35. Indie
Chapter 35
Indie
I n the morning, I enter the living room to find all three men already meandering around. Beau is in the kitchen grinding coffee beans to make a pot of coffee. Ram is busy wiping down the counters, cleaning up as if there was dust I couldn’t see last night. Tripp is standing at the back door looking out of it, silently staring at the mountains in the distance. All three of them look like they hardly slept.
“Morning,” I say as I enter, not wanting to scare them. I wouldn’t want to become one of the ghosts that haunt them here.
I purposely don’t say, “good morning”. The way they’re acting, this doesn’t feel like a “good” anything. It feels heavy, and I’m reminded that we only came here because Tripp’s sister supposedly tried to sell the ranch without him. Whatever ghosts are here, that’s not the reason we’re in this house. It’s because of the family betrayal.
Tripp glances over his shoulder at me as I walk in. He doesn’t respond to my greeting. Dark circles ring his pretty blue eyes today, and it’s a shame. No man who looks like him should be so haggard.
“Mornin’, little outsider,” Beau says as he presses the brew button. He flashes me one of his award-winning smiles and it puts me a little more at ease. At least the clown can still smile. He’d scared me last night when he’d been somber. No one who makes a living out of laughter should feel so sad. “I’ll have coffee ready here in a few minutes.”
“I feel like we’re all gonna need that,” I admit while taking a seat at the kitchen bar. Bilbo comes over and lays his head on my lap, so I give him pets to let him know I do wish him a good morning. Dogs deserve every day to be good.
“You’re not wrong,” Ram admits. “However, we do have one happy stop before we attend to the business that brought us here.” His eyes crinkle. “My mom will have my head if we don’t stop by first.”
I sit up straighter. “We’re going to your mom’s house? Does she live far?”
“She lives on the ranch, in a different house,” Beau answers. “Just a few minutes up the gravel road.”
Ram smiles. “We built her a house, too.” But then his expression tightens. “She’ll like meeting you.”
“Do I get to ask her embarrassing stories about baby Ram?” I ask to lighten the mood.
It works. His eyes soften. “You won’t have to ask. I have no doubt she’ll feed us and then subject you to the photo albums.”
“I can’t wait,” I reply.
Beau brings me over a coffee mug and sets it on the table. I stare at the oddly shaped mug in confusion. When he sees my expression, he grins. “That’s a genuine Ugly Mugz coffee mug. Georgia gives you the option to take it home or leave it there to be in rotation.” He taps the mug. “I sculpted this last time we were in town. It’s supposed to be a clown face.”
I hold it up and squint my eyes a little. “I can see that.”
Kind of. It’s hard to tell until you find the large red nose. From there, the face better comes into focus, but it’s kind of like looking at one of those paintings where everything is crooked and swirled.
Beau laughs. “I’m definitely not the artist of the group.” He tussles my hair. “Don’t worry, Indie bird. I don’t take it to heart.”
“Which one of you is the artist then?” I ask curiously. Ram jerks his finger over at Tripp and I look over at the silent man in question. Beau points at Ram instead. “What kind of art?”
Tripp looks at me. “Perhaps I’ll show you another time. We have stuff to attend to this mornin’.”
When I look at Ram, he grins. “Same. I’ll show you another time.” He takes the mug Beau hands him. “Now drink your coffee. You’re gonna need that caffeine. I can promise you that.”
I take his advice to heart and drink every last drop. Something tells me they’re not haggard for no reason. This place. . . maybe it’ll haunt me just the same by the time we leave. I can’t imagine what hides in these walls, but I trust that it’s something bad.
Tripp Savage wears the knowledge on his shoulders, like Atlas holding up the world.
They were right. Ram’s mom really does live just a few minutes away. It takes a short trip along the gravel road, further away from the main house, and this one is more like a cute little cottage I’d expect a witch to live in. Flower beds line the front and wrap around the small house, and while there are no flowers right now in the winter, I know in the spring, it’s beautiful. Anyone who has so many garden gnomes and a concrete porch goose dressed in green for Saint Patrick’s Day has to have the prettiest flowers.
Before Tripp has even put the truck in park, the front door opens and an older woman steps out, her eyes alight with happiness at the sight of us. She wipes her hands on a dish towel as she waits for us, and I take in everything about her. From her graying hair pulled up into a bun to the frilly apron she wears that’s covered with splashes of flour, she’s the spitting image of warm and inviting. As I step out of the truck with the guys, I see Ram’s eyes in her face and know that he’s his mother’s son, from the color down to the crinkles at the corners of them.
