Chapter Three
A few days passed in the usual blur of ranch life and therapy activities. Crew worked with the horses, attended equine therapy and art therapy.
Now there was no escaping talk therapy with Rhae.
Not that he was avoiding the session. He didn’t even dread walking into her office because Rhae’s precocious toddler was always ready to play toy animals or blocks on the office floor.
But the horses he worked with didn’t ask—even gently—if he’d thought of anything that might interest him after he left the program. And the fence he and Pope spent the morning repairing didn’t give a damn how he felt sitting around a bonfire.
Drawing a breath through his nose, he placed his palm on the door of Rhae’s office that was never unavailable to the vets. He swung it inward.
“Cweww!” The toddler caught sight of him and barreled right at his legs.
She slammed into his shins, arms flung wide around his legs, and something tightened in his chest. The child was such a part of his day-to-day life that when it came time to leave the program, losing her would be a wrench for him.
He stooped and swung her into his arms. She hugged his neck and squeezed.
From her desk across the room, Rhae laughed. “We’ve been working on giving the horses hugs goodbye, so now she’s hugging everyone around the neck.”
Chuckling, he walked in and drew the door closed to indicate to the next vet that Rhae was in session.
He went to his usual spot by the little girl’s toys and sat on the floor. Her bright eyes met his for a split second. Suddenly, she rushed across the room to the stack of printer paper and grabbed a stack.
“This girl has a great memory.”
Rhae breezed out a laugh and crossed the room to her seat in the leather chair. “She really does. Denver and I can already see what a handful she’ll be in her teens.”
He quirked a smile, trying to imagine the child older, wearing makeup, liking boys. He took a sheet of paper and began folding it into a paper airplane. The girl watched with so much interest he wouldn’t be surprised if she already knew the steps to fold one herself.
He twitched his arm back and let the airplane sail. As the child raced after it, bare feet thwacking the hardwood floor, he let out a laugh.
“When I first got here, your daughter was just an infant, asleep in a little bed in the corner of the office. Then I’d make the airplanes, and she’d crawl after them. Now she’s running.” He shook his head.
Rhae sat back, hands resting in her lap.
“The girl’s gone through a lot of changes. Milestones…” He drifted off in thought.
“Let’s talk about your milestones. You’ve made some leaps this week. I was pleased to see you at the bonfire the other night. I know you’ve been to a few, but you left quickly. This time you didn’t.”
He watched the child playing on the floor, the airplane in one hand and the plastic horse in the other, making them talk to each other.
When he didn’t speak, Rhae took another tack, her voice soft. “The other day, I saw you looking at the board in the lodge.”
His gut clenched.
“I’ve been in touch with all of those men, and I’m so glad that they are moving on with their lives,” she continued. “How do you feel when you see their photos?”
“Glad they are in motion,” he said gruffly.
From the corner of his eye, he saw Rhae nod even as he kept his focus on the toddler. Now, she had the small plastic horse positioned between her knees and was galloping around the room.
“Neigh!”
“I know we’ve talked about what you might enjoy doing after you leave the program, Crew. Have you thought about it more?”
“Off and on.”
“Would you care to share what those thoughts were?”
He shot her a glance. “Unless you count cleaning horse stalls, I don’t have any skills outside flying. I thought about being a commercial pilot, or flying a private jet for big-wigs with money. Hell, even flying planes full of packages to be delivered.”
Rhae nodded, her face neutral. “And what do you think about those positions?”
“That I can’t be responsible for packages—for a wedding gown never reaching a bride or live lobsters dying because they were in a box too long after the plane was grounded for bad weather. Same with commercial or private flights. Too many people to let down.”
“You don’t want to be responsible for people or packages.”
He pointed to the toddler. “Your daughter really has a passion for horses. Think she’ll take after her aunt Willow?”
Rhae studied him for a beat. “I noticed you always call her little girl, the toddler, my daughter or little one. Do you have a problem with saying her name?”
He flicked a glance at the child.
“I think it’s difficult to say her name—Navy—because of your past.”
He huffed. “That’s ridiculous. I can say it.”
She got up and grabbed a pen off her desk. Holding it up, she asked, “What color is this?”
“Royal blue.”
She lowered the navy-blue pen. “Crew, this is something we’re going to work on going forward. Okay?”
