“Well, she puts you in your place. She gave you an ultimatum. And you bent the knee,” Mom says with a smile.
“She pulled you out of your darkness,” Mac says. “Sounds like she's nothing but pure light.”
“I love her,” I tell them. “I need her to be my wife. She’s my world now.”
Bartlett presses a hand on my shoulder. “Then don't let that woman go, brother. Whatever you do, make her yours.”
14
PRAIRIE
The tears come and go; the last two hours have been a rollercoaster. “I just love this place, I’ve fallen in love with the idea of living in Home, but if Rye doesn’t choose to fight for us…” I look over at Leila with tears in my eyes. “I couldn’t stay here with the memories of him.”
“Don’t give up faith yet,” she says.
I wipe my eyes with a tissue, taking a deep breath, my heart aching as I do.
Leila and I are sitting on her couch with mugs of chamomile tea. She tells me a local pottery studio in town is where she got the lovely mugs that we're holding. I know she is trying to distract me, and I appreciate it.
“They’re beautiful,” I tell her. “The artistry is really unique.”
“Would you like to do some sort of art?” Leila asks me. “Or actually, what do you want to do in general? I don't think we've talked about that.”
“Now that I’m free to choose?”
Leila sets down her cup of tea. “Yeah. I mean, what do you want for yourself, for your life? Do you want to get a job or go to college? We've talked about the state setting you up with some funds until you can get settled somewhere. But I was wondering what your dreams are for yourself.”
I tuck my feet under myself, turning to her on the couch. Her home is a small cottage on the outskirts of town. Right on the end of Tender Trail. It's a two-bedroom house and she lives here by herself. I wonder if she gets lonely
but she seems happy with a good job and a lovely place to live.
“I know it might be hard for other people to wrap their mind around me falling so hard for Rye,” I say, tears welling up in my eyes again. “I know he's rough around the edges, but I'm really hoping he comes around because I want to be with him. I want to share a life with him.”
She nods slowly. “I don't think that's crazy or silly. I think that's lovely,” she tells me. “I've never been in love like that. I've always dreamed of it, of course.” She smiles. “But I've never had the chance to get swept off my feet. I read enough romance novels though,” she tells me, pointing to her massive bookshelf, “to know that if you're lucky enough to find someone who's going to fight for you and who you want to fight for in return, then, well, I guess that's the whole point. Why not give yourself over to that?”
I smile. “But I do want a job,” I tell her. “Not making pottery, I don't picture myself being very artistic. But there are some things I enjoy that I would be interested in pursuing.”
“Things like what?” Leila asks curiously.
“Well, I love this tea, for one. Maybe I could work at a tea shop. Are there any of those in town?”
“Maybe there's a job opening at Home Made Bakery and Café,” Leila says. “They sell tea and coffee. Something like that?”
I nod. “Yeah, sure. Something like that. I'd also just like to go on walks every day. And plant a garden and make my own meals and wash my own clothes. When I lived in that house, with Horace and his wife, they treated me like their child. I just want to be me.”
Leila frowns.
“What, did I say something wrong?” I ask her.
“No, I just I think I hear something. What is that?”
She's right.
There's noise outside.
“Are there streetlights that come on this time of day?” I ask her.
“Not this late at night.” She looks at the clock on her phone. “It's after 11 o'clock. We should be in bed.”