“ Mis corazones! You’ve come home!” she gushes and immediately rushes forward to wrap her arms around Ram, before grabbing hold of Beau and Tripp, dragging them in for an even tighter hug. She pats Ram’s cheek lovingly, smiling up at him brightly, before she seems to remember that someone else is behind the three of them. Her eyes focus on me, and she straightens. “How rude of me! I’m Maria, Ram’s mamá .”
“I’m Indie,” I reply, holding out my hand for a handshake.
She laughs and grabs me by my arm, dragging me in for a hug. “We hug out here, mija . Any friend of my boys is family.”
Her hug is so comforting, I sink into it before I know what I’m doing. I hadn’t realized how much I’ve missed motherly hugs, how much I needed it, until she’d pulled me in. I hug her back just as tightly and fight the mist in my eyes that the realization manifests. When she releases me, I step back and blink, trying my best not to show any sort of emotion. Ram’s watching me carefully, so I’m sure he sees it, but he doesn’t comment on it.
“ Vente. Vente ,” she says, gesturing to the door. “Come inside. Have you eaten yet? Tell me all about your travels and why you’ve come home early with no warning.” She pauses and looks at Tripp. “Did something happen?”
“We’ll explain inside, Mama Maria,” Tripp murmurs, and I can hear the respect in his voice that I haven’t heard him use with anyone else. This woman. . . she means something to more than just Ram.
Beau wraps his arms around Maria and presses a loud kiss on her cheek. “I’ve missed you, Mama Maria!”
She pats his arm and leads him inside. “ Yo tambíen, mi corazon . I’m glad you three are home.” She smiles at me. “And you bring me company! I can’t wait to hear more.”
Inside the cottage is just as cozy as the outside. A wood-fired stove sits in the corner, emanating warmth from it as we pass by, but it clearly isn’t the only source of heat in the house since it’s comfortable. The small living room has a pretty crochet blanket hung on the back of the couch, a small stone fireplace, and a tv playing a Mexican soap opera quietly. The kitchen is alight with the smell of cooking and spices, and I take a deep breath to really pull it all in. This is what a home feels like.
“You came on market day,” she says as she moves over a few boxes from the worn kitchen table. “I’ve been selling my tamales, and I can’t seem to keep up with demand,” she explains. “Everyone loves them.”
“Of course they do,” Ram says, smiling at her. “You make the best tamales in town.”
She beams at him and pats his cheek and though she’s barely five feet tall and Ram is just under six, it still feels like she’s patting the cheek of a child. “If you three aren’t busy in a few hours, you’re welcome to come with me. Podría usar la ayuda .”
“Of course we’ll help,” Beau replies, but his eyes don’t match his smile. “We just have to do somethin’ first.”
She looks between them. “ Qué Pasó? ”
Ram takes a seat at the table and sighs. “Tripp got a call while we were on the road from the realtor in town.”
“Oh?”
Tripp leans against the counter. “They said they needed my signature to finalize the sale of Fairview Acres.”
She straightens and frowns. “Impossible. The ranch isn’t for sale.”
“That’s what I told them,” Tripp nods. “But apparently, Darla was trying to sell it without anyone knowing. If my name hadn’t been on the deed, she’d have sold it right out from under all of us.”
Maria shakes her head. “ No lo entiendo. Por qué haría eso? ”
“We don’t know yet,” Ram answers. “We haven’t talked to her.”
Maria tenses, and for the first time since we came in, the light leaves her eyes. “Have you been up to the house yet?”
Tripp shakes his head. “We came to see you first.”
She squeezes his shoulder in comfort. “I’m glad you did. Let me feed you first. You can’t go up there on an empty stomach.”
And then she bustles around the kitchen, prepping food, and I watch as they interact. This woman, despite being Ram’s biological mom, is a mother to them all. This is the good memory inside the bad. I can see it. And because of her, they’re likely the men they are today.
I come over with a smile. “What can I do to help?” I ask.
She beams up at me. “Grab that skillet, mija . I’ll teach you how to make a proper tortilla. Everyone should know how to make tortillas.” She gestures to the guys. “They all can make them with their eyes closed.”
Beau nods. “We’ve done it. Nearly burnt the house down the first time though.”
I laugh. “I can’t wait to hear this story.”
Maria chuckles. “It all started with a bet and the boys had far too much time on their hands. . .”