Chapter Eleven
Stephanie parked her car in front of her parents’ house. The usually empty street was lined with a variety of cars and trucks. She’d spent most of the hour-long ride from Denver to Longmont on the phone with Anthony— there’d been some miscommunication about if and when his uncle and four kids were coming down for the wedding.
Once she got off the phone, she pressed me for more information on Jake, since I’d filled her in on our impromptu Thursday-night hangout.
A crease formed between her eyebrows. “So you had a nice time, kissed, and then you haven’t seen him since?”
“You say it like it’s been forever. It’s only Saturday morning.” I climbed out of the car and breathed in the fresh country air.
Steph came around the hood. “But he hasn’t called?”
“We’re not in some big relationship, Steph, and that’s the way I want to keep it. He mentioned he’d be working this weekend, but that I should swing by Blue if I got the chance.” I started across the grass, dodging the many lawn ornaments. There were birdbaths, fairies, and shiny spheres in every color. “Oh no, she lost her head again.” I pointed at the fairy statue that was forever being glued back together.
“Stupid kids.” Steph bent to pick up the head. The neighborhood kids liked to rearrange, steal, and destroy Mrs. Taylor’s lawn decorations. When Zeus, the family’s Rottweiler, was alive, the statues stopped being vandalized. Since Zeus had passed on—old age, but still sad—the kids were back at it again.
Fairy head under her arm, Steph walked up the steps to her house. “So you’re going to go to Blue tonight to say hi, right?”
“I’m going to hang out with my family after this shindig is over, actually. I decided to spend the night at the ranch. Drew’s not going to take me back into the city till tomorrow.”
Stephanie shook her head but didn’t give me the relationship advice I’d expected. Instead, she pulled open the screen door and we stepped inside. High-pitched greetings and congratulations erupted as soon as Stephanie walked into the living room. The entire community of women was packed into the house for the bridal shower.
Mrs. Taylor stuck a clothespin on me and explained that I couldn’t say anything wedding related or I’d lose it. The person with the most clothespins was going to get a prize at the end of the game. I didn’t know what the prize was, but the clothespin didn’t accessorize my outfit very well.
I looked from face to face until I found the one I was searching for. Mom moved a big white gift bag off the chair next to her and patted it.
I left Stephanie’s side as she showed off her ring to the women swarming around her.
“How’re you doing, sweetheart?” Mom asked as I sat down.
There was always something about seeing my mom that made everything seem better. “Good now.” I lowered my voice. “Hurry and fill me in on all the local gossip while everyone’s distracted.” Mom glanced around, then leaned in to give me the scoop.
It wasn’t long before the shower officially got started and we were playing torturous games that would make even the most hardened terrorists crack, I was sure of it. Maybe I was just missing whatever girl gene was supposed to make this kind of thing fun.
The shrieking only got louder as the party continued. Mrs. Taylor passed around cards so everyone could write down wedding advice for the bride-to-be. Since
Mrs. Taylor and Mom were both sticklers about cussing, so Steph and I had made up that insult. We thought we were so clever.
The next game was How Well Do You Know the Bride?
“This is going to be cake,” I said as I read the first few questions.
“Give it to me!” Mrs. Hildabrand said, pawing at my shirt. “You said cake!”
It took a few seconds for me to understand why she was attacking me, but when I did, I quickly relinquished my clothespin before she ripped it off me. After fixing the collar of my shirt, I turned my attention back to my sheet of paper. It had everything from favorite color to shoe size. I knew them all. When I blew the competition away, Mrs. Taylor handed me the prize—a tiny potted plant.
As I studied the little blue flowers, I thought about how Jake had teased me about my sickly plant. I smiled to myself and raised the prize. “You’re going to have to be tough to live with me,” I said, then tucked it under my chair.
The hostesses took a break from games and pointed toward the food. It provided the perfect opportunity for everyone I’d ever known to come over and ask me if I was dating anyone, even though I was sure they’d already asked Mom about it. After telling the first few people I didn’t have a boyfriend right now, they patted my hand, that poor-you look in their eyes.
“Don’t worry, dearie,” Mrs. Hildabrand said. “You’ll find someone.”
“I guess if he is out there, he’s going to have to find me, because I’m not looking.” Of course the second the words left my mouth, Jake’s face popped into my mind. No way in hell was I going to say anything about him, though.
I could see Mrs. Hildabrand was going to add something else, but Mom stepped in for the save. “Didn’t you make the dip, Martha? It’s marvelous.”
Since the woman loved to be complimented on her food, the distraction worked like a charm. After a few minutes, Mrs. Taylor stood up to announce the next game. “We’re going to go around the room and listen to everyone’s love stories. You can tell us about where you met, your first kiss, or how he proposed.”
I glanced around the room. I was the only one not married. Besides Stephanie, of course, who would tell everyone how Anthony took her to the Garden Cafe where they’d had their first date and proposed to her. They’d all swoon.
Mrs. Smith got up to tell her story. It started with, “I fell in love with Melvin the first night we met…”
…
I survived the bridal shower, but only in the most literal sense of the word. I was a little dead inside from all the talk of love at first sight. I’d heard at least half of those women trashing their husbands when they got together at community events. If anything, it only reaffirmed that I’d chosen the right way to look at romance.
Being at the ranch instantly made me feel better. After changing into some jeans, a T-shirt, and my worn-in boots, I climbed the fence behind the house and whistled. It only took a moment for one of the few males in my life who’d never let me down to come running.
“Good boy, Major,” I said to the sorrel horse as he approached. I held out the bucket of grain and let him take a few bites. While he munched, I ran a hand down his muscular reddish-brown neck, then scratched the white stripe on his face.
I placed the bucket outside the fence, grabbed my saddle, and heaved it onto him. “You ready to go for a run?” I asked as I fastened everything onto him.
He whinnied, which I took as a yes. Gripping the saddle horn, I put my foot in the stirrup and pulled myself onto him. “Let’s go!” Major took off toward the distant trees where the pond, one of my favorite places in the whole world, was.
The Wilson Ranch spread out across three hundred acres. Before I’d come to live on the ranch, I’d been a bona-fide city girl. The sprawling fields, home decorated like a log cabin, and horses and cows hadn’t impressed me. I was into fashion and decorating. And as my stepbrothers pointed out, I did everything like a girl.
Little by little, though, I found the joy in a long bike ride. Devin and Drew taught me to drive the four- wheeler and I’d take that out to the pond when I wanted to go for a swim or get away from everything for a while.
I’d lived at the Wilson ranch for about a year when Dwight came into the house and knocked on my bedroom door. “Darby, I need to show you something.”
I’d opened the door and stared at him. Dwight had been nothing but nice, but our relationship was mostly
