When Mountains Move Page 25

  “I knew a girl named Millicent once,” River says. “I called her Millie.” And just like that, there is no more wondering. I know why he is here.

  I go through the motions, letting River test a few colts and fillies before he asks if we have a place for him to stay the night. “We’re not really set up for guests,” I say. I haven’t looked River in the eyes yet, and I can’t bring myself to do so.

  “I have a tent.” There’s always been something about the way he smiles … makes me weak. “I’d rather take my time, watch the horses for a day or two before I decide.”

  “I guess it’s okay,” I answer. Oka gives me a look. She knows it isn’t like me to let my guard down with strange men. “Out there. On the other side of the fencerow, if you don’t mind.” I point to a distant field.

  “Of course,” River answers. “That’s where my horses are. That’s where I’ll be.”

  The empty house swallows me, and the seconds scrape away. No matter how many times I tell myself to get in that truck and go after my husband, I haven’t left for Longmont, as I had planned. It’s taken River years to find me. How can I just drive away?

  I rub my hand across Bump’s empty pillow and wonder when he’s coming back. If he’s coming back at all. It’s not like him to be this irresponsible. This inconsiderate. Even if he doesn’t care about our marriage anymore, surely he cares about Isabel. About the ranch. I can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong. I also can’t stop picturing him with Kat. Anger consumes me.

  The night songs seem especially loud tonight. The coyotes wail at the full moon, its light too bright. I twist my fist into the sheets, worrying. What will tomorrow bring? I pray. I count sheep. I read. I tumble in bed for hours, hoping to escape into sleep. No luck. No release. I can’t stand this anymore. I’m going mad.

  I finally give in, grab my coat, pull on my boots, and go outside. The autumn nights have brought a chill, and my breath forms clouds as I walk. Fortner’s teepee is closed, and I move far downstream, careful not to disturb his sleep. As the sky wraps itself around me, I feel starfields away from Bump. I spread a blanket near the river and hope the water will sing me to sleep. I am just dozing off when River finds me.

  “What are you doing out here?” River asks, softly. Part of me is surprised to find him here. Part of me expected just that.

  “Couldn’t sleep.” I turn to look at him. He stands above me, lit by the moon, and all my anger melts away.

  “Me either.” River motions toward the blanket, asking permission to join me.

  I make room for him to sit beside me. Could his nerves be surging like mine?

  He tosses a pebble into the water, and it is carried away. “It’s been a long time.”

  “It has,” I answer. Long pauses stretch between us, but neither of us seems to want to rush this. We let words fall as they may.

  “A lot has changed.” He clears his throat.

  “It has,” I agree again. Yellow leaves rustle in the wind. Water surges over the rocks. The ranch sleeps. And here, under this barrel-bellied moon, River is with me. After all this time. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

  “I always knew I’d see you.” The weight of his words makes me shift position. Try to regain balance.

  I have to let him know we can’t do this. “I’m married, you know. I have a child.”

  “And are you happy?” River looks directly at me now, and I am captured in his flint-black eyes. The eyes that took time to see me, the real me, when no one else bothered to look.

  I don’t answer.

  “Why are you alone?” There is a tint of accusation in his tone, and I feel defensive.

  “It’s not what you think.” There’s no way to explain everything that is happening. It makes no sense.

  “You seem lonely.” His voice quiets.

  I roll my fingers through the grass. “I’m not. Not at all.”

  He says nothing to this, and I feel pressured to prove my point. “I have a wonderful life here, River. I love my daughter. My husband.” I try not to think of the empty bed, the nights Bump and I have slept apart, even in our own home, the fact that my husband is miles away. With Kat. But I don’t have to say it. River hears the uncertainty in my voice.

  “Why did he leave you?” He leans closer, and I shift away.

  “He didn’t leave me.” I want to believe what I say, but it comes out sounding abrasive. Too harsh. My walls are up.

  “I wouldn’t leave you,” River says, tilting his head to make me look at him again.

