The Cowboy's Return

Mitch faced her. He wondered whether it was an omen or just fate laughing at him. “Pretty well, yes. She’s my ex-wife.”

Chapter Four

Annie tried to remember what she knew of Marissa. Had she spoken of an ex-husband? Their conversations had taken place at the boys’ school, at PTA events and bake sales and back-to-school night, or when one of the boys was being dropped off or picked up. Brief conversations about nothing in particular.

“If she has a thirteen-year-old son,” Annie said, “you must have been really young when you were married.”

“Older than you were, I think,” he said. “You’re thirty and have a ten-year-old.”

“Touché.” She smiled, not taking offense.

“She was my only girlfriend. We’d started dating when I was a junior and she was a sophomore, then got married when I was twenty-one. It lasted a year.”

“So, she’s from around here? I got the impression she’d moved here fairly recently.”

“She moved away before the divorce was final. I heard she’d remarried and was pregnant. I hadn’t heard she was back. But then, I’ve been gone.”

“Does it bother you?”

“Let’s just say our divorce was not amicable. What were the chances that Austin and her son are friends?”

“I can’t ask Austin not to go, Mitch.”

“I wasn’t suggesting that.” He shrugged. “Well, what happens, happens. It only means my father would know I’m back. Doesn’t change anything.”

Annie studied him, wondering why he didn’t want to go home. He’d said he and his family weren’t estranged, but something was keeping them apart.

“I’m gonna work on the coop until dinner,” he said, then walked out the door.

She returned to the kitchen. She’d put up a large quantity of tomatoes last year and used one of her last jars now to make spaghetti sauce. While she worked, she considered Mitch’s comment that his divorce wasn’t amicable. Hers had been, or reasonably so. She’d wanted the farm and Austin, and Rick hadn’t fought her on either, hadn’t even asked for joint custody. He called Austin every so often, sent him “guilt” gifts, but otherwise had stopped being his parent.

When Austin was younger and less jaded, he’d cried a lot because of things his father did or didn’t do. Now he was more philosophical about it, especially once she’d convinced him it had nothing to do with him, but his father’s immaturity. She always said Rick loved him—and he did—but that he just didn’t know how to show it.

If she gave Rick more credit than he deserved, that was okay. She only cared about how Austin felt.

She and Rick had parted ways with sadness but resignation. They were better apart.

So, what did “not amicable” mean? And why? Could she ask Mitch about it or wait for him tell her when—or if—he was ready?

“None of your business,” she muttered as she added herbs to her tomato sauce. Except—had it scarred him in a permanent way?

“Really none of your business,” she said aloud. She’d gathered greens from the garden earlier and now ripped them into pieces for salad, uncomfortable with how invested she already was in the stranger.

She leaned around the kitchen door to speak to her son. “Time to wrap it up, honey.”

“Hey, Annie!” Marissa shouted then came into the picture. “How’re you doing?”

Annie wiped her hands on a kitchen towel as she approached the computer and crouched over Austin’s shoulder. “Everything’s going well. How about you?”

“We found out I’m pregnant. With twins. Surprise!”

Annie felt a twinge of envy. “Congratulations.”

Marissa laughed. “Maybe. Hey, I’ll see you tomorrow around twelve-thirty.”

“Thanks for inviting him.”

The screen went blank. “Go see if you can help Mitch with the coop, please. It’ll be about a half hour until dinner.”

“Okay.”

Usually Bo was at his feet, but he’d already followed Mitch into the yard.

Annie plopped into the computer chair. Marissa had always seemed fun and upbeat. She was pretty, although she wore quite a bit of makeup and always had her hair fixed just so. But then, maybe Marissa thought Annie didn’t spruce herself up enough.

She tried to picture Mitch and Marissa together. She was tall and slender, when she wasn’t pregnant, anyway. They would look good as a couple.

But looking good has nothing to do with being right for each other.

“For heaven’s sake, stop obsessing,” she muttered, returning to the kitchen, prepping the garlic bread and finishing the salad before she called them in, wishing she had some hamburger to add to the sauce.

By the time dinner was over, the dishes were done, and the chickens rounded up, they all landed in front of the television, worn-out.

“Thanks for repairing the coop,” she said to Mitch.

“Won’t hold forever.”

“The story of my life.” She smiled. “I should rename this place Superglue Farm.”

Austin was channel surfing but laughed.

“Does the farm have a name?” Mitch asked. “There isn’t a sign out front.”

“The Barn Yard. I had to get rid of the old sign, there was so little left of it. Someday I’ll build a new one.”

“You’ve got plenty of wood from the old greenhouse,” Mitch said. “Rustic is a popular look, I understand.”

“You mean I’d be in style? Imagine that.”

“Austin and I could build you a sign in the morning before we finish up the high tunnel.”

“Don’t forget I won’t be here after lunch,” Austin said earnestly. “And I don’t wanna be too dirty before they come pick me up.”

Mitch smiled, appreciating the ploy for what it was. He’d tried to get out of work when he was that age, too, had gotten just as creative. “Well, maybe we should go build it now instead, before you shower.”

Austin looked toward his mother, as if she would get him out of it somehow.

But Annie only said, “I’ve got some outdoor paint in the barn.”