He forced a chuckle. “Good—then I’ll be staying here forever.” He was joking, of course. But he also meant it a little.
Luckily, the child—Navy—wanted him to make another airplane, and Rhae let the topic slide for now, even though he knew she’d be scribbling notes after he left. They chatted a little more and when he pushed to his feet to go, Rhae stood too.
She met his stare. “You should be proud of your progress with the fire this week.”
He grunted and tugged the brim of his cowboy hat, which had become part of him over the past year he’d been in the program, even when it never was before.
“Thanks, Rhae. I gotta go—I promised Willow I’d help with the new community garden. A person is coming to give an estimate and work out the details.”
“That’s really exciting. And a beautiful day to spend outside. See you later, Crew.”
He walked out, his steps measured and slow, his thoughts wandering over what Rhae said about him not being able to say “Navy.”
He crossed the yard toward the spot Willow had marked out for the garden, still thinking about Rhae’s words.
About things that stuck in his throat without warning.
A few raised beds didn’t seem like much to build a future around.
Still, it was something new. Maybe even a new place to find that he fit.
And for now, it was enough to keep him moving.
* * * * *
Fern wasn’t very familiar with the area outside of Willowbrook. What she knew was that beautiful wildflowers grew along the road. And that the green fields against the striking mountain filled up a part of her soul she didn’t realize was empty.
She was so grateful to be here right now, on her way to a new landscaping job.
Cathy, the postal worker, had to be one of the sweetest and most supportive people Fern ever met. The minute she learned Fern worked at the greenhouse, she stopped in to buy some plants.
Next time Fern came into the post office, Cathy asked advice on feeding her new plants, and that kicked off a friendship built on how-to advice. Whenever Fern thought about it, she got a warm, fuzzy feeling in her chest, grateful for a new friend when she needed one most.
Cathy talked a lot—to everybody. So when she started talking up Fern’s abilities, Fern began getting requests for gardening help.
Excitement tangled with worry when she thought about her job this afternoon…on the Black Heart Ranch.
She chewed her bottom lip. She hoped she didn’t run into the guy from the hardware store. After sticking her foot in her mouth, she had no idea how to navigate a conversation if they did cross paths.
Following her GPS, she turned onto the final road that would lead to the ranch. Miles of fence guided her way. The fields were vibrant green, with small patches of trees clustered together like giant bouquets.
She smiled at her own thoughts. Marla joked that Fern had been named after a plant and therefore lived and breathed plants. Now she was thinking plants too. Compared to her state of mind last year at this very same time, she’d take happy daydreams.
When her GPS announced she was approaching the turn, she let off the gas and searched for a humble driveway or lane.
There was no missing the Black Heart Ranch, though. Two massive gates spanned the paved road. Heart picking up a beat, she stopped in front of a tall pillar made of stacked stone with a button and a small black sign that said: PRESS FOR ENTRY.
The woman she’d spoken to, Willow, had told her to buzz when she reached the gate, but Fern mistakenly assumed she meant call her on the phone.
As soon as she pressed the button, a voice came over the speaker. “Hi, Fern. I’m opening the gates for you now.”
The speaker clicked off, and the gates swung open.
Her mind was so filled with the excitement of the community garden she was here to plan that she barely had time to take in the big, beautiful trees lining the driveway.
When she spotted a sprawling ranch house, several barns and outbuildings, and the small sign that read Black Heart Therapy Lodge, she could only blink in awe at what she could only see as a family empire.
She hadn’t known what to expect when Willow asked if she’d be interested in working on a community garden for the therapy program, but it was something much less grand.
Cutting the engine, Fern grabbed her tote bag and climbed out. Her boot barely hit the ground before someone called out a greeting to her.
“Hello!”
She turned to see a woman so stunning that for a moment, she fumbled to place her as an actor or model even in barn clothes and a chore coat. But her sweet smile put Fern at ease the minute she saw it.
She strode forward to meet her. “I’m Fern.”
“Willow. Welcome to the Black Heart.” The breeze stirred a few loose strands of her dark hair that broke free of her long braid.
Fern reached out and clasped Willow’s hand. For a person who spent the past year feeling like a fish out of water in this small town, she felt herself relax. Maybe also because she was in the company of another woman who had a plant name.