Realizing that she loved Jake didn't make a single concrete difference in Sam's life. The giddy emotions she'd felt that night had faded quickly. In its place was left the heavy realization that her love was pointless and unneeded. Their lives had grown apart in ways that Sam couldn't quantify. She spent the next two months trying to ignore the sinking feeling that it was too late. They were building something new, wherein her girlish, childhood, musings of having the perfect love story seemed crazy. Nobody grew up to marry their childhood best friend.
It was too late. They were friends. Sam knew this, and she knew that saying, "I'm in love with you, Jake." would ruin that. She would sooner walk over hot coals without hope of ever having a burn salve that toss away a friendship that they had worked to rebuild. And what was love, anyway? Did it really matter? Was love just adding sex? She wanted that, sure, sometimes. She was nearly 20, and she was an average, heterosexual, woman. She wouldn't lie to herself and deny that fact or what it implied. It was pointless to say that she didn't feel a stirring of jealousy when girls she'd gone to high school with announced engagements and weddings and babies, or when she realized that she was one of the only single girls left around here, one of the only ones to be just 'alone' in that way that every single girl just knew and understood, even if they could not describe it. But Sam wondered if saying that she loved Jake would change anything. She didn't think it really would. What was love going to change in the lives? Nothing. The risk was too great. She didn't know enough to take the risk. So, she lived life being glad for her independence, and hating herself for being a coward. It seemed that adult life was a paradox.
If she told him that she loved him, it might take away the very foundations of her life. The cases, the horses, the ranch work, were really all she had. All of that would be gone, and after the last three years, it wasn't worth the risk. Sam wasn't so foolish to admit that what they had wasn't great. They had their communication back. They had the support of knowing that the other would be there. They had so much, so much, and one whispered confession wasn't worth it. It would change nothing.
Sam knew that she'd done a lot to build her own life, make her own choices. She knew that she just had to keep doing her own thing. The ducks were the next step on her bucket list. It wasn't much, she knew, but a girl had to grab onto what she had. She had to add them to her life plan, which she took great pains to stick to. Ever since Jake had gone, she had realized that her life was solely her own, her plans were her own, and the girl without a plan was left holding her heart in a thousand pieces. She lived by her plan. She trusted her plan.
"Sam?" Jake said, extending the level towards her. His brown eyes were questioning, and Sam knew that she'd been staring into space again. She tried not to let on that, once again, she'd been thinking about him and not her coop.
Sam leaned over, and took them, careful not to touch him as she took the level, and placed it down, raising the piece of wood slightly to compensate. Using the power drill, she secured her end of the board. They quickly continued to refurbish the modified chicken coop. Really, Sam was remodeling Gram's old coop, which her flock had outgrown, to make space for a widened yard and a pool. The ducks were currently living in the barn, rescues from the local shelter. They were going to be put down after they'd been rescued from some house. Jake had gotten wind of animals because the police had been called. Once Sam knew that they needed homes, it had been relatively simple to convince Dad to come around to it. Since then, she'd been volunteering at the county animal shelter with what little free time she had.
The coop needed few touch-ups. Sam looked around at the evidence of "What do you think?"
Jake looked up. "I'd knock out this wall, were I you, and put a door with an entry there. You could wheel up a wheelbarrow..."
Sam cut him off, understanding how convenient that would be in the winter, or when she needed to muck out the place really well. She had a sudden thought about pool maintenance, "If I put a grey water system in, I could..."
"Fill the duck pool with it." Jake agreed with her. "It would be simple enough." Jake offered, "D'you want to go to the hardware store?" Sam knew that she needed a barrel and a few couplings.
Sam's heart soared. It was an invitation to the hardware store. It wasn't a date. It wasn't even a going out. It was a trip to the hardware store. "It's my turn to get the groceries, so I'll just swing by then."
Jake looked at her. "Sure. Makes sense." Sam nodded. It did. Still, she couldn't help but acknowledged, later that night, when the ducks were quacking around her, that understanding her feelings had changed things. In other circumstances, she would have thought nothing of going to the hardware store with him. But no, she had to maintain boundaries she wanted desperately to cross, even if they had never really been there before.
