Page 11 of Puck King
The train hissedat it pulled into the station. My brother stood on the platform in his dirty farm clothes, huddled from the cold. After the session with Colton King, I couldn’t wait to get out of the city. Everleigh had left when I’d started the session, but had told me she’d be in touch. I had done a great job and I knew that I could help the hockey star, but their radio silence told me all I needed to know. I had failed the interview.It’s probably for the best, I told myself. Colton King was an asshole.
As I walked past a newspaper kiosk, Colton’s eyes stared at me from the cover of a magazine. Until our session I’d had no idea who the man was, but now he was showing up everywhere.
I stopped and backtracked. “Hold on,” I said to Stuart and bought a copy ofTattle Town.
Stuart raised his eyebrows. “Since when do you read that garbage?”
Shoving the magazine into my bag, I ignored his question. “How are Mom and Dad?”
“Good, I guess.” Stuart shrugged. “It’s a tough time of year, you know that.”
Growing up, our house had always been a little too cold in the winter, but I didn’t complain. We just wore thick wool sweaters and socks, sometimes two pairs. When I was old enough, I realized that the reason my parents worked so hard all growing season was to make sure we survived the winter.
The hinge creaked on the door of the old diesel pickup truck as I got in. The interior was still warm and I rubbed my hands together before turning the heat to full blast.
Country music crackled through the speakers and I turned down the volume to continue our conversation. “I thought that last summer’s harvest was one of the best ever.”
“It was.” Stuart focused on the snow-covered roads, leaving the town behind us.
The sun came out and I squinted as the countryside turned white and sparkly.
“How’s Brian?” Stuart handed me a pair of sunglasses that were hanging on the visor. They were scratched up safety glasses, but they shielded my eyes from the bright winter day.
This was the part I’d been dreading – telling my parents that I was leaving Brian. I inhaled and stared at the rolling hills for a moment before responding. “Well, we’re getting a divorce. Is that enough information?” I braced myself to hear ‘I told you so’ from my brother. He’d never liked any of the men I dated.
Stuart took his eyes from the road. “Are you okay?” His softness was uncharacteristic and caught me off guard. I’d been working on a snippy retort, not a reply to a caring question.
“I will be.” It was the truth. I’d had over a week to process everything, and I was ready to move on.
Stuart’s jaw was clenched as he spoke. “I never liked that son of a bitch.”
There it was. “I know. You didn’t hide it well.”
A smile crept across his face. “Really? What gave me away?”
I laughed. “The time that you took him horseback riding and gave him Wolfie.”
Stuart took a sip of water and almost spit it out. “I forgot about that. I thought he was going to shit his pants.”
It felt good to be home.
Stuart wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve. “In all fairness, he told me he was an experienced rider.”
“I can barely ride Wolfie.” The horse was rowdy, but I knew his quirks. “How’s he doing? Last time I was home he was having that issue with his right hoof.” I had been so wrapped up in my city life I’d totally forgotten that life on the farm went on without me. Sheep were sheared, horses were born, and some fields turned fallow while others grew our organic produce – all while I stuck needles in burned-out stock brokers.
Stuart’s lips pursed ever so slightly and he turned up the music.
I turned it down. “Stu, what happened?” We had five horses, but Wolfie was my favorite.
Stuart cleared his throat. “We had to get rid of the horses.”
“What?” I turned off the radio completely. “Why?”
We had arrived at the long laneway to the farm. I shielded my eyes and strained to see the paddock. Sure enough, the horse enclosure was empty. “No one rode them anymore.” Stuart was a terrible liar and his voice cracked.
I took a deep breath. If I asked any more questions, the tears that had filled my eyes would fall. I squeezed my eyes together and blinked, wondering if I was seeing things, but I wasn’t. There were two sets of pointy ears at the fence. I swiped away the tears to see Bert and Ernie, the donkeys. “Those assholes are still here?” I loved the donkeys, but Bert was a hell of a lot nicer than Ernie.
“They do a good job at protecting the sheep.” Stuart shut off the truck and grabbed my suitcase from the truck’s box.
