Karen Smith - Once Upon a Groom

“This is magnificent country,” he said, almost to himself.

“I can’t imagine anywhere as beautiful as this.” The sky was already topaz-blue, devoid of clouds, hovering protectively over the landscape.

“Do you want to dismount for a few minutes? The trees will provide a buffer against the wind.”

Something about being on the ground within the barrier of trees where they’d once spent time seemed dangerous to Jenny. Yet she wasn’t going to be a coward about this. She’d just be very careful.

Zack tethered his horse to a low-slung branch and waited as she did the same. Then in the golden morning light, he found the old path covered with pine needles and dried leaves from the aspen in the not-too-far distance. There was a hushed quality within the grove that Jenny had always liked, that gave her a sense of peace.

Zack followed the path until they were deep inside the grove where sunlight and shadows dappled the ground.

“Soon this could be covered in snow,” she reminded him. “If we’ve had a snowfall, sometimes after the kids finish their lessons, we come out here and play. They bring their saucers and tubes, and it’s great fun.”

“What kids?” he asked with a curious look.

“I give riding lessons. I do it on a sliding scale and take a few pro-bono students who can’t afford to pay. They learn how to ride and groom, and just forget anything that’s troubling them.”

“Like you did.”

“Horses have many lessons to teach, but I give these children goals and they have a sense of accomplishment when they learn how to master riding. I’m hoping those skills will stay with them well into the future.”

Zack was standing beside a tall fir. She went still when she recognized it.

“What is it?” Zack asked, following her gaze. Then he saw the bark of the tree. Their names were carved there, deeply enough to have lasted all these years.

“I can’t believe the weather hasn’t worn them away.”

“Or a lightning strike,” Zack said nonchalantly. But she knew he was remembering the day he carved them there. They’d had exams at school that week and had come riding out here one day to let off steam, to forget about studying, to be together. She’d been so innocent. He’d been so noble. They’d kissed and made out, and she’d known he wanted her. Yet more than once, he’d insisted it wouldn’t be fair if they became really intimate because he’d be leaving.

“You carved our names there, so there would be something lasting of our friendship.” They would have had so much more that was lasting if she hadn’t had the miscarriage. Yet what would they have done? Even if she had told Zack, would she have joined him in California and regretted it?

“Not much is lasting, is it?” he asked rhetorically.

“Friendships last. We both have proof of that.”

“Maybe our high school friendships are the ones that matter most. I don’t have friends in L.A. like Clay and Dawson. Even though we don’t see each other often, we can pick up wherever we left off.”

“Are you sure you don’t miss Miners Bluff?”

He didn’t answer right away, just studied their names, the tall firs, the land that he’d roamed when he was younger. “You can miss something but not need it or count on it or want it in your life anymore.”

She wondered if he was feeding himself a line, or if he really believed that. “I think you don’t want to admit you miss it. I think you don’t want to admit you miss your father.”

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