went for you.”
She nodded and cut off a forkful of pie. On its way to her lips she paused. “Have you ever had your heart broken so badly you thought you might die? That you wanted to die?” He nodded solemnly. “Every time Mick couldn’t really be mine, when he finally said it just wasn’t his scene, my heart hurt so bad I wondered how it hadn’t killed me. How does it beat through that? The whole time I mothered my little son I was so grateful to have him, but my heart still ached for the man I had believed in. I decided it would take willpower to let go, but I was getting over him—so slowly, but I was getting over him. Then the baby died.”
She paused for just a second because she couldn’t miss the fact that Matt’s black eyes glittered, like they might be getting wet.
“He just didn’t wake up in the morning,” she went on. “Softly, simply, sweetly, like he had just moved on. No cries, no struggles, no gasping. Just a gentle sleep. Then I knew pain. And grief. All I could think of while I was going through that—not winning Mick was nothing! I couldn’t even remember what it was I thought I loved. Well, that’s been a while now. It’s going to be a year this summer since Josh passed away. I thought it was time to see Mick, but I didn’t want to talk to him. I didn’t want him to see me. I didn’t want to hear how he’s got a great deal he expects to sign in a month or less. I wanted to see him so I could know once and for all if I’m finally past that insanity that is Mick Cantrell. That’s why I went. I just want to be free.”
“And are you free?”
“Pretty much,” she said, smiling. She sipped her coffee. “He can still manage to annoy me, the arrogant bastard. But for the most part, I rarely even think about him.”
Matt smiled. He took a bite of his pie, and they sat in silence for a moment, enjoying coffee, pie and the company.
“There are new lambs and chicks at the farm,” he finally said.
She gasped, and her face lit up. She smiled brightly.
“Maybe on your way back to Thunder Point you could drop by.”
“Yes,” she said. “If it wouldn’t be too much trouble for you and your family.”
Seven
Matt sat with Ginger for two hours, two pieces of pie and far too much coffee. They passed through the emotional and sentimental stuff and got back to their comfort zone—laughing and teasing.
Thanks to caffeine, he couldn’t sleep. He didn’t nod off until the time he usually woke up. He slept until eight in the morning and in a panic, called her cell. He couldn’t have her beat him to the farm.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “I slept a little late myself. I’m having breakfast with my mom and dad, then I’ll be headed your way. I won’t be there before ten.”
“Are you sure you remember where the farm is?”
“I’m sure,” she said, laughing. “Don’t rush me now. I’ll be coming when I’m done visiting with my parents.”
She was the bravest woman he’d ever met. Strong to the bone, that’s what Ginger was. She was the epitome of womanhood in his mind—after all she’d been through, after all she’d had to overcome, she could still be so sweet, so funny, so positive. Her scars were not thistles, they were velvet artwork on her heart.
In the whole of his extended family he could only remember the loss of one child, one of his distant cousins, an infant who had been born with serious birth defects and had lived only a year. Every woman in the family rushed to the young parents. They came from as far away as San Francisco and Reno with food and prayer beads. The Jews and sitting Shiva had nothing on these Basque women. But as far as he could recall, it was only that one time. And it was fated. The poor child had not been expected to live; a year had been a miracle.
Ginger faced her demons head-on. She even talked about it. Honestly. Matt hadn’t been able to do that yet. He was a master of evasion. I can’t explain, but I had to, he’d said. How flimsy. Ginger would wonder what kind of problem would cause a man who professed to put marriage and family first to turn and walk away.