  “You did,” I shoot back.

  “Greatest regret of my life,” he says. “You can bet I’d never make that mistake again.”

  Tears sting my eyes. I can’t believe any of this is happening. Bump has chosen to stay with Kat in Longmont, without any real explanation. And here I sit with River. More than three years after I made my choice and sent him on his way.

  “I don’t recognize you anymore, Millie.” River tosses another pebble into the running stream.

  I don’t point out all the ways he’s different from what I remember. We’ve both aged a lot in just a few years. Hard livin’, as Janine would say.

  “What happened to the girl who wanted to see the world?” he asks. “Who laughed and danced and raced through the woods?”

  “She grew up.” I weave the corner of the blanket through my fingers. Anything not to look back into River’s dark eyes.

  “She got stuck,” he answers. “Your husband’s off doing all the things you want to do. And you’re stuck.”

  His words carve through me. Stuck.

  “Bet you never did see the sea.”

  He still phrases his thoughts like poetry, and I soak in each sweet syllable. “All you had to do was ask twice that day,” I say. “Our lives would probably be very different right now.”

  “I should have, Millie. I knew it the minute I walked away. I should have turned around and begged you to leave with me.” He touches my shoulder, and I yield to him. My body ignites with his touch. Is this what Bump feels when he’s with Kat? Then River adds, “I should have fought for you.”

  “I can’t do this,” I tell him. “I’m married. I love my husband.” I turn my back to him again. Watch the river swell and fall. Try to focus on the water and not let myself cry.

  “I didn’t fight for you when I should have. But I’m here now, Millie. Asking you again.”

  I should tell him there’s nothing he can say to convince me to leave my husband. But I think about Kat convincing Bump she needs him to stay with her in Longmont. I picture her head resting in his lap, his arm tucked beneath her breasts. I remember all those times when Bump stayed back, whispering with Kat, laughing, and flirting. The way he embraced her when she got the telegram about her husband’s death. The trip across the Divide, the talk when they returned. Kat saying things to me like, “I don’t want to be alone,” and “You’ve got what women like me only wish we could have,” and “I’m still out there too.” The fact that she’s the only person in town who calls him Kenneth.

  At one point, I believed joining the rodeo might allow me to tour the country, competing with Firefly in front of cheering crowds. But then I married Bump, and we moved here to Colorado. Before I knew it, Isabel came along and one day became a month, became a year, and then another. And now I’m the mother of a girl who will quickly outgrow me. The wife of a man who has left me behind. The rancher of an operation that isn’t even ours. What if River’s right? Bump is gone, I am here. Stuck. Such a sharp little stab of a word.

  “Look, Millie,” River adds. “I’m not here to break up a family. If you’re living the life you want, then I’ll go. No problem. But I had to find you. Had to make sure you were happy. Because if there’s any chance you’re not, if this guy doesn’t realize what he has in you, then we can leave, together. Millie, I can set you free.
”

  I never do fall asleep. Instead, I stare at the sky until the stars fade and the sun spreads, and still I am afraid to move. Afraid to find River again, telling me he is here to rescue me from my pitiful life.

  I try to convince myself it was all a dream, but I have spent the night tossing River’s words in my head. Trying to remember the last time Bump made love to me. Is this the life I wanted? Is this what I imagined when I dreamed of heading into the free? Am I stuck?

  I shake the blanket into the wind, wishing all of my troubles could blow away too. Then I collect two dozen eggs from the coop and move inside to start breakfast. Brown the sausage in an iron skillet. Fry eggs in the grease. Toast bread with butter. Rinse fresh berries in a bowl. I ring the bell from the porch. Fortner doesn’t come, but River does. He says with his eyes, his endless eyes, that I can leave all of this today.

  I cannot believe River is in my house, sitting at my kitchen table, putting his mouth against the same glass I drink from, one of my forks to his lips. My first love has come back for me, ready to fight for me. All I do is serve him breakfast and try to ignore the flames he’s reignited. As tempting as it is, I refuse to feed this fire.

