Chapter 13
Chapter
Thirteen
J uly 4, 2008
Small towns are dumb. The Independence Day parade was full of tractors pulling trailers with hokey farm stuff on them, like people dressed up as corn cobs. Ugh. If anyone from Wichita saw Gilead’s parade they’d laugh until they peed their pants. And the fireworks lasted all of three minutes, tops. But Max and his brothers sat nearby with their mom, and I’m pretty sure he kept looking at me. I ACCIDENTALLY bumped into him when we were folding up our lawn chairs and he smiled at me and said hi. Oh my gosh (I’m not supposed to use that word) he has the cutest dimples. [three heart emojis]
Eryn grunted and slapped the diary closed. What did it matter that Amelia had noticed Maxwell’s dimples? A girl would have to be blind not to.
Amelia wasn’t here anymore. She was dead.
Eryn wasn’t.
And why did that make her feel so guilty? It wasn’t like she’d driven the oncoming car or been anywhere in the vicinity. She’d never wished ill on her sister.
Gileadeans dabbed their eyes and spoke in hushed tones about a promising life cut short. But Eryn had felt relief — finally her sister would stop picking at her — and then guilt at the relief. Because death was final. Unless you were Jesus and could pop up again three days later — surprise! — and Amelia definitely wasn’t God.
Neither was Eryn. She was not goodness and light and forgiveness and gentle harp music like the essence of some angelic being. She was bitter and angry and dark. Heavy metal music was a better representation.
She tucked the journal in the stack beneath her underwear in the rickety dresser drawer, fell back on the bed, and stared at the angled plank ceiling.
How could she still be so angry with her twin two years later? What caused that?
Eryn stifled a snort. Everything had caused it. Nothing she’d ever done had been as good as when Amelia did it. Eryn had had a slower start, in and out of hospitals a lot in the first couple of years, giving her sister a head start.
Amelia got better grades without even trying… but turned down her scholarship. Yeah, she said she hated small towns, but she’d hated hard work even more, and college would have required effort.
Amelia had snapped up every job she’d ever applied for but seemed bored after a while and drifted on to something else.
Eryn had started busing tables in high school and had worked her way up at the same diner until this move had forced her hand. Had her stick-to-it-iveness done her any good? Not likely.
Maxwell was giving her an opportunity to shift gears, not just locations. She didn’t have any of the skills required for running a gift shop. She should just tell him no, that she was happy in the kitchen.
But she wasn’t happy there… not that she knew for sure, since she wouldn’t even start until tomorrow. However, the person who’d been in charge of the gift shop hadn’t had the skills, either, by the looks of things. Eryn couldn’t do worse.
Or… maybe she could. Maybe she’d put herself forward and then fall flat on her face with the entire staff of Sweet River Ranch watching.
With Maxwell watching.
Grr. Why did she care what he thought? He’d been on Amelia’s radar, which should make him dead to Eryn, not by sister-code, but by default. She’d had so little that was hers alone, and here she was, a thousand miles and two years from her last interaction with her sister, and the only man who’d caught her attention had also caught Amelia’s.
If her twin were here now, Maxwell would be flashing those dimples at Amelia, not Eryn. His opening line at the reunion had been sympathy for Amelia’s passing, not, “Hey, how have you been, Eryn?”
Even here at the ranch, she wasn’t free from Amelia. It was partly her own fault, though, since she kept reading her sister’s old journals. She should start a bonfire and toss them in. Was there any point in rubbing salt in old wounds?
The sting reminded her that she was second best. Even Dad kept saying things like, “Amelia would have loved it here.”
No, she wouldn’t. She hated farms. Hated smelly animals. Hated hicks.
But she’d had a crush on Maxwell Sullivan, so maybe she would have approved of the move.
“Eryn?” Dad called from the main floor. “I’m headed for bed now. I’ll be up early to feed cattle with Joseph. Will you be okay?”
I’m 28 years old, Dad. It’s not my first day of kindergarten. Of course, I’ll be okay.
