Chapter 29 A Bittersweet Goodbye
Alexandra felt the wind rushing past her face, blowing her hair behind her in the breeze. She wanted to put her arms out to her sides and see if she and Cherry might actually take off, but she remembered what happened last time, and she wanted to concentrate on holding the reins right. The sage whipped by her as Cherry plunged toward the herd of elk that had leapt to their feet and started their lazy, awkward lope. She still believed that they looked like camels when they ran, though she wasn’t sure how she could draw the comparison, since she wasn’t exactly an expert when it came to camels.
The elk increased speed, dashed across the creek and up the steep hillside into the thick timber bdyond, and Alexandra began pulling up on the reins, turning Cherry along the creek bank and started toward the place where the road crossed over the ridge into Beaver Creek.
Evan pulled up beside her, and she looked over at him. “Race you to that tree,” she called. Evan leaned into Bill’s neck and gave him his head to run. He surged well ahead of her. Alexandra had too much of a stubborn streak to let him beat her so easily, so she leaned into Cherry as well and began calling out to him. “Run, Cherry, run,” she screamed. She saw that she was gaining on them. “That’s it, Cherry, go.” She started laughing hysterically as she pulled up beside him and started to surge ahead, but Evan urged one more burst of speed out of Bill and passed the tree just ahead of her.
She was still laughing when they slowed their horses to a walk. The laughter was a release of everything that had been built up inside of her for years. She was alive. Her life and her spirit were flying through the air. She had never felt such complete joy.
At a much slower pace, they continued through the trees and over the ridge into Beaver Creek, riding past the place where she had tried to hide from the bear, and she shivered slightly as she remembered that particular horror. She had survived it, and it had become one of the many markers of the transformation that had taken over her life.
They talked casually about birds, trees, plants, and flowers along the trail. Neither of them allowed any worries to creep up on them and nor did they think of the struggle that the two of them were having inside. After they had crossed Beaver Creek, they continued over the next ridge into Brush Creek, which opened up into a wide basin and a spectacular view of the snow-capped peaks far off in the distance.
They admired the scenery within the shade of an aspen grove while listening to their horses eagerly grazing nearby. It was all too perfect to let go, but eventually, they mounted up and turned back toward the ranch. The conversation on the ride back to the ranch continued with the same casual tone, but it decreased as they both realized that their time together was coming to an end. By the time they were back at the ranch, there was a brooding silence filling the space between them.
They unsaddled their horses and turned them back into their pens. Alexandra lingered with Cherry, stroking the soft velvet of his muzzle and talking to him softly. She promised him that she would come back, and when she turned to walk away, she meant to keep her promise.
“I’ll fix you some lunch before you go if you like,” Evan offered. He hoped that she would turn him down because he really didn’t want their parting to linger.
“No,” she said as she opened the door to the car. “I’ll be okay. I’ll grab something on my way.”
“Well, alright, then,” he said. “Be careful. Don’t get lost.” He smiled as he looked into her eyes. So much had passed between them since that first day.
“You don’t mind if I keep the clothes, do you?” She wanted to linger and hoped for his embrace, but realized that it might be too much for both of them.
“Well, then,” he said slowly. “Take care. I’ll see ya.” He turned and started toward the barn.
“Yeah,” she replied. “I’ll see ya.” Tears were beginning to form on the lids of her eyes as she watched him walk away. “Evan?” she whispered. He paused and turned to look back. She ran to him and pushed her face deep into his chest. His arms came up around her, and he held her tight against him. She pulled her face back and looked up at him, and he lowered his lips to kiss her. The kiss lingered, and they released all of their pent-up emotions, then he stopped and looked at her without saying a word.
“Evan, I think I’m in…” she began.
He put his finger to her lips and shook his head. He walked her to her car, and she slipped in behind the steering wheel, and he closed the door. She backed the car up to point it toward the lane that led out of the ranch yard. When she looked up again, he was standing in front of her so that she couldn’t leave. He came to her window, and she rolled it down.
“Alex,” he said. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be right here.” Then he turned on his heel and walked to the barn. She watched him until he was gone and then pushed on the accelerator and started up the lane and out onto the road. Her heart ached, and her eyes flooded with tears.
The emotional storm inside her didn't subside until Flagstaff. For six hours after leaving Evan, Alexandra had been trapped in a brutal cycle: wrenching sobs gave way to a grim, white-knuckled determination on the steering wheel, which inevitably crumbled back into tears. While leaving, she had seen him in her rearview mirror, his chin dropping to his chest in quiet resignation. Every instinct screamed for her to turn back. But deep into the heart of Arizona, a fragile truce had settled between heartbreak and resolve. The pain was a deep, steady ache instead of a fitful tempest, and for the first time, she felt in command of herself.
Her appearance, however, was another story. At a Maverick gas station, the cashier’s concerned question and the double-takes from other customers finally sent her to the restroom. The reflection that stared back was a ghost of herself, pale-skinned and hollow-eyed, with streaks of black mascara creating dark rivers down her cheeks. As she splashed cool water on her face and scrubbed away the evidence of her grief, the simple act felt like a ritual of reclaiming control, a physical anchor to steady her turbulent emotions.