Afterward, their conversation had been trivial, polite almost.
She wanted to talk to him, to say she was sorry for what had happened, though she wasn't. At night, alone in her bed, she'd thought of that tender mutual exploring, taking it further in fantasy until her body ached for him. She wanted to say she was sorry simply in case he thought badly of her. But the only chance she'd had was that first evening when he had brought Grace home. And when she'd started to speak he'd cut her off, as if he knew what she was going to say. The look in his eyes as he drove away had almost made her run calling after him.
Annie stood with her arms folded, watching the lightning flicker somewhere above the shrouded mass of the mountains. She could see the headlights of the Chevy now among the trees up by the ford and as they leveled and headed down the track she felt a heavy drop of rain on her shoulder. She looked up and another smacked the center of her forehead and trickled down her face. The air was suddenly cooler and filled with the fresh smell of wet on dust. Annie could see the rain coming down the valley toward her like a wall. She turned and hurried back inside to grill the salmon.
He was a nice guy. What else did Tom expect? He was lively and funny and interesting and, more important, he was interested. Robert leaned forward to squint through the futile arc made by the wipers. They had to shout to make themselves heard through the drumming of the rain on the car's roof.
'If you don't like the weather in Montana, wait five minutes,' Robert said. Tom laughed.
'Did Grace tell you that?'
'I read it in my guidebook.'
'Dad's the ultimate guidebook nerd,' Grace yelled from the back.
'Well thanks sweetie, I love you too.'
Tom smiled. 'Yep, well. Sure looks like rain.'
He'd taken them up pretty well as far as you could comfortably go in a car. They'd seen some deer, a hawk or two and then, high on the far side of the valley, a herd of elk. The calves, some no more than a week old, sheltered beside their mothers from the thunder. Robert had brought along some binoculars and they watched for ten minutes or more, the kids all clamoring for their turn. There was a big bull with a wide six-point sweep of antlers and Tom tried bugling to it but got no reply.
'How much would a bull like that weigh?' Robert asked.
'Oh, seven hundred pounds, maybe a little more. Come August his antlers alone could weigh fifty.'
'Ever shoot them?'
'My brother Frank hunts now and then. Me, I'd sooner see their heads moving about up here than hung on some wall.'
He asked a whole lot more questions on the way home, Grace teasing him all the while. Tom thought of Annie and all her questions when he'd brought her up here those first few times and he wondered if Robert had gotten the habit from her or she from him or whether they were both like that by nature and just suited each other. That must be it, Tom decided. They just suited each other. He tried to think of something else.
Water was torrenting down the track up to the creek house. Around the back, the rain was gushing in spouts from every corner of the roof. Tom said he and Joe would bring the Lariat up from the ranch later on. He pulled up as close as he could to the porch so Robert and Grace wouldn't get drenched when they got out. Robert got out first. He shut the door and from the backseat Grace asked Tom in a quick whisper how it had gone with Pilgrim. Though they'd been to see the horse earlier, they'd had no time alone to speak.
'It went good. You'll be okay.'
She beamed from ear to ear and Joe gave her a little gleeful punch on the arm. She had no time to ask more because Robert opened the rear door for her to get out.
It should have occurred to Tom that the rain on the dust at the edge of the porch would have made it slippery. But it didn't, until Grace stepped out of the car and her feet went from under her. She gave a little cry as she fell. Tom leapt out and ran around the front of the car.
Robert was bent anxiously over her.
'God, Gracie, are you okay?'
'I'm fine.' She was already trying to get up and seemed more embarrassed than hurt. 'Dad, really, I'm fine.'
Annie came running out and nearly fell herself.
'What happened?'
'It's okay,' Robert said. 'She just slipped.'
Joe was out of the car now too, all concerned. They helped Grace to her feet. She winced as she took her own weight. Robert kept his arm around her shoulders.
'Are you sure you're okay, baby?'
'Dad please, don't make a fuss. I'm fine.'
She limped but tried to hide it as they took her into the house. Fearing they were missing out on the drama, the twins were about to come inside too. Tom stopped them and with a gentle word sent them back to the car. He could see from Grace's mortified face that it was time to leave.
'See you all in the morning then.'
'Okay,' Robert said. 'Thanks for the tour.'
'You're welcome.'
He winked at Grace and told her to get a good night's sleep and she smiled bravely and said she would. He steered Joe out through the screen door then turned to say good-night and his eyes met Annie's. The look between them lasted less than a moment but in it was contained all their hearts would utter.
Tom tipped his hat to them and said good-night.
She knew something had broken as soon as she hit the deck of the porch and in a moment of horror thought it was her own thighbone. Only when she stood up was she certain it wasn't. She was shaken and, God, so embarrassed but she wasn't hurt.
It was worse. The sleeve of the prosthetic was cracked from top to bottom.
Grace was sitting on the rim of the bathtub with her blue jeans dropped crumpled around her left ankle and the prosthetic in her hands. The inside of the cracked sleeve was warm and damp and smelled of sweat. Maybe they could glue it or tape it or something. But then she'd have to tell them about it and if it didn't work there was no way they'd let her ride Pilgrim tomorrow.
After the Bookers left she'd had to put on a major act to make light of the fall. She'd had to smile and joke and tell her mom and dad at least a dozen more times that she was okay. At last they seemed to believe her. When she thought it safe, she'd claimed the first bath and escaped up here to examine the damage behind closed doors. She could feel the damn thing move on her stump as she walked across the living room and getting up the stairs was really tricky. If she couldn't even do that with it, how on earth could she ride Pilgrim? Shit! Falling like that was so dumb. She'd gone and spoiled everything.
She sat and thought for a long time. She could hear Robert downstairs talking excitedly about the elk. He was trying to imitate the call Tom had made. It didn't sound anything like it. She could hear Annie laughing. It was so great to have him here at last. If Grace told them now what had happened it would wreck the whole evening.
She decided what to do. She stood up, maneuvered herself over to the basin and got a box of Band-Aids out of the medicine cabinet. She'd make as good a repair with them as she could and in the morning try riding Gonzo. If it felt okay she wouldn't tell anyone until she'd ridden Pilgrim.
Annie switched off the bathroom light and walked quietly across the landing to Grace's room. The door was ajar and creaked softly as she opened it wider. The bedside lamp was still on, the one they'd bought together in Great Falls to replace the broken one. The night it broke now seemed to Annie to belong to a different life.
'Gracie?'
There was no answer. Annie went over to the bed and switched off the light. She noted casually that Grace's leg wasn't propped in its usual place against the wall, but lay instead on the floor, tucked in the shadow between bed and table. Grace was asleep, her breathing so soft that Annie had to strain to hear it. Her hair lay swirled like the mouth of a dark river across the pillow. Annie stood for a while, watching her.