  I save a plate for Fortner and figure he’ll find it when he’s ready. He’s probably out for a morning hunt. When dishes are finished and everyone’s belly is full, I busy Isabel and Henry with a block of clay and say, “Well, Mr. Greene. I guess we best settle this sale so you can hit the road.” He needs to leave. Bump needs to come home. And everything needs to fall back in place.

  “I watch them,” Oka says, offering to take Isabel and Henry while I negotiate the trade.

  As soon as we’re a safe distance from the house, I question River again. “What do you want from me?”

  “Isn’t it obvious?” River answers, as if he doesn’t care who hears.

  “I’m not the girl you knew in Iti Taloa. You said it yourself. I’ve changed. I’m tired.”

  He laughs. “You shouldn’t be tired.”

  “But I am, River. I’m so tired.” One warm tear slides down my cheek, and I wipe it with the back of my hand.

  “Come with me, Millie. Life is too short for this.” River reaches for my hand.

  “For what?” I step away from his touch.

  “For …” He pauses. Thinks. “For anything less than what you really want.”

  “This is what I want, River. This, right here.” And part of me means it. I love this simple, stuck life. Don’t I?

  “Then why are you shaking?”

  I fold my hands together and try to still them. “Why did you come?” I turn and walk toward the barn, and then I swing around and face him. Words string together like bullets. “Do you think it was easy for me? To make this choice? Do you think I don’t stare at those stars and wonder which one you named after me? You think I haven’t dreamed of you, traveled with you in my sleep? I have, River. All of it. And I’ve missed you. It’s been three years since I was supposed to meet you at your camp, and I’ve spent every day wondering ‘What if?’”

  “There you have it,” he says. “That, Millie, is exactly why I’m here.”

  I shake my head. “But it’s too late, River. I made my choice. And I can’t change this.”

  “But now you’re getting to choose again,” River says.

  I don’t respond. How do I explain everything on my mind? How I love my husband, but he’s run off with Kat. How if I didn’t have Isabel, this choice might be easy. My stomach twists and turns with disgust. This whole situation is more than I can take.

  “Is your choice the same, Millie? Knowing now what you didn’t know then?”

  “It’s not that simple, River. I have Isabel. She’s … she’s everything to me. I can’t explain that to you. How it feels to be connected. Really connected. To a family. A place. A home.”

  “That’s not fair, Millie.” He looks away, stung.

  I move to him. Touch his arm. Try to ignore the sparks. “I’m sorry.” River looks at me, and my heart races against my ribs. “You’re right,” I continue. “That wasn’t fair. I know you lost your family.” I don’t mean to hurt him. “I’m just trying to say … you’re completely free. Untethered. Have been for a long time. And I can’t live like that, River. I need this trap, if that’s what you want to call it. I’m secure here. It’s not perfect, but things will get better. They will.”

  He listens to me. Time has been kind to him, even though his face shows lines of worry now, and his eyes are sad. He has no harmonica in his pocket, no guitar on his back, and he’s a rougher cut of the man I remember, no coins around his waist. But he still melts me with his gaze, and I have no doubt he could still work wonders with his hands. Everything about him tempts me, and in spite of my strong words, I can’t avoid feeling his pull.

  “Do you remember when we raced through the rain?” he asks. “And Babushka gave you that key?”

  “Yes.” I lean against a spruce and remember the way River once kissed my ankles, pulling me down from the branches. I shiver.

  “She told me something that day.”

  “What?”

  River looks into my eyes, holds his gaze. There is nothing I can do to stop my body from reacting with desire. I force myself to think of Bump. But all I can see is Kat’s head in his lap. His arm around her. The telegram that announces he’s not coming home. The knowing, sorry look on Oka’s face when we got word.

  “She told me you were not mine to keep,” River says.

  I am surprised. “You never told me that.”

