“Yes, you. Look at yourself. You somehow pulled yourself together and tried. I’m so impressed by you.”
“You should have seen me the day I arrived in Thunder Point. Ray Anne was appalled. For one thing, it took me far longer to get there than it should have and Ray Anne was ready to call the state troopers to ask if there had been any accidents. I told her I stopped to look at the ocean, which was true. What I didn’t tell her was that I had contemplated just throwing myself off a cliff.”
He scowled. “You’re intentionally scaring me.”
She ignored him. “I had lost a lot of weight since the baby died and was swimming in my clothes. I was pale because I hadn’t been eating, hadn’t left the house in months. My hair was... I can’t even describe it. Neglected is probably the kindest word. I could have made a public service commercial for severe depression.”
“Yet, look at you a few weeks later.” He gave her hand a squeeze.
“Ray Anne couldn’t stand looking at me! She took me, kicking and screaming, for a makeover. She warned me that it might not help the mess on the inside but we had to spare the public what I was showing on the outside. She had a point. Even I find it easier to look in the mirror.”
“And how about that cliff thing?” he asked.
“I’m not suicidal,” she said. “The only thing I really want, suicide wouldn’t get me. I want for it never to have happened. I’m afraid that’s not possible.”
He stopped walking and faced her. He took her other hand. “I want to tell you something. I can’t even explain the dark place I was in a few months ago. I didn’t go through nearly what you did but I was in a black, foul temper I couldn’t shake. I did a lot of stupid self-destructive things and didn’t just hurt myself—I hurt other people, too. And then I met you and things began to change. Just knowing you, talking to you, looking forward to the next time we’d talk or get together—it pulled me out of the hell I was living in. Ginger, I don’t want to heap any more trouble on you, but if I didn’t have you right now, my family would still be calling me Mad Matt. I rely on you. You lift me up. And the best part is, I don’t think you really even mean to. It’s just your nature. You’re the kindest person I know.”
“Matt,” she said. “Oh, that’s so nice of you to say.”
“I’m not being nice, Ginger. We connected. Maybe it was out of shared troubles but maybe that’s not all it is. Maybe when we’re done surviving this, maybe we go on to find new reasons to connect.”
She laughed softly and blushed a little, looking at her feet. Then she lifted her eyes to his. “There’s something I should tell you. There was another reason I went to Roy’s last night. It was true, I wanted to see him and know that I didn’t want him anymore, didn’t grieve him. It was also something else. I started to have warm feelings for another man. A dear man who is not dark or angry or mad. I had to be sure that one look at Mick wouldn’t throw me back into that spiral I was once caught up in. I wanted to be sure what I was feeling was real.”
A half smile played on his lips. “Was it?”
“I believe so, yes,” she said.
They stood on the dirt road between the orchard and the pasture that led to George’s barn. Maybe halfway there.
“Has it changed things for you like it changed things for me?” he asked.
“Yes. Remember we joked about trying again when we’re maybe fifty?”
“Uh-huh.”
“I’m down to forty-nine and a half.”
He just smiled. Then he leaned toward her and pressed his cheek against her cheek. He let go of one of her hands and slid his around her waist to the small of her back, just enough to hold her while he felt the softness of her cheek and the tickle of her hair. He hummed softly, content. They stood like that for a long moment. Then he slowly pulled back and while looking into her beautiful eyes, touched her lips with his. He felt her lean into him a little and watched as her eyes slowly closed.
He didn’t push his luck. He pulled back. “Was that okay?” he asked.
She nodded. “Lovely.”
“How do you feel about us now?”
“Maybe forty-nine.”
He laughed loudly. “Not even forty-eight and a half? We didn’t even get a whole year? I obviously have work to do with you.”
“Be careful you don’t drive it in the other direction.”
He laughed and led her down the road toward the lambs. Matt had never had to be careful before. He’d had almost legendary success with the girls, then the women. This one wasn’t going to fall into his lap. He didn’t want her to, he realized. He wanted to work for her. Earn her. Deserve her. Be good for her. “You’re going to love the lambs,” he said.
* * *
It was such a perfect June day to gambol about the farm, Ginger thought. And that was really what they were doing, she and Matt, hand in hand, walking at a leisurely pace, visiting the new lambs and the not-so-new lambs. The babies were in the lambing pens inside, though they were big enough to be outside in such perfect weather. There were just a few late lambs; most had been born at least a month earlier.
The weather wasn’t the only thing that was perfect. Ginger had begun thinking that while there were people in her life she trusted and could talk to, for some reason this new friendship with Matt was deeper and more trusting than anything she had known. She assumed it was because they were recovering from similar heartaches. But they only visited those subjects a little bit, then moved on to other things—his family, his education, her family and how everyone but her seemed consumed in the family business.
“How long have you known this was what you wanted to do—farm?”
“I think I was born knowing,” he said. “I never wanted anything else. I only write, research and teach occasionally to stay well-rounded. It’s important to stay involved in the community. We go to a lot of town meetings—things like zoning, environmental issues, property tax, lots of things to stay on top of. I grew up knowing these things.”
“I envy that,” she said. “I’m the only person in the family who hasn’t found any study or industry that would be fulfilling for a lifetime. I’ve had jobs, and while none of them were going to make me rich or successful, I was satisfied.”
