Their Ranch Reunion

by Mindy Obenhaus

  When they met Megan at the school, she was her typical exuberant self. Obviously no one had mentioned anything to her about the fire. In a town as small as Ouray, that was unusual. Good, but unusual nonetheless.

  The kid walked between them, her purple backpack bouncing with each step. “Did you make cookies today?”

  He glanced at Carly to find her looking at him, her expression teetering somewhere between nervous and petrified. Did she really believe her daughter would hate her?

  Hoping to reassure her, he offered a slight smile and nodded, as if to say, You can do this.

  She nodded back. “No, sweetie. There was a little problem at home today.” Stopping, she looked into her daughter’s eyes. “A big problem, actually. There was a fire. In the kitchen.”

  Confusion marred Megan’s freckled face.

  “The fire chief said we’re going to have to stay somewhere else for a while.”

  Megan looked up at her mother through sad eyes. “Where?”

  “At Livie’s.”

  The girl turned to Andrew then. “But where will you stay?”

  “At the ranch.”

  Her eyes went wide. “You have a ranch?”

  “No. It’s my dad’s.”

  “Oh.” Her gaze drifted away, then quickly shot back to him. “Can I see it sometime?”

  He couldn’t help laughing. Whoever said kids were resilient was right. “Sure.”

  Several minutes later, with gray clouds moving in from the west, hinting at snow, the three of them stood at the back of his grandmother’s drive, staring at Granger House. The charred back door stood slightly ajar, windows in both the kitchen and family room were gone, and soot marked the window frames where the flames and smoke had attempted to reach the second floor.

  Carly rested her hands upon Megan’s small shoulders. The girl’s blue eyes were wide, swimming with a mixture of disbelief and fear, her bottom lip showing the slightest hint of a tremor.

  Poor kid. The fire hadn’t just robbed her of her home. It had robbed her of her security, as well. He had to find a way to make her feel safe again. To protect both her and her mother from any more pain. And standing here staring at the ruins of their beloved home wasn’t going to do that.

  He rubbed his hands together. “It’s getting chilly out.” He stepped between the two females and Granger House. “I’ll tell you what. Why don’t you two go on inside my grandmother’s house and make yourselves at home while I survey things at your place?”

  Both sent him an incredulous look.

  “The fire chief said it was fine. I’ll just see what kind of damage we’re talking about.”

  “I want to go with you.” Carly looked at him very matter-of-factly. “I’m going to have to see it eventually. Might as well get it over with so I know what I’m up against.”

  “Okay.” He still didn’t think it was a good idea, but... “What about Megan?”

  “I want to go, too.”

  Carly smoothed a hand over her daughter’s strawberry blond hair. “Are you sure, sweetie?”

  The girl nodded, not looking at all sure of anything.

  “All right, then.” Still skeptical, he went to his truck to retrieve some flashlights from the toolbox in the bed. With the electricity out, it was likely to be pretty dark in there. “We’ll go through the front door. Perhaps you’ll each want to gather up a few things.”

  “Such as?” Carly watched him as he pulled out the flashlights.

  “Whatever you can think of. Clothes. Toiletries.” Assuming they hadn’t been consumed in the fire. “Things you use day to day.” He closed the lid on the large metal box. “Okay, let’s go before it gets dark.”

  The trio climbed the wooden steps onto the front porch.

  As soon as Andrew pushed the antique door open, they were met with the strong odor of smoke.

  “Eww...” Megan held her nose. “It stinks.”

  Carly put an arm around her. “I know, sweetie.”

  Inside, the parlor looked unscathed for the most part, save for the slight tinge of soot on the walls. He turned on his flashlight and aimed the beam around the room for a better look.

  “Don’t worry.” He glanced at Megan now. “They have people who can take care of that and make everything smell like new.”

  “Really?”

  Killing the light, he gave her his full attention. “Have I ever steered you wrong?”

  That earned him a smile.

  They moved collectively into the dining room, where all the antique furniture appeared to be intact. But as they neared the door to the kitchen—

  “Can I check my bedroom?” Megan’s room sat off one end of the dining room, while Carly’s was on the opposite end.

