“Now about those field trips?” she reminded him.
He pulled from his reverie and threw her a tolerant look. “Yes, I know what they are, and no, we’ve never had kids to the ranch.” It wasn’t a complete lie. Jed had only had the children of the help at the ranch.
She nodded. “So you don’t feel it’s important to educate students about the businesses that keep this town alive?”
“I didn’t say that,” he remarked, “and further, I don’t know where you’re going with this.” He flipped on the ignition and the engine rumbled to life. Did people really see him as a badass mountain man?
Really
?
“So you do believe in a quality education that includes not only the origins of End of the Line but its commerce and goals for the future?” She raised her voice over the roar of the motor as she stepped back onto the sidewalk.
“I would never deny a child the chance to learn,” he called to her.
What a persistent, infuriating woman
.
“Then you won’t mind…”
The low rumble of a salt truck passed behind him, and he watched her mouth moving but couldn’t decipher her exact words. She finished speaking and raised her palms with a shrug. Something about maybe seeing him on Thursday? Okay, so maybe she’d decided to give him a call after all. He responded with a wave and a quick nod, figuring he’d let her make the first move. He had to admit, the idea of going on date with Aimee, as long as she understood the parameters, sounded damn appealing.
She stood on the sidewalk and held her mitten up to her ear, her mouth forming the words, “I’ll call you.”
He smiled and waved again before shifting his truck into reverse. The loud blast of a car horn shocked him, and he stomped on the brake, narrowly avoiding colliding with a car passing behind him. He admonished himself for letting his mind wander to when he’d hear next from Ms. Aimee Worth.
***
Aimee had no idea how crazy schoolchildren could be just before the holidays. She sighed, tossed her book bag and paper on the couch, and stretched her arms over her head to relieve the tension settled in her lower back. She glanced at the boot-shaped wall clock her father—exhibiting his own brand of humor—had sent her for Christmas.
“At least it wasn’t Billy the Singing Bass,” her mother commented during an impromptu phone call. “I had to get a little terse with him about it. I figure you owe me, young lady.”
The clock struck five and started in with a few lines from
It’s Five O’clock Somewhere
. Aimee shook her head and stood, watching the sunset over the mountains. It was her favorite time of day. She hardly noticed when the music stopped playing. If she hurried, she’d have time for a relaxing soak in the tub and a quick supper before her online class started.
An hour later, having donned her yoga pants and an oversize sweatshirt, she carried a fried-egg sandwich to her small kitchen table, which doubled as a work area. As she scanned her e-mails and wondered if Montana would be as spirited tonight, an odd feeling struck her. She reopened her class file and read carefully through Montana’s posts. On a hunch, she picked up the phone, and dialed. “Hey, Sal, it’s Aimee. You know the big ranch family south of town?”
“You mean the Kinnison brothers? Oh yeah, I know who they are. Rein and Dalton are in town quite a lot. Rein is technically a step-cousin, I think, but they’ve always referred to themselves as brothers—all three of them. Jed virtually raised them from preteens on. Wyatt is the oldest. Now there’s a delicious alternative to a warm blanket on a cold winter night.”
Aimee agreed without divulging too much more on the topic. Strange it seemed Sally hadn’t brought up the public kiss yet. Then again, maybe it happened so quick that it went unnoticed.
“Why do you ask?”
“I maybe had coffee with Wyatt the other day.”
“I don’t know which surprises me more, the fact it was Wyatt or you’ve kept this from me for this long. Good Lord, Aimee, do you realize that’s the closest thing to a date you’ve had since you arrived?”
“Thanks for the reminder, but I don’t think you need to go pick out a bridesmaid’s dress just yet.”
There was a gasp, followed by a female squeal on the other end of the line. “I would so love someday to give you a bachelorette party.”
Aimee frowned into the phone. “Sal, there’s no wedding. I was joking with you.” Aimee made a mental note to watch how she expressed herself on the topic of men with Sally.
“Oh.” There was no masking the disappointment in her voice. “So spill, honey, what was it like?”
