6. Chord
six
Chord
Dylan returns to the kitchen after breakfast, so Daisy and Izzy take me on a tour of the ranch. I don’t need it, but it’s Izzy’s idea, and I can’t stand to disappoint her. Plus, an hour or so walking around the property means another hour I can delay dealing with Charlie, and that sounds like a good idea to me.
Izzy skips on ahead, leading us away from the restaurant and down an unsealed road toward the stables. I breathe in clean air laced with the scent of dirt and lavender courtesy of the herb gardens planted around the restaurant. I turn my face toward the sky and silently appreciate the endless blue.
Hockey’s never far from my mind, but out here, it feels far away.
Daisy waits until Izzy’s out of earshot before she nudges me with her shoulder.
“So, what are you really doing here?”
“Me?” I shrug and kick at the little stones studding the dirt path. “My niece invited me.”
Daisy snorts, and when I respond with a flat look, she rolls her eyes and bumps me again. “Fine. Talk to me. Don’t talk to me. I don’t care.”
“Izzy invited me,” I repeat, “and in case you haven’t heard, I signed with the Fury two days ago, which means—”
I’m three steps ahead when I notice Daisy isn’t beside me anymore. I turn, and she’s staring at me, brows drawn like she’s working out a riddle.
“You’re moving home?”
“I’m moving to San Francisco, yeah.”
Her face lights up, and she leaps at me. “You’re moving home!”
I catch her and hug her hard enough to crack a rib. Her joy takes me off guard, and though it warms me a little, the high fades when I remember Daisy doesn’t live here. She’s never been interested in where I’ve made my home before, and I don’t know why she cares now.
After I set her down, I give her a suspicious look that has her grinning like an imp.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
“Nothing.”
Daisy starts strolling again, glancing up the way to check that Izzy’s still in sight. Our niece is passing the chicken coops, twirling and kicking up puffs of dust before skipping through them like it’s some kind of magic and not airborne dirt that Dylan will have to wash out of her clothes tonight.
I’m growing impatient as I adjust my pace to match Daisy’s much shorter stride. “I call bullshit. What’s going on?”
“ Well . You’re here. I’m here—”
“And why are you here, exactly?”
“That’s for me to know and you to find out, Mr. Grumpy Pants.” I roll my eyes, and she sticks out her tongue. “Charlie and Dylan live here, and as for our troubled middle child—”
“Finn? Do you know where he is?”
I shove my hands in my pockets at the thought of our brother serving overseas. I don’t like to think about it, and I’m good at avoiding thoughts that don’t feel good, but I’m the oldest. I should keep closer tabs on my brothers and sisters, but it’s like Daisy said. Charlie and Dylan never leave the ranch. Daisy packed her suitcase the day after Dad’s funeral, got on a plane, and we’ve barely seen her since. And then there’s Finn. He enlisted straight out of high school and is a Navy SEAL now, so…
I do the math in my head. He’s been gone for thirteen years. Fuck. Somewhere in there, I missed his thirtieth birthday.
“I do.” Daisy looks like a cat who caught a mouse. “He’s in Mom and Dad’s bungalow.”
It’s my turn to stop dead still. The bungalow is a little house our parents built right on the river, and though they said it was reserved for private rentals like honeymooners, bachelor parties, and celebrities, I don’t ever remember them renting it out. Instead, one or both of them would disappear out there for a day or two at a time. Dad would take his fishing rod. Mom would take a book. They’d both come back a little happier and more relaxed. It made more sense to me now than it did then. Living on a property that welcomed a constant stream of strangers must have been exhausting, not to mention raising five kids. But they loved each other. Fiercely and always. I suspect they never had any intention of using that bungalow for any other reason than as their own escape when they needed a break.
“Finn’s here?” I take hold of Daisy’s arm and turn her to face me. “Why? For how long?” Panic grabs me by the throat. “Is he all right? He’s not injured, is he?”
“No, he’s not injured, and I don’t know for how long, but… He’s been discharged, Chord. He’s not a SEAL anymore.”
A sound of surprise and relief escapes in a rush of air. Our family isn’t what anyone would call close, but the fact I didn’t know this information about my brother still stings.
“I had no idea.”
