They reached the edge of the gregarious crowd, and Miah wended his way through to heft the jug onto a folding table covered in bags of chips and six-packs of soda cans. Christine had brought a blanket, and she spread it out on the crisp, dry grass. Despite the winter chill, Abilene felt a wash of nostalgia as she lowered her butt to the ground, remembering a hundred family picnics in Lindsay Park in Bloomville. Those summer memories came with clouds attached, but she reminded herself that she’d forge new ones, this time as a mother, not a child. A different landscape, different faces, different smells on the breeze, but the same sun overhead, the same wide blue sky. She unstrapped Mercy and propped her between her crossed legs. She was still waking, gawking wide-eyed at all the activity.
A few of the female hands came by to gawk right back. Though they were Abilene’s age, they were probably years from motherhood themselves, and she registered a jab of jealousy. In another life—one she hadn’t screwed up so badly—she might’ve found herself a passion, a trade, a career. A purpose. The pang was brief, though, and shallow. She had her purpose now, she thought, bouncing Mercy by her armpits. Not glamorous, but important. And she was good at it. Far from perfect, but pretty damn good, considering. She sat up a little straighter, proud for a change.
“Quite the party,” someone called. She and Christine turned to find Casey striding down the slope.
“If I’d known you were coming I’d have packed another sandwich,” Christine said, and scooted over to make more room on the blanket. She had no clue that he and Abilene had just broken up, of course. For all Abilene knew, Miah’s hopelessly romantic mother was banking on the two of them getting together.
That ship’s already sailed. And sunk.
“I hadn’t planned to come back out,” Casey said, “but I stopped by the bar and figured I’d bring Abilene the week’s schedule. And your last paycheck,” he added, meeting her eyes. “I left both on your dresser.”
“Thanks.”
There was hesitance tensing his smile, like he wasn’t sure if he was welcome on this blanket, in her estimations.
For all the heartache, she didn’t mind him joining them. It wasn’t as though her feelings could be flipped on and off like a switch. Her feelings were messy and sticky, and she knew it. They clung like summer heat or winter’s chill, slow to fade.
Mercy held her arms out to Casey, and a piece of Abilene’s heart broke. Her body wanted that same thing still—to reach out to him, be close to him. Her body hadn’t forgotten what his could do to hers, when they came together.
Uncertainty passed across Casey’s face as he watched the squirming infant, blue eyes glancing to Abilene’s.
He’s not a monster, she reminded herself. He was a con man who’d made a lot of selfish decisions for the sake of money, but he wasn’t evil. Reckless and lacking in empathy, perhaps, but not cruel or sadistic. She lifted Mercy and got to her knees, passing her over. Casey’s smile was brief and vulnerable, and he spread his legs and propped the baby between them. He knew most of the ranch hands—many were regulars at the bar—and some came over to say hello, the guys razzing him about the baby, the girls looking more approving, intrigued by the scene.
The young woman who’d come by the house the other night wrapped in a blanket was among them. She was wearing the hands’ unofficial uniform, boots and jeans and plaid flannel, and she dropped to a crouch next to Casey. Denny, Abilene thought her name was.
“Good look for you, Grossier,” she said, and gave Mercy’s outstretched, chubby hand a little squeeze. She’d know Mercy wasn’t Casey’s, of course—all of the hands had been given the broad strokes, back when James coming around had still been a danger. “Gonna make a few of these yourself someday?” she teased. “Only in red?”
“Time’ll tell,” he said. “I’m in no rush.”
Casey wasn’t flirting back, but Abilene felt her insides curdle all the same. That handsome, charming, funny man had been hers for not even a week. But it would hurt like hell to one day see him flirting with another woman for real. To one day hear that he was seeing someone. To spot him kissing that someone, maybe. The thought alone burned.
Abilene panned the crowd and found Miah joking with his employees, and felt a deep vein of sympathy open up in her heart for him. Few wounds healed so slowly as love interrupted.
? ? ?