True Colors (6 page)

“Hey, Vivi.” He ran a hand through his close-cropped hair, making it stand up on end. His cheeks were chalky pale and dark shadows circled his eyes. There was no doubt in her mind that she was getting him at the tail end of a two-day drunk.

“The stalls are a mess, Travis, and the horses are out of water. Did you even feed them today?”

He struggled to sit up. “I’m sorry. I jus’ . . . Sally has a new boyfriend.” He looked as if he were going to start crying and Vivi Ann sat down on the bed beside him, unable to be angry. Travis and Sally had been in love since high school.

“Maybe you’ll work it out,” she said.

“I don’t think so. She just . . . don’t love me anymore.”

Vivi Ann didn’t know what to say. She didn’t really know about the kind of love that tore you in half; except that she believed in it. “We’re young, Travis. You’ll find someone.”

“Twenty-five ain’t young, Vivi. And I don’t want no one else. What am I gonna do?”

Vivi Ann’s heart went out to him. She knew what she should do right now, what Dad or Winona would do, but she wasn’t built that way. She couldn’t just tell him to suck it up and get back to work. She’d learned early in life that a broken heart had to be treated carefully. It was a lesson every motherless girl knew. “I’ll feed and water today but I want you to strip down every stall tomorrow, okay? There’s fresh shavings in the loafing shed. Can I count on you?”

“Sure, Vivi,” he said, already sliding back down to go to sleep. “Thanks.”

She knew she couldn’t count on him, but what else was there to do? With a sigh, she left the cottage, turning off the lights as she went. As she walked back down to the barn, fighting the wave of exhaustion that was trying to pull her under, it started to rain.

“Perfect.”

Flipping up the collar of her jacket, she ducked her head and ran the rest of the way.

On the first Sunday of every month the Grey family walked to church. It was a tradition begun generations ago; then it had been a necessity, a response to winter roads turned into muddy bogs by rain. Now it was a choice. Rain or shine they came together at the farmhouse in the midmorning and set out for town. It was important to their father, crucial even, that the Greys be respected in town, that their contribution to the creation of Oyster Shores be remembered. So they walked to church once a month to remind people that their family had been here when buggies couldn’t navigate sawdust-covered winter roads.

This first Sunday in February, Vivi Ann got up an hour early to feed the horses so that Dad wouldn’t know about Travis’s recent breakdown. On this of all days she didn’t want to listen to him complaining about her hiring skills, or lack thereof.

Not today, when she was going to surprise him with her perfect plan.

When she finished her chores, she returned to the house and showered and got ready for church. By the time she came downstairs, dressed in a white eyelet skirt and blouse with a wide belt and her good cowboy boots, the whole family was already on the porch.

Aurora and Richard were together, trying to keep the twins from breaking something, while Winona leaned against the porch rail, looking up at the pretty glass and driftwood wind chimes their mother had made.

Dad walked out into the yard and did his usual weather check. “Let’s go.”

They fell into formation, with Dad out front by at least ten feet, walking fast. Richard and the kids tried to keep up with him. The girls came together at the rear, walking elbow to elbow, as they’d done for the whole of their lives.

“I see Dad’s setting his usual Bataan Death March pace,” Winona said.

“I will never understand why I have to drive to the farmhouse to walk to church,” Aurora said. It was a variation of the complaint she made each month. “How was the rodeo?”

“Great. I won a saddle and fifteen hundred bucks.”

“Good for you,” Winona said. “God knows this place could use some cash.”

Vivi Ann smiled at that, imagining again her triumph when she revealed her plan to make money. For the first time, Winona would see how smart her youngest sister really was. “Did anything interesting happen while I was gone?”

There was an almost imperceptible pause. Then Aurora said, “Luke Connelly came back to town.”

“The kid from next door? Wasn’t he in school with you guys?” Vivi Ann tried to draw up a memory of him but couldn’t do it. “What’s he doing here?”

