Page 48 of The Bride
“Mrs. Nash,” I said as she walked over to me. “No Mr. Nash?” There was never Mr. Nash when there was Mrs. Nash, but still I had to ask because it was polite.
“At home with the kids. I’m coming here for a while, then he’s going to another party later and I’ll take the kids.”
Right. Because Riverbend didn’t have about twenty age-appropriate babysitters.
“How is Ellie doing?”
It was a common enough question. No one ever asked her directly. So much easier to do it with me. It pissed her off actually and I could see why. I wasn’t the boss of Ellie. I wasn’t the caretaker of Ellie.
I was only her partner. For this part of our lives.
Still, I had to be polite so I gave the standard answer. “She’s doing great. Grades are good and she’s learning a lot about ranching.”
Mrs. Nash smiled. “No, I meanthowis she doing?”
Right. Because not eleven months ago Ellie had lost her dad. Sometimes as strong as she was, even I forgot that.
“She’s okay. She’s strong. She’s determined. She’s more of a rancher than I would have thought. Takes to all of it, even the ugly stuff. She hates to go in my room for any reason, I think because it makes her sad. If our laundry gets mixed up she leaves my stuff folded outside my door. She cries at the weirdest things on TV and I know it’s because something reminded her of Sam. If I ask her if she wants to talk about it, she lifts her chin three feet up in the air and says she’s fine. Like her dad. She’s grown up a lot. And in a way that’s good, because come April this all falls to her, but in a way I’m sorry she didn’t get to experience her senior year. I doubt she’ll go to the prom. She didn’t bother with the homecoming dance. She’s focused. Which is important. Mature for someone so young, which is also important. But she’s not as goofy as she used to be. She doesn’t laugh as much. It bothers me sometimes.”
Mrs. Nash made a sound in the back of her throat and I looked at her.
“Jake Talley, I’ve known you your whole life and those are more words in total than you have ever said to me.”
I wasn’t sure I understood why that was important.
She put her hand on my shoulder. “She’s lucky to have had you through this.”
Yeah. She was. I didn’t say it because I thought it would make me sound like a jerk, but regardless of what weirdness was happening now between us, Ellie and I were solid.
We were family.
For another one hundred and eighteen days at least.
* * *
“Can I ask you a question?”
It was late. We were driving home from the party. I could tell she was drunk on punch and eggnog. It was ruthless of me really, but I thought it might be the best way to get to the truth with her defenses a little down.
“Go for it,” she said. She was twisted a little in her seat, on her side and looking at me, smiling.
“Did you have fun tonight?”
“I did.”
She said it like it was a surprise.
“Is that because you’re hopped up on punch?”
“Yes,” she laughed. “No. It was nice to be around… people who know us. Who get us. Who don’t think we’re weird.”
“Ellie,” I had to tell her. “We’re weird.”
“I know. Even the way we showed up at the party. Me with a bottle of wine. You driving and being all manly. Like we were some normal married couple celebrating Christmas with the neighbors.”
“Do you think of us that way?” I asked it gently because I knew this was poking into a sensitive area.
“No,” she answered quickly. “I know we’re not. We are sonota couple.”
