by Claire Adams
“You want me to run this place for you guys?” I asked, still not believing what he was saying.
“It’s clear to anyone who sees you that you’re in your natural element here,” Garrett said. “Now, if you told me you didn’t want to because you wanted to move to the city and live the metropolitan life, I might not agree with it, but it’s your choice and of course I wouldn’t stop you. But if you’re happy being on a ranch, then why not take things over for me here? Believe it or not, out of all my employees, you’ve worked here the longest.”
“Minus the seven years he was imprisoned, of course,” Jacob said. He pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m just having a hard time believing any of this. Are you suffering from some sort of early-onset dementia, Dad? Is that what this is? Do you even realize what you’re saying?”
“I realize exactly what I’m saying,” Garrett snapped, a hard edge in his voice. “Which is why we had all three of you here at the same time—so I could assure you that this decision was made while I was sound of mind. Also to give the two of you some time to digest the idea, because I knew it wasn’t going to be an easy pill for either of you to swallow.”
“But what if he doesn’t want to do it?” Keith asked. I might as well have not even been in the room. “Then what?”
“Then we’ll address that if we have to. As much as I’d like to say this ranch is going to stay in the family and be something that gets passed down through the generations, it’s difficult to promise that when the two of you show so little interest.”
“And we’re not just going to be gone forever,” Marie said. “We want to scale back, is all. I’m personally getting tired of the snow, the long winters. But we need someone to look after the ranch, and then maybe we’ll come back for part of the summer, because I really can’t bear the thought of not seeing some of our regular guests ever again.”
“That’s all well and good,” Jacob said, “except for the part where you’re leaving it in the hands of . . . you.” He looked at me now, looked at me as though I were no better than a pile of manure that happened to be in his way. I knew what they wanted—they wanted to hear that Garrett and Marie were going to fly south for the winter and leave the ranch for them to do what they’d like with, whether that be sell to developers or sell to someone else who’d be interested in keeping the guest ranch going. They’d take their cut of the money and be done with it.
“It sounds like your mind’s made up, so I don’t really see why you brought us here,” Keith said, standing up from the table. “You want us to give us your blessing? It’s a bad idea, if you ask me. Anyway, I’m going to hit the road. Let me know if you change your mind about the whole thing.”
Jacob stood, too. “You’re making a big mistake, Dad,” he said, before he followed his brother out of the room.
And then it was just the three of us sitting there. “They left before I could offer pie,” Marie said. “I know no one’s had their supper yet, but I’ve got that nice peach pie just sitting out there on the counter. I’m going to go slice it.”
While she was out in the kitchen, Garrett gave me a smile. “I didn’t mean for that to come as a big shock,” he said. “It might’ve been better to pull you aside and give you some warning, but it’s been something I’ve been thinking about for some time now.”
“You were thinking about this while I was in prison?”
“Sure was. I figured if it was something you might be interested in, you’d accept my offer when I said you could have your old job back.”
I bit my lip. “I don’t know why you’re being so nice to me, Garrett.”
“I told you, you’re like a son to me. Some days, you feel more like a son than those two.” He jerked his head back toward the doorway Keith and Jacob had disappeared through. “Those two have never had any interest in anything to do with this place, unless they thought it was me talking about selling and then the only thing they’d want to know is how much they were gonna get. They don’t have an appreciation for the land, for the animals, for the hard work it takes to run a place like this. And that’s okay—this sort of life isn’t for everyone. But it’s in your blood, I’ve always known that, and if what I just said is something you’d be interested in, I’d be more than happy to let you take this place over. Now, Marie and I would still own it, and should the time come to sell, we’d make sure you got a cut, but I don’t want to shut it down. Also can’t keep doing what I’m doing, much as I hate to admit it. Age is the one thing none of us can escape.”
It seemed too good to be true, and because of that, I was wary. Not that I didn’t trust Garrett, or believe he only had the best intentions. But I certainly hadn’t been expecting any of this once I got released, and the fact that it was happening was still hard to believe.
“I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me,” I said. “And you know there’s no way in hell I’m going to move to the city and live some urban life. But . . . I just don’t know if me taking this place over is such a good idea.”
“And why’s that?”
“Because . . . .” Because a part of me felt like everything that Keith and Jacob were saying was true. That someone who had killed a man, who’d just gotten out of prison, shouldn’t be running a guest ranch, didn’t deserve anything even close to that. I had not expected a good life once I got out, not in the least. I imagined I’d have to get a job at a gas station, maybe the overnight shift at the twenty-four-hour place right off the highway, except I’d heard horror stories about how difficult it was to get hired anywhere if you were a felon. “Because I don’t deserve it,” I finally said.
“People all make mistakes.” Garrett glanced over his shoulder toward the kitchen, where I could hear Marie opening and closing cupboards. “I’ve made a few myself,” he said, lowering his voice a little.
“You ever kill anyone?”
“No, but I came close.”
“What happened?”
“I almost beat a man to death.”
“You did?”
“I sure did. Probably would have if the sheriff hadn’t shown up.”