Boundaries were good things, just like her plan, even if she did have to constantly reenforce them and revise them. Boundaries kept her safe, kept Jake from realizing that the girl who'd been his friend all his life wanted to be more. Boundaries kept her from making a fool of herself, in September, when her second semester at Art School started. Being that it was online, she'd started two weeks after having her high school diploma in hand. Boundaries were a way that she could allow herself to love Jake. In drawing a line between friend and something more, Sam honored what they had. The last year had taught her that you could never feel contentment if you didn't acknowledge what you had. She had so much. She didn't need more. She only felt daily, like she wanted more, wanted to move ahead, move forward in life, in ways she could never define.
Even when she wanted most to move quickly, life was slow in that Fall. For the first time in forever, she was not constantly revising her life plan. The sunrises gave her ample light to take photographs, and the early sunsets gave her plenty of otherwise wasted hours to complete the message boards and assignments that came with her online courses. Making the choice to go to an online program had been hard. She knew why she had done it. She wanted to be here, not far away. She loved her horses, her work with them, and her family. She didn't see the need to pay money to live anyplace else. There was nowhere else on earth that she had ever felt like herself. There were many reasons to stay, and almost none to compel her to leave.
For a time, she worried that Dad would throw her out, or something, but that had proved to be a asinine worry. As long as she was doing her schoolwork, he asked nothing different of her. She offered to get a job in town, but he'd looked at her, and said, "School is your job. Eat your soup, Sam." That had been the end of that. Dad was supportive. He tried to understand her schoolwork, the technology, even when he still thought of computers as big, brick-like machines.
There were times, as October gave way to November, and the ducks began to spend more time indoors, that she wondered if she'd made the right choice to do this. Online classes were so different and she spent more and more time questioning herself. Her time, her work, was solely her own. There was no one in her personal spaces to talk about various exposure methods. Max sometimes served as a willing conversation partner, but Sam had begun to feel that she spent more time educating Max than actually talking to her.
Had she made the right choice? Sometimes, Sam doubted herself. Sam wanted to put her face on the computer and pound the keys tonight. She'd had to be the discussion moderator for her class. The assignment required her to post a prompt for discussion and keep it going. She had just checked her grade, and it was an 87.56%. It wasn't what she'd been expecting, not when she had tried to follow the assignment sheet, as scant as it was, to the letter. She was frustrated and angry. It felt like she was doing everything she was supposed to do, but still, nothing made sense. Sam enacted the 24 hour rule, and thereby logged off, and walked away, vowing to ask for clarification tomorrow, when it didn't feel like her self-worth was in the toilet along with her grade.
Sam grabbed her hat, yanked up her braid into a knot with some sticks, and went to the barn. Jake was working, and so Sam tried to ignore the chatter of the radio as she made her way through the barn for Ace's tack. Once she was saddled up, she confessed, "Ace, I'm so confused."
He seemed to ask her why, and she really didn't know. Sam was pensive as they rode along. Growing up sucked in so many ways. At 16, she had been so sure that her choices were the right ones. Now, she wasn't so sure. She never was. She questioned her rationale as she worked through her cases, as she made choices for her animals, as she submitted assignments for her coursework. She was filled with a feeling of unease, a general sense of loss. Jen was off at school, with worries Sam knew she would never have. She would never come to care about some sorority house, some group of girls. But had she made the right choice, over and over, and over again?
So much was riding on this degree. Her future depended on being able to provide for herself. She had no aspirations of ever being a housewife like Gram had. Sometimes, she felt like throwing her hands up and tossing in the towel, dropping out and waiting for some guy to come along. After finishing the paper and smacking herself upside the head, she thought about her real dreams, and knew that she would never be happy being just Mrs. Anybody, not even Mrs. Ely. Really, spending hours doing up Jake's shirts was laughable. Not that she even thought about marriage, not even when Alexis from church announced her engagement and Sam felt a stab of envy. She wasn't ready to be some man's wife, not when she couldn't figure out her own life.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
Jen came home at Christmas, aglow with the adventures that college gave her. She looked so polished, coming over atop Silly with fewer fly-aways and more confidence in her smile than Sam had in her whole body. Sam threw herself into barn work, desperate to feel accomplished in something. Jake stopped by before work, took one look at her, and said, "What's your problem?"
Sam wanted to throw something at his face. Smug was not, not, not, sexually appealing and she didn't care one bit for that smile of his. She brushed a curl away from her face, and said, "I didn't have one until you asked."
