by TC Rybicki
Something came to me. I hadn’t thought about it since I moved to the ranch. This property was in the family a long time. Dad grew up here with his parents. He built my mother another place about twenty miles away. She wanted their home to have new memories. I always loved this place the most growing up, and my sister was in her own world, she wasn’t ever coming back here to settle. My grandmother willed the entire property and house to me. I’d enjoyed restoring and updating the ranch style home the past year to make it functional and modern while maintaining the history.
While I had a good portion of the place gutted, Dad surprised me one day coming out of the attic. He said he kept some items up there that Mom never wanted to clutter up their house. He told me to ignore them since he moved them to the corner of the attic and they weren’t in my way.
I had honestly never given his storage items one thought, but now I was curious. I pushed the work aside and went on a quest to see what exactly Dad had kept up in the attic over twenty years.
It had been a good hour, and I still hadn’t absorbed what I found in the attic. There was a trunk. It was full of the standard pieces of childhood and high school memorabilia. First off, sentiment didn’t fit with my dad’s personality. It was weird to me he kept any of this stuff. I was about to leave it because there was nothing newsworthy in the trunk. I thought the class ring and letterman’s jacket were kinda cool. Dad did a lot of sports. I stuck to just baseball only when I was his age because I was too busy studying. Before I dropped the jacket back in, a box within the trunk caught my eye. I pulled the box from the bottom and opened it. All letters. Lots of handwritten letters. This might be interesting, but the attic was hot as hell. I pulled out the large shoebox and headed to my room to see if there was anything relevant in that box.
The letters were spread all over the bed. I hadn’t even opened and read all of them. The first few I came across were all I needed to see to understand what had occurred. They were love letters. Dad saved a box of teenage love letters for decades. Next obvious thing was they were not from my mother since she and Dad met in college. The letters predated college. I wasn’t sure how many years they went back. Pretty sure the letter writing went all the way back to Jr. High and every single one ended with the same signature.
Marly.
Dad was in love with this Marly. I was pretty sure he was since they were kids. I even found a few things he’d written to her that were rough drafts or letters he never sent. I almost didn’t believe my dad could ever come up with these sentiments. None of it fit. I knew all too well my father’s personality. The author of these letters was a different person except I knew his handwriting and the truth stared me in the face. These letters were all for Paul, my father, Paul Ellsworth.
I traced the curve of the letters with my finger. Marly. God, she loved my father, and he loved her just as much, maybe more. They were kids and then they were teens. The love never faltered, only grew. I started to fold up most of the papers. I couldn’t keep reading these. It felt too intrusive. I couldn’t handle it. I skipped the majority of them dated Dad’s senior year.
It shouldn’t be that big of a deal. Dad had a high school girlfriend. They broke up at some point, he went to college, met my mother and married her. End of story. It’s a common occurrence. I was fond of one of my high school romances as well, but in the end, we had different goals. I could never imagine marrying her. Then again, she and I were never this intense. If I was honest, our relationship was pure teenage lust.
Dad and Marly were more. They were so much more. It was too much too soon. Seventeen-year-olds weren’t meant to feel this way. How did they even handle it? Obviously, they didn’t if they crashed and burned at some point, but Dad never parted with the letters.
It should not be affecting me so much, but it was because Marly wasn’t just some girl. The background of this epic teen romance was told in great detail. I knew the exact place.
Last night, when you climbed the trellis and slipped inside my window, the moonlight illuminated my entire room. You looked ethereal, like something out of a book. My prince. My love. My everything. We made love all night and I knew we would be together forever no matter what obstacles we face. (your parents, my mother) You promised me nothing can break our bond. I believe you, Paul. I believe in us. Yours forever, Marly
The trellis.
Marly is Marlene Littlefield, and Dad just didn’t casually go to school with her. They were lovers. Sydney’s mom. I couldn’t tell her. I don’t know why, but I couldn’t reveal the truth. This box should have never been unearthed. I wish Dad would have burned it. I wish I didn’t know, but now I did.
