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“I guess we need to reposition the cameras and see. Maybe tonight will tell the tale.”
We work up a makeshift repair that would hold under normal circumstances, but if there’s a cow or bull intent on ramming it over each night, the skinny posts we’ve hammered into the ground don’t stand a chance. And the other alternative—outright sabotage—is something I don’t want to consider yet.
We round up the cattle and count them six times to make sure we have the right number and that everyone is accounted for, including two cows who will give birth sometime this month. By the time we leave the pasture land, half the day’s gone by, and we haven’t put a dent in our growing list of tasks.
“We’re fucked.” Ryan sounds more cheerful than he should, considering he’s absolutely correct. “Before today, we were already a full day behind. Now it’ll be worse.”
“Don’t tell me that. Just figure out how to fix it.”
The fence problem has me more irritable than usual, not that Ryan cares a lick about that. He’s seen me in worse moods in the months after Elizabeth left. This is just normal irritability. Part of the job.
Ryan rides ahead of me on the trail but looks behind and calls over his shoulder. “Meaning to say, it was good to see you with a woman the other night.”
It’s his way of saying something nice and opening a conversation if I feel like pursuing it. If not, he’ll drop the subject. At least, that’s what I expect. “She’s sweet, and you guys are cute, so good on you. And it’s also, um, sudden.”
“Yeah,” I say. I knew Callie would come up after I introduced them, and in typical Ryan fashion, he waited a couple of days to let me be in my head about it before broaching the subject. So I have had a couple of days to think about what to tell him and how much to tell him.
The guy has had my back through all of Elizabeth’s threats to get full custody of Scout, and he’s Team Luke all the way, which is why I risk putting us even farther behind schedule by riding next to him on the bridle path and slowing our pace down to a slow walk.
“It’s not what you think. But good that you like her, at least,” I say, knowing full well that my partial explanation is only going to lead to more questions.
“I assume you don’t plan on leaving me in suspense.”
It’s my last chance to drop the subject instead of telling him everything. I know that for every person who knows the truth, there’s the risk of Elizabeth’s lawyers somehow finding out.
But he’s my closest friend, and I want someone to tell me I’m not mad for going along with such a ridiculous scenario.
“It’s not a real relationship. She’s my fake girlfriend. Fake fiancée, if you wanna get technical.”
He shoots me a disbelieving look.
“I need to prove I can raise Scout in a stable environment where I don’t look like a workaholic single dad who can’t remember doctor’s appointments or be consistent with discipline and bedtimes.”
“Ah, Elizabeth strikes again.”
“Yeah. It’s crazy that the courts aren’t focusing on the fact that she showed up out of nowhere after abandoning her son.”
“Really? You that naive?”
“Okay, sure, I’ve screwed up from time to time, but with her family, it’s a money thing, and they’ve got a shit ton of it.”
“Enough to buy off a mediator?”
“People don’t actually do that kind of thing, do they?”
He points at me. “Wow, you really are naive. And hey, maybe they can’t, but I can see why you don’t wanna take a chance.”
We ride in silence for a minute, and I try to notice things out here that I often gloss over in the name of productivity. The high white cloudy puffs in the sky remind me of how playful Callie was in the vintage shop, delighted by a matchbook with a bunny on it or a hat with a pull string and flapping ears. The rustling leaves on the aspen trees look like a summer heatwave, which makes me think of her again in those tiny denim cutoff shorts. Even the dry amber grasses creeping up the neighboring hillside remind me of that parched air and bright sun which might lead a person to order a blue Slurpee.
I have to stop myself before I turn every normal sight on my workaday rides into some sort of association with a woman I don’t plan to see again after the custody hearing. By her own admission, she gets bored with a project after a while and needs to keep her surroundings and her activities in constant motion.
“So how’d this all come about, the fake girlfriend? It’s a great idea, by the way.”
I explain how we met and give him the broad strokes of the past couple of weeks.
“I’ll bet Scout likes having her around.”
“He hasn’t met her,” I say quickly. “I don’t quite know how to finesse that. It’s one thing to have her meet you guys at the bar. They don’t give a shit who I date. But Scout will think she’s important.”
