Burned

  get to know him.

  Turned out it wasn’t hard at all.

  Journal Entry, June 7

  Yesterday I thought riding a horse

  was an accomplishment. Today

  I learned how to drive. I think

  I did pretty good, too. At least,

  I didn’t run into anything or

  blow up Aunt J’s pickup.

  It wasn’t exactly legal, I know.

  But Aunt J said it was her property,

  she’d damn well do as she pleased,

  and, besides, some laws were meant

  to be broken—laws made for no

  reason but to keep good people in check.

  She said the government was like an

  impatient cowboy—quick to hobble

  a spirited horse until it wasn’t good

  for anything but dog food.

  I also met Ethan today. He is by

  far the most beautiful man I’ve

  ever seen. Aunt J said he’s a college

  sophomore, which must mean

  he goes to college. I wonder where.

  No “institutes of higher learning”

  out here in the sticks, I’ll bet.

  I wonder why I’m wondering

  about him at all. He’s so out of my

  league. Ah, who cares? At least

  he’s giving me something to think

  about besides the mess I left

  behind in Carson City.

  I’ve been here eleven days, and they

  haven’t called once to check up

  on me, or even just to say hi.

  Won’t Dad croak when he finds

  out Aunt J taught me to drive?

  He’ll have to lock up his keys.

  If he ever lets me come home.

  On Saturday

  After breakfast and chores, Aunt J said she needed to

  run into Panaca to pick up supplies from the feed store.

  She tossed me the keys. You drive. Practice makes perfect.

  It was my first time on an honest-to-goodness road.

  Aunt J played with the radio, looking for country tunes.

  She barely even flinched the time or two I miscalculated,

  spinning the tires up the dirt shoulder, then back to asphalt.

  The second time, I said, “Okay, that had to scare you.”

  She quit fiddling with knobs and looked over.

  I’ve made it through some god-awful things, Pattyn.

  Nothing much can scare me. No sir, not anymore.

  She opened the window wide, inviting the wind.

  I’d connected with Aunt J in a special way, yet how

  little I knew about her. She had trusted me with her

  truck. Would she trust me enough to confide secrets?

  “What awful things, Aunt J? Tell me, please.”

  I didn’t dare take my eyes off the road, but I felt

  her withdrawal into that distant place deep inside.

  We bumped along for several silent minutes, as she

  settled into the indefinable space where she needed to be.

  And if we hadn’t crossed the railroad tracks,

  signaling the highway’s imminent approach, she might

  have broken down and told me everything right then.

  Instead she said, I’d better drive from here.

  I pulled over, remembered to push the gearshift

  into P for park. Aunt J came around and took the wheel,

  and as I scooted my black-and-blue butt across the seat,

  I vowed to weasel her secrets, however dark they might be.

  At the Feed Store

  I followed Aunt J inside,

  letting my eyes adjust to filtered light

  and my nose admire the potpourri.

  Leather.

  Grain.

  Alfalfa.

  Aunt J disappeared out back

  while I wandered over to a far wall,

  drawn by a riot of sound.

  Cheeps.

  Scuffs.

  Hisses.

  Yellow fluffs under warming

  lamps, sifting through scratch

  and testing stumpy wings.

  Chicks.

  Ducklings.

  Goslings.

  Finally, I heard Aunt J. I turned

  to see her talking to a guy

  with a vaguely familiar voice.

  Tall.

  Built.

  Gorgeous.

  Gorgeous? Ethan! And I hadn’t

  even brushed my hair! I hurried

  outside, hoping he wouldn’t see me.

  Ha.

  Ha.

  Ha.

  He Trailed Aunt J

  To the pickup, carrying a fifty-pound sack

  of cracked corn like burlap-wrapped feathers,

  tossed it in the bed, went back for another.

  I dropped my face, so he wouldn’t notice

  its ordinariness as he passed the window.

  I’m pretty sure he glanced my way once

  or twice, walking by. Striding by, with long,

  lean legs, hugged tight by Wranglers.

  I pretended not to watch, but the corner

  of my eye caught every little detail.

  The way he moved. How his muscles flexed.

  Facial structure. The vivid green of his eyes

  beneath a long wave of hair, mink brown.

  Justin and Derek could eat their hearts out—

  if Tiffany and Carmen didn’t beat them to it.

  Three sacks of grain and a bag of dog food

  later, he thanked Aunt J and started off.