"Sure." Jake drawled. Boomer was looking at her with wide eyes. "Want to tell Boomer about it?" The dog was doing all he could to get her attention, and Sam patted his head with a warm, wet hand. The cool air hitting her dishpan hands made her chilly.
"I don't have a problem!" Sam frowned, scrubbing out a bucket, "I don't have anything." That was dramatic, maybe, but Sam felt, tonight, so immature and inadequate. Her life hadn't changed much, not like Jen's had, and she was torn between wanting to make changes and being terrified that those changes would rip away things she had worked so hard for, things other people seemed to take for granted, would ruin a life plan that she could never seem to calibrate. She liked her daily life for the most part, loved living her life in tune with the ranches, loved being able to see Cody grow, but hated that none of the things that she loved were really hers.
"You don't..." Jake broke off, cookie frozen in his hand. "What?"
"Nothing." Sam said. She was torn, half-way between being thrilled that she was still doing her own thing, forging her own path, and sad because she felt so out of step with everyone else. Jen had traditional college, and all of the things that came with it. Sam knew that she didn't want any of that, but it didn't stop the swirl of emotion within her when she saw her friend growing and changing in ways that Sam didn't see in herself. Jen had Ryan. Sam thought their relationship was crazy. They never could seem to say two words to each other without sucking each other's faces off, but maybe that was just jealousy coloring her interpretation.
Jake paused, as he'd been eating cookies she'd baked earlier. "Sam." Jake shook his head, "You have so much. Don't forget that." Boomer was knowing on a toy, and Sam couldn't look up at Jake. "No one else has what you have." With that, he walked out of the barn, calling, "Hier, Boomer."
Sam gave the dog a final pat as he sprinted away, toy dangling from his mouth. Sam knew that they were going into work now, and that Jake would have a busy night. Sam wished that his words would make sense. They didn't. She had an average life, what everyone else had. She had her schoolwork, her family, her horses. There was nothing spectacular about who she was, what she was. Sam knew that the unvarnished truth was that she felt like she should want more, want different things, professionally. She did, but she didn't. In rare moments, a sense of peace overcame her that was soon at odds with a desire to move forward somehow. She should want to be somewhere other than here, but she didn't. Personally, she knew that she should want less, but she didn't. What did she have, really, that no one else did? It didn't matter, Sam decided. She was in an emotional funk, and Jake was being cryptic to annoy her.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
New Year's gave her no clarity, not even when she quizzed the ducks. They seemed so content to live out their daily lives, so content to just be, just go with the flow. How unlike the ducks Sam was. She couldn't bear the idea that the wheel had turned again, without her knowing what balance was, or what the answers were, or how she wanted them, so she went out to see the Phantom. There was no sneaking out anymore. Dad didn't exactly approve, but she was an adult and could now do as she pleased with no one to answer to, as it had been for so long. Sometimes, she wanted to know that someone was worrying, waiting on her, but that was only when the old maid reared her head. Sometimes, Sam cursed where she lived and the social conventions, but that was only when she loved living her life for herself. No one was waiting on her, so she could do as she pleased. She didn't see the Phantom, and Ace was a solid friend in the cold.
She hated New Year's. You were supposed to reflect on all that you had learned. She felt like she knew less with certainty than she had a year ago. Hooves crunched over the snow, as Jake called out, "Sam?"
Sam twisted to her right and saw Witch coming towards Ace, bringing Jake along. "What?" Sam tried not to snap. It wasn't his fault she felt so unsure, so unglued.
"Everyone's back at the house." Jake's breath puffed in the air, "You should come home."
"Why? So I can listen to Jen talk about her internship applications, or Pepper about his poetry book, or..." Sam trailed off, hating that she still, even after all of this time, told him things that she couldn't keep secret. Everyone had a plan, but not her. She had no plan, because every time she tried to make one, she ended up making a choice, or something ended up happening that blew up her plan.
Jake arched his brow. "Oh." Witch nosed the snow, and Ace snorted into the silence.
"Oh, what?" Sam said, wiggling her fingers. The night was unseasonably warm after frigid temperatures, and Sam had hoped in vein that the warm night would call forth the Phantom after weeks of deep chill. Getting here had been somewhat perilous, but Sam had enjoyed the challenge.