  “I didn’t want to believe her. Everyone said she had the gift. That’s why people would wait all year to have her read their palms.”

  “She never read mine,” I say, wondering what she would have seen. Could she have warned me about Bill Miller? And if so, would I have changed that event if it meant I would have to lose Isabel?

  I leave River standing in the yard while I still have the power to pull away. I go to Firefly, a reminder of the love I have for Bump, for Isabel, for this life.

  Chapter 31

  I put Isabel and Henry down for a nap and take Firefly out to my favorite trail, the one that takes me deep into the woods and high up the mountain. Away from River. Away from the ranch. Away from Kat’s abandoned child and Isabel’s constant needs, a missing husband and an endless list of chores. I follow the trail away from loneliness. Away from fear. Away.

  I ride up to the lookout and watch the whole wide world unfold below me, pockets of golden aspens burning bright against the pines. The sky is an eerie shade today, almost green. And the winds are unusually still. I am swallowed by a solemn silence, one that reminds me how empty life can be. I close my eyes, seeking release, until I am distracted by the sound of movement. My first thought is lion or bear, but Firefly hasn’t reacted, so I know not to worry.

  I watch the woods and wait for a sign. It is River.

  “How’d you find me?” I am not disappointed. Just surprised.

  “Followed you,” he says, just as he did when we were young. Now we are here, far away from my daughter, my home, my grandmother. My real life. I pat the boulder. River sits beside me. The length of his body touches mine, but this time, neither of us pulls away.

  He offers small talk, comments on the view, and then he tells me what he came to say. “I can live without you, Millie, if that’s your choice. I’ll leave today and move on, as I’ve been doing for years. But it won’t change anything. I’ll always love you.”

  River does need to leave, but there are things I need to tell him first. Things I should have said years ago, when I sent him away. I begin, hoping to fill in the gaps, trying to bring the closure we both crave. “I wanted to meet you that morning, at your camp, like I had promised. Something happened. I couldn’t come.”

  “Was it Jack?” River leans closer, and my body absorbs the weight of him. Even my bones
are hungry for more.

  “Worst ever. I couldn’t leave Mama. Not like that.”

  River takes my hand. I let him.

  “And then she died, River. Jack, too. It happened so fast. I was all alone and you were gone and I had no way of finding you. All I could do was wait. I marked days on the calendar. Watching for spring. For you to come back for me. And then … then, there was Bump.” I do not mention the rape that left me numb on the very morning of River’s return.

  River throws a stone off the cliff and it disappears. Erase. Erase. Erase.

  “And other things,” I add.

  “I should have stayed,” River says. “It’s my fault for leaving in the first place.”

  “It’s no one’s fault,” I tell him. “We were kids. What did we know?”

  He shakes his head. “I knew. I knew even then.”

  The way he says this fills my body with warmth. I think of Bump and try to ignore the flames River sets in me. “I’ve missed you, River. I have. But choosing Bump was the right thing to do. And I love him. I love my husband very much.” I don’t sound very convincing.

  River turns my chin, leans in, and touches his lips to mine. I pull away, but not fast enough. I taste him first. Feel the soft, tender pressure of his lips, and allow myself to remember the passion I felt back in that first-kiss field. Then, and only then, do I stop him. I stand and turn quickly for Firefly. “I can’t do this.” I face him again. “You’re making this too hard for me. I love you, River. I do. But Bump is my life.”

  “Then where is he?” River stands, moves close to me.

  “He’ll come home.” I refuse to cry. Maybe if I say it enough, it’ll come true.

  “Sit down, Millie.” River speaks softly to me. “I’m sorry.” The light within him is fading.

  A long pause spreads between us before I finally break the silence. “Sing me a song?”

  River laughs.

  “I’m serious. I want to feel alive again, River. I want both of us to feel alive again. Tell me what books you are reading. Where have you been? Tell me everything. Let’s give each other this day. And let that be enough. Can we do that?”