Winterkill. P.H. Turner

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СКАЧАТЬ You need a job fitting the type of young woman you are.” She slammed her glass down, sloshing merlot, staining a red ring on the table.

      “Mom, this is the type of woman I am. I love my job and I’ve worked hard to get where I am.” I remembered Andy’s threat to call Watkins and sour my prospects. Andy wasn’t going to screw this for me.

      “I just worry about you dear.” She patted my hand. “I want you to be happy, that’s all your Dad and I ever wanted. With a nice young man and a life together.”

      “My life is good.”

      “But Sawyer, you’ve let some good opportunities for marriage pass you by. Remember that orthodontist in Boulder? He offered you such a promising life. Then there was Connor. Connor’s so accomplished and he was such a lovely young man. From a good family, too. I really enjoyed him. You broke off with both of them. Honey, do you know what you’re looking for in a man?”

      “I guess not, Mom.”

      The tears formed in her eyes again. Guilt rolled over me. She’s my mother, for god’s sake. Why can’t she let me be the adult woman I am?

      “Mom.” I pulled her into my arms. “I want you to stop worrying. I’m fine. My life is not a mirror of yours, but I’m happy.”

      She pulled a Kleenex out of her skirt pocket and dabbed at the corners of both eyes. “You’re my only child and I just want what’s best for you. Your dad’s gone now.” The tears rolled down her cheeks. “He would know what’s best.”

      “Mom…” I warned.

      She sat up in her chair until her back was ramrod straight. Raised her chin and tugged at her twinset. “So. You’re going back to Cheyenne. Where are you going to live? You haven’t told me.”

      “I don’t know.” I laughed. “Julia’s looking for place.”

      She clasped her hands on her knees. “Sawyer, you have no home?”

      “Mom, I have a job. The worst that could happen is that I have to stay in a hotel and store my stuff for awhile.”

      She worried at a miniscule piece of lint on her sleeve. “But Julia is helping you. Right?”

      “She is. She and Dave got married, remember?”

      “That boy she was dating when you two were in college?”

      “Yes, they moved from Boulder to Cheyenne after they graduated.” The crinkled worry lines on her face relaxed. “Julia looked at a rental for me today. I may hear from her tonight.” I gave her hope.

      We cleared the dishes. I hugged her goodnight and climbed the stairs to my old room. I opened a window to let in fresh air. She had left my room as it was the day I left for CU. A dry, brittle corsage was pinned to my sagging bulletin board. The ribbon hung in limp dusty streamers. I was ten years older than this room.

      * * * *

      At nine sharp, I called Clay Watkins.

      “What can I do for you?” His distinctive voice boomed out of the radio speakers.

      “I’ll be at work tomorrow. I’m looking forward to it.” I paused. “The news director at NBC and I didn’t part on the best of terms…”

      “I know.” Clay’s voice was louder. “Heard an earful from him.”

      “I left under the terms of my contract. I changed networks and moved over five hundred miles.”

      “Didn’t get the particulars from Andy. I know him, you know. Couple of us go drinkin’ every year at the convention.”

      “I assumed you knew each other. The important thing is that you understand that I fulfilled my contract and I gave two weeks’ notice.”

      “Tell you what’s important to me. You get here and do a helluva professional job for me and this station. And don’t be an asshole while you’re doin’ it. See you tomorrow.” The line went dead.

      I tapped my phone off. I could work with that.

       4

      I drove into the wide-open spaces of Wyoming deciding to quit rehashing my old relationships. I wasn’t missing any of them. Or Andy either.

      What I needed was a house.

      I picked up the phone and called my go-to person. “Julia, did that guy call you back about the house?”

      “Finally. I hope you’re gonna like this place. It’s a restored farmhouse ten miles north of Cheyenne. Probably bigger than you need, but it’s nice and it’s available. He’s offering a twelve-month lease and the price is good.” I sensed her excitement and pictured her flushed face and bright eyes.

      “Great! Tell him I’ll take it. I’m excited about seeing you. I’ll call the movers now to give them my new address so they won't put my stuff in storage.”

      “When are you getting here? I can meet you out at the place after four.”

      “I should be in town by then. I don’t mind waiting at the house for you. Give me the directions again.”

      “Head north on I-25. Take exit 233 for Horse Creek Road. It’s about nine miles from town. Turn right at the exit and then turn right again. Keep going until you see the first stone house on the right. You can’t miss it. See ya.”

      A couple of hours later, I turned into the drive. A rural mailbox decorated with horseshoes sat sentinel at the entrance. Great. Yard art. The house was set at the end of a small well-kept green yard. I took the three steps up the broad porch. “Hello?” I called into the screen door. No answer. I peered into the dimly lit house. Nails scratched and clattered on the hardwood floors. I jumped back as the screen banged open. A big black and tan dog planted his feet in front of me, barking furiously. I backed cautiously down two steps, the dog matching me step by step. Behind me, I heard a male voice ask, “Can I help you?”

      “Yeah, call your dog off.” I didn’t take my eyes off the madly barking animal.

      “Chet! Come!” he commanded in a deep baritone.

      Chet brushed past me and ran down the steps. Only when he was behind me did I turn around.

      A tall man with longish dark hair and a good set of cheekbones looked mildly amused.

      “Sit, Chet,” he said. “Good boy. You’re a good boy aren’t you?” He ruffled the head of the fawning dog. “May I help you? I’m Jake Spooner and that’s my porch you’re standing on.”

      “Sawyer Cahill,” I said, extending my hand. The touch of his firm handshake sent a frisson of warmth up my arm. We stared at each other for a nanosecond too long. I loosened my hand. “Thanks for calling your dog off. I’ve rented a house out here somewhere. Supposedly, it’s the first stone house on Horse Creek Road. Obviously not. Sorry for the intrusion.”

      “No problem.” He flashed a warm smile. “Yours would be the second stone house СКАЧАТЬ