Cowboy's Pride (A Big Sky Short Story) by Poppy Parkes & Flirt Club

Author:Poppy Parkes & Flirt Club [Parkes, Poppy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: She of the Wild
Published: 2019-08-12T16:00:00+00:00

Rosalie

I sit at my aunt and uncle’s kitchen table, its scuffed word surface covered by a worn gingham print tablecloth. It’s exactly the same as it was all those years ago, when I sat here and listened to the police officer tell me that my father had died in a car accident, that his blood alcohol level wasn’t safe for driving. As if my father’s death could have been an accident.

In fact, the only change that’s occurred inside these walls are in my aunt and uncle themselves. They’d been well into their sixties when I’d left, but they had always been as strong and resilient as ever.

Now, though, I can’t help but see how deeply lined Uncle Earl’s face is, how Aunt Dolores’s hands shake when she pours my sisters and I tea.

It makes my gut twist and ache. These people, they’ve been my rock for far too long. They’re simply not allowed to grow old. At least, not any older than they already are.

“I’m so sorry to hear about the snag at the hotel,” Aunt Dolores says, seating herself across the kitchen table from me. Uncle Earl’s in the living room in his arm chair, pipe smoke pouring from between his lips every time he opens them, playing poker with my sisters, Lilah and Tansy.

I shrug. “It’s turned out okay, I suppose. Except for the transportation issue.”

“It’s good of Jess to put you up. And to drive you,” my aunt points out. “He’s decent folk, that man.”

“You’re right, on both counts,” I admit. “This isn’t what I planned, but his place — Starwood Rest? — it’s off the charts exquisite. Have you seen it?”

She nods, smiling into her mug of tea. “Indeed I have. Jess puts Earl and I up there for our anniversary, every year.”

I choke on my chamomile. “Every year?”

“Every year,” she confirms. “He won’t take a single cent from us either, although I wish he would.”

“He’s pretty great,” Lilah pipes up as she comes into the kitchen for a glass of water, having caught the end of our conversation. “He picks up the tab for Aunt Dolores and Uncle Earl’s groceries pretty regularly. He also coaches kids’ soccer and baseball, and donates supplies to the school all the time.” Lilah is a first grade teacher at Paulson Elementary, so she would know.

“And you know how we usually need to raise money to make the Fourth of July fireworks happen?” she continues.

I nod. “I remember. If not enough money is donated, the show is pretty sad.”

“That’s the thing — not anymore. And you know why?”

“Are you about to tell me that Jess Porter heads the fundraising and knocks it out of the park?”

Lilah grins in triumph. “Nope. He — well, Starwood really, but that’s basically the same thing — pays for the whole show. Like, a really good show, too. This is the third year he’s done it.”

“Wow.” It’s all I can say. I sit back in my chair, making it creak as I digest this information. Jess is apparently a paragon of Paulson.

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