The broken boy - healed by innocence

Postcards

*Cooper*

I don't know why I pushed it. The last thing I want is to dredge up memories of the last time I was with Faith, but it's hard to let go of the habit of wanting time with her.

Stepping over the threshold, I inhale the fragrance of wildflowers, a mixture of scents, no bloom in particular standing out. It's the scent of Faith. She's always smelled of things wild and untamed. Against my will, my gaze jumps to the doorway that leads into the bedroom. I can see the same quilt draped over the bed, fight against remembering how peaceful and right Faith had looked stretched out over it when I had leaned against the doorjamb and absorbed the sight of her, every inch from her bare feet to her messed hair, before I'd strode out of the cabin for the last time.

I jerk my attention away from places it shouldn't roam and take in the remainder of the cabin. Another door, one that hadn't been there before, indicates they have added a room. No doubt for Dee. The furniture in the main room remains the same, but a rocker has been added, and my chest tightens with the image of Faith rocking her daughter. She has added frilly yellow curtains to the windows and paintings of cowboys rustling steers to the walls. That's Faith: a combination of femininity and masculinity. She's never shied away from the tough jobs.

"Uncle Cooper, sit here."

Glancing over, I watch as Dee pats the cushion beside her on the sofa. A small book rests in her lap. Damn, if she doesn't have the biggest, brownest eyes I have ever seen. I look over at Faith, knowing she wants to be rid of me, that I'm making a nuisance of myself.

She gives a quick bob of her head as she settles into the rocker. "Go on."

Dropping onto the sofa, I lay my arm along its back. Even sitting, I tower over the little girl. She gingerly folds back the leather cover as though it's deserving of her reverence, and my breath catches as she places her index finger in the middle of a postcard.

"That's the Grand Canyon," she announces with authority. "I'm gonna go see it someday."

I had sent the postcard to Ma to relieve her worries and so she could appreciate one of the wonders I was seeing. I had expected she would share the postcards with others, but hadn't considered that they would be kept.

Another page turned, another postcard. "A hotel in Santa Fe," she says as though she knows where Santa Fe is. "I'm gonna go there."

Another page turned, another postcard. "A dining room in Arizona. Goin' there, too."

A dining room in a Fred Harvey hotel. Many of the postcards came from the hotels where I stayed for a night. I had sent them in particular so my ma could see that all the lodgings paled in comparison to the Grand Hotel she'd built in Moonshadowville. I lift my gaze to Faith. "You kept them?"

"I was fascinated by them," she admits. "I imagined you walking those streets, eating at those tables, sleeping in those beds."

"More often than not, I sleep beneath the stars," I admit.

She smiles, "I imagined that, too. I figured a lot of those were sent to make Ma believe you were living better than you were."

"A train station in Cal'forn'a," Dee announces as though my attention hadn't detoured away from her. "We have trains here. I'm gonna ride it when I'm bigger."

"Are you?" I ask.

She bobs her head, even as she turns another page. "They're faster 'n horses."

"But they're not very good company," I say.

She twists around to look up at me, a question in those brown eyes that are so much like her mother's.

"I talk to my horse all the time," I tell her.

"'Bout what?" She asks.

"My dreams." I lean in and whisper, "I can tell it my secrets. It won't tell anyone."

She nods, "I won't tell, either."

"Promise?" I ask.

She nods again with such enthusiasm her braids are flapping around her.

"Your ma was right. I'm tired. It's been a long day. But I will come back and look at the rest another time. How about that?" I say.

"'Kay." She smiles at me.

Displaying the same reverence with which she had opened the book, she closes it. I push myself to my feet while Faith simultaneously rises from the rocker, and we both stand there awkwardly, me with my hands shoved in the pockets at the back of my pants, her with her hands clasped in front of her.

"Thanks for indulging her," Faith finally says.

"She's quite the pistol." I say softly.

Faith smiles, the first genuine one she has given to me since meeting me at the depot, and it causes a pain in my chest that makes me wonder if I'm suffering from the same affliction as Chase. "She is that. If you're not careful, she will wrap you around her littlest finger."

"That warning comes a little too late." I glance around. "I'm surprised you would want to live here."

"It wasn't being used. You said you were tired, so we shouldn't keep you." She hurries to the door, as though a coyote is nipping at her heels, and opens it. "We will see you tomorrow at the gathering if nowhere else."

The gathering, when the remainder of the family will descend on me like locusts, wanting answers. Reaching back with a wink, I tug on one of Dee's braids. "Sweet dreams."

She gives me such an innocent smile that I want her to never have anything but the most pleasant of images racing through her head. The things in mine tend to be ugly, made for a lot of restless nights. When I get to the threshold, I stop beside Faith. She no longer wears braids, leaving me nothing to tug. I remember a time when I might have leaned over to buss a kiss over her cheek. But those days are long behind us. "Night, Faith."

She merely nods, closing the door on me as soon as my boot heels are clear of it.

Taking a meandering path back to the house, I pass a cow or two along the way, feeling small and insignificant with the vast sky above me. Darkness settles in, bringing with it black velvet dotted with stars and a sliver of a moon. One of the reasons I enjoy working with cattle is because I never feel hemmed in, because the horizon is always in the distance, beckoning, promising more space beyond it. It once satisfied, but now it suddenly seems empty. And I feel that a chunk of my life has been lived without me really being a part of it. What an odd thought to be nagging at me as I climb the steps and go into the house.

A lamp has been left burning on a table in the entryway, so I suspect Chase and Ma have already retired. I'm surprised Chase hasn't gone to the trouble of having electricity introduced out here but figure it will come in time.

Picking up the lamp, I make my way to the large library where I learned to love books, set the lamp on the marble-topped table that holds an assortment of crystal decanters, pour a generous amount of whiskey into a tumbler, and step through a door onto the veranda. Leaning against a beam, I take a slow sip and look out on the familiar, the land stretching before me for miles, the occasional shadowy windmill standing proud. I have built a couple in my day, and have always enjoyed the strenuous labor of it.

A gentle hand lands between my shoulder blades, rubs the tightness there, skims over my shoulders before drifting away. Turning my head slightly, I look over at the second she-wolf I have ever loved, the first being my mother… or at least my memory of her, faded and frayed as it is. "Why didn't you tell me Faith had a daughter?"

"She asked us not to. Whatever your reasons for leaving, she didn't want to be the reason you came back." Callie says.

I would have married her without hesitation to spare her the shame and embarrassment of being an unwed mother. "Do you know who the father is?"

Turning, she presses her back against the beam and meets my gaze head-on. "If you want answers, you will have to talk to Faith. She's the one who decides what people know when it comes to Dee."

"She's being tight-lipped." I sigh.

"That's her prerogative. I suspect there are things you never shared with her." Slipping in against my side, she wraps her arms around me. "I'm glad you're home."

In one smooth movement, I set my glass on the railing and enfold her in my embrace, holding her securely. "You know Chase is too ornery to die."

She laughs lightly, but I hear the whisper of encroaching tears, the edge of worry. "I know. Still, everything needs to be set right between you and Faith."

After my mother gives me another hug and goes back inside, I lower myself to the top step, stretch out my legs, and breathe in the warm Texas air, traveling back in my memories to the night everything changed.