Page 43 of Wannabe in Wyoming
Waving a greeting, she strode closer to the colorful van as a young woman got out, hurried around to the back of it, and opened the hatch.
“Afternoon!” Willow called. “Can I help you?”
“Are you Willow ‘Wannabe’ Crawford?” the delivery woman asked, after glancing at a piece of paper she then stuffed into the back pocket of her jeans. “I know this is Skyview Ranch—I just didn’t know anyone was out here these days.”
Confused, but with a racing heart, Willow replied, “Yes, that’s me.”Did he really do this?
“Nice to meet you—I’m Jesse Powell. I have a delivery for you—just a moment.” Reaching into the open cargo area of the van, the woman retrieved a small potted plant. Stepping closer, she handed it to Willow. “Now if you’re not familiar with succulents, just remember they don’t need a lot of water. They’re easy care.”
Staring down at the small plant, her eyes blurred with tears that weren’t from laughter this time. “Is there . . .” She cleared her throat. “Is there a card?”
“Oh yes! I’m sorry, I almost forgot.” Handing over a letter-sized envelope she continued, “That’s some fella you got there. He called yesterday and made the arrangements for the delivery. He had Jeremiah back there deliver the letter to us too.” She waved over Willow’s shoulder. “Hi, Jeremiah!”
Willow glanced back to see her friend tip his hat at Jesse from where he stood in the open barn door. “Hey, Jesse.”
The woman directed her attention back to Willow. “He wanted to be sure you got it with the plant. Poor guy had no idea what a succulent was, but he was positive you’d love it. I had to take a bunch of photos of the ones we had and text them to him. This is the one he liked best.”
Willow nodded as her gaze dropped to the plant again. Without even knowing it, he’d sent her favorite—a baby rubberplant. “I do. I really really do. Thank you, so much. It’s really beautiful.”
“Don’t thank me—thank that man of yours.” Shutting the van’s rear hatch, Jesse climbed back in the delivery vehicle. “You two have a good day, now,” she called out the open window as she drove away.
“You too,” Willow and Jeremiah replied in unison.
As she cradled the note and the plant carefully in one hand, Willow waved goodbye to the florist with the other. Heading back into the barn, she set the little green plant down on an old wooden bench and opened the letter.
Wannabe,
I miss you already. We managed the date, but I didn’t get to do flowers, then I remembered you’re not a flower kind of girl anyway. Thank God for florists, since I had no clue what a succulent was. I hope you like the one I picked out, and I look forward to sending you many more.
Yours,
Nathan
“I couldn’t believe it when he called me and asked me where he could get you a succulent.” Jeremiah laughed from behind her, glancing at the note. “He’s such a sap. That man has got itbadfor you, Willow-girl.”
“Trust me, the feeling is entirely mutual.” Smiling, she carefully touched a leaf on the plant, knowing just where she was going to put it—on her desk in the bedroom, in the same place she’d written to him. Was it corny as all hell? Yes. Did she care? Not even a little.
After a relaxing dinner together, with a few beers and more laughs than she could count, Jeremiah had gone home to tend his own animals. After putting the chickens to bed and feeding Ethel, Willow went to her bedroom, with the kitten on her heels, and retrieved the box containing her father’s letters from where it sat atop her dresser. Sitting on the edge of her bed, she caught a trace of Nathan’s scent. Of them. She knew she should wash the sheets, but she couldn’t bring herself to lose that connection with him yet. Glancing at the bedside clock, she saw she had an hour until their planned Skype call.
When she pushed on the carved cherry blossom, the lid popped open with a soft click. Picking up the next letter, she set the box on the bed beside her and began to read.
August 23rd
My Beloved Cherry,
It’s been two months since I’ve had time to sit down and write to you. We’ve been cutting hay for what feels like forever. It’s hot, dirty, back-breaking work from sunup until sundown. At the end of the day, I shower off the dust and grime and collapse into bed, too tired to even dream. Which means I don’t get to see you.
Yesterday, we finished the last of it, and so today, after we did the basic chores, we took the rest of the afternoon and evening off. I caught up on sleep and finally saw you again. I dreamed of when we made love that first time. Your skin glowing in the moonlight, your eyes open and so full of love it nearly stopped my heart. You didn’t know, but I was so nervous that night. I was so desperate for you, but I didn’t want to hurt you. I was a fool to worry. What we have transcends the physical. Making love with you wasn’t just a joining of the flesh, it united our souls. I can never regret it. Not as long as I live. I know maybe I should, but I can’t bring myself to think poorly of something so magical. Holy, even. I burn for you even now. I think I always will.
These past few months have felt like a lifetime, and I pray that I have the strength to wait the twelve years before I can hold you in my arms again. My heart is locked in a prison without you. The only relief I get is the sun, the fresh air, and the exhaustion hard work brings me. This ranch is saving my sanity, my life. I know if I wasn’t here, I’d be running back to you as fast as I could, and it would ruin both our lives.
My soul bleeds for you. I find myself sniping at my uncle and the other hands. They glare and tell me I’m being an asshole, but I can’t stop the venom. It shames me, the way I talk to people sometimes, but I hurt so much, all the time, and it’s hard to keep it inside.
I wonder, are you happy? Are your parents treating you okay? Is school going well? I ask myself all these things that I would give anything to know and come up empty. I don’t know how many times a person can survive their heart being broken, but mine snaps in two every time I wake from a dream and you’re not beside me, in my bed and in my arms where you belong.
Tonight, there’s a dance and party in town to celebrate the end of hay season. My uncle is making me go, saying I need to get off the ranch and be around people instead of just him, the other hands, and the damn cows for a few hours. Maybe he’s right. These years will pass too slowly if all I do is sit in this room, thinking of you, and working myself until I collapse.
Uncle Simon is calling me––it’s time to go. I love you, with all my heart, always and forever.