I climbed that trellis almost thirty years later to the day mentioned in the letter to visit Sydney. Our circumstance was clearly different, but it still was déjà vu after reading what took place.
Fuck.
I slammed the lid down.
What happened?
Did it make a difference?
So, what? Our parents were in love. They didn’t end up together. No big deal. I shoved the box under my bed trying to un-see everything; all those words of devotion kept replaying in my mind. I still didn’t have the full picture. There was more to the story. Only Dad knew, but I could never bring myself to ask. He never acted lovesick around my mother. They were respectful but more pragmatic than spontaneous. Did my father even love my mother like the boy that loved Marly?
I lied to myself. This was a big deal. I just wasn’t sure what to do with the newfound knowledge.
Sydney was about to jump out of the truck before I came to a complete stop. “Whoa, slow down, sweetheart. Safety first.”
“Oh, sorry. I see Cash. Your ranch is gorgeous Dane. You live here all by yourself?”
“Yes, just me, a handful of animals and a steady stream of female companions.”
Sydney’s face twisted in disgust. Bingo. I was right. She was into me, but not ready to accept it.
“Joking. My office is in the house. Work is my only companion lately.”
She rolled her eyes and opened the door. Cash was all she cared about the moment. Lucky bastard. Sydney was little, and she was quick. I chased after her to corral. Cash had already spotted her and was on the way to gate. He probably thought he could persuade me to let him out.
“I love him. He’s so gorgeous. I haven’t ridden in ages.”
“Oh, you like to ride? I can arrange that one afternoon. Cash is my gentlest horse.”
“Well, I don’t have any of my riding attire with me. I lost all the good stuff in the judgment.”
“Syd, your riding attire is jeans and maybe boots if you have ’em, but sneakers are fine.”
“I took lessons.”
“Of course, you did. English riding lessons, I’m guessing.” She nodded. “Are you sure you’re Texan?”
“Yes, dummy. I say y’all same as you.”
“Yep, that’s the only requirement to be a Texan, but seriously, what day can you take off a little early? I can get the horses ready.”
Sydney said she finished faster than anyone, but she’d have to ask her grandmother if she could leave early. “That Nina girl is such a pain in the butt. She doesn’t like me and tries to screw me up every chance she gets.”
The name Nina struck a nerve, but I didn’t say anything. It wasn’t an uncommon name, but did the Nina I know work for Josie? I didn’t think so. If it was the same girl, I knew exactly what Sydney meant. She was a handful. Hopefully, I was over-thinking because meeting Sydney and all the new information had me a little jumpy and paranoid.
I took her on the quick tour of the outside and then brought her into my true pride and joy, my grandparents’ ranch-style farmhouse. We entered the back through the French doors after I made a point to show her I had a nice pool and jacuzzi. Horseback riding wasn’t the only thing that sounded fun to do with her.
The kitchen had been the most extensive part of the remodel. Sydney seemed to love it.
“Oh my… this is
some kitchen. Seriously, who helped you design it?”
“I figured it out by myself, presented my ideas to the contractor.”
“No way. This is a woman’s dream kitchen.”
“Well, Mom gave me her stamp of approval. She never liked my grandmother’s taste much, so she likes all the changes I’ve made.”
“It’s amazing you kept this in the family. I really love it. Tell me I get to help tonight.”
“Sure, Syd. You can do whatever you like in my kitchen as long you don’t touch my meat.”
“Excuse me. As if.”
“I meant, just leave the grilling to me, city girl. You’re a little naughty. I’m not forgetting how your mind works.”
I got out the steaks and watched her nose crinkle.
“What is it with red meat in these parts?”
“Seriously. Who doesn’t like a good steak?”
“I like it on a special occasion, but I had meatloaf last night.”
“And your point is?”
“I probably don’t have red meat more than once or twice a month. I can’t eat it two nights in a row. I’ll be fine with sides.”
