The Cherry Blossom Tree

Cherry Chapter Eight

I didn’t pay attention to which way I headed as I finally reached the end of the drive.  It wasn’t until I passed a sign post on the main road that said Fort Sangrey Township 46 Miles that I realised my feet were automatically taking me to the cherry blossom tree.  That was fine by me, it seemed to be about the only place I could get some peace these days.  

It was another scorching hot day in Montana, the mid morning sun beating down hard on my bare shoulders and neck.  For once the heat did nothing to improve my foul mood as I kicked small stones as hard as I could, sending them ricocheting off the dirt road and into the long grass.

My knee high cowgirl boots chafed at my calves and feet with every step, and I cursed myself for not bothering to put on some jeans, or at least a pair of socks before leaving the house.  I ignored the irritation and forged on ahead, my stubbornness refusing to let me turn around and head home.

I was spitting mad.  Mad at Dad for everything he‘d brought on us, mad at Kenneth for actually taking his side when it was all so black and white.  Mad at Annabel for pushing Mom to leave Manhattan when she should have stayed and taught all of those Upper East desperate housewives an unforgettable lesson.  And mad at Mom for letting Dad walk all over her even now.

Most of all though, I was mad at myself for wanting everything to go back to the way it had been.  Life hadn’t been perfect, but it had been the only one I’d ever known.  I missed my old school, missed the hustle and bustle of the city.  The smell of car exhaust and the aroma of cheese and Salami that wafted over from all of the pizza carts on street corners.  I wanted to go back to our penthouse apartment with it’s breathtaking night view of the city below, and my bedroom with its walk in closet and built in temperature control system.

It was extremely selfish of me but I wanted Mom and Dad to go back to when they’d been madly in love and best friends.  To when Dad would come home and surprise Mom with a bouquet of roses and a box of chocolates just because he’d been thinking about her all day at work.  I wanted him to teach me how to drive all over again, and whip me up an omelette in the kitchen at midnight because I’d woken up peckish.  And what I wouldn’t give to relive our father daughter tennis matches down at the club.

I didn’t register I was crying until a drop of water splashed onto my arm where it was curled around my middle.  I reached up to place my glasses on top of my head so I could rub at my eyes and sure enough, my fingertips came away wet.  Sniffing, and even more upset with myself for such a display of pathetic weakness, I dug the heels of my hands into my eyes and rubbed vigorously, willing the tears to stop flowing.

Hearing the sound of a car engine, I scooted as far over to the side of the road as I could get to allow the vehicle to pass, still consumed with drying my eyes.  When the crunching of tyres over hard packed dirt slowed down, I could have cursed the nosy driver until his ears bled.  At least that was what I thought until I heard a car door open and shut, followed by a familiar voice.

“I think I figured out how you survived in New York without wearing a pair of jeans.  Is this what you ran around in in the city?”

I pushed my hair back from my face and turned to towards Gryphon, who was leaning languidly against the side of his truck.  With the sunlight rebounding off his damp hair, and wearing his usual jeans with an undone button up shirt over a white tank, he really was too good looking to be true.  Those impossibly green eyes scrutinised my face, and I knew by the way his lips turned down at the edges  that it was obvious I’d been crying.