Daisy gives me a sad smile, and I wonder what she heard in my voice. “Don’t feel bad. He didn’t tell anyone until he got here, and that was only three days ago, but he’s been discharged for three months.”
“Three months ? Where has he been all this time?”
Daisy shrugs. “You know Finn. He’s not exactly an open book, but the best I can make out, he traveled around for a while and caught up with old friends. Picked up a stray dog. Now he’s home, and we’re all together again.” Daisy skips forward a couple of paces so she can walk backward and beam at me. “How great is that?”
“Yeah. It’s great.” Daisy’s optimism is contagious, and for a moment, I can almost believe that this will be the summer our family gets its shit together.
The moment doesn’t last long.
“Meanwhile.” She waves a hand up and down at my body, her nose scrunching in disapproval. “Are you trying to impress a girl or something? What the hell are you wearing?”
I look down at my black t-shirt and dark blue jeans. Both designer. Both fucking expensive. “What’s wrong with this?”
She rolls her eyes. Little sisters were made to annoy big brothers, I know that, but she does it so well and with so little effort that it’s extra irritating.
“We’ve been out here for fifteen minutes, and your shoes are already filthy. I give your shirt another five before it’s covered in dust as well.”
I glance at my feet and frown at the dirt caking the white leather. “I walked from my house, so it’s been longer than fifteen minutes.”
She snorts and spins so we’re walking side by side again. I note her scuffed-up work boots, worn jeans, loose tee, and wide-brimmed hat and suddenly feel overdressed.
“Step onto this ranch in white sneakers and twenty-five-hundred-dollar jeans again, big brother, and we’re going to have words. Wear that fancy watch one more time and you might never see it again. You’re a country boy, Davenport, not some rich dick from the city.” Just when I’m starting to feel stupid for not changing after the drive, she glances up at me. “And put on a hat. You don’t want that pretty face of yours to burn.”
I flick the brim of her hat, sending it flying to the ground. “Did anyone ever tell you how annoying you are?”
After a decent pinch to my ribs that makes me grunt, she picks it up with a shake of her head. “You’re such a baby.”
Up ahead, Izzy stops in front of the abandoned stables.
“Aunt Daisy says there used to be horses in here,” she tells me as I tug on the closed door. “Is that true, Uncle Chord? Did you ever ride the horses?”
A quick look inside confirms that aside from some old bales of hay and a punch of stale air, the stable is empty. Daisy pokes her head in with a wistful sigh, then takes Izzy’s hand as we keep on walking.
“We used to have horses,” I confirm. “But I didn’t ride them much.”
“You were too busy playing hockey,” Izzy declares like it’s a well-known fact.
“Uh, yeah.” I rub the back of my neck. “I guess I was.”
“There used to be twelve horses here,” Daisy says.
“Twelve?” Izzy’s eyes grow round. “That’s a whole dozen!”
“That’s right. And when your grandmother was still alive, she used to take people out on guided trail rides. She taught me how to ride a horse, and one day I’ll teach you, too.”
Izzy drops Daisy’s hand and spins in a delighted pirouette. Her little red cowboy hat falls off, catching around her neck by a cord, and I set it right again as she babbles with excitement.
“Are we getting horses, Aunt Daisy? Are they coming this week? I’m going to call mine Mabel.”
“Mabel?” Daisy shares an amused look with me. “Why Mabel?”
Izzy throws up her hands like that’s the silliest question she ever heard. “I don’t know. I just like that name.”
“Well, when we have horses again, you can name one Mabel. Until then…” Daisy scoops up Izzy and sets her on her hip. “Uncle Chord, crouch down a second, will you?”
I’m not sure what Daisy is planning until I squat low to the ground, and she deposits Isobel on my back. I look up at her with flat eyes.
Daisy responds with a shit-eating grin. “Giddy up, horsey.”
I stretch up to full height and grunt as Izzy kicks her hard little heels into my sides. I take off at an easy walk, then increase my pace as she whoops her hat over her head, yanking on the collar of my very expensive shirt, giggling and shouting, “Yeehaw!”
Behind us, Daisy cackles because, apparently, this is hilarious.
I don’t care what anyone says. I’m buying this kid a fucking horse.