“You should have seen me the day I arrived in Thunder Point. Ray Anne was appalled. For one thing, it took me far longer to get there than it should have and Ray Anne was ready to call the state troopers to ask if there had been any accidents. I told her I stopped to look at the ocean, which was true. What I didn’t tell her was that I had contemplated just throwing myself off a cliff.”
He scowled. “You’re intentionally scaring me.”
She ignored him. “I had lost a lot of weight since the baby died and was swimming in my clothes. I was pale because I hadn’t been eating, hadn’t left the house in months. My hair was... I can’t even describe it. Neglected is probably the kindest word. I could have made a public service commercial for severe depression.”
“Yet, look at you a few weeks later.” He gave her hand a squeeze.
“Ray Anne couldn’t stand looking at me! She took me, kicking and screaming, for a makeover. She warned me that it might not help the mess on the inside but we had to spare the public what I was showing on the outside. She had a point. Even I find it easier to look in the mirror.”
“And how about that cliff thing?” he asked.
“I’m not suicidal,” she said. “The only thing I really want, suicide wouldn’t get me. I want for it never to have happened. I’m afraid that’s not possible.”
He stopped walking and faced her. He took her other hand. “I want to tell you something. I can’t even explain the dark place I was in a few months ago. I didn’t go through nearly what you did but I was in a black, foul temper I couldn’t shake. I did a lot of stupid self-destructive things and didn’t just hurt myself—I hurt other people, too. And then I met you and things began to change. Just knowing you, talking to you, looking forward to the next time we’d talk or get together—it pulled me out of the hell I was living in. Ginger, I don’t want to heap any more trouble on you, but if I didn’t have you right now, my family would still be calling me Mad Matt. I rely on you. You lift me up. And the best part is, I don’t think you really even mean to. It’s just your nature. You’re the kindest person I know.”
“Matt,” she said. “Oh, that’s so nice of you to say.”
“I’m not being nice, Ginger. We connected. Maybe it was out of shared troubles but maybe that’s not all it is. Maybe when we’re done surviving this, maybe we go on to find new reasons to connect.”
She laughed softly and blushed a little, looking at her feet. Then she lifted her eyes to his. “There’s something I should tell you. There was another reason I went to Roy’s last night. It was true, I wanted to see him and know that I didn’t want him anymore, didn’t grieve him. It was also something else. I started to have warm feelings for another man. A dear man who is not dark or angry or mad. I had to be sure that one look at Mick wouldn’t throw me back into that spiral I was once caught up in. I wanted to be sure what I was feeling was real.”
A half smile played on his lips. “Was it?”
“I believe so, yes,” she said.
They stood on the dirt road between the orchard and the pasture that led to George’s barn. Maybe halfway there.
“Has it changed things for you like it changed things for me?” he asked.
“Yes. Remember we joked about trying again when we’re maybe fifty?”
“Uh-huh.”
“I’m down to forty-nine and a half.”
He just smiled. Then he leaned toward her and pressed his cheek against her cheek. He let go of one of her hands and slid his around her waist to the small of her back, just enough to hold her while he felt the softness of her cheek and the tickle of her hair. He hummed softly, content. They stood like that for a long moment. Then he slowly pulled back and while looking into her beautiful eyes, touched her lips with his. He felt her lean into him a little and watched as her eyes slowly closed.
He didn’t push his luck. He pulled back. “Was that okay?” he asked.
She nodded. “Lovely.”
“How do you feel about us now?”
“Maybe forty-nine.”
He laughed loudly. “Not even forty-eight and a half? We didn’t even get a whole year? I obviously have work to do with you.”
“Be careful you don’t drive it in the other direction.”
He laughed and led her down the road toward the lambs. Matt had never had to be careful before. He’d had almost legendary success with the girls, then the women. This one wasn’t going to fall into his lap. He didn’t want her to, he realized. He wanted to work for her. Earn her. Deserve her. Be good for her. “You’re going to love the lambs,” he said.
* * *
It was such a perfect June day to gambol about the farm, Ginger thought. And that was really what they were doing, she and Matt, hand in hand, walking at a leisurely pace, visiting the new lambs and the not-so-new lambs. The babies were in the lambing pens inside, though they were big enough to be outside in such perfect weather. There were just a few late lambs; most had been born at least a month earlier.
The weather wasn’t the only thing that was perfect. Ginger had begun thinking that while there were people in her life she trusted and could talk to, for some reason this new friendship with Matt was deeper and more trusting than anything she had known. She assumed it was because they were recovering from similar heartaches. But they only visited those subjects a little bit, then moved on to other things—his family, his education, her family and how everyone but her seemed consumed in the family business.
“How long have you known this was what you wanted to do—farm?”
“I think I was born knowing,” he said. “I never wanted anything else. I only write, research and teach occasionally to stay well-rounded. It’s important to stay involved in the community. We go to a lot of town meetings—things like zoning, environmental issues, property tax, lots of things to stay on top of. I grew up knowing these things.”
“I envy that,” she said. “I’m the only person in the family who hasn’t found any study or industry that would be fulfilling for a lifetime. I’ve had jobs, and while none of them were going to make me rich or successful, I was satisfied.”
