Joan: Good. Have a nice time in New York.
Ian: Thanks. I miss you guys.
Me: We miss you too.
Two days later, I got a selfie of Ian in Times Square. So I sent back a photo of Ralph trying to eat Brady’s shirt.
The next day, Ian sent me a link to a DIY chicken coop that looked more like a chicken mansion. But it made me smile until my cheeks hurt.
Then, the following evening, I got in late from book club and found the red light blinking on my answering machine. In the shadows of my kitchen, I listened to someone release a slow breath, and then “Hey, Joanie” came through the speakers in Ian’s deep voice.
Overcome by how welcome it was to hear him in my home again, I slid slowly to the floor as Ian continued rambling nervously over the length of the recording. I laughed a watery laugh when he joked self-deprecatingly about this being his first time on an answering machine, and he hoped he was doing it right.
I wasn’t sure how he’d gotten the number to my landline, but I was glad for it. Grateful to whichever family member had seen fit to hand over my happiness when I’d been too oblivious, too stubborn, too cowardly to do it myself.
With elbows pressed to the countertop, I pressed the play button again and heard the smile in Ian’s voice, felt the comfort in his words. It wasn’t over-the-top or demonstrative. He knew me too well for that. But it was a steady recounting of his day and things that reminded him of George or me, moments he’d been compelled to share.
It was painfully domestic and equally as romantic. A gentle reminder that he was still here in every way that mattered. A touching love letter for my ears alone.
The messages on my answering machine and the texts continued over the next few weeks, and it felt like a knot loosened somewhere in my chest. We didn’t discuss our relationship or the future or what happened in LA. Instead, we talked about George and life in Kirby Falls. What Ian was missing by being gone. What could be his ... if he wanted it. If I was brave enough to offer it.
I’d thought I needed space from Ian to get my head on straight. To come to terms with the inevitable end of us. To, maybe, falloutof love.
But the longer Ian was away, the more I realized I didn’t want distance. Because with every message I received, it was a little reminder, an arrow to my heart, that I’d spent all my life missing a love like this. And I didn’t know if I could bear to wait any longer.
twenty-three
IAN
When I’d left Kirby Falls six weeks ago, the landscape had just been starting to come to life. There had been buds on the apple trees, tiny bits of green that hinted at what was to come. The tulips that Georgie and Joan had planted had barely been peeking out of the ground, daffodils blooming everywhere around the rental house, along with the purple lily magnolia trees.
Now, though, early May was a riot of color. So much so, it was hard to take it in all at once. I’d thought the mountains were beautiful in winter, but I had trouble remembering that in the face of all this green.
Darren had texted me where to find them.
It was early afternoon, and Joan and Georgie were next to the wildflower field in the distance. It felt like a sign. The place where I’d given up and collapsed in the dirt six months ago, dramatic and out of breath. The place where Joan had found me.
A lot could change in half a year.
“What are they doing?” I asked Darren when I came to stand beside him.
“They’ve been following those turkeys around for thirty minutes.”
And sure enough, when Joan stepped sideways, an adult turkey and a handful of tiny turkey babies came into view.
My nephew was beside himself with excitement. He bounced on his toes, clinging to Joan’s hand and tugging her closer and closer. But Joan didn’t seem to mind. She grinned down at Georgie, urging him to crouch low in the grass and not get too near the wildlife.
I thought I could watch those two, like this, every day for the rest of my life.
“I’ll go walk with Georgie,” Darren said. “Give you and Ms. Judd time to talk.”
“Thanks, Darren.”
We approached quietly, but Joan still turned. I caught the surprise and the flash of happiness she couldn’t hide. And for the first time in weeks, I felt myself settle.
I scooped Georgie up in a hug and spun him around, so relieved to feel his little arms clinging to me. We’d come a long way, too, me and this kid.
“Did you see the turkeys?” he asked, blue eyes bright with excitement. “Joanie said I can’t have one because they’re wild and their mama would miss them too much, but we’ve been watching them all day.”
