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“For me?”
Red stood outside my front door, on the empty concrete-slab porch, holding out a bouquet of daisies and pink roses with one hand.
My mums were long dead, probably petrified by now, and I’d already tossed the early-girl tomato plants I’d kept out there ’cause they liked full sun. At least this year, we’d gotten a few to use on BLTs before the things died a sad, crunchy-leafed death. Thankfully, my green pepper plant was still thriving out back. It stopped bearing fruit a month ago, but I wasn’t about to complain, because the pride I felt at simply keeping that damn plant alive was flowing through me still.
Red’s weathered, old face was shadowed on one side by the night but lit by the light of the moon on the other. Chagrin descended over the whole thing. “Yes.”
He’d worn dark jeans, shiny brown cowboy boots, and a crisp white shirt under a brown suit jacket with suede patches on the shoulders and elbows. He looked properly Western. I had to give it to him—he looked good.
“But I’m not your date.”
I’d spent all day at the festival. Abey patrolled it with Frank. Thankfully, there hadn’t been any major issues. I’d seen her a handful of times throughout the long day, but now, it was almost time for the dance to start. All the parents had taken their kids home, and I had just enough time to run home to change.
“No,” Red said, thrusting the flowers into my hands, “but it’s the least I can do to apologize again for all the trouble I’ve caused you. For all the times I sassed you and cussed at you behind your back. I made you think I didn’t support what you’re doin’ over at the center.”
He’d apologized to me already, had explained that he’d noticed the physical traits I had in common with the woman who he’d blamed all these years for stealing his family.
It happened the first day I’d gone into his store to ask him if I could hang a flyer for Ace’s House in his front window, before the center had even opened.
But then he went on to explain that he’d known all this time that it wasn’t her fault. He and his ex-wife had had issues from the day they married, and instead of placing blame where it had belonged, on his wife and himself, he’d blamed the person who had been the easiest to target, because then he didn’t have to look too closely at how he’d failed his marriage and, more importantly, his son and himself.
My mom told me that Red had tried to reach out to his son, who was only a few years older than me, but that he hadn’t responded. Red had hope that he would, but I had to wonder. If it was my dad trying to reach out to me after so long a time with no communication, I probably wouldn’t pick up the phone either.
At least, the old me wouldn’t have. My mom would probably kick my ass for it though. So maybe I would respond. The new, more open and accepting Devo would.
But from that first day on, Red had seen me as his enemy. It had never been about “gay this” or “lesbian that.” It was just about him and me. But it really had nothing to do with me at all, other than the color of my hair.
It was some kind of karma or weird alignment of the universe that my mom had found his photograph all the way down in Solo, New Mexico over twenty-five years ago. Red said he’d never sold them, but he suspected the picture had ended up there because he’d had a friend back in the day, another photographer who lived in New Mexico and spent his time traveling through the state, capturing images of the local cultures and people. Red had given his friend a few of his favorite shots he’d developed and printed. Maybe this friend had given the photo to someone or traded it for something else and that was how it ended up in a booth for sale at a dusty desert flea market.
Who knew? However it had gotten there, my mom seemed to think she was meant to find it. That it was meant to lead us here, to the Tetons. She believed Abey and I had been destined to meet, and so had she and Red, that she and Red working together had been written in the stars.
Which was exactly what was happening. They were talking about and planning to open a gallery next to Red Wild so they could showcase and sell all the art they planned to make together.
Dating was another thing entirely. My mom hadn’t let Red right off the hook for the way he had behaved around me and the rest of Wisper, but I could already tell his charms had begun to work their magic on her. And after his apology, and especially after seeing him open up to everyone in town, I wasn’t planning to get in their way.
I could accept Red if he could accept me. If he couldn’t, I knew for certain Mom would kick his butt to the curb quicker than a jackrabbit hopped.
The idea of them together still creeped me out, but I didn’t have to agree with it. My mom had made it clear she didn’t need my permission or blessing to work with Red, or do anything else with him, for that matter. All I could do was continue to love and support her, which was easy to do since she was just about the most loveable person who’d ever existed.
“Okay. Thank you.” Stepping back from the door, I motioned for him to come in with a swing of my free arm.
When he entered the living room, he pulled another bouquet from behind his back that was equally as pretty as the one he’d given me. The roses meant for my mom weren’t pink though. They were deep red and long stemmed.
She appeared at the end of the hallway, dressed to kill, in a deep purple number that hugged her hips enough to embarrass me. She smiled shyly at Red and accepted the flowers when he walked to her and held them out. She took them from his hands and lifted the bunch to her nose, drawing the fresh perfume of its petals into her lungs.
She was blushing hard-core. “Thank you, Red. They’re lovely.”
“You’re welcome. Thank you for bein’ my date to the dance. You look exquisite.”
I didn’t think her cheeks could get any redder without all the capillaries in her face rupturing, but she said, “You better be on your best behavior tonight.”
He paled a little but nodded with a wry smile.
“So, um, have her home by ten,” I joked, ’cause somebody had to say something, but nothing was coming to mind and no one else offered up anything else. They just stood there, staring at each other. “And don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
Red turned, offering my mom his arm, and she slid her hand beneath his elbow, then rested it on his forearm. She grabbed the sweater that matched her dress off the back of the couch, and Red took it from her to drape it over her shoulders, then hooked her arm back through his.
“You drive a hard bargain,” he told me with a nod. “But we’ll be good.”
