by Ivy Jordan
“Cornbread?” Luke asked, setting an already filled bowl of chili on the table.
I nodded.
I sat down at the table, noticing all the extras he’d set out: oyster crackers, sour cream, chives, chopped red onion, and shredded cheese.
“You should’ve let me make dinner tonight. You’ve done so much for me already,” I stated.
He rolled his eyes playfully in my direction, his squared chin offering a chiseled manly look that made my heart melt. He really had grown into a beautiful man.
“I enjoy taking care of you,” he smiled sweetly, taking his seat across from me.
That comment stuck in my heart like a knife. Damien used to say he was taking care of me, a job that no one else wanted, a job I couldn’t do on my own.
I believed him. Why wouldn’t I? There wasn’t exactly a line outside his door of candidates for the position of my caretaker, and my past had proven taking care of myself wasn’t my strong suit.
I’d left the foster home with nothing, just the clothes on my back and fourteen dollars I’d managed to save from cashed-in bottles and cans. Within two days, I was hungry, cold, and hitchhiking on the highway to get away from this horrid place.
Damien had stopped for me. He seemed nice, charming even.
“You look wet,” he chuckled as he pushed open the door to his beat-up Camaro.
There was something about him, a strangeness, eagerness, anger, but I shrugged it off, climbing into his dry car out of the wet rain regardless. It was stupid. Right there on that highway, I proved I couldn’t take care of myself.
We never made it past the first exit. Damien had excuse after excuse about why he needed to delay taking me out of town, where I was headed when he stopped to pick me up on the side of the road.
First, it was sweet, tending to needs he noticed in me: wet, tired, and hungry. He bought me a burger, an order of fries, and a large Pepsi from the local burger joint. After that, it was more about him. He had to stop here and there, and before long, I’d been in that car with him for over two hours, driving in circles.
“We should probably wait until morning,” Damien stated.
“I really need to be going. I can get another ride if you just drop me back on the interstate where you found me,” I suggested.
“I’ve got a busted headlight. What’s the rush?” he snipped.
I didn’t want to tell him the rush.
“I fed you, kept you dry, and kept you from getting picked up by some pervert or serial psychopath,” he sweetened his voice.
Why I felt obligated to this man, I had no idea. I stayed the night on his couch. It was a one-room apartment, more of a garage that he rented really. It was drafty, musty, and uncomfortable, but I stayed anyway to avoid offending him.
The next day was filled with more excuses, and then more. He started telling me how pretty I was, how he really wished I’d stay. I wanted to leave, but I never said so, at least not then.
Years later, I was in the same town, always only a town or two over during the time I’d spent away, running, getting nowhere.
“Are you okay?”
I snapped out of my trance, looking up at Luke.
His face was pale and looked serious and confused by my drifting thoughts.
I shrugged it off and tried to laugh to put him at ease, but my chest was already beginning to tighten, the elephant back to take his seat.
“Lyla, she works here, right?” I asked quickly.
Luke paused, still staring at me with concern.
“Yes,” he replied, not offering no title of her position.
“A shrink?” I pushed.
“She’s a-uh, a psychiatrist,” Luke answered.
My belly filled with a strange anger. Why hadn’t he told me? Why hadn’t she?
“Well, she seems to think it might be better for me to get a place of my own here at the ranch,” I blurted.
Luke looked shocked. I couldn’t tell if he was angry, hurt, or just shocked.
“Is that what you want?” he questioned.
Again with that question. I had no idea what I wanted.
“She said the only way I’ll know what I truly want is to be on my own and heal,” I explained.
“I see,” Luke said, his lips drawing tightly together.
“I appreciate all of your help. I plan on paying you back for everything,” I offered.
“That’s not necessary,” Luke insisted.
“I’ve never been on my own. I-I just don’t want to be here out of obligation or creating a burden on you and your life,” I groveled.
“You’re never a burden, but of course, I don’t want you to feel obligated,” Luke said softly, his tone hard to read.
I didn’t like the tension, but it was thick between us.
Chapter 19
Luke
Candace sipped a cup of coffee while staring out the front window. Her eyes were aimed towards the barn, and I was certain that was where her thoughts lingered. If it weren’t for the barn, I wondered if she would’ve agreed to stay at all.
She jumped as I walked towards the kitchen, the board beneath my feet creaking as if in agony from my weight.
“It’s just me. You’re safe,” I smiled tenderly, realizing that I’d have to continue to remind her of that fact over and over again.
“I start my job today, caring for the animals,” she beamed.
It was nice to see her smile, and even nicer to hear her talking. She’d withdrawn from me after our talk, where she told me Lyla suggested she move out on her own.
“Are you excited?” I asked.
“I’m nervous, but yes, excited as well,” she said softly, that familiar stress showing up on her pale face.
I sat down across from her in a wooden chair. It was wobbly from a loose leg, something I’d have to fix eventually. I’d not gotten much done since Candace arrived, and I knew us spending so much time together was about to change. I hated to think about it, but I continued to tell myself that she needed her space, much more than I needed her near me.
