The Holstein strides away, curling up in the corner and watching the two of us.
“I’m going to call her Penelope,” Leighton says, looking up at her.
“Why Penelope?”
“I had a calf named Penelope once. Showed her in 4-H.” She sighs, her lips pulling up at the corners. “She was beautiful. And sweet. And calm. Just like that one over there.”
Heading to the sliding barn doors, I shove them open so the calves can get some fresh air this morning.
“Yeah, well, don’t get too attached,” I remind her one last time.
“Don’t worry about me. I didn’t come here with the intention of attaching myself to anything.”
“Then why did you come here?”
“To get away.”
Junior finishes his bottle and Leighton grabs the other, taking them to the utility sink in the corner of the barn to clean them out. When she’s finished, she tromps my way, keeping a steady gait despite the enormous boots tripping her up.
“Anybody ever tell you it’s not good to run from things?” I ask, heading to one of the old pickups. I’ve got to change the oil and replace one of the tires I had patched last week.
“Anybody ever tell you it’s not a good idea to give advice without knowing the full story?”
“Enlighten me then, because I’d love to prove that regardless of the situation, my advice is solid.”
We make our way to the old red Dodge up on jacks under a shady oak tree. As soon as we get there, Leighton places her hands on her hips and squints up at the sky.
“We used to have two tire swings here,” she says.
“They were long gone before I took over.” I grab my toolbox out of the back, along with some quarts of oil and a new filter. “Anyway, you going to tell me what you’re running from?”
“How much time do you have?” She half-chuckles.
“As long as it takes me to finish up here.”
Taking an oil pan, I crawl beneath the truck’s engine. From the ground, I see Leighton take a seat in the grass a few feet away. She pulls her knees against her chest, wrapping her arms around them.
“I was engaged,” she starts. “His name was Grant. I met him in college. NYU. And he was amazing. So kind. And humble. And smart. And funny. He had this magnetic personality, which I always loved about him because I was pretty quiet and introspective, and he could just walk into a room and light the place on fire. Everyone wanted to be him or be with him. And out of everyone, he picked me.”
“Go on,” I say, pretending to care as I stifle a yawn.
“He could make me feel like the only girl in the room,” she says. “And I’d never met anyone who put so much thought and effort into every single occasion. Every birthday, every anniversary, he made it special.” She stops for a moment, maybe pondering. “We were crazy in love. He did this whole big proposal thing at Christmas in front of my family.” She pauses once more. “He graduated from law school a couple years ago and took a job in Scottsdale at this prestigious law firm. And then he changed. It’s like, I blinked … and he was gone.”
“He changed? Or you changed?”
“Oh, he definitely changed.” Her voice is louder, insulted almost. “Absolutely, he changed. He went from this humble, all-American nice guy to this Maserati-driving prick who couldn’t keep it in his pants.”
I wince, sliding out from beneath the truck with a full pan of used oil.
“That’s tough,” I say. “But it’s still no reason to run away.”
“There are other things,” she says. “More … personal, I guess you could say. Just little things that added up. The way he treated me. The way he talked to me. The love … the respect … the admiration … it was gone. And when I saw the text from the other woman, that was the end of the trust. And if you don’t have trust, you don’t have a relationship. Doesn’t matter how much you love the person.”
“That may be true, but what good does it do you to run away with your tail tucked?”
I rise, grabbing the fresh quarts of oil.
She stands, arms folded. “My tail is definitely not tucked.”
“If you say so.” I pop the hood and lean over the engine.
“What makes you think my tail is tucked?” Her brows meet.
I shrug, throwing a quick glance her way. “Just something about you seems … sad.”
“Thanks.”
“You’ve got these sad eyes,” I say, studying her face. She’s pretty in an unpretentious kind of way, with creamy skin and heart-shaped lips and a mess of dark hair piled high on her head.
The sound of gravel crunching under tires provides a welcome interruption. This conversation was getting too close for comfort anyway.
A dirt-covered Suburban parks next to us, and a second later Molly Fasthorse climbs out with a tin-foil covered plate.
“Little early for lunch, isn’t it?” I readjust my hat and head her way.
“I’m running into town in an hour. Thought I’d drop it off now. I can head inside and stick it in the fridge for you,” she says.
I take the still-warm plate from her hands and hand it to Leighton. “That’s all right. I’ll have my assistant do it for me.”
Leighton’s eyes move between me and Molly.
“Assistant?” Molly asks, smirking. “She’s a little too pretty to be hired help, isn’t she?” Molly makes her way to Leighton, extending her right hand and smiling ear to ear. “Since River doesn’t seem to want to introduce us properly … I’m Molly Fasthorse. I live up the hill, about a mile north of here.”
“Leighton,” she says. “I used to live here.”
“You used to live in Bonesteel Creek?” Molly’s dark brows rise.
“I used to live in this house,” she answers. “We moved when I was fifteen.”
“She thought she was renting this place from someone online,” I interject. “Showed up at my door with her suitcase. Thought it was some kind of joke.”
Leighton rolls her eyes. “I got scammed.”
“Oh, you poor thing.” Molly wraps her arms around Leighton’s shoulders. “I’ve heard about those Internet scammers. What a shame. Way too many greedy assholes in this world.”
“Anyway. I’m going to take this inside before my boss decides to write me up,” Leighton says, winking my way.
Molly laughs. “I wouldn’t put that past him. You’re brave to work for him, you know that?”
“I’m not that bad.” I lock eyes with Leighton, and she’s smiling her proud, pretty little smile. I’ve seen that smile before on another girl. I fell in love with it the first time I saw it and it damn near destroyed me in the end.
That won’t be happening again.
“It’s only temporary,” Leighton says. “I think I can handle him until next Friday.”
“Well, if you ever need a break, just stop on over. I’ve got five boys, six if you count my husband, and I could use a little girl talk. Almost forgot what it’s like.” Molly steps back, slipping her hands in her back pockets.
“I’d love that.” Leighton gives a little wave before heading inside.
“Wow, Riv,” Molly says under her voice, turning to me.
“Wow, what?”
“That’s not like you, taking in some stranger.”
“What’s your point?”