Jake caught her gaze, "You don't feel like you've accomplished anything." He summarized, "You've forgotten how special..." He broke off, suddenly, looking down at his hands. Sam knew that she had been a bit off-kilter at finally meeting the goal of getting into college, which was really special, but who wouldn't be? The art school had been a dream school on his list and getting in had been an act of providence, though that had been some time ago. Darn him that he could read her.
Sam looked at the north star, and prayed that it would direct her path, "Jake, don't attempt to analyze me. It hardly works." Sam deflected, hoping he couldn't hear the falsehood in her voice. The night was bright around them, and Jake reached up and pulled down his hat.
"Hm." His words were slow, but they hit the mark, "Tell you what. Why don't you try talking about all the ducks you've rescued, or the cases, or maybe your award, or those articles Gram swears are future Pulitzers? Your GPA, maybe, or the fact that you're taking 19 credits come next week?"
Sam bristled. His words were heated, like he had some right to be angry at her for keeping busy, living her own life. She was just trying to make the best choices as things came along, though she could never say if she was because they always blew up her plan, "Jake, that's just..."
"You work hard, Sam." Jake cut her off, sitting calmly in the saddle, "Wallowing in some self-applied sense of mediocrity is not helping you. So what if you don't have what Jen does, or something? She'll never have what you do."
Sam hated his perception. She wasn't jealous of Jen. She just wanted to feel like Jen did, secure, and confident in what she was doing, and why. She loved Jen, and nothing would change that. Jake's words sounded as though he were repeating himself. "You keep saying that!"
"It's true." Here he quirked a brow, "After all, Boomer wouldn't fall in love with just anybody, now would he?" The clouds moved, and Sam tried to look up at another star, so that he couldn't see the blush that was obviously visible even in the darkness.
Sam tried to go along with his teasing, even as Jake saying the L-word made her heart hammer. "He would if they bribed him with potato chips." Anybody who cared to listen, to observe, could see that Boomer was easily won over with potato chips.
The night was wide around them, and cold began to seep into her toes in earnest. Jake sighed. "Sam."
"Jake." Sam said his name tonelessly.
Jake cut his losses, and left, Witch's hooves tossing up snow as she flounced away like Sam was the biggest idiot on the planet. Sam went home soon after. As the house quieted in the early hours of the morning, Sam decided that this year, she was resolved to find clarity. She could not force Jake to love her, and she could not bring herself to admit that she loved him, unrequited as it was. She could not say that she felt unaccomplished, but she could work to change it, somehow. She promised herself that she would stop being childish, and grow up, and she knew just the person to help her. Well, horse, really.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
Time with Witch always helped her to feel connected to the parts of herself that were strong, confident, and unafraid. They were thundering across the range when it occurred to Sam that this was what Jake meant. This was what she had that no one else had. She had an amazing relationship with her horses, and it was one thing she would never trade, not for all the surety and clarity in the world. With them, she felt as though she was the person she always supposed to be. She never felt like she had to apologize for being passionate, or being just as stubborn as they were. It helped her to see that who she was the one thing that she had that could never be taken away, or limited by mere circumstance, at least in this area of her life.
Witch snorted, "It is nearly March and you have yet to make any sort of progress, girl."
Sam smiled as they slowed, "I can almost feel spring, Witch."
"Why the passage of time is something that brings you joy is inexplicable to me." Witch turned right easily, wanting to go to Three Ponies. "We might as well do something useful with it."
"No, Witchy, we have to go home." Sam apologized, "I've got an Art History paper due. 30 pages on Caravaggio." She didn't say it, but she also had another paper to work on, as well as her work for the animal shelter. Since getting the ducks, Sam had become attuned to the plight of abandoned animals, and tried to do something weekly to help them. It was never enough, but every dog she walked and every cat she groomed made them a little less alone, even if she did often cry in the car after she left.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
Starkey was a three-legged cat. She was resourceful, and smart, a real hoot and leader of the colony of cats at the shelter. Sam confessed to loving her more than she had any right to, praying that Starkey would get a forever home that was worthy of her. Sam walked into the shelter, feeling like she was in a jail after the bright blue sky of the warm March day. Thomas smiled sadly at her, "Sam." The director held a file in his hands.
Sam set down her bag and flipped up the list on the crowded wall, wondering who still needed to be walked. "Hi, Thom."