Aimee thought for a moment how best to describe the coffee date. “Awkward. You’d have thought I asked him for blood, the way he hemmed and hawed around.” She chose to leave out the part about the mind-blowing kiss. “Things were going well until….”
“Until?”
“I brought up his and how involved it seemed he was in the community, especially during the holidays. I was hoping maybe to get him on board with my fundraiser, but I never got the chance to ask.”
“Oh,” Sally commented. “I could have told you not to bring up anything involving service projects. Wyatt is nice and all, but not exactly Mr. Social. I’ve heard him referred to as the Grinch.”
“I found that out the hard way,” Aimee stated. “He left rather abruptly and said he had things to do.”
“He probably did. He is the head of the Kinnison ranch. The brawn, as they say, behind its success.”
“So I heard. Betty explained a few things about his past after he left.”
“True, I’ve heard rumblings that things got pretty bad out there for a while. I’m sorry, honey. Any chance you might see him again?”
“I don’t know, but I wanted to ask you something. It’s probably a crazy hunch.”
“Okay, but talk fast. We’ve got class in ten minutes.”
“Well, I was in town buying copy paper over lunch today and guess who I ran into?”
“Shot in the dark. Wyatt Kinnison?” There was a smile in her voice.
“Yes, and you won’t guess what he was buying,” Aimee responded.
“Uh, probably not. What?”
“Printer ink.”
“Damn, I was going to say that.” Sally chuckled.
“Seriously. He was buying printer ink and two reams of paper.”
A long stretch of silence followed. Finally Sally spoke, “Okay, I’ll bite. Where is this going?”
“I’ll bet you lunch at Betty’s that Montana is none other than, Wyatt Kinnison.”
There was a chuckle on the other end of the line. “Wishful thinking, honey. I can’t imagine a man like Wyatt being caught within fifty feet of a creative writing class of any kind, especially poetry, online or off.”
“Really? Are you sure? What if it’s him?” Based on Betty’s stories, the sense of bitterness Montana expressed in response to her post, and then on top of that, discovering the hermit Wyatt in the drugstore buying paper
and
printer ink…she shivered with the same anticipation of sneaking down to see your presents on Christmas morning. “Don’t you have a way to look up the registration information for your class?”
“That’s all taken care of at the Billings Community College central office. I only get e-mails to send the class assignments to.”
“Damn.”
“Yeah, well, you’re going to owe me lunch,” Sally warned with a light laugh.
Aimee blew out a sigh. “Look, the thing is, he agreed to my bringing the kids out to the ranch next Thursday. A mini-field trip, you know.”
“Wyatt Kinnison,
Mr. Grinch
, gave you permission to visit the ranch?” Sally responded dubiously.
“Well, yeah, it was more like a nod and a wave, but he agreed that the kids around here would benefit from knowing what keeps this town alive.”
“A nod and a wave isn’t normally how we get permission, you realize, right?”
“I told him I’d call.”
“That’s a good idea.”
A short silence followed. “You think I’m crazy?”
“Certifiable.”
“Hey, aren’t you the one always telling me to get out there? No risk, no reward, right?”
“You are one crazy Southern girl, and if you can reach this guy, you’ll have accomplished what no other woman has been able to do. But I’m kind of worried you’re heading for heartache with this one, sweetheart. Be careful. We’ll talk more about this. Gotta go. See you online.”
Deep down, Aimee realized Sally might well be right. Maybe her near-obsessive thoughts about Wyatt were only one-sided. She logged onto the class, anxious to see if Montana would respond tonight, and saw Sally’s introduction post.
Your assignment was to write your thoughts of a happier time in your life. Please feel free to post your work
.
Aimee chose to read a few of the poems first, rather than jump right in like before. However, none of these assignments were riddled with the dark undertones of Montana’s previous work. Maybe he’d chosen to drop the class? Just as she prepared to post her e-mail, another e-mail appeared, containing a poem having a similar melancholy to Montana’s first work. Reading through it, she saw it was signed, as she suspected, Montana.
