MooDonna licked her wet nose again.
January took that as a good sign. She retreated with a confident gait, careful not to turn her back completely on the thousand-pound female. At Brontë, January climbed and settled into the saddle, all without a word from the slack-mouthed cowboy next to her.
The cow and her calf followed.
January glanced away and smiled into the night. She felt like she had summitted Everest. Gone was the unseasoned girl of ten years ago. She was wiser, more skilled at handling challenges and learning from her mistakes, able to atone for her wrongs, even if it was only to convince a cow to get to the safety of the herd.
Nat rode up beside her. “How did you—”
“She needed a little female understanding.”
He gave a snort of laughter that clearly said bullshit. “Yeah, well don’t get too attached. She’ll be gone soon.”
Words as densely packed and double-loaded as a shotgun shell.
“Got a tough one for you, Mona.”
Mona peeked out beside the Dodge truck’s exposed engine, squinted into the magnum light-bug zapper contraption hanging from a hook inside the diesel’s open hood, and said, “Lay it on me.”
Post-supper behind the barn was advice time.
“Man slept with his mother-in-law while his wife was away on business. Wife’s boss spotted them having sex in a car behind the office and is jealous because she wanted to sleep with him, so she told the wife. Wife had an indiscretion of her own with the man’s brother.”
“For real?” said Mona. “Add a fancy pool and a couple of sparkly ball gowns and you’d be inside a rerun of Dallas.”
A bubble of amusement originated in Nat’s gut and took its sweet-ass time heading north for release. Laughter felt great after the brutal day. He had started writing the anonymous advice column in college as a favor to a friend, then for some side cash, then out of habit. Now, he continued it mostly as a security blanket—but for the grace of God, he could be as fucked up as most of the people who asked him for guidance. And he got off on it—a strange fucking high—to know people read his words, even if it was just to tell someone to get off a high horse and forgive. The payoff was damned near immediate—sometimes as soon as he got to the feed store, before dawn, people would be debating, engaging, admiring or disagreeing, newspaper ink still wet. But the sensation was hollow, short-lived, nothing close to writing something that would last more than a day, that might change someone’s outlook on life or give a reader refuge during a storm in life, that rewarded him with that sense of ultimate freedom time and time again. Years back, he tried to hand the column over to Mona—she helped him with the trickiest advice, anyway—but she refused. Said she couldn’t rub two sentences together and make it make sense—her words.
“Any kids?” Mona asked.
“None mentioned.”
“What was the question?”
“Guy wants to know if the infidelity cancels out, puts him back on even ground with his wife.”
“What…would…you…say?” Tightening something under the truck’s hood punctuated Mona’s question with grunts.
Nat learned long ago that to offer muscle was a serious affront to Mona’s independent streak. Brutal, that streak in the Rose women.
“I guess I’d say fidelity isn’t a scorecard,” said Nat. “Doesn’t matter who cheated first, both people put the outside world ahead of their relationship. No coming back from that.”
“And if they still love each other?”
“Some choices you can’t come back from, Mona.” Nat’s voice wavered like a calf that had slipped free of a rope. He leaned his backside against the truck’s quarter panel, grateful for relief from the bright light, grateful he could hide in the darkness. “Hurts too much.”
Mona returned her wrench to the toolbox and wiped her hands on a grease cloth she snagged from her pocket. “Are we still talking fancy pools and ball gowns?”
As if she had to ask. He bunched his hands inside his jean pockets to keep him from tearing his hair out.
Mona leaned against the wheel well beside him. “Do you know the real reason I saved up for that telescope?”
Nat shook his head.
“I look through that lens and know nothing about what I see. Everything looks pretty much the same except the moon. On clear nights, I’ll drive to kingdom come to get a clear line of sight on that celestial body. Makes me feel close to her—even if I know it’s daylight on her side of the world, it’s still there, watching over her. Raising a strong, independent child ain’t easy. Raising her to remember all the parts of her that ain’t so strong and independent is even harder. She rarely calls or writes, but I know she looks at the same moon each night, and that’s enough for me. Love always brings people back.”
“I’m glad you had the chance to see her again.”
“For someone who gives damned fine advice, you sure are thick. J-Rose didn’t come home for me, son. She’s looking for something that’s got nothing to do with that money her grandmother left her.”