At two o'clock I catch Remy coming up from the creek direction with dirt on his knees and the expression of a man who has beendoing something physical and is managing his face about it with limited success. He sees me seeing him and stops.
We look at each other.
"Fence work," he says.
"There's no fence near the creek," I say.
"There's a fence near everything on a ranch," he says with great dignity.
He walks past me toward the equipment shed.
I let him go.
At three-thirty Pearl Bishop's truck comes through the gate, which is either the most normal thing in the world because Pearl goes where Pearl goes, or the least normal thing because Pearl doesn't make ranch visits on Saturday afternoons without reason.
She finds me at the barn.
Looks me over with those sharp eyes.
"You look good," she says.
"I'm in my work clothes, Pearl."
"You look good in your work clothes." She says it like it's settled. "How are you feeling?
I look at her.
She looks back with the serene expression of someone who knows exactly what's happening and has decided her role today is moral support delivered as casual conversation.
"Pearl," I say quietly.
"Mm."
"You're terrible at acting normal."
She considers this. "I'm seventy eight years old. I've earned the right to be transparent." She pats my arm. "You're going to want to fix your hair before six."
She walks toward the ranch house to find Beckett.
I stand at the barn door and look at the ranch in the late afternoon light and let the feeling I've been managing all day have a little more room than I've been giving it.
It fills the space immediately.
The enormous, breathtaking, slightly dizzying weight of being chosen.
I think about what Pearl said at lunch at Magnolia Diner. That kind of man doesn't come along regularly. That Beckett Wilder shows up. That I deserve all of it, the man, the ranch, the little girl with the turquoise boots.
I think about thirty-three years of being careful.
I think about not yet beside a round pen in the evening light.
I think about, “Tell me what we need in a flooded south pasture.”
I think about a ring he's been hiding, three lines in a notebook and a specific oak tree at the creek bend at six o'clock.
I think about forever, and head off to the cabin and fix my hair.
Because Pearl Bishop told me to and Pearl Bishop is right about most things and I am not going to argue with her today of all days.
