AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Let’s see,” Bobbie said as she walked over to plop down on the sofa, which was basically two seat cushions and two back cushions on wicker. Did they even make wicker furniture anymore?
She focused her gaze forward, but all she could see through the window was the reflection of the contents of the room. Gus walked over to the lamp, flipping it off at the base rather than using the light switch to turn it on. He’d regret that later when he hit that switch and nothing happened.
But she didn’t have long to dwell on that. He sat next to her, and since there were only two seat cushions, that meant he was distractingly close. So close, in fact, that she was once again battling that magnetic pull that she’d felt since she hopped on that horse.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he asked.
The question threw Bobbie off a little. She backtracked, trying to remember what they’d been talking about. She ran through a list of recent topics that had passed through her mind—his horse, the pond, the couch, the sofa, the calendar hanging on the wall…
No, he was talking about none of that. His “beautiful” reference had to do with the scene in front of them. Particularly the way the light bounced off the water, she was guessing. It was indeed one of the most beautiful sights she’d seen in a while.
“Incredible,” she commented. “I could sit here for hours. It’s just so peaceful.”
“That’s why I fixed the room up like this,” he said.
He was quiet for a while—at least a minute or two. She sat, hands crossed on her lap, aware that she still wore her coat despite the fact that the room was definitely heated. Taking it off would imply she planned to stick around for a while. She certainly wasn’t going to invite herself to do that.
When Gus finally spoke, it caught her off guard. She even jumped a little.
“When Sharon died, I couldn’t come out here. Not for the longest time. This was her craft room. She went through phases. She was into candle-making at one point, then she got into making cards. Toward the end, she discovered painting. She set her canvas up in front of the window so she’d have a view. I think it was how she came to peace with her diagnosis.”
His voice was solemn. Bobbie had never seen this side of him. After years of seeing him as this tough, ruthless guy, it was hard to believe this was the same guy.
“The kids have her paintings hanging in their houses,” he said in an even quieter voice.
“So, she knew she had cancer for a while before…?”
Bobbie didn’t finish that sentence. Was it insensitive to just discuss it outright like that? Maybe she should have waited to see if he wanted to talk.
But if it bothered him, he didn’t let it show. In fact, he answered fairly quickly.
“It was cervical cancer,” he said. “She put off going to the doctor for a while. There was always some excuse—so much to do on the property. We were trying to save the ranch, and it was becoming pretty clear that it was a losing battle. That’s part of the reason I latched onto the movie theater as a business idea. I don’t know if burnout is the right word for it, but I’ve lost my love for this place, for the land we once tended together.”
“I get it,” Bobbie said. “Especially after your wife’s death.”
“You definitely get it.” He looked over at her, his eyes filled with…sympathy? Warmth? She wasn’t sure what the right word was. “It was our thing. Even the kids have noticed I’m just not as involved as I once was.” He laughed. “I’m sure they’re happy about that. I tended to be a bit of a control freak when they were younger. Yes, having your spouse die changes your perspective on things.”
“It’s been just a year for me, but I drifted aimlessly for a while,” she said. “I’m just getting back to myself.”
In the early days after Thomas’s death, Bobbie had done anything she could to bust up her daily routine. She’d slept late, then stayed up to all hours of the night, catching up on the work she’d neglected during the day. It might sound weird to some, but she missed Thomas less when she wasn’t doing the exact things she’d done when he was alive.
It hit her that Gus was still staring at her. His expression having softened even more. She couldn’t guess what he was thinking, but the warmth in his eyes made her feel safe for the first time in a long while.
Bobbie turned her attention to the view in front of them again. “The back porch was Thomas’s hideout too. It’s not much to look at. Nothing like this. Just a small, covered patch of concrete with a couple of lawn chairs on it. I tried so many times to talk him into upgrading it, but he said then our guests would want to hang out there. He liked it being his secret.”
“Now that he’s gone?” Gus asked.
The question caught her off guard. “What do you mean?”
Their eyes met again, and she saw something that hit her right in the heart. Since Thomas’s death, she’d gotten a lot of sympathy. She’d heard, “I’m so sorry for your loss” more times than she could name, and she definitely appreciated the sentiment. There really was nothing someone could say that would ease the pain after a loss like she and Gus had suffered.
But Gus’s eyes showed a level of compassion and understanding she’d never seen from anyone. Yes, he got it. He understood on a deep level how she’d struggled over the past year. He knew what it was like to sleep in a big, empty bed. To wake up in the morning and look for your spouse, only to see an empty pillow.
Time had made it a little easier, but it would never go away completely. The pain was a part of her.
“Now that he’s gone,” he said. “The area he wanted to remain his could become a perfect getaway for you when you need it.” He shrugged. “Or you could save it for guests. Either way, why not turn the small pad of concrete and lawn chairs into something like this? You could even plant a tree or a flower garden as a memorial.”
Bobbie couldn’t stop staring at him. In all the months that Thomas had been gone, it never once occurred to her to do any of that. In fact, she couldn’t bring herself to even walk out the back door. It’d remained closed and locked since the last time he’d stepped out there, which would have been the evening before he died.
