Fallen

As if it was any of her business. Want to know what’s going on in this county? Just ask Nettie. She’ll give you an earful, Ginny thought.

“No one,” she said, turning away from Nettie’s sharp gaze. The whole town would know soon enough.

“Really?” Nettie said. “You’re such a pretty girl. I would think all the young men in town would be after you and half the old ones as well.”

Ginny felt a jolt at her words, but busied herself selecting a pack of gum. She laid it on the counter and made a production of digging in her purse for money. She could feel the older woman’s keen eyes on her. Nettie didn’t miss a thing.

“Shouldn’t you be heading back to Missoula by now?” Nettie asked.

“Bozeman. I go to MSU. But I’ve decided to wait until next semester to return to school.”

“Oh?”

Clearly stopping in here to kill time had been a mistake.

“I’m undecided on what I want to major in,” Ginny said, another lie. It shocked her how lying had become second nature since living with the big lie for months.

Nettie seemed to study her even more closely as Ginny put the exact change on the counter. She felt self-conscious and nervous under Nettie’s sharp gaze. Glancing at her watch, she was disappointed to see that she still had way too much time before she would meet him at their secret place. But she wasn’t spending it here.

He’d always made her wait. Always had an excuse for being late. She’d been determined that today would be different. That’s why she’d planned to let him get to their meeting spot first. Let him wait for a change.

But she was too anxious, had been all morning. She had to get this over with. Tears burned her eyes. What did it matter if she was early and had to wait on him again? This had to be settled today. She’d put it off long enough.

When she looked up, she saw that Nettie’s gaze was on her stomach. Instinctively, she sucked it in as best she could. Ginny felt her eyes burn again with hot tears. No, it wouldn’t be long and the whole town would know. That thought sent a cold chill through her.

“Glad to see you’ve put on a little weight this summer,” Nettie said as she scooped up the coins from the counter. “It looks good on you. Fills you out more. I hate these skinny girls and their skimpy clothes. They look like street walkers.”

Ginny felt faint, her heart pounding, as she turned away and started for the door. Her right hand went to her stomach protectively. She wasn’t showing yet, was she? But she couldn’t deny that her body was changing. Her breasts were tender and fuller than they’d ever been.

She couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. Nettie said something she didn’t catch as she pushed out the door, the full weight of her situation bearing down on her.

Hurrying across the porch that ran the width of the store, she rushed down the steps to the ranch pickup. She’d borrowed the truck this morning rather than drive the car her father had given her for high school graduation last year. If someone saw her car parked up in by the old mine, they’d be more suspicious than if they saw one of the ranch trucks.

The day was clear and cool, Montana’s big sky stretching from the Yellowstone River to the peaks of the Crazy Mountains in an iridescent blue. A flock of geese came into view, a perfect dark arrow of flight overhead. She’d heard their honking as she crossed the porch, the sound so familiar she seldom noticed it. Just as she seldom noticed the deep silence that followed.

Few people lived in a place where there wasn’t the sound of traffic or police sirens or close-by neighbors. Ginny had lived on a ranch under the shadow of the Crazies, as the locals called the mountain range, all her life. She had loved the solitude. But until this moment she’d never felt so isolated and alone.

* * *

NETTIE WATCHED GINNY CLIMB into the West Ranch pickup. Taylor West had bought his only daughter a pretty yellow compact for high school graduation last year. Nettie wondered why she wasn’t driving it. The car had caused quite a stir. Everyone in the county had known Ginny was spoiled, but the car proved it.

Taylor West normally didn’t throw his money around. This was a conservative, close-knit community. Except for Waylon “WT” Grant who acted like some of the out-of-staters moving in down by Big Timber. Like them, WT seemed to think he had to out-do everyone else.

Nettie shook her head as she glanced across the narrow street at the café again. She could see the owner Claude Durham sitting on a stool, his back to the counter, his fingers laced across his belly. He looked pale even from here. Locals had been commenting on his health for some time now.