Montana Skies

Chapter 10.How Long Have I Been Gone?

            "You can play the guitar?" Lyle asked River. We were in the diner, finishing our pie. "That's so cool!"

"Yeah, but your mom is better at it," River said casually.

Lyle dropped his fork and turned to stare at me with his mouth wide open. Some of the pie in Lyle's mouth fell out onto his plate.

"How does he not know? Did you quit?" River asked, confused.

"My four fingers on my left hand were broken, at one point. They don't move the same anymore. I can't play," I said quietly. I stared down at my plate.

It was quiet for a long moment. Lyle looked sad, and River gave me a questioning look.

"It's great that you still play. I'd like to hear that sometime," I said and smiled.

River raised his chin a fraction and gave me one solid nod.

We walked out of the diner together. River insisted on paying, and I wasn't going to argue with him. He seemed troubled.

"Come over to our house. I want to ride my four-wheeler. Mommy won't let me unless you're there," Lyle begged.

River turned his head and arched a brow at me. His lips mashed in a straight line to keep from laughing.

I shrugged. "You bought it. You deal with it."

River chuckled. "Alright, for a bit," River told Lyle.

River followed us back to Helen's. It was only seven-thirty. The sun wasn't entirely down yet.

As soon as I let Lyle out of the truck, he ran straight for River.

"I'm going to go make coffee," I called to River.

River gave me a thumbs-up—River headed for the big garage where I left the small gas-powered four-wheeler that was Lyle's.

The kitchen smelled like Folgers as the coffee pot started to brew.

I grabbed an old acoustic guitar from my closet. The strings were still good on it. I hadn't played it since before I had left for California. I had taken one guitar to California and left one here. I was relieved that I took the guitar I bought to California. The guitar I had left here was the guitar that River gave me when we were younger. It had more sentimental value.

I left the guitar beside the front door. I grabbed the coffee, took it out to a small table between two old wooden rocking chairs, and went back for the guitar.

The last time I played was a year after my fingers healed from being broken. My fingers had hurt like hell afterward, and I hadn't picked a guitar up since. I ran my hand up and down the neck of the guitar as I debated playing it.

A smile stretched across my face as I started playing Faith Hills version of Piece of My Heart. I started singing the song. I looked up and saw Lyle pull up on his four-wheeler with River running after him smiling.

Lyle turned the four-wheeler off, and they heard me. They looked up at me in surprise. Lyle's little mouth opened in the shape of an O. I had a hard time not laughing.

River stared at me intently as he picked up Lyle and carried him up the porch. They sat in the rocking chair beside mine and watched me as I played the rest of the song.

River stared at me. I didn't look at him because I knew that I would lose focus if I met his gaze. I stared out over the front yard and watched a couple of the horses run through the fields. It was the lightest I felt in a long time. It was a feeling that nothing was going to stop me. The feeling that I was heading in the right direction, and it felt so damn good.