Chapter 27 #2
“I thought you’d call when you got up.” The door creaks when he enters the room. “I didn’t realize you were awake—Whoa.” He approaches the wall.
“Don’t touch anything.” I grab the back of his long-sleeve T-shirt and pull.
Turning to me, he smirks. “You have no idea how much I want to move just one piece of paper.”
I jab him in the gut with my elbow. “Don’t you dare. But if you make yourself useful, you can stay.”
“I won’t dare,” he says on a grunt. He chuckles as he walks behind me, places his hands on my shoulders, and works his thumbs into my knotted muscles.
“I think I’ll keep you,” I say while his hands work magic.
“Did Office Depot throw up in here?” He squeezes both shoulders and gives them a gentle shake.
I giggle. “Just for that, you’re not getting any cookies.”
He leans over my shoulder and nods to the more-than-half-empty package of Oreos on the desk. “Looks like I came just in time to eat one.”
Oh my word. Did I eat that many cookies? I write on the notepad in my hands, “Go work out,” and smack the message against my chest. Harlan’s chuckles rumble in my ear.
“Okay.” He squints at the scene in front of him. “Are you redecorating, or what?”
A rainbow of blue Post-it notes frames the window. Words about buildings, design, finances, staff, and networking cover the little pieces. Very little of the peaceful gray paint of the bedroom walls peeks through my project.
He steps around me, grabs a cookie, and shoves the whole thing in his mouth.
I gape and put a hand on my hip. “Have you no respect? That cookie is a work of art that should be savored in bites.”
“I’m more of a dive-in-and-experience-the-whole-thing-at-once kind of guy.” He swallows. “What is all this? It looks like you’re planning to build a city.”
“A small city,” I whisper as I return my attention to the rudimentary ideas. To the untrained eye, the papers probably look like the future contents of a trash can. To me, this could be my purpose.
“I blame this on you. And Sally.” Skimming my hand over the pieces, I speak to the wall. “Sally and her kids showed me I might be able to do this kind of thing. Then you told me to dream big.” I turn to face him and gather courage through a deep breath.
His eyes grow big, then shift to an intense gaze.
“I want to open a home for troubled young women who have nowhere to go.” My opening statement is loud and rushed, and my face flushes.
Harlan’s expression is unreadable.
“I couldn’t find any other colors of Post-it notes, but let me explain the method to my madness.
” I swallow, step to one group of the notes, and plaster my hand flat against a clean spot.
“Maybe they’re pregnant. Maybe they’ve been kicked out of their homes.
Maybe they’re too old for foster care but need help getting their feet on the ground.
They’ve given up on their education. Their lives.
Maybe they have no one. I want to love on them, believe in them, build into them, help them find their gifts. ”
Taking a step around the desk, I point to my scribbles above the window.
A new grouping of notes. “Place teachers and counselors on staff to guide them. Tie the house into community programs that can be safe places for them to find belonging and grace. Maybe they learn to help out on the ranch. Or maybe we create a work program with local businesses.”
I glance back at Harlan, his eyes locked on my written work.
Shifting to the far side of the window, I knock on the wall with my knuckles. “Over here are my fundraising and networking ideas. My contacts in Colorado Springs are few, but Sally and Spencer will have some ideas. Maybe I could also brainstorm with Prissy about her connections.”
He takes a wide stance and crosses his arms over his chest. Two creases appear on his brow as he concentrates on the information.
I run my pointer finger down the edge of a separate grouping of notes. “This is a projected timeline with what I think needs to be put into place, but what do I know? I’m super limited in my knowledge on this kind of thing. And last, these are basic funding thoughts. Again, I’m taking guesses.”
Pursing my lips, I turn from the safety of the wall and face him.
“Prissy will for sure have connections.” His gaze shifts to the window, Twelve Bluebells Ranch off in the darkened distance. “You’re thinking of the Carson property.”
“Yes. But I guess I could do this anywhere.” Even as the words leave my mouth, that sentiment doesn’t sit well in my gut. I didn’t realize until this moment that I’m attached to the Carson property.
“So Prissy’s your first call.” He nods, still not making eye contact. “I’ve got a finance guy who’s been with the family for decades. He’s trustworthy. If he’s in over his head, he’ll know where to direct you.”
I reach up and pat a blue note that says HANK. “I’m going to need to steal your ranch hand. There’s no way I can run that place on my own.”
“You can’t have Hank.” His eyes slide to mine. “He’ll scare the girls away with his inappropriate hearing. Also, I’m not sure you’ve thought of this, but with pregnant women around, it’ll be hard to enforce the no-vomit rule.”
A nervous giggle escapes. I draw the pencil to my mouth and chew on the end again.
Harlan squares his shoulders to me but says nothing. Then in one beautiful moment, his eyes soften into a look filled with awe. “This is incredible, Meredith.”
“Yeah?” I ask, vulnerable. Exposed. But also relieved. It’s out there, and he gets it.
“You did it. You dreamed big, and it’s incredible.”
My smile is so huge, the muscles in my cheeks protest.
Without breaking his gaze, he reaches for my hands and removes the pad and pencil from my grip.
“Don’t mess up my creation.” I hitch my thumb in the direction of the wall.
“I will try not to mess up your creation.” Looking down, he writes something on the top page, pulls it off, and posts it smack in the center of the window. “I just need to know where this one fits.”
His stark, lone Post-it note sits in the middle of my blueprints with a simple message written in all capital letters.
HARLAN?