9
Luke
Afew weeks after my first date with Maddie, my sister, Sarah, called, bordering on annoyed.
“Luke, I don’t mean to pry…” she said.
But she did really. That’s exactly what she meant to do.
She continued, “I feel like you’re living a double life. What is going on with you?” She was gentle but insistent.
“I’m not a spy, Sarah. Is no one in this family allowed to have a life outside the ranch?” I was a little too terse—terser than I should have been.
I startled her with my frustration and her voice was small when she said, “Of course you’re allowed to have a life. I’d just like to be a part of it.”
She reminded me so much of our mother. Sarah was wonderful, and it wasn’t her fault that I felt unable to share myself with our family. In fact, she was the one I felt it would be easiest to talk to about my drawing and Maddie and everything else in my life.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “You’re right. What can I do to make it up to you?”
“Come to dinner on Sunday? I’ll make vegetarian lasagna with tofu. It’ll totally irritate Wyatt and Cody. Sound good?”
My sister was a spirited little thing; it was genetic. “Sounds perfect.”
Honestly, I knew I had to make time to go back to the ranch and have supper or else my siblings were going to start showing up at my apartment and poking around the other parts of my life. They thrived on digging around in my life. Nothing better to do, I guess.
* * *
On Sunday evening,the drive out to the ranch was lovely. Where we lived in Montana, you didn’t question why they called it Big Sky Country. It was April and the weather had shifted from cold to mild. The rolling hills of grass were lush and green, the sky was dotted with cotton ball clouds, and it felt like you could see clear across the county to the mountains in the distance. I loved Montana. I loved my home and my siblings. I loved my day job, loved being on the land, caring for the animals. I also loved to draw, and I thought I might be fallin’ in love with a certain blue-haired beauty. I was a lucky man. It was warm enough that I opened the window, resting my arm on the sill and letting my fingers push through the rushing air. I felt free and happy. All was good in my world. Thankfully, I carried this carefree feeling with me into my father's house because from the minute I walked through the door, I felt like I was at an intervention.
“Howdy,” I hollered, shutting the door behind me.
Cody, who was bounding down the stairs that faced the door, said, “Can I help you? I think you might have the wrong house.”
I rolled my eyes at him and headed for the kitchen. Wyatt was leaning against the counter, Bill was sitting in a chair next to the old corded phone that hung on the wall, and Sarah was pulling her lasagna out of the oven.
Wyatt continued Cody’s ribbing by actually screaming like a girl, “Please, mister, take what you want. Just don’t hurt us.”
Sarah swatted him with her oven mitt. “Leave him alone, you big olaf. He’s here now.”
My father, who usually left the banter to my brothers, called from the living room, “Did I hear the bellow of my second oldest son? I thought he’d taken ill and was laid up and dying of cholera.”
“No, dad. It was dysentery,” Bill called back.
“Such a shame,” my father said, walking into the room. “I told him not to try to forge that river with his wagon, but what can I tell you? Second sons never listen. Hopefully, we can salvage his oxen and still go for gold.”
“Are the two of you having fun?” I asked.
“Come on, bro. Oregon Trail humor is some highbrow stuff,” Bill said.
“You do realize that I see y’all every day?” I chastised.
“Seeing you on a horse, working the ranch is not seeing you,” my father argued. “We’re a family. We expect you here to break bread on the regular, son.”
Underneath his codgy exterior, my father was a real softy. I knew what he was saying was that he missed me, so I replied to that.
“I missed you too,” I said. “I’m sorry. I’ve got a lot on my plate.”
Cody, who was setting the table in the dining room, called out, “From what I heard, it’s a blue-plate special.”
“What’s he talking about?” Sarah asked me and then looked at Wyatt to see if he knew.
Wyatt smirked, “A certain brand-new Conway resident has been seen around town with Luke.”
“A girl?” Sarah asked.
“No, a Chihuahua,” Wyatt replied.
My father grumbled, “That explains it,” and then headed to the dining room.
Sarah looked back to me, giddy as could be. “You met a girl,” she squealed. Then her face contorted, “Wait, why did Cody say blue-plate special? Is that some gross sexist comment that I’m gonna have to punch him for?”
“No,” I said, offering nothing else.
Wyatt clarified, gossiping with Sarah like he was a coquette, “Her hair is blue.”
“Oh,” Sarah’s eyes popped. “I’ve heard about her.”
“Cute as a button,” Wyatt winked. “And she’s got sass too.”
“I heard she’s more than cute, Wyatt. Rosemarie got her hair cut last week and she came out of the salon talking about dying her hair blue. Can you imagine Rosemarie with blue hair?” Sarah rolled her eyes while putting her oven mitts back on to carry the lasagna into the dining room. “Anyway, what’s her name, Luke?”
Reluctantly, I offered, “Madison.”
Wyatt, Bill, and I followed Sarah into the dining room as she continued, “Madison is apparently so attractive that Rosemarie got it in her head that she might get some additional traction with the guys in town just by reminding them of her.”
The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. I hated thinking of other men in town looking at Maddie.
“No one’s dating her but me,” I said.
Everyone at the table turned and looked at me.
Bill laughed, “A little heavy-handed there, brother. No one even mentioned her dating anyone else.”
Wyatt banged his chest with his fists, “Me, Luke. She, Maddie. She mine.”