"I hate to be the one to tell you this." Thomas said, as Sam froze. "But Starkey, well..."
Sam fought the urge to bolt into the cat room and find Starkey in the cat condo, "Yes?" Sam tried to wiggle her toes in her boots as she forced her boots to stay still on the tile floor.
Thom passed her a file, "Dr. Boss confirmed it. Starkey's going to need ongoing care that we can't provide." Sam knew that tone in his voice as she took the file. Starkey was next to be put down. The horror that spread through her veins was like ice and steam, horror and revulsion.
She opened the file with trembling hands. Starkey did not deserve pain, not after the trauma she'd survived just to be abandoned on the roadside, cut up and starved. Sam looked at the diagnosis, "She needs antibiotics and an IV course of steroids."
Thom looked ashamed, "I know. I want to pay for it myself, but if I pay for one cat to have them, then..." Sam understood that it would start off a chain of no end of paying for treatment that the shelter would not cover, but she thought that Starkey deserved more. "Let's be honest. She's old. She's disabled. Her chances of finding a home..."
Sam frowned. That was a horrible way to think, though she knew that rationalization was one of the ways that Thomas kept going to do the amazing things he did. She knew that many people would agree with Thom, but she couldn't. Someone, somewhere would see see how amazing Starkey was, how vibrant and alive she was. She knew that life was tough, that this mission wasn't easy. She knew that perfectly healthy animals were put down by the millions each year.
Suddenly, she saw that there was a choice. The universe was giving her choice, "She's got a home."
"Oh?" Thom arched a brow, but after years of knowing Jake, Sam thought the attempt was pathetic. He leaned against the desk.
"Yes." Sam said, "May I borrow a cat carrier?" She made a choice, even knowing it was the wrong one. She should be able to grow up and see the world for what it was, know that this was the way things were, but she couldn't. Working quickly after signing the paperwork, she scooped Starkey up, put her trusting self into the teal carrier, and walked back to the truck. There, for the first time in forever, she cried. She had made the right decision. It was the wrong one, but Sam could not deny the rightness that was the wrong decision.
Her next decision was a simple one, because it was the only one she had. Cougar would never be able to adjust to Starkey. One choice had led to another, just like her choice not tell Jake she loved him had led to so many other things. She drove to Three Ponies, and walked up the stairs. Jake had pulled a night shift, and so he was sleeping. She sat down the cat carrier, and kicked aside Jake's running shoes. "Jake!" Sam whispered.
He groaned, and Sam tried to focus on the geriatric cat in the room. She was in his bedroom for the first time in forever, and every pore of her body was drinking in the faint scent of his shampoo that seeped into every item in the room. The room smelled woodsy and clean, just like he always did. Her blood was racing as Jake rolled over, and said, "Sam..."
"Jake!" She replied, trying to wake him up more fully, avoiding the glimpse of his feet twisted up in plaid sheets.
He jumped a foot and grabbed the blanket, "What are you doing here?"
Sam rolled her eyes. He knew she was here. He'd said her name, once. Why was he acting all shocked now? "I brought you something."
Jake's skin was tinged with redness. Sam wondered if he'd gotten a sunburn, or if her eyes were blushing as hotly as her skin was, even when she tried to play it cool. "What?"
She looked down, and so did he, "A pet cat."
Jake looked between her, and Starkey, and her, and pulled a pillow over his head. Sam ripped it away. Eventually, she made him french toast in Max's kitchen while Starkey stared at him. By the time Jake had eaten his second helping, the cat was curled up in his lap as Siger hopped around his feet and Boomer sat, unfazed by this newcomer. By the time Sam shut off the pan to let it cool, Jake was calling Dr. Scott for an order of antibiotics.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
It soon became clear that Starkey was the missing piece to the Ely family. She was instantly accepted by Max, whose own beloved Tabby had passed in the winter. Oddly enough, it was Witch who took to Starkey the most. Sam would often find Starkey hanging out with Witch. Witch seemed to treat the aged cat like some kind of foal, attempting to lick her and nudge her, displaying very maternal behaviors towards the cat. Sam tried to film it, but Witch always glared at her, as if to say, "What is so unusual about this? I defy you to tell me that I am not providing more than adequate care for this being. Now, Girl, go away. We are grazing, are we not?" She would look at the cat, fondness clear in her eyes, and encourage Starkey to stand amid her hooves, balancing with grace on her three feet, as though Witch would shield her from the other horses. Sam did not have the heart to convince Witch that Starkey was completely fine without her, as Witch enjoyed giving the attention, and Sam figured Starkey could do with being fussed over for once.