“Who was it?”
“Marie’s ex-husband. He was a violent drunk, and he’d been controlling and abusive toward her when they were married, hence why they were no longer married. But a person like that doesn’t like to relinquish control, and he’d come over one night and tried get her to go back home with him. I was down at the barn but came up to the house because I heard some commotion. He was trying to drag her down the porch steps by her hair.” Garrett shook his head. “I about beat his head into a bloody pulp. So, I understand how it is a person like yourself could do what you did. You’re not violent by nature. You’re not mean-spirited. You don’t go out looking to pick a fight. But things happen sometimes, beyond our control, we find ourselves in situations that we didn’t plan on. It doesn’t mean you’re a bad person, or that you don’t deserve a second chance.”
Marie came back, carrying two small plates with slices of peach pie and whipped cream. She set one plate down in front of me and the other in front of Garrett, her gaze going from him to me, then back again.
“The air feels mighty thick in here,” she said. “What are you two talking about?”
“Nothing,” Garrett said, picking up his fork. “Just telling Ollie here that just about everyone deserves a second chance.”
She nodded emphatically. “Please don’t listen to Jacob and Keith,” she said. “They’ve always had a hard time getting used to a new idea that wasn’t their own, and they’ve never adapted well to change. But Garrett and I both know how much you love this ranch and how well it would do if you decide you want to run it for us. We have all the confidence in the world in you.”
And it felt sincere, like this wasn’t just something they were saying to be kind. Obviously not, if they were really serious about letting me take over the ranch for them some day. That was a big deal, and even with the two of them sitting there tell
ing me straight to my face they wanted me to do it, it was still hard to believe.
13.
Wren
For the first time, I found myself at work, eager to not be there. I was going back over to the ranch once we were done here for the day, and I was going to try riding Sweetpea again. I was sort of looking forward to that, but mostly I was looking forward to seeing Ollie.
The rush from lunch had just slowed down when Paula Kelly walked in. She was wearing her usual zany outfit, this time, a bright floral skirt that looked like she had made herself, with a sleeveless hot pink blouse. She didn’t come in often, but you could always expect her to be wearing some eye-catching, eccentric sort of outfit.
She made her way over to the counter and sat down. “Hi there, Paula,” I said. “Let me just get this order out and I’ll get you some coffee.” I carried the three plates I had over to the corner table and served them to the three people on vacation from Seattle. “Let me know if you need anything else,” I said as they tucked in to their meals.
“How’ve you been?” I asked Paula. She was someone I’d always found interesting; she generally kept to herself whenever she came into the restaurant, and she didn’t come in often enough for me to think of her as a regular, but she had been coming by once every couple of months for years now.
“Can’t complain,” she said as I poured her coffee. “Well, actually, I can. I’m looking for someone. Was thinking maybe someone down here could help me out. I don’t have his phone number. Actually, I don’t even know if he has a phone.”
“Who are you looking for?”
“His name’s Ollie.” She let out a cackle. “Same as this place here. Funny, isn’t it? We came here once, and I said that to him: Isn’t it funny you and this place got the same name?”
I tried to keep my face neutral. “Oh,” I said. “Yeah, I know him. Oliver, Ollie. It is funny, isn’t it? Ollie’s a good name though. For a restaurant or a guy.”
“Or a skateboard trick,” she said.
“Huh?”
“A skateboard trick. I was watching this show on TV last night, and someone was riding a skateboard, and they did this jump thing and it was called an ollie. And that got me to thinking about the other Ollie, and how I hadn’t seen him. He’s supposed to check in on me, you know.”
No, I did not know that. “Oh, really?”
“Yeah. Except it’s been a while since I last saw him, so now here I am, coming out and looking for him, like it’s the other way around. Funny how that happens.”
“Interesting,” I said. “Well, I actually do happen to know who you’re talking about.”
She raised an eyebrow as she took a sip of her coffee. “Do you now?”
“Yeah. He comes in here sometimes.”
“I was thinking I might even run into him.”
“Would you like me to pass a message along?”
Paula put down her coffee cup. “You know him that good, do ya? Know that you’re going to be seeing him again?”
I decided not to mention that I’d be heading over there in less than an hour. “Uh . . . well . . . I see a lot of people here. And I’m here all the time.”
“Not all the time. You weren’t here that one day I came here with him.”
“No, I guess I wasn’t. I probably would have remembered that.”
“Yes, well, you just be sure to remember to tell him that I’m looking for him.” She shot me a look that said she didn’t really have that much faith in that happening.
When I got to the ranch later, I found Ollie down at the barn, grooming Sweetpea. He handed me one of the brushes, and I started brushing her other side.
“I ran into a friend of yours this afternoon,” I said.
“I have a friend?”
“Apparently. Paula Kelly?”
There was a moment of silence, and I couldn’t see his expression because he was on the other side of the horse.
“Oh. Yeah, I’m supposed to look in on Paula every once in a while. Guess I need to do that pretty soon.”
“She mentioned something about that. She made it sound like she was a house plant or something, or a pet or something, that needed checking.”
