Page 41 of Whiskey Weather
“Izzy,” Ledger corrects her with a shake of his head and a playful eye roll. He leans toward me and whispers, “My niece.”
I nod, and we step over the threshold, barely able to keep up with little Sarabeth as she scampers down the hall.
“Do you like rhubarb? I know most people think it’s sour, but I put them in my muffin mix and tried to balance them out with a lot of sweetness. Do you have food testing experience?” We follow her through the front room and finally into the kitchen as she spills word after word, not waiting for me to reply to her questions. “Did you know I was reserve champion at the county fair last year with my chokecherry jam? I’ve never been grand champion before, but I’m working on it?—”
“Sarabeth,” a more womanly voice warns from her spot at the white fireclay farmhouse sink. Immediately, I spot the paperairplane tattoo on the inside of her forearm as she dries her hands with a small towel.
She doesn’t say anything to me but lifts her hand in a little wave and smiles before returning to the sink to put away dishes from the drying rack. Beside the fridge, three men of various ages sit at a rickety old brown card table, each with a newspaper and coffee cup in hand. The oldest of the three wears an impossibly dirty cowboy hat pulled down to his bushy brow. He’s leaning back far enough that I worry his chair might tip over.
There’s a gigantic plate of picked-over baked goods and jams in the middle of the table, and I’m guessing that was Sarabeth’s doing. Just past them in the entryway of a mudroom, the wall is marked with numerous lines, names, and dates. I narrow my eyes and lean forward to get a better look, realizing they’ve been measuring the kid’s heights for years. Toward the middle, I spot Ledger’s name in faded black ink. I softly laugh, picturing him at that height, knowing how tall he is now.
I sit at the counter on a bar stool just as the master baker herself slides a small round plate with one steaming muffin on it toward me. She bites her lower lip and stands right next to me, watching intently as I peel off the liner and sink my teeth in for a bite. It’s entirely too hot at first, and I cover my mouth with my free hand to catch a few crumbs.
“I don’t know much about baking,” I admit through a half-full mouth of food. After swallowing, I give a review. “But this is the best muffin I’ve ever had. I can’t believe I’ve never had rhubarb before.”
“Really?! You love it?!”
I take another bite with several encouraging nods. Ledger sits next to me and bumps his shoulder with mine. I break a corner of the muffin off for him and hold it toward his mouth. Just before his lips close in on the bite, I pull it away. His teeth clamp down on nothing but air, and I throw my head back in laughter.Ledger chuckles and stands to cage me in from behind, pinning my arm down and swiping the bite from between my fingers.
“She got you good,” Sarabeth squeals through a fit of giggles. “I’ll get you one for yourself. One second.”
When I finally stop laughing, I feel several sets of eyes on me. I slowly scan the silent room, realizing that everyone is staring at us.
“Are you two?—”
“Save it, Cheyenne,” Ledger mumbles.
His sister continues to stare as she stands in the light of the open door on the retro yellow refrigerator. “And since when do you laugh like that?” she adds, ignoring Ledger’s request for her to keep her comments to herself.
“Yeah, that’s sus,” Sarabeth agrees. “Is it because Izzy made you happy, so you laugh more now?”
The old man at the table lets out a long, low whistle.
“Maybe,” Ledger admits in a tone so low, it’s barely audible.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it out to see my dad’s caller ID. With a heavy breath, I let the call go to voicemail for now. I’ll call him back once I’m on the road. When the call ends, a notification pops up from my airline app, prompting me to check in for my flight out of Denver tomorrow. The drive is only a few hours south of here.
I have another job lined up in a few days, this time overseas. It’s a shoot I’ve really been looking forward to, and there are several others lined up shortly after as well before I come back to the States. At the reminder of my upcoming trip and workload, I feel excitement but also a slight sting of apprehensiveness.
It’s not a foreign emotion, feeling less enthusiastic about leaving for a long stretch of travel. I’ve always enjoyed it immensely, but having nothing and no one to come home to has been a lingering sadness for me for a while now. It’s the reason I took a chance on a relationship with Jonathan in the first place.
That didn’t work out in my favor, obviously. But my motivation remains the same, nonetheless. I wanted something stable, and a person and place to callhome.
It’s torture having such a small taste of it now, just to leave so soon and be left once again with an unsettled longing for more.The real slap in the face is that the fantasy I’ve built up in my mind revolves around a man who I’ve known for less than a week.
How naïve, to yearn for something so new and unknown.
With everyone in the room still staring at me, I feel the corners of my eyes stinging with an unwelcome pool of tears. I hold my breath, willing them not to fall.
That’s my cue to go—before I do something stupid like full-on cry in this man’s arms over how perfect my time here has felt.
With a sniff, I hold my phone in the air while addressing the room. “I’m on my way to Denver for a flight, and should get going. I’m so happy to have met you all.” I turn to direct my attention at Sarabeth. “Thank you for inviting me in.”
That earns me a few nods and smiles. With a hand in his pocket, Ledger looks down at his boots. I turn to walk toward the door and feel his overwhelming presence not far behind me.
Chapter Nineteen
Ledger