Sam learned a lot from Starkey. Starkey taught her that life wasn't about knowing everything, or having some grand plan. Sam was starting to be okay with not having a plan, because if she had stuck with her plan, Starkey would have never come into her life. Life was about making choices based on what you did know, and hoping like hell you wouldn't be proved a fool when new information came your way.
Jake was sitting next to her on the porch of River Bend, after a long shift. He got off at seven, these days, and often tried to stay up a few hours. One of her fine arts classes included embroidery projects. Sam found that she liked it. It was soothing and meditative. The assignment, though small in the grand scheme of it all, didn't feel like work as she fiddled with the threads and the needles. Sam pulled at the threads, breaking them with a snap. She balanced her hoop on her knees and glanced at Jake."Quiet night?"
"Yep." He said. Well, there went talking about work. He didn't sound upset, just content to leave the answers to one words. Sam felt filled with words, even as she was content to let the late morning pass them by.
Sam threaded her needle with an icy blue thread, "Boomer good?"
"He's Boomer." Jake replied, looking at her as he replied. It seemed like he wanted to say something. She was trying to give him the opening, but he wasn't taking it.
Sam glanced at Jake curiously, as her needle poked the fabric, narrowly missing the finger that she'd forgotten to move, "Where is he?"
Jake grinned, "Home. He's really attached to Starkey."
Sam smiled. Maybe making choices without knowing if they were the right ones were okay, sometimes. Sometimes, things would turn out okay, no matter what, because they were meant to be. Starkey wasn't valued because of what she did, but because of who she was, warts and all. She had never imagined that Boomer would find a buddy in Starkey, or that Starkey would have such an amazing purpose, even after everything logical and rational told them that putting her down was the best option.
Maybe, Sam thought, rational and logical weren't always best. Maybe, sometimes, just sometimes, it was okay to not know, to not have things figured out. Sam knew that she didn't have her life figured out, but she knew who she was. She knew that she was strong, and hard-working, and caring. She knew that those things were the important things. "Jake..."
He looked at her, "Hm?"
Sam shook her head, "Nothing." It was, again, too soon to blurt out her thoughts. It seemed silly to confess that she loved him, and that that emotion was a constant in her life. She didn't have life figured out, but she loved him, and she always would. The acceptance of that realization settled into her soul like a balm.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
May and June passed swiftly, with more coursework that Sam could shake a stick at. She wrote more in those days than she ever had, and she knew that a good portion of it was not her best work. Still, she tried to value it for what it was. It was completed coursework, a step, however unsure and ungainly, towards the nebulous of dreams that were her future.
Oddly enough, it wasn't feeling successful that helped her to understand that she was content in her choices. It was understanding what she had sacrificed in making these choices that solidified that forging ahead had been the right thing. She went, for a week, to stay with Jen as she took an intensive summer course. By the end of the week, Sam saw clearly the downsides that she had glossed over in her mind. She also saw, clearly and vividly, all of these things she would never have, like dorm roommates and midnight snack runs. In the end, she decided that all she could gain by going away to school wasn't worth giving up the bright mornings with her horses, sipping tea on the front porch, and working on her schoolwork.
That realization, that her life was different, not better or worse than Jen's friends at college, but just different made all the sense in the world to Sam. She believed that each person was an individual, that each person had their own path to follow. She had to respect herself enough to follow her own path, even if that path didn't take her the places she always thought she would go as a child.
Jake's friendship was a part of her path. Starkey and Boomer and Ace and Witch and Tempest and Cougar and Siger, they were a part of her path. Compressed three credits in eight weeks courses were part of her path. She only saw much of that in retrospect, to be sure, but the realization that her path was what is was, for a reason, was helpful. She would never be a young wife, or a college girl, but she was the only person she knew that rescued animals and nursed lame ducks while writing a paper about the development of color film.
She came home that Saturday, and caught up with Jake out on the range, "I realized what you meant." Her words came out in a rush, "When you said that I have things that no one else will ever have."