“It’s kind of like that,” Ollie said. “I knew her husband. He’s in prison, too. Was there when I got in, and he’ll be there probably for the rest of his life.”
“Whoa.” I stopped brushing Sweetpea and went around to her other side so I could see Ollie. “Really?”
“He killed two kids. Well, two teenagers. They were breaking into his truck.”
“How did I not know this?”
He shrugged. “I’m not sure. It happened a while ago, though. And it’s probably not something that Paula’s too keen on talking about. You know, same as me not wanting to go around discussing what I did with everybody I happen to come across.”
But that’s different, I thought. Unless Paula’s husband had come across two kids trying to sexually assault someone?
“He shot them in the back,” Ollie said, as though he could read my mind. “He beat the shit out of them and then shot them in the back as they were trying to escape. Which is why he’ll likely never get out. He should have just let them go. But that’s like saying I should have stopped hitting Isaac Wentworth. Or not even hit him in the first place.”
Ollie had stopped brushing Sweetpea too, and had a faraway expression on his face, as though he were re-living that moment, replaying what things might have been like if he had stopped hitting him, or maybe if he’d just kept walking to his truck and didn’t even bother to intervene.
“I know he had a twin brother,” Ollie said. “Elijah. I went to high school with the both of them, but we were never friends. Still, I saw them on a regular basis. I’ve thought about trying to get in touch with him, to tell him I was sorry, but . . . I never have.”
“Yeah,” I said. “He moved away, to California, or maybe Oregon, I think.”
“I don’t think he’d want to hear from me, which is part of the reason why I haven’t bothered. It’d make me feel better to apologize, but it probably wouldn’t do anything for him. So, I haven’t pursued it.”
I had wondered about the twin brother, too. Had they been close? Had losing Isaac been like losing a limb or something?
“Were he and his brother close?” I asked.
Ollie nodded. “It seemed like it. There was this group of them in school, they pretty much kept to themselves. They were kind of the alternative kids. The ‘alterna-teens’ some of the kids called them. Making fun of them. I never did, but I never stopped the other kids who used to, either. I’ve thought about that, though. How it must’ve been for the twin brother. The whole situation just sucked. For everyone.”
“Yeah,” I said. “It really did.”
I did better the second time around; even managed to coax Sweetpea into a jog, during which I gripped the saddle horn for dear life but managed to stay on. I’d felt good, exhilarated, even, and when I jumped down, I asked Ollie if he wanted to come over to my place later when he was done with the evening chores. To my surprise, he said yes.
I’d planned on making a dinner, but I got sidetracked trying to get the place cleaned up. When he knocked on the door, I was fighting to get the vacuum to release the corner of rug it had just sucked up.
“Oh, hey,” I said. “Just give me a minute—”
“I hope you’re not doing this on my behalf,” he said. He nodded at the vacuum. “Taking part in mortal combat with household appliances, I mean.” He switched the vacuum off and I was able to pull the rug out easily.
“Gee,” I said. “Why didn’t I think of that? Obviously I don’t use the thing too often.”
I threw the vacuum down and stood up. He looked so good standing there, in his dark jeans and cowboy boots and light gray work shirt, unbuttoned at the collar. I walked right over to him and pulled his face down to mine, started to kiss him.
“I don’t think I can do this,” he said after a few seconds. “
It’s not because I don’t want to.”
We had stopped kissing, but he didn’t pull away completely; we were still close enough that the tips of our noses were touching.
“We don’t have to,” I said. “We can stop.”
“I don’t want to,” he said again. “But . . . maybe we should.”
I nodded, and I would have stopped, except he didn’t move his face away from mine, he kept it there, so close that I could feel his breath, feel the heat radiating off of his skin. I pressed my lips against his again, gently, telling myself that if he pulled away again, I would get up, I would stop. But he didn’t pull away. I felt him kiss me back, tentatively, as though he couldn’t quite believe this was happening.
I ran my tongue along his bottom lip and opened my eyes, just a little. His own eyes were closed, lashes dark against his skin. I slipped my hands underneath his shirt and ran my fingertips over the dense muscles and smooth skin. I felt his hands, first on my shoulders, then running down my arms, then back up again. His hands were warm and dry, his fingers assured as they pressed gently against my skin. We kept kissing, and then I pulled back for a second so I could take my shirt off.
“Follow me,” I said, leading him into my bedroom.
As we walked, I reached around and unhooked my bra, then shimmied out of the yoga pants I’d put on. I turned to face him and watched his face, the way his eyes widened ever so slightly.
“Let’s get that shirt off of you,” I said. “And the rest of the stuff, too.”
His fingers fumbled with the buttons, so I helped. His arms were covered in tattoos, but his torso was smooth, a perfect plane of long, lean muscles. I ran my fingertips across his abdomen and felt the muscles tense under my touch. His hands were on my shoulders, but started to move down slowly toward my breasts. I kissed him, and this time he returned the kiss with force, his hands massaged my breasts in a quietly assured way, as though he knew what he was doing felt good.
