“That’s an interesting story.” She glances over her shoulder as I sip my coffee.
I give a reassuring smile in hopes she opens up.
“I met your father during my darkest days. I’d given up on myself and was cold and alone. I’d lost the happiness I once had, and I won’t say the moment I saw your father, it was sparks flying. No, he challenged me every step of the way. I started training horses for him, and we butted heads, but he gave me purpose again. He challenged me to light a fire inside of my soul. A light that had been extinguished.”
I’m leaning on the counter engrossed in her story. There’s a new affinity between us now. I know what it's like to give up on yourself. I’ve been there. Sometimes when we are at our weakest, but challenged the most, is when life gives us a break.
“He gave you purpose, even if it was standing up to him?”
“Yes.” She looks at me with a look of relief that someone understands her. “He was struggling. Your mother and father tried to make their marriage work, but the closer he and I grew, the more he couldn’t pretend with her anymore. It was the hardest decision he ever made.”
Mallory nibbles her lower lip and wipes a tear away. She keeps her gaze trained on breakfast, but her thoughts have drifted to the past.
“I told him not to give up his life for me. We were both afraid of what your mother would do if he divorced her. She fought your father with everything she had, and I didn’t want him to take the chance of losing you, but we couldn’t make it apart either. We tried. He tried for you. He promised me that he would work with Annabeth, and she wouldn’t take you away from him.”
Mallory is crying—her and my father’s story too much for her. The guilt she carries is clear as her shoulders move up and down to the rhythm of her sobs. I’m drawn to comfort her.
“She knew you guys wouldn’t follow?” I ask.
“Yes, she knew your father wouldn’t leave me even though I told him to. I couldn’t leave Montana because my mother was dying. I couldn’t leave her here alone, and Russell wouldn’t leave me. So, Annabeth took you, and your father didn’t think you wanted him to stay in touch after everything that happened.”
I think back to that day. He didn’t because I told him not to bother.
“Mom said he broke us apart. That he had you now, and he didn’t need us anymore. Maverick didn’t need me either. She was the only person who wanted me, so I told Dad to never bother with us again and followed Mom.”
I place my mug on the counter and find myself now in Mallory’s arms. I hadn’t meant to be so revealing with her, but once we spoke, I felt safe to open up. Once we stop crying, she turns to the plates and hands me one. We pull ourselves back together and dish out the omelets.
“I’m sorry for everything. For all the pain I caused you by falling in love,” she says. I nod a thank you.
We walk into the dining room and find Dad sitting at the table. He heard our entire conversation. The pain in his eyes is a knife to my chest.
“Every day, I regret that I listened to your request, but prayed that one day you would want me to find you,” Dad says.
I walk over to the table and hand him a plate. “Sorry, it took me so long to come home.”
“Like I said, it’s in the past now. I want us to move forward.”
I sit at the table to his right and take his hand with a reassuring squeeze. Mallory joins and sits to his left, then reaches her hand out and squeezes his.
“Now, I would like you to explain something.” Dad glances my way. “Your statement: Maverick didn’t need me either?”
My mouth drops open, the words dying on the tip of my tongue. Maverick worked for us. He never wanted the boss to know he was messing around with his daughter. We kept our summer together between us.
Mallory looks up, her eyes darting between us.
“I asked Maverick to come to California with me.” The table is quiet after my confession.
After a few moments, I glance up and find both sets of knowing eyes on me. Soft and caring.
“Oh no.” Mallory’s hand covers her mouth, her head shakes.
“He wouldn’t have been able to leave Montana, Eloise,” Dad says, his mouth pressing into a thin line. “He must not have told you his story.”
“What story?” I ask. My heart pounds in my chest the more I believe there’s a chance that Maverick wanted to follow me but wasn’t able to.
“That’s his story to tell if he wants you to know,” Dad says. I’m determined to find out.
We finish up breakfast, and I go to the kitchen to clean up. Mallory tells me to go that she’s got it, so I don’t argue. My focus is Dad, and I find him still relaxing at the table when I come back in from the kitchen.
“What do you say, should we go to the lake?” Dad asks with a small smile.
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. It’s a beautiful day.”
We walk out the back door. He takes the stairs slowly, then accepts my help when I slip my arm through his. The pressure of his arm is familiar despite the thin skin and decrease in muscle density. He smiles, and it’s warm, like the country air and the sun rays settling on my skin.
Maverick’s words from earlier tumble through my mind, and with every step we take toward the lake, there's a clawing, growing resentment toward my mother. I will shake this resentment, determined not to replace one resentment with another.
With a glance to my right, my gaze locks with a set of blue eyes. Maverick has stopped working, his eyes wide and mouth ajar. His body is tense, and I figure out why when he takes a step forward, then stops. It’s taking everything in him not to join us.
We continue walking until the ranch and Maverick are out of sight. I sit beside Dad on one of the chairs he and Mallory must have put out here after I left. This was always my place, but when I came out here, a blanket and Maverick’s lap had always been enough.
Dad lets a deep breath go. We watch the ripples of the lake as the sunlight moves. The breeze brings the fresh scent of wildflowers, and the birds chirp in a tune that’s relaxing. We don’t need words or apologies. We just need to know that the other is here, and there’s an understanding that we both made mistakes in the past, but none of them matter now.
“What are you thinkin’ over there?” Dad asks, and when I turn my head, I find him glancing my way with a curious look.
“Just about the past, I suppose. I’m trying not to dwell on it or form new resentments toward Mom. I’ve lived with so much anger, and I’ve worked hard to let it go. Don’t want to start more now, not when I want to work on fixing things.”
“I don’t want you to resent your mother. I loved her so much just so you know. Sometimes it doesn’t matter how much you love someone. It isn’t meant to be, and things fade. I spent a long time tryin’ to work things out with your mother.”
“What happened? If you don’t mind me asking.”
“Resentment caused us to fall out of love. She gave up a lot for me. Leaving her life in California to be here with me. I had the ranch to run, and I was never leaving Montana. I took her away from her life, home, family when she followed me up here. Then she got pregnant right away. She never regrets you—God I don’t want to make it sound like that—just that her life went from the red carpet and premiers to livestock and diapers.”