She forced a lilt into her voice. “Have fun! I’m working from nine to one. Maybe I’ll see you in the dining hall at lunch.”
“I think you’ll like working for Nadine. She seems nice.”
Eryn rolled her eyes, thankful Dad couldn’t see. “Yes, she does. See you tomorrow, Dad.”
“Good night.” His bedroom door closed.
She should turn out her light and try to sleep, too, but her brain was bouncing all over the place. Her gaze brushed over her Bible on the nightstand. She hadn’t been reading regularly since before the reunion.
Eryn winced. Since way before the reunion.
God felt so distant.
What was the saying? That God hadn’t moved. She had. If she turned around, He’d be right there, close by, like He’d always been. But… had He ever truly been there?
She could scarcely have grown up in Gilead and attended the Bible college’s passion play every year since childhood without recognizing and accepting Jesus’ sacrifice on her behalf.
Eryn believed it. She did. But God still felt distant.
She picked up her Bible and paged through it. Where had she even been reading when she’d trailed off last time? Ugh. It had been that long.
Psalms were good. Hadn’t David been harassed and chased and belittled before he became king? There was a lot of lamenting in those poems, if Eryn remembered correctly. She flipped through that section, her eye catching on Psalm 139.
You have searched me, Lord, and you know me. You know when I sit and when I rise; you perceive my thoughts from afar. You discern my going out and my lying down; you are familiar with all my ways. Before a word is on my tongue you, Lord, know it completely.
The psalm went on, but Eryn’s attention had been snagged by the opening lines. If God truly perceived her thoughts, then He knew how she struggled with the memories of a lifetime of being Amelia’s twin. He was familiar with all her ways.
And, by implication, loved her anyway.
Oh, Dad loved her for who she was. Mom had, too, though it had seemed like Amelia was her favorite. But Amelia had always resented Eryn in her life. Resented sharing everything, especially birthdays.
You have searched me, Lord, and you know me.
This didn’t feel as comforting as it should. Because knowing Eryn was the first step to understanding how unworthy she was. Best to keep Maxwell in the dark about that for as long as possible.
Around him, Maxwell’s crew jumped into the current project, rejuvenated by their two-week break. Jordan and Tory painted one of the loft bedrooms, Jordan cutting in along the ceiling with a steady hand, and his helper following with a roller.
In the kitchen, Steve installed backsplash tile while Janessa inspected the evenness of the grout lines. Steve glowered at her and said she was making him nervous.
Maxwell checked his watch. Why wasn’t it noon yet? Not that he was all that hungry, but that was when he’d see Eryn again. How was her morning going with Aunt Nadine? It would be fine.
Finally, he called time, and Tory immediately hollered down the stairs with, “We need ten more minutes. Meet you there.”
Steve flexed his shoulder muscles in the kitchen. “Nearly done. Just need to clean the tools. Unless Janessa wants to do it.”
“As if.”
Maxwell should wait for his crew… but why? He jingled his truck fob in his pocket. “I’ve got something to check on. See you there.” The something was Eryn, but he didn’t need to tell them that.
A few minutes later he strode into the dining hall to find Tate and Graham at a table with an open laptop between them. “Hey, guys.”
Tate glanced up, a smile creasing his face. “Hey. How’s things on Ladybug Lane?”
Maxwell chuckled, forcing himself to focus on his brother rather than glancing beyond the counter into the kitchen. “You’ll never believe the ladybug tiles Janessa found. We’re using them as accents in a couple of the bathrooms.”
“Too funny.”
Graham frowned. “I saw the invoice for those.”
Maxwell managed not to roll his eyes. This was a perfect example of why he preferred flipping houses on his own, not answerable to Sullivan Enterprises. “They were a minor expense that will bring plenty of smiles.”
“Right.”
They did need Graham — or someone like him — as CFO. Expenses could get way out of hand rehabbing this ranch, not that Grandfather’s pockets weren’t plenty deep enough to handle it all.
Maxwell glanced toward the kitchen. “Lunch smells good.”
“You’re here early.” Tate’s eyebrows tilted up. “The bell won’t ring for another five minutes.”