“What are you nervous about?” I asked.
“I’ve never cared for anyone before, not even an animal,” she whispered, her eyes dropping to her feet.
“That’s not true,” I boasted.
Her eyes lifted to mine. I could see the years of pain and suffering within them, but a glimpse of the girl I once knew and loved, was in there as well.
“How so?” she questioned curiously.
“I remember you caring for kittens as a girl,” I pointed out.
Candace leaned back in the chair she lounged in, a deep sigh escaped her lips, and she started to smile from the memory.
“This is different. What if I mess it up?” she asked.
“You won’t. You’re a natural,” I smiled, wanting desperately to reach for her, pull her into my arms, and kiss her soft pink lips.
“I better get going,” she sighed, standing from her position.
She was already dressed, her hair pulled back in a tight ponytail, and just enough rouge applied to her cheeks for a sweet pink color.
“Do you want to ride with me?” I asked.
“I can walk,” she said quickly.
I hesitated taking my eyes from her as I thought about the reasons she’d prefer to walk than ride with me. Maybe she needed the time to clear her mind, or maybe she thought she was a burden. Maybe she just didn’t need me anymore.
“I don’t mind dropping you on my way to the office,” I offered again.
“I just really want to do this on my own,” she smiled warmly and headed into the kitchen.
Independence. It looked good on her, even though it scared the hell outta me.
“I understand. If you need me for anything, just call,” I offered.
My eyes followed Candace, dressed in the jeans I’d bought her and a flannel shirt she’d raided from my closet. She disappeared into the kitchen where I heard doors opening and closing, and then emerged with two brown bags
, one in each hand.
“I hope you don’t mind. I packed myself a lunch. I made you one too,” she stammered, holding up the two bags.
“That’s great. Thank you,” I smiled.
Why hadn’t I gotten up and made her a lunch, or at least offered? I felt like an ass for not considering she had no money, no transportation, and may feel awkward asking me for help. I was glad to see she’d taken it upon herself to handle her needs, but nothing would make me feel better for not realizing them myself.
She set the brown-bagged lunch intended for me on the side table by the door, and with a quick goodbye, she was off to her first day of work.
I filled my mug with the coffee that Candace had left in the pot, grabbed my keys, and headed into the office.
Theo was at his desk, waving me over as I walked into the small office. He was beaming, a smile so wide that it nearly ripped his face apart.
“Good morning,” I greeted him as he finished his phone call.
“How’s Candace?” he asked cheerfully.
I knew things were great when we’d last spoke, but they were hardly so now.
“She’s excited about her job, nervous, but excited,” I said without much enthusiasm.
“Did something happen?” he asked.
“I guess Lyla talked to her about getting a place of her own,” I growled, sliding into the seat in front of his desk.
“And you don’t agree?” he questioned.
I shrugged my shoulders.
“I think it could be very good for her,” Theo added.
“What if she has a panic attack?” I asked.
“It’s not like she would be without support. I assume Lyla suggested a place here, on the ranch, while she healed?” Theo queried.
I nodded.
“What are you afraid of?” he asked.
There were so many things. I didn’t know where to begin, or what, if anything, I wanted to admit to.
“I just want what’s best for her,” I sighed.
“I know you do. But only she can decide that,” he reminded me.
I didn’t want to stand in her way. I wanted her to be independent, confident and strong. Maybe they were right. Maybe her staying with me, depending on me, would hold her back.
“I just want to make sure she’s safe. I promised her…” I stammered.
“You have serious feelings for her, don’t you?” Theo questioned.
My cheeks burnt as I struggled to maintain a professional, unreacted face to his question.
“She was my first love, and that’s something you always cherish, that’s all,” I replied.
Theo shook his head, his smile growing with each shake. I knew my feelings were obvious, but that didn’t mean I had to be open with them.
“You have to prepare yourself for the fact that she may not feel the same about you.” Theo crushed my heart.
My brows lowered as I scowled at him from my seat. What was the point of him telling me this? Of course I knew that was a real possibility. Why else would I be so afraid of letting her go?
“I’m just reminding you that you still have healing to do, and this could set you back if you’re not careful,” he reminded me.
He was right. I knew enough about healing to know fresh wounds opened old ones.
“I’ll be careful,” I promised and slid from my seat to my feet.
Theo smiled in my direction, but not with a convincing expression. He nodded, stood, and shook my hand.
“I’ll let you get to your rounds,” he said as he gave me the same sympathetic, concerned smile as before.
I left his office with a strange knot in my gut. I didn’t want to jeopardize Candace’s healing process or my own.
I grabbed a thick binder from my desk and headed towards my truck. Jackson pulled into the parking lot before I made it into my seat, stopping me with a wave that motioned me in his direction.
“I hear Candace is starting today. Do you think she’ll be a good fit?” Jackson asked.
“She’s amazing with the animals, sir,” I assured him.
