Page 79 of True North

I’d been torn between her happiness and the life I always thought we’d have. But when I imagine her unhappy, even if it’s being by my side that causes her that, I am willing to stomp on my own heart to protect hers.

So, I’m fencin’. Hands workin’, mind a little slower, the knot in my gut a little looser. Me and fences have always had an unspoken agreement. I fix, maintain, and build them, they give me back my peace, if only for a little while. It’s a good trade-off. A productive one. Nothing a little sunshine, fresh air, and fresh blisters from wrangling wire to solve a man’s problems.

I pluck the pliers from my back pocket and secure the last length of wire, winding it back on itself and looping it around the taut length before twisting it back ’round. As if the fence is offering up the solution along with its completion, a notion comes to me.

Something so out there, it may just work.

I’ve always had Ma to help me find my direction. Maybe I can be that for Lou. Until she finds her feet and makes a concrete decision. The realization that this could go either way for me sinks in like the stone that slipped into my gut.

Just like that, this man needs another fence to fix.

Sweet Jesus.

* * *

Ma putters in the kitchen, humming to herself. Louisa’s late. Which is not like her at all. Especially when it comes to Ma. I can tell by the way she talks about my mother and the care she takes, Lou is fond of her. They have a bond.

“Harry? Louisa should have been here an hour ago. Pop up the road and see she didn’t break down, will you?”

Her gaze is fixed on me as I cart and stack wood into the living room, restocking the wood rack at the hearth. The days have started cooling off, and with fall only a few short weeks ahead and Ma feeling off so much this month, I won’t leave having her end up in a cold house to chance. Tossing the last log into the rack, I rise and dust my hands on my jeans. Glancing the clock, my eyes widen. Hell, she is late. Lunchtime was two hours ago. Worry snakes through my body, laying its ill-fitting heat through my veins.

“Jesus, Ma. Why didn’t you say somethin’ earlier?”

“She’s a capable girl, I thought she was running behind. But two hours is unlike her.”

“I’ll say.”

I grab my hat from the hook by the front door and slide my boots on.

“Make sure you find her and bring her here!” Ma calls out behind me as I stalk through the door and cross the front yard to the truck. I fire her up, reversing from the parking space and sending her down the driveway like a man on a mission.

Gravel flies up behind the truck as I push the old girl as fast as she’ll go on the potholed dirt road. Hands white-knuckling the wheel, I scan the road ahead for any sign of Lou’s yellow Datsun.

Twenty minutes later, a small figure moves along the side of the road. I squint my eyes, tryin’ to make them out. A few minutes later, I roll to a stop beside a flushed Louisa, haulin’ two bags of groceries and her handbag. The smile that finds me when I lean over and push the passenger door open sends my heart straight into my throat.

“Hell, Lou, what are you walkin’ for? You break down?”

Without a word, she dumps the bags on the center of the bench seat and slides on in. Her head slumps back to the back of the seat and she sighs, long and low. Her skin is flushed from walking in the midday sun, despite the cooler temperatures this week. Sweat glistens on her neck as moisture trickles down between her breasts.

She turns her head to face me, her eyes bright. Her lips parted, she says, “I thought you’d never find me.”

She breathes a small chuckle and turns her head back to the resting position. It’s all I can do to stare at her. Louisa exerted and out of breath is sending every last drop of blood south and all rational thought flyin’ from my head.

I clear my throat, hoping it’ll ease the need that is rapidly escalating. “How far up is the Datsun?”

“Too far,” she breathes.

“Need me to take a look at it?”

“Later.” She waves a hand at me, closing her eyes. “Take me to the ranch first, these ingredients are not going to last much longer. Plus...” Her head turns, and it’s now I notice the low-cut top, the skirt grazing the tops of her knees. Her green eyes are laced with something I imagine mine are, too. “Rosie is waitin’. I hope she’s not too annoyed by my tardiness.”

“Tardi—” Fuck me.

“God, I am so hot from carting those bags. Who woulda thought food would be so stinkin’ heavy?” She fans her chest with her hands.

I shove the truck into gear and turn her around. With the windows down, the breeze must be helping. The flush of her skin fades and she smiles at me while I drive.

“So much better,” she says softly.

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