  Carly glanced his way. “Would you mind going with her while I grab some things from my room?”

  The fact that she trusted him with her daughter meant a lot. “Not at all.”

  Megan turned on her own flashlight and slowly moved into her room.

  Andrew followed, relieved to see that, like the parlor and dining room, the mostly purple bedroom remained intact, though perhaps a little damp from all the water the firemen had used.

  “Go ahead and take some clothes. I know they’re probably wet or smell like smoke, but we can toss them in the wash.”

  While she opened drawers and pulled out items, all of which seemed to be purple or pink, with one random blue piece, he tugged the case from her pillow to hold the clothes.

  “Oh, no.”

  He stopped what he was doing. “What is it?”

  Head hung low, the girl frowned. “My cards. I left them in the family room.”

  If cards were her greatest loss, he’d count himself blessed. Still, they were important to her. “No worries. I’ll pick you up a new deck tomorrow.”

  Her gaze shot to his. “Really?”

  “Cross my heart—” he fingered an X across his chest “—and hope to die.”

  She threw her arms around his waist. “You’re the best, Andrew.”

  The gesture stunned him. Or maybe it was the intense emotions her hug evoked in him. He’d never had much interaction with kids. But this one was definitely special.

  A few minutes later, when he and Megan returned to the dining room with a pillowcase full of clothes and shoes, he dared what he hoped was a stealthy peek into the kitchen. And while it was too dark to see everything, what little he did glimpse didn’t look good. Or even salvageable.

  “Ah, good. You got some clothes.” He jumped at the sound of Carly’s voice. Turning, he saw her standing beside the table, holding a large tote bag.

  “We did, so it looks like we’re ready to go.” He did not want to allow Carly in the kitchen. At least, not now. Maybe tomorrow, after the shock had a chance to wear off.

  “Not yet.” Carly set her bag atop the dining room table. “I’d like to see the kitchen.”

  “Let’s do that tomorrow. It’s getting dark outside anyway, so you won’t be able to see much.”

  Leaving her bag behind, she took several determined steps toward him and stopped. “I want to see it. Now.”

  Chapter Five

  Talking tough was one thing. Putting words into action was another. And try as she might, Carly couldn’t persuade her feet to move across the wooden floorboards of her dining room. Still, she had to do this, had to see her kitchen, because not knowing left far too much to the imagination.

  She drew in a bolstering breath, the sickening smell of smoke turning her stomach. At least her great-grandmother’s dining room set and sideboard had been spared, as had the antique pieces in the parlor and her bedroom. Her gaze traveled to the opening that separated the dining room from the kitchen. Based on the charred swinging door, she doubted things on the other si
de of the wall had fared so well.

  “You’re sure you want to do this?” The uncertainty in Andrew’s voice only solidified her determination.

  “Yes.” She eyed her daughter. “Megan, you stay with Andrew.”

  Willing one foot in front of the other, she eased toward the kitchen door, her mouth dry. Her heart thudded against her chest as though it were looking for escape.

  The closer she drew to the kitchen, the more bleak things became. She reached out a steadying hand, only to have her fingers brush across the scorched casing that surrounded the door. Trim that was original to the house, now burned and blackened. And she had yet to see the worst of it.

  Two more steps and she rounded into the kitchen. She clicked on the flashlight Andrew had given her.

  Her heart, which had been beating wildly only seconds ago, skidded to a stop. The space was almost unrecognizable. Soot-covered paint peeled away from the walls, dangling in pathetic strips. Floors and countertops were littered with water-soaked ash and all kinds of matter she couldn’t begin to identify or explain. She always kept a clean kitchen, so how could—?

  Looking up, she realized the ceiling was gone. Over a hundred years of drywall, plaster and who knew what else now strewn across the room, exposing the still-intact floor joists of the bedroom above.

  How could she have been so careless? This would take forever to fix. Where would she even begin?