He slapped me hard on the back, pushing me forward a couple inches from the force. His smile was wide, tobacco stuck in his teeth and the hint of coffee still lingering from his tongue as he pulled me close.
“I think it’s great you’ve been helping her, but it’s time you find out if she’s capable of helping herself,” he said with what felt like a warning.
“Yes, sir,” I agreed, grinding my teeth after I spoke.
I wasn’t sure if he was giving me advice or an order from his tone.
“I see you’re starting your rounds,” he changed the topic, tapping at the binder tucked under my arm.
“I am,” I agreed, grateful for the topic change.
“Good man. I know you’ll do great with the group of people here,” he smiled.
My teeth gave up their grinding as his compliment softened my mood. I nodded and headed my in own direction while Jackson made his way into the office building.
I sat in my truck, browsing through each file. The binder was loaded with information about each person at the ranch, their position there, their history, their photo, and even a summary inserted by Lyla on how to best approach them upon first meeting.
Lyla was the first place I’d stop, peeking in on her group therapy session. I drove across the ranch to the small outbuilding, the place where Lyla held her morning sessions. They were on a ‘come as you need’ basis, but from what I’d heard from the others, they were often times full.
“Starting your day is sometimes the hardest, aside from trying to end it with sleep,” Lyla spoke directly to a large man, bald, maybe in his forties, and covered in tattoos.
I leaned against the wall and listened in as the man told her how he was afraid to leave his cabin each morning and how he would procrastinate until he was nearly late for work. Then, he’d rush, filled with anxiety, barely making it, and not able to make eye contact with anyone, let alone speak.
This world that the man lived in, that we shared, was filled with people who overlooked his illness. He was large and looked rough and tough, and the last thing anyone would expect was his fear. Many of the guys couldn’t hold a job for just that reason. Either their employers wouldn’t believe they were so fragile underneath their rough exteriors, or the men were too proud to reveal their weaknesses.
I was grateful I wasn’t left in that condition after leaving the SEALs. My afflictions were less noticeable and left me able to lead a productive life. My largest problem with the world was finding a way to connect with the people in it, to feel and give love. That’s why I was here at the ranch, to socialize with people, help them, offer guidance, and learn how to trust—not only others, but myself.
Lyla waved me over as our eyes met. I was reluctant, hating the way everyone in the group turned to look at me.
I moved slowly, making my way to the front of the room. Lyla introduced me, many of the faces new to me, other than pictures in my binder.
“Luke is new to the ranch. Some of you may have already met him, worked with him, and many of you will in the near future. I want you to go to him for help when you need it. He will be assisting Theo and myself with counseling over the next few months,” she said proudly.
That was only supposed to be a small part of my job. She made it sound as if it were my primary function on the ranch. I was planning to spend my time fixing up the old cabins, building new ones, repairing the barn, and working in the fields. I wanted to work with my hands, but they apparently had different plans for me.
“Is there anything you’d like to say to the group?” Lyla pushed.
My throat started to swell. I hated speaking in public. My heart raced, my palms sweat, and a twitch began to annoy me in my left eye. I thought about Candace. I thought about Xander. I understood their pain, maybe not the full extent, but in that moment, I understood enough.
“I’ll try to make my rounds over the next week or so, getting a one-on-one with ea
ch of you. I just want to introduce myself to you, give you my contact information, and let you know I’m available when you need me,” I stammered over my words.
Lyla looked pleased. Her hand lifted to my shoulder, holding me in my spot.
“We were sharing today; is there anything you’d like to share?” she asked.
I couldn’t work up enough courage to speak. I knew she expected me to rattle on about my time in the service, or possibly about Candace. I wasn’t ready for that.
“I’ve got a lot of rounds to make. Hopefully, I’ll see some of you today,” I smiled and pulled away from Lyla’s grip.
I made my way out of the room, leaning against the wall in the hallway and trying to calm my heart rate when an older gentleman walked out of the room. He stood there, his wrinkles rolling along his forehead, his gray bushy hair peeking out from beneath his ball cap, and smiled in my direction.
“I’m Tom,” he introduced himself, extending his hand.
I shook it, wrinkled like his forehead, but warm.
“I hate sharing. I thought it was a good time to sneak out, let you scratch a name from your list,” he said, his voice carrying a heavy New York accent.
“I’m not a fan of sharing either, Tom,” I chuckled, finally feeling my chest release the tension it held.
“I could see that,” he tilted his head, reaching up with one of his bony fingers to scratch at his scalp through the thick cotton of his hat.
“Oh, so I didn’t pull the wool over anyone’s eyes?” I teased.
He shook his head, his smile opening wide to reveal more than a couple missing teeth.
“I care for the horses. That was my job in World War II. I cared for the soldier's horses, seeing to their shoes, food, and wounds,” Tom stated proudly.
“How long have you been here?” I asked.
“Oh, I guess I got here a couple years ago,” he scratched his head again.
I worked on my math, figuring the man was at least in his late eighties to have spent time in the war so many years ago.