I somehow knew this might be an issue. I set the ribeyes down in front of her and went back to the fridge to pull out a marinated chicken breast. “Will this work or are you going vegetarian tonight?”
“No, I’d love some grilled chicken. Thanks. What do you have on that?”
“None of your business, princess. It’s top secret.”
“Idiot. What can I do in here?”
I explained the salad was chilled in the fridge along with the homemade vinaigrette, and I had special bread from the bakery she was going to love. If she wanted to start baking the potatoes that’d be great.
“Plain ‘ole baked?”
“Unless you want to wow me?” Please wow me, Sydney, any way you feel inclined.
“Thanks, I think I might.”
“I can’t wait. I need to get the coals going.”
“You never mentioned dessert.”
“Well, I did a lot of prep here with the trip into town, cleaning up, my secret marinades and I also worked.” I didn’t mention work was at the bottom of the list because of my rampant thoughts about her. “I didn’t get around to it. I have some ice cream in the fridge. You don’t look like you sneak a lot of sweets.”
“Are you body shaming me?”
“No, not at all. You’re awfully skinny to be shamed.”
“You’re insensitive. I hate looking like a stick. This isn’t my normal size, but I lost a lot of weight. I was upset for months. My dad was… I mean is my hero. He isn’t a bad man no matter what you’ve read or heard.”
“Sydney. I’m sorry. You’re right. I’m a dick. Truth is even on the thin side, you’re practically perfect. I promise I won’t make a crack again.” I got carried away with our banter which had been a little snide on both our parts since we met. I mentally kicked myself for making her feel bad. Sydney was so beautiful that I had to do something to distract myself from what my id actually wanted me to do. She claimed to be in a relationship. She just lost everything, including her parents. I was too old for her. My dad was drama in more ways than I’d anticipated, and he didn’t even know she was in town staying with Josie. I couldn’t let on I developed a wicked crush on this vulnerable 18-year-old girl in a matter of minutes. Maybe I should have canceled the whole meeting tonight after I found the letters
Sydney had this strange expression since I stood there too long without a word. “I thought you were getting the grill started. It’s okay. I forgive you.”
Dane was outside doing his manly grilling, so I pulled out my phone to figure out a recipe with our potatoes. I decided on a parmesan Hasselback version. I sliced and prepped at the bar hoping I could get these in the oven before he saw what I was up to. I thought Dane would be pleased with my potato flare. He wanted to be wowed, and I smiled at the idea of being able to do that. He was too much. Too handsome. Too cocky. Too pushy. Definitely too flirty. He wasn’t like a single boy from high school. Gram approved of our friendship it seemed, but she also said Dane was too old. She meant if I was interested in him in the romantic sense. I was not, but I was curious how old he might be. Why didn’t he have a girlfriend? He wasn’t a loser so what made someone like me interesting? If he was such a loner, something must be wrong with him. I searched for flaws and was coming up empty.
A wave of smoke filled the room. I turned around to see my inner thoughts prevented me from being as quick as I intended. I shielded the potatoes with my slender body. I wasn’t sure why I’d been so sensitive to him calling me skinny. Then he said something about being perfect and I wanted him to keep going with the compliments. I said no romance. Say it again, Syd. He looked damn good coming back in with his tight t-shirt clinging to his chest. My eyes went straight to the tempting dimple and rugged jawline.
“Whatcha hiding, princess?”
“A surprise. Go away.”
“Fine. I came to check on you. The fire needs to die down, and the coals have to ash over.”
“Could you do something for a few more minutes? I don’t want you to see what I did.”
“I bet you don’t. Sure. I’m going to change.”
“Why?”
“It’s hot. I got dirty cleaning the grill. I’m just putting on a different shirt. Need anything else?”
“Well, I was wondering if I could see inside your pantry? I have an idea for an easy dessert that would pair well with your ice cream.” Dane’s dimple stood out with certain smirks. This was one of those instances. I was losing myself. Again. Damn that dimple. “What? Is that such a dramatic request? Is your pantry off limits like your secret marinades?”