  The once dark stained cabinets that Carly had painted white shortly after taking over the house were blistered and burned. The butcher-block island top, salvaged from the original kitchen, had met a similar fate.

  Noting her commercial range at the far end of the room, she tiptoed across the wet floor, tears welling as she ran her hand over the soot-covered stainless steel. It had been only two months since she’d paid it off.

  “Mommy?”

  She blinked hard and fast. She couldn’t let Megan see her like this.

  Turning, she saw her daughter standing in the doorway, lip quivering, holding up a blackened, half-melted blob of blue-and-white fur.

  A sob caught in Carly’s throat. Boo Bunny, Megan’s favorite stuffed animal. The one her father had given her, the one she still slept with every night.

  As the cry threatened to escape, Carly pressed a hand to her mouth and quickly turned away. She’d failed her daughter not once but twice, throwing her life into a tailspin from which she might never recover.

  “Megan,” said Andrew, “why don’t we go outside and get some fresh air?”

  Out of the corner of her eye, Carly saw Andrew escort her daughter from the room. She appreciated his intervention, as well as everything else he’d done for her today. Without his steadfast presence and guidance, she would be an even bigger mess.

  After pulling herself together and taking a quick perusal of the partially burned-out family room, she joined Andrew and Megan on the front porch. The two were sitting in the swing, and Carly was pretty sure she overheard something about another game of cards. If it made her baby happy, she was all for it.

  “Ready?” Andrew stood and handed Carly her tote.

  “Yes.”

  “I’m hungry.” Megan hopped out of the swing.

  Peering at the sky, Carly was surprised to see that the sun had already dipped below the town’s western slope. Though it wasn’t dark yet, Ouray lay bathed in shadows. And her daughter had yet to have her after-school snack. Carly shook her head, disgusted. Add that to her list of failures.

  A black, late-model SUV pulled alongside the curb just then, coming to a stop behind Carly’s vehicle.

  “Cassidy!” Megan bounded down the stairs as Celeste Purcell and her two daughters, Cassidy and Emma, got out.

  Carly glanced back at Andrew, then tugged her tote over her shoulder and followed.

  The three girls hugged and were practically giddy by the time she reached Celeste.

  Her very pregnant friend met her with a sad smile. “Oh, Carly.” They hugged best they could with Celeste’s swollen belly between them. Then, with a final squeeze, Celeste stepped back, her brown eyes focused on Carly. “How bad is it?”

  “Pretty bad.” She drew in a shaky breath, still clueless about how to move forward. “At least the major damage was confined to the kitchen and family room.”

  Celeste pointed to Carly’s tote bag. “Mom and Rose said you’re going to stay next door.”

  “Yes, at Livie’s house.” She poked a thumb toward the home. “Andrew said—Oh, wait.” She twisted to find Andrew standing behind her. “Celeste, this is Andrew Stephens. Andrew, Celeste Purcell.”

  “You were in the diner today.” Celeste smiled.

  He rocked back on his heels, Megan’s pillowcase full of clothes at his feet. “I was. Good food, by the way.”

  “Speaking of food...” Celeste started toward the back of her vehicle, moving past the chattering trio of girls, to open the hatch.

  The girls’ giggles warmed Carly’s heart. Perhaps her daughter would be okay after all.

  Celeste tugged at a large box. “I brought you some enchiladas, chips and salsa for dinner and a pan of Granny’s cinnamon rolls for breakfast.” She started to lift the box, but Andrew intercepted her.

  “Let me get that.” He took hold of the cardboard container. “Smells fantastic.”

  Carly reached to close the hatch. “You didn’t have to do all that, Celeste.”

  “Sweetie, if the roles were reversed, I know you’d be doing the same thing for me.”

  The crunch of gravel under tires drew their attention to the street.

  The approaching Jeep eased to a stop in front of Livie’s house. Blakely Lockridge, Rose’s granddaughter, and Taryn Coble, Celeste’s sister-in-law, soon emerged.

  “Sorry we’re late.” Taryn tossed the driver’s door closed behind her before falling in alongside Blakely. “I had to feed the baby.”

