“What?” At first I thought she was scolding me for the kiss. I peeked at her between my fingers.
“Listen, sweetie, it’s okay for you to kiss Nate. Maybe Redman thinks differently, but who gives a shit about what that old man thinks.”
I laughed in spite of myself, and she laughed, too. When we quieted, the heavy weight of my guilt returned, dragging my expression down. Trish looked past me out the window. “You thinkin’ about Jake?”
“Yes.” I bit my lip hard to numb the pain in my heart.
“You still love Jake?”
“No . . . I hate him. I hate him so much, and that tears me apart because maybe I always hated him.” I began to cry. “Maybe I always hated him and that’s why he killed himself because I couldn’t love him enough.”
The pain ran so deep in me, though I remained quiet and still on the surface, like an eerily calm lake. No life to ripple the water, no color to show the depth, just a black void. The kiss was like finding my way to the surface and breaking through for a moment, breathless and struggling. I wanted more air but taking it in was painful. I was used to the suffocating darkness. It seemed easier to sink back down into the pain because at least it was quiet in the depths of my hell.
She reached across the table and took my hands in hers. “Jake was a cowboy through and through, not like your California boys.” I shook my head but she went on quickly. “He was raised by a mean drunk and neglectful mother. His only sense of self-worth came from his work and his love for you.” Both of us were sniffling and trying to ward off more tears. “You were more than any man could ask for. Jake knew you loved him but he thought he couldn’t love you back. He didn’t know how, and that’s what killed him. He was dead long before he fired that gun.”
“He wouldn’t have been in that chair if it wasn’t for me.”
“Do you think he would have let that horse trample anyone? It didn’t matter that it was you standing there. What you should remember are all the good times. The times when he was tender with you. He was so gentle but strong. I used to tell Dale that Jake treated you like a delicate little flower. You can hate him all you want but you know it’s only what he did in the end, when he was a shell of a man, that you hate. Have some sympathy for his soul, Ava.”
“He haunts me.”
“I think it’s just the bad memories that haunt you. He’s with the Lord now, and if he’s watching you he only wants what’s best for you. I know that about Jake. He would want you to be happy. I think he thought the only way he could find redemption for his soul is if he let you be. He had put you through enough.”
“How can he be with the Lord if he took his own life?”
“Get Redman outta your ear, kid.” She waved her hand around. “I’m tired of hearing all that nonsense. I’m going to help you put away some of the bad memories.”
We didn’t talk any more about Nate that day. I told Trish the raccoon story and she laughed for ten minutes straight. She insisted that I get rid of the pillow that Jake slept on, and so I did. I even went into town and bought new sheets and some other home goods the next day. We had long gotten rid of Jake’s chair, almost immediately after he died, but the small TV in the corner of the front room still sat there, staring back at me. I picked it up and took it into the main house where Redman was reading in his leather chair.
“Red, do you want this TV?” He stood up quickly and took it from my hands.
“Yes, but Bea’s in the kitchen,” he said furtively, his eyes darting around the room.
“Well, you better put it out in the shed unless you want to get in trouble.” He took off with it, and I knew it would soon be added to a large pile of hoarded goods.
I had held onto that TV all those years because Jake had liked it. It shouldn’t have mattered, though, because Jake wasn’t with me anymore. Back in my cabin, I threw everything of his—all of his clothes and shoes, his toothbrush and razor, and piled them into a box. I kept pictures of him up and mementos that we shared, but that was it. The memory of Jake’s last year was in that box. I carried it to Caleb’s cabin and knocked on the door.
He looked tired when he answered. “Long night?” I asked innocently.
He squinted, appraising me. “What do you want?”
“I’m sorry we don’t get along better. This is all of Jake’s stuff. Maybe you can use some of it, or one of your friends from Wilson’s ranch will want it. There’s good Wranglers in there and Jake’s Stetson.”
Caleb’s eyes grew wide. “You’re gettin’ rid of his Stetson?”
“I have to, Caleb. I know you don’t understand me or how I’ve behaved in the past, but you haven’t been perfect, either. I’m standing here now, trying to make amends with you. If you want the hat, it’s yours. If not, give it away.”