  At the door he turned, and I just about died

  when he flashed me his should-be-famous

  smile and mouthed, See you soon.

  See Me Soon?

  What did he mean by that?

  Did I care?

  Considering recent events,

  I shouldn’t care.

  I was going to stay innocent.

  Men were evil.

  I was going to die celibate.

  Men were trouble.

  I would not date again.

  Men lied.

  I would not marry, ever.

  Men cheated.

  No man would own me.

  So why,

  despite all of the above,

  was I,

  so suddenly and completely

  fascinated with this man?

  Aunt J Knew, Too

  He’s cute, huh?

  Cute did not define it. “I guess.

  Who is he, anyway?”

  Ethan is the son

  of an old friend.

  Ah. Things were getting clearer.

  But…“His mom or his dad?”

  Both, but mostly his dad.

  We were almost on a roll.

  “So, um…he lives around here?”

  Just outside of Caliente.

  We lived just outside of Caliente.

  “Near the ranch?”

  Right down the road. Why?

  Why, indeed? “No special reason

  except he said he’d see me soon.”

  He will. He’s helping us

  move the cattle.

  Oh brother. I felt like a total

  dolt. “Oh, okay.”

  I figured someone with

  experience couldn’t hurt.

  Someone without a bruised butt,

  she meant. “Probably not.”

  Especially someone cute.

  Was she playing matchmaker?

  I smiled. “When’s he coming?”

  Next Sunday. It’s his day off.

  Next Sunday? Eight whole days

  away? “Not tomorrow?”

  He and his dad have plans.

  I decided to fish a little. “Don’t you

  ever go to sacrament meetings?”

  Not this ol’ bird.

  You’re free to go.

  Free not
to go was more accurate.

  “But you’re Mormon, aren’t you?”

  Was once. Gave up

  on it, though.

  The ice had been broken—chipped,

  anyway. “How come?”

  Long story, one you

  maybe shouldn’t hear.

  One I had to hear, now. “I want to

  know, Aunt J. Need to know.”

  Maybe after supper.

  I have to unload the feed.

  It Seemed Like Forever

  But after dinner, we settled

  into chairs on the porch.

  The dogs parked at our feet,

  and cats rubbed up into our laps

  as Aunt J spilled her tale.

  You might think I’ve never been in love,

  but you’d be wrong. I was seventeen,

  Kevin was eighteen. And he wasn’t Mormon.

  I was so much like you, Pattyn.

  Full of life, full of hope.

  And I fell desperately in love

  with a man neither my family

  nor my church would ever accept.

  Intergenerational déjà vu?

  My stomach churned.

  I kept right on seeing him anyway.

  We planned to marry, just as soon

  as I graduated high school. He even

  wanted me to go to college. Said any

  girl as smart as I was should have a calling

  other than kids. We were only kids ourselves,

  of course, and like most kids that age,

  our love moved way beyond kissing.

  No wonder she’d hesitated

  to come clean.

  Ely was—and still is—a very small town.

  Word got around till it reached your grandfather.

  He forbade me to see Kevin, but love

  was more powerful than fear. I was just

  five months shy of my eighteenth birthday

  when your father caught Kevin and me

  parked near Burnside Lake. Stephen

  pointed a .45 right between Kevin’s eyes

  and ordered us to get out of the car.

  The picture rolled clearly

  into view.

  He made us both kneel in the dirt.

  The pistol swung my way. “Father sent

  a message,” he said. “You are not to see

  this man again, or both of you will die.”

  I started to cry and Kevin reached for me.

  Stephen cocked the hammer. “Don’t

  touch her or I swear I’ll shoot you dead.”

  Stephen was home after his first tour

  in Vietnam. He’d done plenty of killing.

  We had no reason to doubt he’d do more.

  I didn’t doubt it either.

  “What did you do?”

  I begged Stephen to leave us alone. Asked

  how he’d feel if Father demanded he leave

  Molly. He laughed and told me to get in

  his car. When I refused, he put the gun

  barrel against my cheek, pulled it gently

  toward my temple. “I’ll use this,” he said.

  “One more would mean nothing.” A crazy

  fire flickered in his eyes. I believed, then as

  now, he could have killed me as easily

  as he slaughtered innocent Vietnamese.

  And have yet another

  ghost to haunt him.