His expression was full of light and joy, "Re-Really?" Witch was still, as though she too, was intensely invested in Sam's reply.
Sam nodded, "I'm me. That's enough." Starkey was, by all accounts, expensive to care for, and three-legged, but she was who she was, without apology. That was enough for her to find value in herself. Her path was valuable. It might not be glamorous or exciting, but it was hers, and she could wake up everyday, wanting to move forward. So rushing was a bit of an issue for her. She'd had worse problems.
Jake nodded swiftly.
Witch tossed her mane, as if to say, "You addlepated child! My Starkey has more sense than you!"
Atop Tempest, Sam eyed him warily, "What?" The grasses blew for a long moment.
Jake grinned, "Nothing, Brat."
She couldn't shake the feeling that even though she had more information than she ever had, that something was still missing.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
Slowly, Sam began to relax. She would get through her coursework when she got through, if she just kept on. She would not trade her horses, or her work with the animals, not for all of the tea in India. Sam decided, when June drew to a close, that she would make choices as they came. Making one choice did not require a personal crisis and a rewrite of her entire life plan. One choice would lead to new ones, and Sam found that she could not anticipate them. One morning, she was sitting with the ducks as they waddled about in their pool. Sam grinned, loving how calm they looked on the surface, even as she knew they were paddling like mad underneath. They just enjoyed living their lives, and Sam wanted to try that. She wanted to live life, knowing that it would come out okay, if she paid attention and watched for the bread on the water. "Quack!" A large drake honked in a duckish fashion, and Sam laughed. "Quack!" He dove wildly after the treat she offered, beating out several other of his roommates. Sam gave them each a scrap in quick order, to prevent jealousy and accusations of favoritism.
The door to the yard opened, and Jake let himself inside. He seemed uneasy as he sat down next to her, "Sam..."
She turned to him, enjoying the bright sun after a day of rain, "Yeah?"
His dark jeans were dusty, and Sam knew that he'd just come from working. She saw the callouses on his hand, and knew that he worked hard. Sometimes, things about him just hit her as though she'd never realized it before, and she was filled with respect for him, this man who lived his life with a quiet confidence she could never match. It was okay, though. She'd keep her self-doubt and her free spirit, if only to keep seeing the joy in his life when she surprised him with a crazy cat he'd come to love but had never expected. She could not imagine Witch's life without her pseudo foal. "Nothing."
Sam smiled, and then, Jake relaxed. They sat in companionable silence, playing with the ducks, until Gram called them into dinner. Life was a series of choices, Sam knew, and she hoped to keep making the ones that would make moments like the one they shared by the duck pool part of her future. She didn't know everything, or have it all together, but she did some of her best thinking on the porch with Jake by her side. It was in that moment that she knew beyond all doubt that her love for him could not be pushed away. It was a part of her, a part of the choices she made daily, part of the reasonings and rationale were inextricable from her choices.
Love was a choice you made even when you didn't know how it was going to work out. Love was admitting that you didn't have all of the answers, that you didn't have life figured out, but you had found one person you wanted to look for the answers with, side by side, together. She had never understood that. She had thought that she needed to be a me, before they could be a we, but she knew that sometimes, paths were parallel. She could continue to develop, as surely, as they could develop together. She knew that love was a choice, but not that ti was a series of ongoing choices, or that it figured into other choices. She felt love for Jake, and she couldn't change that, but really loving him wasn't putting up boundaries and pretending like she had it all together. That wasn't even loving herself for the person she was. They sat, side by side, and erased some of the blocks in her mental plan. They were open, yet to be filled, and she was okay with waiting.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
A month later, the filter broke and the pond turned disgusting in a matter of 48 hours. Sam had to bale it out, scrub it, replace the lining. She had to wait to fix the filter, because she needed help. She felt decrepit and gross as she baled out the water. It was slimy and horrible after such a scant time. She was turning around with a bucket full of water, her rain boots shifting as she slogged through the pond, when a voice said, "Nice shorts."
Sam tried to look down at her yoga shorts, forgetting her perilous stance, and fell over. She landed on her bottom in the mucky water, soaked to the bone with who knew what. The bucket clattered onto her knee. "I should kill you."
