How the hell is he so happy?
“C’mon, Earl,” he says. “Don’t make me get out my air horn. You know you can’t hibernate by the house.”
The bear snorts.
Flint flips his cap backward. “I’ll do it,” he tells Earl.
And I can’t watch anymore.
I let the window shut, and I walk through the house, going up to the front, facing the other way.
Junie flies through the front door. “Mom. Mom. Mr. Jackson’s chasing Earl away again.”
“I’m sure he’ll do a great job.” I’m flustered and cranky, and I don’t want to deal with this. “How many people are coming over? When did you decide to make a statue? How are you going to raise money for it? Is the town council okay with this? Where will you put it? Who’s in charge? Did you volunteer to be in charge? Because you know if you—”
“Mom. Maybe try to breathe a little here? It’s Friday. Time to let it all go and pretend we have no worries. I’ve got this, okay?”
“Junie—”
She tosses her bag on the couch I just picked up, then grabs me by the hand. “Come on. Let’s go see who wins.”
“Juniper Louise.”
She ignores the reprimand and pulls me back down the short hall to my bedroom.
Flint’s still on Parsnip.
Earl’s shaking his whole body as he climbs to his feet, shooting dirty looks at man and horse the whole time.
Junie pushes my window up, letting in a blast of cold air. “He’s being stubborn today, isn’t he?” she calls to Flint.
“Winter bones must’ve settled in,” Flint replies. He’s in a dark-yellow jacket that I know for a fact is super warm and super soft, and I want to reach out and touch him. Or have him pull me up on the horse in front of him and take me for a ride.
But I can’t.
“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard,” she tells him.
He cuts her a look that calls her out without saying a word.
“Third dumbest?” she says with a grin.
“Were we in the same classroom for an hour a day every day this week?”
Wait.
Wait what?
“What’s going on here?” I ask, looking between them.
Junie gives me the fakest innocent look I’ve ever seen in my life. “Mr. Jackson’s chasing the bear away. Again.”
“Juniper Louise Spencer, that is not what I meant.”
“Your daughter’s a good one, Maisey,” Flint says. “Even if she’s completely useless when it comes to chasing bears away.”
I look between them like they’re playing a silent tennis match, not sure who to ask what next.
“Would it help if I jumped on Mom’s back again?” Junie calls.
“You set this up? What? Why? Did you feed the bear under my window?”
“Nobody feeds bears,” Flint says.
Parsnip whinnies in agreement, then snorts.
Earl grumbles out a huff and takes two moseying steps away from my window.
“This is what we call nice timing,” Junie says, once more seemingly agreeing with Flint. “A fed bear is a dead bear.”
“Did you—are you—what is going on?”
“If you have to date someone, at least you picked someone who’s a thousand times better than Dad.”
“Get, Earl,” Flint growls.
Parsnip yells at the bear too.
And Earl finally gets the hint, glaring at all of us as he moseys back toward the creek.
I look at Junie.
“Phew,” she says. “I didn’t have to climb on your back this time. That’s a relief.”
“Junie.”
She looks out the window at Flint, who’s watching the bear meander back toward the old cabin while stealing glances at the two of us through the window. And then she looks back at me. “You should be happy. Even if it’s only for a little while.”
“Thanks, June,” Flint says.
She rolls her eyes, but my cranky, lonely, angry teenage daughter is smiling as she does it. “I know you’ve done worse for a lot longer,” she adds to me.
“You—you know you come first,” I stutter.
“Mom. I’m sixteen. And sometimes dumb. And sometimes ridiculous. But I’m still less than two years from being able to run away for real. If I can leave you in good hands, then I want to. Also, you do know it’s really stupid to keep telling me I come first when you never put yourself first, don’t you? Which lesson am I supposed to learn here? Do as you say, or do as you do?”
“This is not the speech she told me she was going to give,” Flint says through the window.
Junie smiles at him again. “I’m improvising.”
Flint shakes his head, then he looks at me. “You wanna go for a ride?”
“Now?”
“Better now than after it gets dark.”
“Go on,” Junie says. “At least decide for yourself instead of for me. But I really don’t want to ever call anyone Dad again. For the record.”
I grab her in a hug and squeeze her tight. “Do you have any idea how amazing you are?”
“A little bit,” she replies. “Go on. But don’t fall off, or I really will run away again so I don’t have to live with my sperm donor.”
“Junie.”
“I get time to deal, too, Mom. This is today’s method.”
She shoves my boots and a coat at me and shoos me out the door, and honestly, she doesn’t have to shoo very hard.
Flint and Parsnip meet me around front. He dismounts just off the front porch and holds out a hand. “Help you up?”
“You’re here.”
“Been down the driveway all week.”
“Junie—”
“Is a smart, kind, determined tribute to having a really good mother.”
Here I go again, getting all wet in the eyes for the umpteenth time this week.
But these tears feel like hope. Like forgiveness. Like a fresh start. Like a new life.
He twitches his fingers, and I take his hand. The minute our skin connects, an electric current zaps its way up my arm and straight to my heart. “You remember how to do this?” he asks softly.
“Get on a horse or take a leap?” I ask.
It will never not be a treat to have his smile aimed at me. “Yes.”
“Not so much on either one.”
He helps me up onto the horse, then easily swings up behind me. I’m pretty sure the saddle’s not built for this, but he assures me Parsnip’s a sturdy old girl, and we’re not going very far.
“And I’ve got you,” he murmurs.
He does.
His body is lined up behind me, his chest to my back, his thighs to the backs of mine, his arms around me, his hands guiding mine to help hold the reins.
I lean back into him. “I’ve missed you,” I whisper as we head toward the bluffs that are taking on the deep-orange hue of sunset.
His arms tighten on either side of me, and he kisses my head. “I was working out how to ask Junie’s permission to date you when she walked into my classroom last night and offered it to me.”
“You—she—are you serious?”
“Kids are smart. And yours—yours is pretty fucking amazing.”