going to burn a hole through my hand. I’ve been staring at it for the past five minutes while standing at my gate, contemplating what my life has come to.
“Group three, now boarding,” the agent announces over the speaker.
I look down at my ticket, reading the bolded eight marking my boarding group. That’s what happens when you buy a plane ticket only hours before it takes off.
Was I rash in packing up my life, my cat included, and storming off to the airport without a look back? Maybe, but at this point, I have nothing to hold me back if I go and everything to lose by staying.
I unfortunately had to text Carl that he would be keeping most of the plants for now. I couldn’t fit them in my suitcase, but I sure did try. I did remind him the ring is mine.
He’s been blowing my phone up nonstop. 75 missed calls, to be exact, and over 100 pleading text messages, crying hysterically that the ring was always mine and he will keep it safe for me. The man is delusional; he thinks we will be getting back together. Apparently, he’s a changed man now.
Apparently, I’ve zoned out, because the lady just announced group seven, which means I’m next.
I’m not really sure why I have any hesitation, but it feels like I’m heading towards something life changing.
I can feel something in the air, and I’ve decided I want to grab it by the balls and follow it wherever it takes me. Right now, that’s Lupine, Montana.
I board the small plane, trekking to the very last row.
Evie howls in her crate the entire way. There’s no calming her down for the next five hours, and, just when I’m about to go mental, our wheels touch down.
She’s never liked the car, so I’m not sure why I thought a plane would be any different.
We are now a full bag of cat treats and one eardrum down from this trip, but I’m trying to remain optimistic.
The intercom crackles, just clear enough for me to understand. “Thank you for flying with us. On behalf of our entire crew, we hope you enjoy your stay. Or for the locals, welcome home.”
Passengers fly from their seats. I physically have to bite my lip to refrain from snapping at the idiots who think they can get up before the many rows in front of them still waiting to deplane.
Once the entire plane has cleared out, I deem it safe to slip Evie’s carrier out from under the seat and give her a reassuring kiss.
“Almost there, sweet girl. Just hold on a bit longer, and then you can get all your zoomies out.” Her responding meow is definitely edged with a bit of sass—I would expect nothing less from her.
With Evie’s soft kennel strapped to my chest and my backpack strapped on, I shuffle awkwardly into the aisle as best as I can. I really should have thought this through.
Apparently, I am capable of a little good luck when the flight attendant notices me almost in full splits over the aisle, one foot propped up on each chair while trying to wedge my luggage out without smashing Evie.
He shuffles up next to me, easily grabbing the handle without needing to climb seats like a spider monkey. “Here, Miss, let me get that for you. I wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.”
I chuckle, carefully stepping down as Evie lets out another howl. “I wouldn’t sue you if I fell,” I joke. His concerned eyes find mine; apparently, that wasn’t the socially acceptable thing to say. Social anxiety is public enemy number one, but I easily brush it off.
Instead, I throw him a warm smile. “Thank you for your help. Evie is very grateful.” I point down to my strapped chest, and the man just chuckles at me with a dip of his head.
“No problem,” he replies. “Enjoy your stay.”
He gestures for me to go ahead of him, and I squeeze by with my luggage while I try to shuffle down the narrow aisle, most likely scrambling Evie’s brain. The tunnel provides fresh air and helps ease my anxiety rising from the unknown.
I navigate the small airport easily, making my way towards the designated pickup area. Lupine has its own small airport, so there are only a few cars in the parking lot. One in particular, I’m familiar with. It almost brings tears to my eyes when I spot my cousin.
“Maisie girl,” Chesney sings, leaning against his old, beat up truck with one foot propped on the tire.
I can’t help the genuine smile that spreads across my face. I’m sure I look like a zombie, but seeing his face has single handedly cured all the worry and anxiety that's found residence in my chest.
I sprint to him, and he meets me halfway, ever the gentleman. He takes my luggage and tosses it into the back before opening the passenger door for me. I securely strap Evie’s carrier into the backseat before closing her in.
Warm arms envelope me before I’ve fully turned, and I melt into him. His chin finds my head, and we sit like that for a minute, letting the world fade away.
“I missed you, Ches,” I whisper into his chest.
He rumbles a soft chuckle and whispers into my hair, “You have no idea, Mais.”
He doesn’t ask questions; instead, he’s a steady rock to lean on, as always. He knows I’ll come to him when I’m ready to talk. That’s what I love most about him. He’s one of only two constants in my life, and I’ll treasure our bond always.
“Alright, let’s get on the road. It’s family dinner tonight, and you know how Roxy gets when people are late. She pushed it back a couple hours just for your arrival.”
I roll my eyes playfully, knowing exactly how my aunt gets. I planned on getting settled in and taking the night to decompress alone, but I know when it comes to the Foxes, there’s no getting out of it. Maybe it’s the shove I need, being thrown to the wolves right away.
The drive only lasts about twenty five minutes, and we spend it catching up and sharing laughs over old memories while I try my best not to freak out about being in a car.
