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Millie was sprawled out on top of an old blanket that Chuck had grabbed before they had headed out. The blanket had belonged to his mom, Martha, and it had come along to many picnics over the years. It had once been a vibrant red and orange thing, but time had worn it to tan.
Seeing Millie lie down on the familiar old thing was surprisingly moving.
“I’ll admit,” Chuck said, grabbing a flask of water from his pack, “I had to think quickly when Takis and Bunny showed up. This wasn’t exactly my plan for the day.”
“I think it’s a lovely day, Daddy,” Millie said. She’d picked a few wildflowers, and was busy threading their stems together. Ranger was hitched to the nearby tree, and he was absentmindedly chewing the cud.
“Glad you’re enjoying yourself. I, on the other hand, am hard at work scouting for coyotes.”
“Are they dangerous?” Millie asked.
“Not exactly,” Chuck said. “Farmers hire people to hunt coyotes year-round. They don’t have a big enough population to be protected. They’re a nuisance animal. They kill chickens and sheep. And yes, they attack pets and children if they get the chance.”
“And drunk girls.”
“And drunk girls.” The thought of what could have happened to Millie made his pulse quicken. “Main thing about coyotes, though, is that you mustn’t show them you’re afraid.”
“I’m always afraid.”
Chuck was shocked by this. He looked at Millie. “What makes you say that?”
She shrugged. “I dunno. It’s the truth. Always been a scaredy cat, ever since I was a little girl.”
“That’s not true. The way you used to ride when you were a kid was fearless as a… ferret.”
Millie snorted out a laugh. “A ferret?”
“Mean as a ferret, too,” Chuck teased.
“Ugly as a ferret.”
“Ferrets are very noble creatures.”
“Regardless of their nobility or otherwise,” Millie said, “they’re braver than me.”
There was a moment of blissful silence between them. The sounds of nature were all around, whispering gently to them.
“I made this,” Millie said. She held up the wildflowers she’d been fiddling with. She’d plaited the stalks together, making a crown. The colors were beautiful: pinks and yellows and vibrant, grassy green. “Back in England, in the summer, do you remember making daisy chains together?”
He did. The memory came back to him, clear as if it were happening right now. The warm, summer sun, the smell of the earth. The beauty of her. It had been after they’d spent a whole morning mucking out far too many stables for her dad. As a treat, they’d brewed a flask of tea and had taken it out into the English countryside. If he closed his eyes, he could almost be back there with her right now.
“I do.”
“I thought life was perfect then.” Carefully, Millie placed the wreath of wildflowers on the brim of Chuck’s Stetson.
“What happened, baby girl?” Chuck asked. “How did the fear get in?”
Millie’s lip trembled. “I let it in.” She let out a deep sigh. “The national championships. You didn’t hear what happened at the nationals?”
Chuck had quit the job in Berkshire about a month before Millie had been due to compete in the adult bracket of the National Dressage Championships. She was, of course, the reason he’d quit the job. Before she turned eighteen, Chuck had managed to keep his feelings for her fraternal. But the moment she’d reached majority, it was like a switch flipped in his brain, and he couldn’t turn it off. Love. That was the only word for it. Deep, passionate love. But of course, it was wildly inappropriate. He’d decided that he had a duty to her and to her father to take himself out of her life. After he’d left, he couldn’t bring himself to so much as google Millie. He wished her well, but it was too painful for him to think about her while he was trying to move on. So he’d just cut her out of his life completely.
“I was in Kentucky,” Chuck said. “Trying to get on with the next phase of my life. I didn’t hear about the nationals.” It felt strangely like a betrayal.
“Well,” Millie said, plucking another flower and playing with it gently. “It was a disaster.”
Chuck had a feeling that something went wrong.
“I’m sorry.”
