Page 107 of All We Carry Home

“Don’t discount the value of your patronage,” Cheryl said. “She was in a rough spot before you arrived.”

“So was I.”

Cheryl studied me with narrowed lashes. “Have you told her that?”

I didn’t respond. Of course I hadn’t.

We reached the stalls before she could say anything further, but her skeptical stare left me without a doubt to her feelings on the subject. Perhaps she saw something I didn’t. Did I have a chance to be so honest with Eva?

After my failure to tell her about my Senate run, probably not.

Eva’s hair had fallen from her pins in dark, chocolate waves. Phantom was in his stall with a fresh bucket of grain and Patches at his side. Annie clutched Eva’s waist while Eddie, Peter, and Lucky were all speaking over one another about their wonder and marvel of the performance.

Cheryl snuck in through the group and gave her friend a hug. “California and the national stage await, dear one,” she said.

Eva drew in a long breath. “Phantom is ready.”

Was she? Was I? I planned to fly into the national show, but I wouldn’t be living in Oregon anymore. My world, my reality, would be entirely different.

It would no longer involve Eva every day.

The thought hurt as bad as any bullet, blast, or broken bone.

The excitement eventually simmered down, until Eva and I were the only ones left at Phantom’s stall. Annie, Peter, and Eddie went to get some lunch, Lucky went to nap, and Cheryl had her own horses to show.

Eva removed her jacket, rolled the sleeves of her white blouse up to her elbows, and tucked her hair into a ponytail. Back to the woman I knew.

The stall next to Phantom’s was full of tack, supplies, and two bales of hay. Eva sat on one of the bales and nodded for me to sit on the other.

“I’m sorry, Eva. I should have told you sooner.”

She held up a hand and shook her head. “I think it’s great that you’re running for the Senate.”

“You do?”

She looked away as if to mask a measure of disappointment. “The country needs good leaders.” Her voice caught. “You’re one of the best.”

The compliment felt more like a death sentence.

I couldn’t explain it, but I had wanted her to say the opposite. To be angry, to rage against my insensitivity. This, I hadn’t expected.

I swallowed a lump of emotions. “You should have heard the news from me, not Roland.”

She shrugged. “It doesn’t change anything.”

Another knife to my gut. It didn’t? Well, I guess that was where we stood.

I didn’t miss the flash of pain in her eyes. Was she trying to spare my feelings?

“When does your campaign start?” She picked up one of her gloves, brushing the dust from it, and then stared at it absently.

“August.”

Her gaze shot to mine. “That soon?”

Perhaps it was a stretch, but I had the feeling she would miss me. Miss this. Whatever this was.

“I’ll fly into California for the national show. I won’t miss it,” I said. “I promise.”