“I was in the vicinity.” At least, after he’d driven down from Ladybug, he had been. He scanned the whiteboard. “Split pea soup and biscuits. Mmm, sounds good.”
“You don’t have to pretend, you know.” Tate’s voice was laced with humor.
“Pretend what?”
“That I don’t know why you’re here early, the guy who nearly always charges in just before the line closes.”
“What am I missing?” Graham’s gaze shifted back and forth between them.
Tate leaned toward Graham, his eyes still on Maxwell standing beside the table. “You’ve been busy, what with the honeymoon and all.”
Graham’s neck and face flamed red in half a second flat.
“But while you were gone, Maxwell hired us a new farm manager and kitchen help for Aunt Nadine. I know you saw the payroll paperwork.”
“Yes?”
“My little brother is smitten.”
Thankfully, Tate’s voice had lowered into a conspiratorial tone, because the women in the kitchen weren’t that far away.
Eryn looked adorable even with her blond hair wrapped in a braid around her head and a plaid apron over her jeans and green staff T-shirt. She didn’t seem to have overheard Tate… or even noticed Maxwell’s entry, for that matter.
He squelched the slight feeling of disappointment.
“Smitten?” Graham looked between Maxwell and Eryn. “Oh!”
“Yeah, he’s following in our footsteps, yours and mine,” Tate continued, still smirking. “Hiring our girls here to keep them nearby while they’re being wooed.”
“That’s not how it was with Cadence!” Graham protested.
Tate tilted an eyebrow up and studied their cousin.
“Okay, a little bit. But I didn’t think I stood a chance.”
It had been entertaining to watch shy, geeky Graham fall in love over the summer, just as fun as it had been to observe Tate and Stephanie’s romantic drama play out earlier in the spring.
Great. Everyone had a front-row seat to Maxwell’s pursuit of Eryn. He might as well hand out bags of popcorn now.
It didn’t really bother him so much. He was used to his family and how they had each other’s back by being in each other’s faces. Even Bryce did, for all his disparaging talk. If Bryce really didn’t want to toe the family line, he could put his business degree to use elsewhere. Yeah, he’d barely squeaked through college — he’d been too busy partying to take studying seriously — but he’d graduated. He kept working for Grandfather because it was easier than hustling out in the real world. He made more money for less work.
Maxwell hadn’t bothered with post-secondary schooling, though he’d started taking online courses before moving to Montana. Seemed a guy who ran his own business should have a bit more education than the school of hard knocks.
“See how she keeps looking over here?” Tate stage whispered. “She wasn’t doing that before my kid brother came in, but now she can’t stop.”
Maxwell’s gaze slipped to see Eryn focusing on plating a batch of biscuits. She didn’t seem aware of him at all.
Graham snickered. “You mean, like he keeps looking at her?”
Busted. Was there any point in denying it?
Maxwell pulled out a chair, turned it, and straddled it where he could still see into the kitchen. “I’ve got news for you two.”
“Oh?” Tate drawled, leaning back. “You’re a faster mover than I gave you credit for.”
“Not that, dingbat.” Maxwell shoved his brother’s shoulder. “She’s really shy. Could you two not make a production out of this and scare her off before I even have a chance?”
“Shy, hmm?” Tate’s eyes danced.
“She seems insecure,” Graham affirmed. “I know what that’s like.”
At least one of these doofuses took Maxwell seriously. Cadence had been really good for Graham, though she’d been plenty insecure herself when she’d bolted to the ranch last year after being jilted days before her wedding. Graham had done the bravest, most impulsive thing he’d ever done by helping her run away and giving her a safe place to land.
There were more similarities than Maxwell had realized.
Tate leaned in. “I think you should just declare yourself to her.”
Hadn’t he already done that? And she was interested, but he needed to go easy. She was timid, skittish like a yearling filly.
Hmm. Now there was a thought. Nutmeg’s yearling filly, Echo, didn’t trust easily. Would Eryn be drawn to the young horse? How about vice versa?
It was worth talking to Weston about.