“He’s a vet,” Aurora answered. “Winona—”

“Is helping him out,” Winona cut in.

Vivi Ann frowned; something seemed odd. It felt as if her sisters knew something she didn’t. She glanced from one sister to the other and then shrugged. She had too much on her mind right now to sift through nuance for fact. “I don’t really remember him. Is he good-looking?”

“You would ask that,” Winona said crisply.

For the rest of the way, they kept up a steady stream of conversation. More than once Vivi Ann wanted to just blurt out her idea, but in an unusual display of personal restraint, she waited.

After the services, they milled among their friends and neighbors, gathering in the basement for coffee and muffins as usual. Luke Connelly’s return was the topic of conversation. His unexpected reappearance brought up stories about the old days, back when Vivi Ann’s mom and Luke’s mom had been the prettiest girls in town. Ordinarily, Vivi Ann would have listened to those stories greedily—any mention of her mother was special—but today she had too much on her mind to relax and enjoy the conversations, and since Luke wasn’t at church, she lost interest in him quickly.

A little earlier than usual she herded her family together and encouraged them to head home. “Before the rain hits,” she said, and that was enough. They’d walked home in the rain often enough to know it wasn’t fun.

Back in formation, they walked through town and turned onto their driveway. On either side of them were bright green pastures, their boundaries marked by four-rail fencing. At the end of the driveway sat their pretty yellow farmhouse, with its white wraparound porch. Behind it, the Canal, the sky, and the distant mountains were all muted by mist, turned gray so that it was all shadows within shadows.

Clementine whinnied at their approach and galloped toward them.

Vivi Ann hiked up her eyelet skirt and slipped between the fence rails.

“Not again,” Winona said from behind her.

Laughing, Vivi Ann swung up onto Clem’s broad back. Without a lead rope or bridle, she technically had no control of her mare, but her faith in Clem was absolute. She squeezed Clem’s sides and the mare took off, running through the pasture toward the house. Vivi Ann leaned forward, hanging on to Clem’s mane. Her eyes watered at the speed; her hair whipped across her face.

She loved this. Any second Clem could throw her or stop suddenly or veer so fast Vivi Ann couldn’t hang on.

As they neared the house, she whispered, “Whoa, girl. Whoa,” and stroked Clem’s soft neck.

Vivi Ann was on the porch to greet her family when they finally arrived.

“Way to be a role model,” Aurora said. “I hope you’ll stop that when Janie starts lessons.”

“She should be in lessons now,” Vivi Ann said. “We were three when Mom started our lessons, remember?”

“You were three,” Aurora said. “The prodigy. I was five and Winona—”

“Let’s not talk about Winona and horses,” Winona said.

Laughing at that, the three of them went into the house and headed directly to their stations: Vivi Ann on lead, with Winona doing whatever prep work was asked of her—usually cutting vegetables and making the salad—while Aurora set the table. The kids went upstairs to watch videos and Dad and Richard stood silently in the family room, drinking beer and watching whatever sport was in season.

For the next two hours the girls talked and joked and laughed as they got supper ready. By the time the pot roast was done, they’d finished off a bottle of chardonnay and opened another.

Sunday supper began as it always did, with Dad leading them in prayer. Immediately thereafter, the conversational free-for-all began. Vivi Ann tried to wait for a natural lull in the talking to pitch her idea, but now that she was seated, she couldn’t wait any longer. Her enthusiasm was too high.

She just blurted it out: “I’ve been thinking about something. A way for the ranch to make some money.”

Everyone looked up.

Winona frowned. Apparently she’d been in the middle of a story, but Vivi Ann hadn’t noticed.

“In Texas I spent a lot of time with Holly and Gerald Bruhn. They just built that big arena down in Hood River, remember? Anyway, Holly is running a winter barrel-racing series. Eight weeks, every Saturday. They’re giving away money and prizes.”

“You always win those things,” Aurora said.

“No,” Vivi Ann said. “You don’t get it. I want to run a series here at Water’s Edge.”