Jake tried not to laugh, but failed. Sam tried to clamber into a standing position, but she failed too, which spurred on Jake's laughter. She was at the edge of the pond, trying to scramble out. Jake extended a hand over his laughter, "Don't get duck poop on me, Brat." His eyes were heated, the colored of dark, melted, chocolate, and Sam hated him for the feelings that a directive about duck poop could stir within her.
She was sodden, dripping with swill and muck and stinky, unfiltered water. Her clothes stuck to her body. Sam let out an enraged shriek, and made a choice without thinking it through. She shoved Jake, hard. He stumbled back and tripped into the pond. Sam tried to laugh, but she ended up swallowing her tongue when he twisted gross water out of a thin t-shirt. She was pathetic, but for once, she really, really enjoyed not having a plan.
Two bars of soap and a half-gallon of shampoo later...
Jake watched as Sam joined him on the porch. He'd showered first, insisting that she would use all of the hot water, knowing that in reality that they were good as long as she left the cold water alone. Her pale skin was tinged pink from the hot water of her shower, and Jake struggled to control his thoughts as she sat down on the swing. He had been planning this conversation for ages and refused to let himself become lost in his thoughts of how pretty she was. It had already happened too many times to count. "You were wrong."
Sam looked at him, shocked. "What?" Cougar hopped up on her lap and began to purr as she stroked his compact body. His tail waggled as he enjoyed her ministrations.
Jake swallowed, having wanted to tell her this for months, "When I said that you had something no one else ever would..." He breathed in, over the sounds of lightening bugs and crickets, knowing that this was a risk. "I should have said someone."
Jake swore he saw the blood drain from her face. Sam's freckles stood out in pale relief. She made a breathy sound. "Jake..."
He feigned a relaxed manner that he did not feel. His heart was breaking. "I know how you like information."
They were silent. Sam spoke after an endless half-moment, "I do." She paused, and blushed, adding, "Like information, that is. I do like information." Her words came out in a jumble, "But, you didn't give me enough."
He'd just laid his heart at her feet, and it wasn't enough? Jake didn't know what to say. Sam continued, "Is that someone you?"
He didn't know how to say yes. He wanted to say yes. He wanted to spell it, wanted to whisper it against her flushed skin. He couldn't do that. Not yet, if ever. Jake exhaled, "Well, it's not Boomer."
"Darn." Sam smiled, "And here I thought he was going to love me forever. I'll just have to see if he's got plans on Friday and see if I can't change his mind." The swing creaked as Sam pushed her foot back and forth.
Jake smiled, understanding what she meant, "He does. I don't, though."
"My schedule's open." Sam's smile could have powered a small city. Jake nodded softly. Sam's smile seemed to grow. He exhaled, and his heart rate slowed. Sometimes, a guy had to stick to his plans. If he hadn't, well...
He'd have to ask her if she wanted to go see the wild horses, just the two of them, intentionally together, this weekend. He thought maybe an invite to Clara's would be pushing it.
Lighten up while you still can,
don't even try to understand.
Just find a place to make your stand
and take it easy
We may lose and we may win
though we will never be here again
So open up, I'm climbin' in,
so take it easy
Take it Easy, The Eagles
So, you see! Witch got her foal. Come on now, you didn't think that Sam would be having a baby, now did you? This is a bit lighter, and less horse focused, but I think Sam's healing and exploring her emotions and their relation to people around her, and this is what came out from that perspective. That doesn't mean the stork was circling the neighborhood, though, really!
And yes, Jake was going to say, "You've forgotten how special you are." They were also going to say "I love you." every time they said "Nothing." but I bet you guessed that. I'm not sure if this will be continued. Thoughts? I really need some guidance, here. I worry that this was too light and fluffy for any sort of realism, even when I was trying to grapple with issues of "having things figured out," which seems to be an issue with lots of young adults. Then again, I may be projecting as one of the few single girls in a small town, who knows?
Additionally, as with every title, this chapter song speaks to the broader theme. I read somewhere that, according to Glenn Frey, the message of Take it Easy is, "You shouldn't get too big too fast." Sam should take that message to heart, I think.
StellaBelle: What an awesome compliment. Thank you for your support. I'd sure be glad to hear what you think of this chapter.
Opal: I know several people that train and foster dogs for both seeing-eye and other service dog positions, and I am in awe of their dedication. My hat's off to you.
Please review! It's my birthday today! (Blows party favor and puts on silly cone hat).