One to Leave (One to Hold 5)

Placing my head in my hands, I rubbed my forehead. Everything had changed, and it was time I got my head out of my ass.

* * *

Mariska

The Jungle Gym was only open a few hours on Sunday, and for the first time, I was so glad. Usually, I enjoyed spending the afternoon visiting with the gang, trying new smoothie recipes. None of it made me happy anymore.

Patrick and Elaine had decided to get married in Montana. They wanted to have their wedding at the ranch house and the reception at the Sip-n-Dip. Patrick had sent plane tickets for all of us.

Kenny was working on vacation times and travel arrangements for Slayde to leave the state. I was working on my excuses.

Elaine insisted I be one of her bridesmaids, but I couldn’t do it. Even though I knew Stuart had left the country, I couldn’t go back there for a wedding. The pain of my last night with him still throbbed in my chest like ice water hitting a sore tooth.

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; “She’s planning the whole thing Boho Ranch.” Kenny was inside the bar with me leaning against the counter. “She wants you to be there as creative consultant.”

“You’re just as creative as I am.” My friend had been lobbying for this since the day Patrick’s email about plane tickets arrived.

“We’ve never taken a girls’ trip. We might never get this chance again!”

“Don’t be such a pessimist. I might win the lottery.”

Her eyes narrowed, but I wasn’t feeling as happy as my tone suggested. I wanted to go home and paint.

The vibrant yellow, orange, and red abstract I’d made had turned out really well. I was calling it “Fire in the Desert,” and I wanted to see what new feelings I might exorcize with a vigorous night of art-therapy. Last night I’d stretched a new canvass, and I was thinking of an impressionist version of the colt.

Bill’s musings about gentling him and spending time with him, teaching him and still being thrown swirled in my head like a metaphor.

“Patrick’s already reserved four tickets. You have one more week. Just think about it.”

I was tired of arguing, so I only nodded. A quick glance at the clock told me it was three forty-five. The club closed in fifteen minutes. I’d already cleaned all the blenders and wiped down the counters.

“Would you mind covering for me? I’d really like to cut out early.”

“Only if you promise to think about it.” Kenny stepped forward and kissed my cheek.

“I promise,” I sighed, rolling my eyes.

Sliding my lanyard into my cubby, I ducked under the counter and headed for the door.

* * *

Deep blues, olive greens and brown. Tonight I started with as much of the landscape as I could remember. A lot of it had been brown prairie grass, but when Elaine and I had driven to town, I’d seen more variety—silver spruce trees, red rock formations, soaring waterfalls. We were there in the winter, but I used my imagination to see what it might be like in the spring or summer.

A square butte west of the city formed a backdrop for the brown of wild horses running across the prairie. It was all so open and vast under the sky. I had to capture the orange arc of clouds over the Chinook.

Again, my hair was up in a high ponytail, but tonight I wore the grey Henley I’d borrowed from Stuart. His scent was fading on it, and I wished I’d thought to snoop in his toiletries bag for whatever cologne this was. Sure it was torture, but I was an artist. Suffering was good for my art.

I decided to have a glass of wine. It was Sunday, technically a work night, but our hours at the gym allowed me to sleep in, and I’d had to work every day but Friday. I pulled out a bottle of Chardonnay and had just twisted off the cap when someone knocked on my door.

My heart flew into a panic. I’d left my phone in the other room. Kenny always texted before she came over. She knew I didn’t like opening the door at night when I wasn’t expecting visitors.

I crept through my living area, which really was getting too crowded with books. I needed to get an eReader, but I still liked to hold them and smell them.

The knock came again, and I jumped. Carefully, I rose on my tiptoes to look through the peep hole, and my heart stopped working.

His back was turned as he seemed to scan the parking lot, but I easily recognized those broad shoulders. The canvass jacket I knew as well as the short, dark hair that I loved to slide my fingers through. He turned back, and the sight of his eyes was like warm honey poured through my veins.