* * *
Later,when we're driving up to my parents’ house, I admit to being nervous like I never am.
It's not because I think that they're not going to approve of Prairie. I could care less if anyone approves of her, of us. I’ve only seen her mostly naked since the day we met, but right now she's done up like a princess. Leila did her good. They went shopping this afternoon, which put her in a good mood, and I realized Prairie has some making up to do. She has lost some time.
She didn't get to go shopping with friends and get coffee at the cafe in the last four years. She didn’t get to go out to restaurants and movie theaters. Or go to birthday parties like most people. She’s been traumatized deeply.
And the fact that she and Leila are becoming friends is a good thing. Leila is a smart, sensible person. And that's the kind of friend Prairie needs right now.
“You sure I look all right?”she asks.
“You look beautiful,” I say and she does. She has on a pair of jeans and boots that are brown leather, a sweater that's the color of marigolds, and a plaid scarf wrapped around her neck. Her hair has been curled ever so slightly, and she has makeup on her face, which I've never seen her in. Basically everything about her is her own beauty magnified.
“I don't want to mess up today is all,” she says.
“You're not gonna mess up,” I promise her as I park the car at my parents’ house.
“Wow,” she says, taking in the family home. “This whole property is incredible.”
“My dad built this place,” I tell her, opening her door.
“When are you going to have to go back to work for your father?” she asks.
“I'm guessing in a week.”
She nods, taking in that information. I don't exactly know what Prairie is going to do if I'm gone, working all day, and it worries me.
When we walk into the house, not everyone in the family is there yet. And I'm glad that we're not the first or the last. It'll help ease Prairie into the situation.
Mom and Dad are in the kitchen with Fig and Mac, my two youngest siblings.
“Well, hello, Prairie,” my mom says.
Dad gives me a handshake and a clap on the back. “Missed you this week, son. Cash is good to have around, but he is a Rowdy through and through.”
I chuckle. “Yeah? Wondered if you’d replaced me.”
Dad laughs quietly, as is his nature. “You know Cash. He belongs on that ranch of his—he needs to wrangle a horse or cattle. He’s too wild for a hammer and nails.”
I grin, appreciating the sentiment that I haven’t been completely forgotten by my old man.
Dad walks over to Prairie. “How you doing, sweetheart?” he asks her politely.
She smiles, her hand in mine. “I'm doing all right. It's been a good week, actually. Thank you.”
“I love your outfit,” Fig says. “I'm Fig, by the way, Rye’s littlest sister. Did you get the outfit at the clothing boutique down on Snug Street?”
Prairie nods slowly. “Yes, I did. I went shopping there today with Leila. She's a social worker in town.”
Mom's nods along, taking the information in. “Well, Leila is a very wonderful woman. I always had a good feeling about her. She has a good head on her shoulders.”
Prairie nods. “Yeah. We met when I was first admitted to the hospital. She gave me my evaluation, but I guess we're friends now.”
“Well, that's lovely,” Mom says, stirring a big pot of her Sunday sauce. She’s wearing an apron, and Fig is spreading garlic butter on loaves of French bread. Mac has been relegated to the dishwasher, where he is unloading it.
“I’m Mac,” my brother says, a stack of clean dinner plates in hand. “Rye’s youngest brother. Though I’m twenty-one and not that young.”
“It's good to meet you,”Prairie says. “I've heard so much about everyone.”