I’ve gotten better over the years, but I still have panic attacks every now and then.
It helps to be surrounded by someone I can be myself around, and I try to relax.
No second guessing if I’m saying the right things or entertaining enough, just two cousins catching up.
Gravel crunches under our tires as we turn off the highway and onto the long strip that leads to the ranch. A few minutes later, we approach a large gate. It swoops open easily, and we drive under the sign. Foxy Roxy Ranch sits in a swooping script, two foxes framing it.
I can hear Uncle Walter's deep voice clear as day in my head. What kind of man would I be if I didn’t name our ranch after my beautiful wife?
I didn’t get to spend much time here with my family growing up, but the limited time I did, I made the most of. I’ve always wondered how different my life would have turned out if the Foxes had won custody of me and my brother all those years ago.
What would my life look like now? I probably never would have published my book, that’s for sure. I turned to writing when the outside world started feeling like it was caving in on me. The paper felt like a different life to live. Escapism at its finest.
I first wrote about my life struggles and heartache.
Love, loss, and the in-between. It was like therapy to let it all bleed out of my hand and into ink on paper.
From there, it turned into a hobby, coming up with alternative lives for myself if I lived in different realities, ones where my parents were still alive and the world wasn’t so dark and cruel.
“Home sweet home,” Ches whispers, patting my knee before he cuts the engine. “I’ll grab your bag and show you to your place. It’s still off season technically, so you can stay in one of the guest houses for now.”
I nod in thanks, hopping out of the truck to collect one very angry cat. We are parked in front of Chesney’s cabin, so I’m assuming my lodge isn’t too far away.
Ches disappears for a moment before the soft hum of a motor reaches me. He returns in a side-by-side, a silly grin etched on his face. “I know how much you loved this thing when you were little, so I figured I could escort you over in it,” he yells over the roar of the engine.
I roll my eyes and saunter over. “Ha-ha, real funny, mister. I’m pretty tired, so I guess for today, I’ll agree to getting in your death contraption.”
“I promise, I’ll be on my best behavior. The drive is only a couple minutes…so everything should be fine.”
I glare at him. “Ches, so help me, if you flip us in this again, I will tell Uncle Walter you begged me to paint your nails Barbie pink when we were kids.”
His brows furrow. “You wouldn’t.”
I punch him in the arm and hop in, placing Evie on my lap. “Try me, fucker.”
“Touché.”
We carefully speed down a back trail, Ches now the perfect driver.
I know he would never do anything to harm me, and us flipping when we were younger was an accident, but I still grip the handle for dear life.
Each bump and dip we hit, Ches whoops and laughs, and, soon enough, I can’t help the responding laughs that bleed into his.
It feels so good to be out in nature. It’s wonderfully freeing.
We pass by another house, which, at first glance, I chalked up to another guest cabin. But then I notice the porch lights flickering, the cracked front door left open as if someone was in a rush.
I can’t stop staring at it. I glance over my shoulder one last time, and that’s when I see him.
Peeking through the kitchen window, the lights illuminating his shadow, are the greenest eyes ensnaring me.
They stare me down with a curious intensity.
I feel stripped bare by his gaze, and I swear he can see every insecurity etched into my skin. It sends chills up my spine.
Our eyes stay connected until he’s all but a dark shadow between the trees surrounding us, a lost ghost to the wind. I make a mental note to ask about the green-eyed monster later, after I have time to decompress and prepare for my new temporary life here.
To say it will be an adjustment transitioning from the loud car horns and busy streets of New York to the quiet, simple life of Montana is an understatement.
Oddly enough, I’m almost giddy for this change, to embrace slowing down and experiencing life from a new perspective, studying the world around me and seeing it for what it truly is.
An experience we are all living the best we can.
Montana is my ticket to a better future, one where I get to live out my dreams in all their overzealous glory, the chapter when I grab life by the balls and do the damn thing. I’ll show Pam just how much research I’m capable of, and then I’ll deliver her a love story of the century.
Ches drops me safely at my door, letting me know he preheated the house and put fresh linens on the bed.
Sometimes, he can really be a saint. It baffles me how some local hasn’t swooped him up and declared him off limits yet.
From what I’ve heard, 35 with no kids and unwed is pretty much unheard of.
Ches always did like living life to his own drum, though, and, as of late, I can’t blame him.
I decide to take a quick shower before dinner. I always feel like I have the heebie jeebies after flying, and fresh hair is a must. I leave the door cracked and listen to the patter of Evie’s excited paws as she finally gets to enjoy her zoomies and explore her new home.
After I’m washed and dressed in a simple pair of white bell bottom jeans, a cropped band tee, and black boots, I debate texting Ches to come get me.
I give Evie some love and decide a fresh walk could do me some good.
I’m pretty sure I could make my way to The Den from memory; if not, it will be one hell of an adventure to write about.
With my chest settled and heart more full than it’s been in a long time, I set off into the sunset, taking in all my surroundings and committing them to memory for ‘research’.
Research Notes: you can always count on a cowboy to save the day.