  I stood and started for his car, afraid for

  my life, for Kevin’s life. I heard Stephen

  tell Kevin, “If you ever so much as glance

  at my sister again, I will hunt you down

  like a dirty coyote.” Then he brought

  that .45 hard against Kevin’s jaw. Cracked

  it wide open, but that wasn’t enough. Stephen

  beat that man till I thought a bullet would’ve

  been kinder. So now you know why Stephen

  and I didn’t speak for so many years.

  One piece of the puzzle.

  “But what about the church?”

  Stephen damn near laid Kevin in his grave.

  But when Kevin tried to press charges, Sheriff

  Steele claimed there wasn’t enough evidence.

  See, he was also our bishop at the time. Church

  law before any other, you know that. I suffered

  his “court of love,” admitting as few dirty details

  as they’d allow. When I turned eighteen, I did go

  off to college. And I never sat through another

  Sunday from hell. Kevin moved away.

  I kept hoping he’d write. He never did.

  I Was Stunned

  I mean, I knew my dad could be

  cruel, but this went way beyond

  anything I’d ever witnessed.

  After a few shocked moments,

  I got up, went over and put my arms

  around Aunt J’s neck. “I’m sorry.”

  She tensed, as if she’d never been

  hugged before. Then her shoulders

  sagged. It was a long time ago.

  I came around and sat at her feet.

  So much sadness in her eyes!

  Why hadn’t I noticed it before?

  “Did you ever see Kevin again?”

  She nodded. But by then it was too

  late. I’d already married Stan.

  “But you did fall in love again, didn’t

  you? With Stan?” You had to fall

  in love to get married. Didn’t you?

  Aunt J stared toward the hills,

  crimson in sunset. Real love

  finds you once, if you’re lucky.

  “But what about…,” I started

  to say. There was so much

  more I wanted to know.

  Some people never find love at all,

  Pattyn. Count yourself blessed

  if it ever happens your way.

  We Went Inside

  To our separate rooms,

  where the walls formed

  boxes around us. And I

  wondered what Aunt J

  was doing, alone in her

  own private cubicle.

  Was she crying over

  Kevin? Cursing Dad?

  Had she tucked it all

  back away into that

  terrible space where

  nightmares are born?

  Closed in by plaster,

  question after question

  infiltrated my aching

  head. What about Stan?

  Hadn’t Aunt J loved

  him at least a little?

  How could a sheriff

  swear to uphold the law

  when his allegiance lay

  elsewhere? How could

  Grandpa Paul send Dad

  on an armed mission?

  Would Dad really have

  pulled that trigger, killed

  his sister and Kevin, just

  because they were in love?

  The obvious answer kept

  me awake half the night

  Journal Entry, June 10

  I learned some terrible things

  today—all about Aunt J and

  her “forever love,” Kevin.

  It seems my wonderful father

  drove them apart. With a gun.

  Maybe that shouldn’t surprise

  me. But it does.

  How many more miserable

  things has Dad done,

  things I’ll never know about

  and don’t really want to?

  How does he dare judge me?

  I want Aunt J not to be lonely.

  I want her to find another love,

  but she says we only get one

  real love, and only if we’re lucky.

  Will I be lucky? If I am, will

  someone drive him away?

  Someone like Dad?

  Someone

  like

  me?
r />   I Thought About Ethan a Lot

  Over the next few days.

  Weird, I know, that

  someone

  you’ve never met could

  thaw the ice damming inside,

  warm

  you like a summer morning,

  even though he’s not yours

  to hold.

  I thought of Aunt J, the love

  of her life dissolved into

  dreams.

  Did she hurt every day? Or

  had she locked away all

  memories

  of him, condemned them

  to that muddy well only

  drawn from

  in times of strangling

  loneliness? Would I find

  forever

  love? Did I really want to,

  when forever was a word

  without meaning?

  Tuesday Evening

  Aunt J and

  I planted ourselves on the porch

  to watch the

  stars poke out, twinkle by twinkle,

  in the slate

  blue sky.

  It was a

  nightly affair, and one no city

  dweller

  could ever take notice of, amidst

  sodium and

  neon lights.

  Cutting

  through the blossoming darkness,

  headlights

  appeared on the road, slowed,

  turned into

  the driveway.

  Ethan

  shimmied down from the pickup

  cab, shiny

  even under the muted glow of

  gathering

  moonlight.

  Evening,

  ladies. Just thought I’d drop by

  on my way

  home with that new pair of reins.

  Came in

  today.

  Thank you,

  Mr. Carter, said Aunt J. Sit on down

  and stay

  awhile. We haven’t had dessert yet.