Dad shrugged. “Might work.”

Vivi Ann grinned at the encouragement. “If it does, we could branch out to team pennings and ropings. Holly said last week they had over four hundred teams at the roping jackpot.”

She had her father’s attention now. “That costs money.”

“I did some checking around. We could probably do it for about one hundred thousand dollars.”

Winona laughed. “Is that all?”

Vivi Ann was surprised by that, and a little hurt. “We could get a loan. Mortgage the place.”

That shut everyone up.

“We’ve never had a mortgage,” Dad said.

“Times are changing, Dad,” Vivi Ann said. “I really think we could make a go of this. All we’d need are some steers, a groomer, a new tractor, and—”

Winona was not smiling. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Lord knows I’m tired of shoein’ horses all day and worrying about taxes,” Dad said, “and now that Luke Connelly is back we can use his acreage. We could keep the steers there, so we wouldn’t need a big trailer.”

Winona made a great show of rolling her eyes. “But if you can’t make a mortgage payment you’ll lose your property. You know that, right?”

“I ain’t stupid.”

“I didn’t suggest you were,” Winona said. “But this is crazy. You can’t—”

“You gonna tell me what to do again, Winona?” he said. On that, he left the table and headed for the study, where he closed the door behind him.

Vivi Ann turned on Winona. “Way to be a bitch. You’re just mad because it’s not
your
idea. Miss Brainiac couldn’t think of shit.”

“And what happens if you suck at doing all this, Vivi? What happens if no one comes and Dad has to find a thousand bucks a month to cover this new mortgage? You going to stand by his side and watch him lose this place? It’s all he has.”

“What if he’s already losing it?” Vivi Ann demanded, determined to stand her ground.

“It’s just like Clem,” Winona muttered, and Vivi Ann had no idea what her sister meant by that.

“You’re just jealous that I came up with the idea,” Vivi Ann said.

“Yeah, I’m jealous of your intellect,” Winona snapped back.

“Come on, you two,” Aurora said. “Let’s not go down that road.” She looked from one to the other. “It’s a good idea. Can we figure out how to make it work?”

In the past twenty-four hours, Vivi Ann had filled a spiral notebook with ideas. It didn’t matter that her father hadn’t agreed with her yet. She had no doubt at all that he’d come around to her way of thinking. So would Winona, once she got the bug out of her butt and stopped caring that it wasn’t her idea.

“Vivi Ann? Are you paying attention?”

She looked up from her notes.

Ten eager faces stared back at her. The girls of the Bits and Spurs 4-H group were seated around the living room—on the blue and yellow plaid sofa, beside the wagon wheel coffee table, in clusters on the worn oak flooring. Their ages ranged from nine to sixteen, and they had a singular passion in common: horses.

For the next hour, the girls talked about their horses and the fair and the barrel-racing clinic Vivi Ann was teaching next week. They were still talking and laughing and battering her with questions when Vivi Ann heard the first car drive up. Headlights flashed through the kitchen window and snapped off.

“Oh, no,” someone whined when the doorbell rang. “Our moms are here to pick us up. Tell ’em we’re still working, Vivi Ann.”

She went to the door and opened it, surprised to find a stranger standing on her front porch. He was tall and lean, with a shock of precisely combed brown hair. He was good-looking in a starched, buttoned-down way; or maybe that was the impression she got from his yellow polo shirt and pleated khaki Dockers. “May I help you?” she said, struggling to be heard over the magpie din in the living room.

He swept her into his arms and gave her a bear hug that was as tight as it was surprising. When he said, “You don’t remember me, do you?” it all clicked into place.

“Luke Connelly,” she said when he put her down. “Back from the wilds of Montana.”

He smiled. “I knew you’d figure it out if I picked you up.”

She didn’t quite know what to say to that. Did he have a memory of them that she’d misplaced? “It’s good to see you again.”

“You, too.” He glanced past her to the houseful of giggling girls. “Why do I think your dad isn’t home?”