A Lover's Lament(92)

“I don’t know who lives here now, but I do know that”—I point to the large farmhouse off to our right that’s situated in the middle of the twenty-acre land my family once owned—“my grandfather built that with his own hands. Nobody’s going to tell me we can’t be here.”

“Yes, Sir,” she says with her delicate hand in a terribly performed salute. I think about the prospects of this kind of routine during sex, just as we approach a fork in the road. I’m going to have to remember that.

I take the path to the left, which travels further into the woods. The other road juts harshly to the right and through a gate toward the farmhouse. We are completely surrounded by trees, and I notice Katie’s eyes peering out the window.

“It’s so, so beautiful out here. I just can’t even believe it. How long did your grandparents live here?” I love that even though this woman knows so much about me—probably more than anybody—she still wants to know more.

“Well, my grandpa built it after coming back from the war in ’45. He and my grandmother lived here together for almost fifty-five years before he had that stroke. Then my grandma lived here for about another three years until her death.”

“And she didn’t leave it to any of your family? Why not you?” she asks, just as we approach the spot I’ve been searching for. It’s a large clearing in the woods, void of anything but dried pine needles and fallen twigs. The dirt road continues down the property’s northernmost fence line, and a stream runs parallel to the road on our left and deep into the woods, acting as a partial border for this spot I’ve come to know so well. The farmhouse is just a speck on the horizon on the other side of the fence.

I get out of the car and Katie follows, nearly tripping over herself as she stares, mesmerized by the twenty or so horses galloping across the fenced land.

“Besides my mother and I—and I guess, Great-Aunt Ida—my grandmother didn’t have any family.” I reach out my hand, offering Katie a seat right in the middle of the clearing, then I follow suit.

“She sure as shit wasn’t giving it to my mother, and I hadn’t joined the Army or anything, so I don’t think she was too confident in my future at that point. She ended up donating the land, horses, and house to a non-profit organization. I have no idea if they just sold the property, or if they’re actually using it. I don’t even know who owns it.”

I thought about going up and asking if it was all right for us to be here, but I don’t have time to f*ck around—well, not with anyone besides Katie, that is.

“Did you or your grandma ever ride them?” The kindness in her eyes makes the small distance between us almost unbearable. I scoot closer to her and place an arm around the small of her back.

“Well, no. My grandmother never really believed in riding them. They’ve always been kind of wild and just living on the land.” I throw air quotes up around ‘living on the land’ because, in reality, they ate better than our family did most of the time. “She really just loved watching them roam free.”

Katie pulls her knees toward her chest and drops her chin on them, her eyes moving in rhythm with the horses. She settles in close to me, allowing me to wrap her completely in my arms.

“I can see why. I could sit here forever.” Her gaze is fixed on the horses and mine is on her. I could too, Katie. I could too. Although eventually we’d need to—

“Oh shit, I almost forgot,” I blurt, rising to my feet. I make my way to the trunk, open it up, and grab a bottle of wine, two wine glasses, an opener and a picnic blanket. I carry them over to Katie and set them down. “Ma’am, if I could have you please stand,” I say playfully, holding out my hand so I can help her up. “I mean, seriously, what * would let you sit down in the dirt?” I flash her a wink and a smile, and she smiles back, rising to her feet.

“Obviously, a man not as gentlemanly as yourself, good sir.” She laughs and backs away a few steps. I set the blanket flat on the ground and proceed to open the wine bottle, filling each glass. I hand Katie hers and re-cork the bottle before sitting back down with mine.

I lift my wine glass for a toast, but I can’t seem to think of anything appropriate to say. “To us?” I ask, and she scrunches her nose and shakes her head. She gives me a very dramatic thumbs-down. “No? Too simple? Okay, how about … to my mother, may she find herself in a better place, and to my grandmother and grandfather for having the wherewithal to see the absolute beauty of this land, and to us and the four unexpected days we get to spend together. May there be many more to follow.” She smiles, her eyes welling with tears as she raises her glass, clinking it against mine.

“To Josephine, Hank and Harriet … and to us.” She takes a small sip and looks at me like I’m crazy when I down the whole thing.

“Long day,” I joke, setting the glass to the side and moving in front of her. I take her glass and set it down next to mine. “Katie …”

“Yes?”

“Isn’t it funny how you can have a million different things on the tip of your tongue, waiting to be said, but when it comes time to spill it, there’s nothing?” I find myself staring at the blanket and trying my best to make sense of everything going on in my head. Katie places both hands around my neck and pulls me in until I’m inches from her face. I can smell her perfume, and my eyes close as I let the scent consume me. I could sit here, just like this, forever.