  “How is the little guy?” Carly eyed the new mother.

  Taryn blushed. “He’s just perfect.”

  “You won’t be saying that once he starts walking.” Blakely had a toddler herself, as well as an almost-teen. And Carly was pretty sure she’d heard recent mention of another one on the way. Her strawberry blonde friend addressed her now. “How are you holding up?”

  “I’m still standing.” Though given the opportunity, she was certain she could collapse at any moment.

  “And we thank God for that,” said Blakely.

  “Mommy—” Megan tugged on Carly’s jacket “—I’m hungry. Can the girls and I have a treat?”

  Carly looked down at her daughter, her heart twisting. Other than what Celeste had brought, she had no food. Nothing to give her daughter, no—

  “Oh, I almost forgot. There are some cookies in the box, too,” said Celeste. “Help yourselves.”

  As Andrew pulled a plastic container from the box and handed it to Megan, Taryn said, “Blakes, that sounds like our cue to unload.”

  “Unload?” Carly watched the two women as they returned to Taryn’s Jeep.

  “We thought you might be in need of a few groceries.” To emphasize her point, Blakely lifted two brown paper bags from the backseat.

  Andrew nudged Carly with his elbow and nodded toward Livie’s. “Would you mind catching the door?”

  Celeste and her girls said goodbye as the rest of them made their way inside. In no time, every horizontal surface in Livie’s kitchen, countertop and tabletop, was covered with bags and boxes. And the aroma of those enchiladas wafting from the oven had Carly’s stomach growling.

  Blakely emptied butter, eggs, fruits and vegetables from one bag and put them in the fridge. “We’ll let everyone know where to find you, because there will be plenty more food.”

  “Oh, and Dad said to tell you he’ll be by first thing tomorrow morni
ng.” Taryn folded an empty bag. Her father was Carly’s insurance agent. “He was stuck in Grand Junction today. Otherwise he’d be here now. However, he’s already contacted a restoration company out of Montrose, and they should be here anytime.”

  The outpouring of support had Carly feeling overwhelmed. She was blessed to have such wonderful friends. Yet as they continued to work, small arms worked their way around her waist, and she gazed down into her daughter’s troubled blue eyes. Carly couldn’t help worrying. While Megan had been able to laugh with the girls, reality had again taken center stage. Now it was up to Carly to make things better. And she’d do whatever it took to make that happen.

  * * *

  Andrew had forgotten how generous the people of Ouray could be. When cancer claimed his mother two years ago, the donations of food were almost more than his brothers and dad could eat. A scenario that had played out again when his grandmother died last fall.

  He eyed the goodie-covered counter in his grandmother’s kitchen, recalling that summer his dad had gotten pneumonia. Andrew was only fifteen at the time, his brother Noah, eighteen. That was the worst summer ever as the two of them worked the ranch without their father. Thanks to the town’s generosity, though, their family never went hungry.

  Now, seeing Carly the beneficiary of their goodwill warmed his jaded heart. He couldn’t think of anyone more deserving. The outpouring of support also reminded him of how different Ouray was from the big city. Everyone banding together for the common good.

  While Carly put Megan to bed, Andrew called his father and brought him up to speed, telling him about the fire and letting him know that he’d be staying at the ranch. Then he went to work, trying to clean up the kitchen and put away as many things as he could. Whatever would help Carly.

  People had been stopping by all evening, dropping off casseroles, baked goods and groceries. Some had even gone so far as to bring clothes and toiletries—those things people used every day but didn’t give much thought to until they didn’t have them.

  Glancing around the outdated room, he could hear the sound of a generator coming from next door. Per the insurance company, the restoration team had arrived from Montrose shortly after Blakely and Taryn had left. So when more people arrived with food, he took the opportunity to slip over to Granger House. The crew had immediately gone to work assessing the extent of the damage, not only from the fire but from smoke, soot and water, as well. They’d also begun the water removal process to prevent further damage and boarded up the back door and broken windows. This was only the beginning, though. Getting rid of all traces of smoke and soot would likely take weeks.