Five and a half months later…
“Thanks Jeb,” I said quietly into the phone, my eyes looking out the window over the sink to the barn.
“Thought you and Gray’d wanna know, Ivey,” Jeb said quietly back.
I pulled in breath then asked, “You okay?”
“My wife misses her grandbabies,” he answered meaning he did too. “But she doesn’t miss the headaches.” This meaning he didn’t either. Then he stated, “Right,” in a tone that said the conversation was imminently over. “Candace told me to tell you to talk to Gray about you and him comin’ over for dinner again. She liked that. You talk to Gray, give her a call, let her know.”
I’d talk to Gray but he didn’t overly enjoy our last dinner with Candace and Jeb Sharp. He got what they were trying to do, apologize for the behavior of their son, and he was trying to be a good guy. He didn’t blame them. Still, he didn’t enjoy it.
“Will do. Take care, Jeb.” I gave my farewell.
“You too, Ivey,” he replied then he was gone.
I bleeped the phone off and looked back out the window.
Then I smiled.
Then I walked to the backdoor and pulled on my cowboy boots even though I was wearing a tight tank, a pair of cutoff jeans shorts and no socks. I also nabbed one of Gray’s raggedy baseball caps off the hook and tugged it on my head, tucking my hair behind my ears.
It was a crazy, cowgirl look but I knew I worked it seeing as the first time I pulled on one of Gray’s hats and my boots with shorts rather than ran upstairs to find some flip-flops in order to go out and talk to Gray, my message wasn’t received for a half an hour. This was because that half an hour was spent mostly na**d in our hayloft.
And during that half hour, Gray didn’t take off my boots.
I loved those boots. But after our time in the hayloft, I loved them more.
I went through the backdoor and my eyes slid through the space. There were three dozen, wooden picnic tables sprinkled across the vast area beside the house, in front of the barn and beyond. In two days, these would be covered in white tablecloths with a bucket of daisies and black-eyed susans in the middle of each one. All the trees were already strung with Christmas lights and there was an enormous kettle grill set up on a stand of bricks. And, in two days, seven dozen white and yellow balloons and a wooden dance floor were being delivered.
This was because in two days Gray and I were getting married at the church and having the reception, a big barbeque, here.
I couldn’t wait.
Still smiling, I strode to the huge, open, double doors of the barn and walked right through.
In the middle of the aisle between the stalls, Gray had one of the horses tethered. He had on his own hat, a tight, white tee, jeans, boots and work gloves and he was currying the horse.
His gloved hand with the brush strapped on kept moving on the horse’s coat but his head turned to me.
He looked me top-to-toe and when his eyes came back to mine, he grinned.
God, that dimple.
Loved it then, loved it the day before, loved it the first time I saw it and would love it for eternity.
I grinned back and wandered to Answer’s stall. Answer wandered to me and shoved his head over the door. I wrapped an arm around his jaw and with my other hand stroked his nose.
He snorted.
Gray’s horse loved me. Then again, I bribed him with apples.
“So,” I drew out the word, “you want an early wedding present?”
Gray’s hand kept moving on the horse but his eyes had strayed to my legs.
When I spoke, they came back to me.
“Yeah,” he answered.
“It’s a big day for Buddy Sharp,” I announced, Gray’s hand stopped but he kept the brush to the horse.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Cecily’s all settled in Durango. Don’t know, maybe she’s planning a celebration for tonight since her divorce is final today. Maybe she’s planning to dive into a gallon of ice cream. Doesn’t matter, she’s there and we’re here. They also closed on their house today. Oh, and,” I kept going, “Bud has taken a job in New Hampshire. He’s packed up and he left this morning.”
I didn’t know if after Gray’s crushing set down, Buddy got smart. I did know we didn’t have any more trouble with him. This might have been because of what Gray said to him. But it was also because his hands were full.
Apparently, Cecily was done being the town pariah and she was done with Buddy doing more things to make her stay that way. She knew Buddy’s play with my father and while he was making it, she took her already packed bags and her daughters and she drove straight to Durango.
On Christmas Eve.
She’d never been back.
And she’d filed for divorce, the timing being that Bud received the papers the day after Christmas. With all his machinations and her knowing about it, not to mention she knew he’d cheated on her repeatedly but, until then, turned a blind eye, he didn’t have a prayer in the world of getting custody of his daughters. So he didn’t fight it. Apparently she got a huge settlement and an even bigger child support payment and, word was, she was already seeing somebody.
So maybe no ice cream for her.
As for Buddy, Jeb Sharp heard about his son’s Christmas Eve play and he was as done as Gray.
So he started to talk to his cronies. Then his cronies took his back.
So the day after New Year’s, Bud Sharp went to work and was told immediately that he was required to attend an emergency board meeting. At this board meeting, Buddy was informed that a variety of ranchers, orchard owners, farmers and businessmen who held their money in Buddy’s bank were threatening to pull it if the Board didn’t do something about Buddy. So they did. They told him they’d give him some money to go away quietly and asked for his voluntary resignation. Then they told him if he didn’t resign, he was fired and they’d give him no severance.
Finally, in all his years, Bud Sharp did something smart.
He resigned.
He had been out of work for five months. This was because no one in seven counties would hire Buddy Sharp.
And the settlement with Cecily wiped him out.
Now he’d found the only job he could find.
In New Hampshire.
Which was a long, long way away.
Thankfully.
Gray grinned. “That’s a great f**kin’ wedding present.”
“Yeah,” I said softly.
He took his hand from the horse and turned fully to me.
“Come here, Ivey.”
I didn’t hesitate.