He shook off whatever thought caused the cheeky grin. “Um, no. You are welcome in my pant…” he cleared his throat, “pantry.”
“Stop. You’re laughing at me.” I looked down to see if I was covered in parmesan or parsley flakes. My shirt was clean. Maybe I had something on my face or in my hair. Dane must be a clean freak if he was changing midway through starting the grill.
He held back his amusement. “I never laughed.” He snickered this time. “Okay, now I am.”
“What is it? Do you have a powder room?”
“Yes, first door on the left.” He pointed to the hall on the other side of the den. “But you don’t have anything on you. It was a guy thing. I’m leaving you now. Carry on, Syd. Rifle through my pantry as you please.”
He was full out belly laughing when he disappeared into his bedroom. I shoved the pan of Hasselback potatoes into the oven and ran to the guest bathroom as fast as I could. I couldn’t find a single issue. My makeup was still flawless, not a hair out of place. I took my time to primp after work. Boyfriend, Syd. Grant exists. I looked at my reflection in the mirror. “I know. We’re buds. Just hanging out.”
I opened the door and collided with Dane in a fresh tee. He smelled nice, a little like a grill and a lot like a man. “Creeper. What are you doing outside the bathroom?”
“Who are you talking to in there?”
“I wasn’t. Ew. You’re gross. Was your ear to the door? Move out of the way.” Dane blocked me with his arm.
“I wasn’t hanging out. I walked by because you disappeared, and I heard you talking. Don’t lie.”
“Where else would I be? Did you think I was searching your rooms?”
“No, I don’t know. I just peeked down the hall.”
“You should check your fire.”
“You should get in my pantry. That’s where you said you’d be.”
He laughed again. “I don’t get the joke.”
“I’m sorry, it’s just ever since you said pantry, I keep replacing the word with pants. It’s just a couple of letters off. You have to admit it’s funny.”
I covered my mouth remembering the references to Dane’s pantry. The louder he laughed the madder I got. He was way taller, but I was determined to shush him. I reached for his mouth in
an attempt to smother him. It had the opposite effect. Dane grabbed my hand. He hoisted me off the floor and took me into his walk-in pantry. I stopped putting up a fight when I saw the perfectly aligned cans, spices, and dry goods.
“You are a clean freak! Aren’t you? This is pure OCD.”
“No, I like organization. See what you need in my pantry?”
I elbowed him since he was standing too close. Dane exaggerated like I’d damaged him. “Gram says you’re old. I’m pretty sure that’s impossible after this juvenile behavior.”
I turned around, so we were face to face. He took a step forward. I took a step back. Before I knew it, I was backed up into one of the shelves. “It was just a joke. Why are you and Josie talking about my age?”
I shrugged.
“Sydney, little city girl. Just ask if you’re curious.”
“No, I’m not curious. That implies caring which I don’t.”
“I bet Josie thinks I’m too old for you.”
“Too old to be my friend? That would be a weird thing for her to say.”’
“Well, she’s right so stop trying so hard to seduce me.”
This time I went on the offensive and started backing Dane out of the pantry. I poked him in the chest with every word. “I. Have. A. Boyfriend. A really good one! You’re a jerk. I’m not even sure we can be friends; you’re so arrogant. I think I’m calling Frisco to come get me. You and your giant ego can eat all the food.”
Dane grabbed my finger that left an impression on his cotton tee. He didn’t let go even though I pulled back. “Kidding. I’m 26. Don’t leave. I’ll behave, but poor thing, you broke a nail. Maybe you should curtail the violence.”
I jerked my hand away. He reminded me of the tragedy of the day. “I did that at work because stupid Nina got in my way. Wait. Did you say 26? In years?”
Dane picked my hand back up to inspect my severed nail. He rubbed over the nub of my real fingernail. “That’s a shame. These were so pretty. Did you mourn properly? And yes, I meant human years. I’m about eight years older than you.”