No more running, I am home.
With laughter, hugs, a mom, a dad.
Life is right. Life is good
.
The teacher part of Aimee thought it sounded like memories of a child’s relief in finally coming home. Her heart twisted to think what she knew of Wyatt’s background, and whether this was really him or not, what hope he must have felt when his mom married Jed. The hope of having a real family, settling down to a normal life, a hope shattered on that fateful Christmas morning—the symbolic day of hope and joy for all children. But at a young and impressionable age, his hope had been stolen. She realized with alarming clarity how he’d learned to rely on himself, his abilities—not on hope or a faith in anyone else. She understood his loss. Such a life would leave little room for emotion, and so too, less likelihood for pain. Aimee chose to write her assignment about a particular time when she and Sarah had gone camping to celebrate the completion of their sophomore year in college. Little did she suspect one of her happiest moment would be one of the last she would have with her sister. She typed in her poem and hit Send, imagining whether Montana would read it.
Like dust particles in sunlight’s rays,
Our moments are precious few.
Reach out to capture them
For you know not which may be your last
.
~Hopeful Visionary
Other students’ posts followed and she waited as the teacher commented on each of them. Sally then opened the forum up for the students to comment on each other’s work. Aimee nervously rolled the pencil between her fingers, reading through the various responses. Then one from Montana caught her eye.
I can relate to Hopeful’s work. It says to me that even when things are good, there is the inevitability of them being snatched from you. Better to live for now than to waste a moment thinking about the future. ~Montana
Aimee responded as though she was speaking to Wyatt. Her fingers flew over the keyboard.
Living in the moment is a good thing. I think that’s one of the points I want to make. Life is full of good moments and bad, isn’t it? And don’t we grow as much from the bad as we do from the good
?
Another post, though not from Montana, appeared.
That’s true. I never really thought about before. Had my father not taken ill and I hadn’t had to return here to care for him, I wouldn’t have had the opportunity to run my own business
.
Aimee nodded, pleased that her work had made sense to somebody in the class, but there was still no word from the one classmate she wanted to hear from. She continued the conversation with the last post.
Perhaps it’s naive to believe this, but I feel everything has a purpose. Good or bad, we ultimately have the choice whether to allow ourselves the wisdom from our experiences or to live forever, second-guessing them
.
Interestingly, that brought an immediate response from Montana.
It’s naive to rely on hope. Rely instead on what is in front of you. I go with the philosophy it is what it is and nothing more
.
Aimee eyed the screen. In her mind’s eye, she was seated across from Wyatt as she typed her response.
How could you possibly be so narrow-minded
?
As much as she felt badly for the pain of his past, he was an adult now, able to make the choice to stay in the past forever or free himself to a future of possible happiness. That kiss might have meant nothing to him, but she’d tasted potential to which he was apparently blind. But she wasn’t about to give up. He’d entered her mind, touched something deeper inside her, and if she had to hang on like a bull rider, she would until she got thrown off. Hell, she was a second-grade teacher. She was invincible. Aimee blatantly challenged Montana’s idea.
Taking such a view without hope of what can be, is akin to choosing to live your life in black and white, instead of color
.
Sally intervened with a post.
Lively discussion
!
That’s great. Unfortunately, that’s all we have time for tonight. I’ll give you the next assignment and you can be thinking about it when we reconvene after the New Year. Since we’ve been discussing potential and experience, please think about those topics for the next time. I’ll leave it open to your interpretation. Good night, everyone, and have a good holiday. Please be sure to check the spring schedule of classes being offered online from Billings Community College
.
Aimee signed off and immediately dialed Sally. “So, what do you think now?”
“If it is him, and I’m not saying it is, I’m doubtful you scored any points tonight.”
Aimee responded with a sound of disgust in her throat. “Like he would know it was me, anyway. Besides, I wasn’t going for points. I think it’s high time Wyatt Kinnison stopped wallowing in the past and got on with the business of living. He’s full of a lot of talk, but he doesn’t walk the walk, you know what I mean?”