The Light Through the Leaves(19)
She picked it up. It was old—dirty and scuffed.
He watched her, smiling, and took a sip of his beer.
“I haven’t seen one of these for years,” she said. “Where did you get it?”
“We bought it for my girlfriend’s daughter at a yard sale.” He added, “Ex-girlfriend.”
“When did you break up?”
“Three months ago.”
Well, he certainly wore his heart on his sleeve.
She placed the pony on the table. “Can I ask you something kind of personal?”
He lifted his brows.
“Did you say goodbye to her daughter when you broke up?”
“Of course I did. I’d been with her mother for almost two years.”
“Do you still see her daughter?”
“I wanted to, but they moved away. They live in Missouri now.”
“You should call her. Let her know you miss her.”
“I don’t think her mother and new boyfriend would be especially keen on that.” He took a long drink of his beer. “You sure dive in deep right off the mark, don’t you?”
She pointed to the pony. “You started it.”
“It was meant as a joke.”
“Was it?”
He leaned toward her. “Ellis Abbey, I think you need a drink. Those graves have made you much too serious.”
“I think you’re right.”
He held up his hand to a passing waitress. “Please bring my friend anything she wants.”
The woman smiled and winked at him, obviously knew him. “What would you like?” she asked Ellis.
“How about an old-fashioned? And may I see a menu please?”
“Sure thing.”
Keith drank from his beer, appeared unfazed by the lag in their conversation. “You said you wouldn’t tell me what happened at the grave until you’d had a drink, so I guess I’ll have to wait.”
“Are you always this impatient?”
He crossed his arms over his chest and sat back in his chair. “Patience is my virtue, as a matter of fact.” He pretended to peer around the tavern while he waited.
“If you must know . . .”
He leaned toward her, elbows on the table.
“It was all gone.”
“The grave?”
“There was no grave. It was a forest and river behind where I grew up. I’d put my mother’s ashes there when I was thirteen. The whole place is now a bunch of apartment buildings.” Saying it out loud to another person made the weight of it diminish.
He put his hand on hers, softly, just as she’d imagined he would. “I’m so sorry.” “I guess I should have let you have the drink first.”
“I’ve had a few hours to process that it’s gone. It’s still strange, though.”
“When were you last there?”
“The day I scattered the ashes. I went to live with my grandfather in Youngstown that day. His was the first grave I visited.”
His hand was still on hers, and he pressed down on it for a few more seconds before taking it off. “Are you going back to New York now?”
“I’m heading west.”
“To where?”
“Wherever the wind blows me.”
“Really? You’ll be camping?”
She nodded.
“You don’t have a job you have to get back to?”
“No.”
“Family?”
“Nope.”
“How long will you wander?”
“I don’t know.”
He sat back and stared at her.
“Odd?” she said.
“Brave, interesting . . . and yes, I guess it is considered odd for a woman to do that alone.”
“What about for a man to do it alone?”
“Still interesting,” he said.
“But not brave or odd?”
“Less so.”
She nodded.
“No lecture on double standards?” he asked.
“No, you’re right. I agree it’s more dangerous for a woman to travel to isolated places than it is for a man. Women got the short end of the evolutionary stick when it comes to body strength. In most cases, a man can physically dominate a woman. And the anatomy of human genitalia makes the disadvantage even worse.”
“Are these your usual topics when you first meet someone?”
“I’m sorry. It’s my biologist background. I can’t help it.”
“You’re a biologist?” he asked.
“I was supposed to be.”
“What happened?”
“Life.”
She didn’t typically use that cliché, but the reply worked. He didn’t pry.
Her drink and menu arrived, and he held up his beer for a toast. “To the most interesting odd camper I ever met.”
She touched her glass to his bottle. “To the best My Little Pony weirdo I ever met.”
He picked up the pony and said in its ear, “Don’t be jealous, darling. You’re still number one.”
She liked his sense of humor. He reminded her of some of the biology students she and Dani had hung out with at Cornell.
The old-fashioned wasn’t the best she’d tasted, but it had the essential ingredient: a big slug of bourbon. She was drinking it too fast. She had to put something in her stomach.