Chapter six
“Ya!” I yell as I flick the reins on my stallion, working with Mitch and the boys to round up some cattle that had wandered off the
property. When I look up to see what the other three are doing, I see Mitch sitting on his horse, zoned into the job, a flat look on his
face. Something has seemed off for a few days, to be honest. In the month that he’s been here at the ranch, Mitch has made life, well,
interesting. He’s always joking around and smiling, chatting my ear off while we are trying to get work done, which I suppose I don’t
mind at all.
But he’s withdrawn all of a sudden, and it’s got me worried. Problem is, I’m unsure of how to broach the subject, and I try to wrack my
brain for a way to slip it in once we get all the cows back to where they should be.
“Hey Noah, Zack?” I call out once we get all the cattle back in the pen.
“Yeah?” Noah calls out.
“Can you check on the pigs? I don’t know if they’ve been slopped yet, and Eugenia is about ready to pop,” I reply.
“Sure thing,” Noah says.
“Should I check on Molly then?” Zack asks, referring to one of our mama cows that’s also about ready to have her babies too.
“Uh, yeah, that’d probably be good,” I reply with a nod as I hop off Whistler, and start leading him back to the horse barn, Mitch
quietly following along. I wait for a moment to check if I’m wrong, waiting for him to start yammering away. But there’s nothing but
awkward silence.
“So, everything alright?” I ask finally as we both walk our horses in and get them settled in their pens.
“What do you mean?” Mitch asks, barely showing any emotion and sounding tired. In fact, now that I’m closer to him, I can see the
bags under his eyes, purplish in color.
“You’ve been out of it lately,” I press, and Mitch stands there for a moment, his eyes flickering toward the hay-covered floor.
“It’s nothing really. . . just been dealing with some things, is all,” Mitch says with a shrug. “Nothing to worry about.”
“Doesn’t seem like nothing,” I insist, and Mitch’s eyes look into mine for a moment before looking away again.
“It’s not your problem, Eli,” he replies. “I’ll figure it out, it’s just hard right now.”
“Are you in some sort of trouble?” I ask, and Mitch heaves a heavy sigh, appearing to be embarrassed as his cheeks redden a little.
“I lost the house,” Mitch replies.
“What?” “Well, I told you I was behind on some things, but. . . it’s worse than I let on,” Mitch says as he shoves his hands in his pockets
and leans against a pole. “I tried my best to dig myself out of it, I tried explaining my wife had died, I did everything I could. . . but the
bank doesn’t care about all that.”
“I feel awful, Mitch. Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask.
“Because we’d only just met, I didn’t want to leave a bad impression,” Mitch says with a shrug.
“Wait. . . if you lost your house, where are you staying?” I decide to prod. Mitch seems wildly uncomfortable with me asking, but
unfortunately, I have a feeling I already know the answer.
“In my car,” he replies quietly, confirming my assumptions. “Not much else I can do unless I want to move back home. . . and I can’t do
that. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to go back home. . .”
He clears his throat, and I can tell he’s getting really upset, trying to ground himself. I feel terrible, and there’s no way I can let this man
who is trying so hard to rebuild his life live out there in his car.
And then it dawns on me.
“You know, I have extra room in the house,” I say, and Mitch looks at me like I’ve got two heads.
“Really? You’d do that for me?” Mitch asks.
“Sure, why not?” I ask. “It’s really no trouble.”
“Well, you hardly know me,” Mitch says, but I just shrug my shoulders.
“I know you well enough, and I can’t be having my ranch hand sleeping out there on the streets,” I reply. “Wouldn’t be right, and it
wouldn’t feel right either.”
“Well golly, thank you, Eli,” Mitch says as he pulls his hands out of his pockets and walks toward me. I’m expecting a handshake, but
I’m caught off guard when he gives me a hug, patting my back hard before he lets go of me. “Thanks, man,” Mitch says, a grin on his
face where that frown has been.
“Of course,” I say, happy to see Mitch smiling again. “We can take the day tomorrow to get you settled in.”
***********************************************************************
I wake up at the crack of dawn, yawning before kissing Mel’s picture and walking out into the living room. I am surprised to find the
couch empty, besides the blankets Mitch had used for the night, folded neatly on the back. I expected he’d still be asleep.
Must be that he went to get his stuff,I thought to myself as I heard the front door creak open and slam shut, then the sound of Mitch
cussing under his breath.
“You alright out there?” I call out, walking into the kitchen.
“Yeah, sorry about that, hands are full,” Mitch says as he hiked a box up in his hands. “Did I wake you?”
“No, it’s time for me to get myself around,” I reply.
“I have a bunch of stuff at the storage place, but I ran out and grabbed some of my essentials, some stuff to remind me of home too.
Hope that’s okay.” “Of course it’s okay,” I reply. “I got Jeff’s old room ready for you; follow me.”
We walk down the hallway, and I drop the key to Jeff’s room on the floor. As I go to pick it up, I hear the knob of the door nearest to
me begin to turn, and immediately, I shoot up straight.
“In here?” Mitch asks.
“No!” I snap and Mitch peeks around his box at me. “Sorry. . . I mean no. . . no, it’s farther down here,” I say, trying to stay calm.
He didn’t open her door.
It’s okay, it was only an accident. . .
No one’s been in her sewing room but me since she died. Not even the boys. The idea of anyone touching or moving anything
overwhelms me. So much so that I nearly had a padlock put on it.
I’ve left it the way it’s been since the day we lost her, and when you look in there, it’s as if she’s never left. Because somehow, in my
mind, if I do that, when I’m at my lowest, I can almost trick myself into feeling like she’s still coming home.
“Whose room is that?” Mitch asks as we walk into Jeff’s old room, and he sets his box down on the bed.
“This was my son Jeff’s room,” I say.
“No, I mean the room I almost went into,” Mitch says. “You got so upset, and I want to make sure I didn’t do something wrong.”
I pause for a moment as I hand him the key to his room, unsure if I really want to talk about it.
“You didn’t,” I reply, forcing a smile. “You just can’t go in that room, okay?”
“Okay,” Mitch agrees with a little nod, a confused look on his face. But I’m content to let him be confused. At least for now. “So, this
was Jeff’s room? Your oldest boy?”
“And Robert’s—well, until they got older,” I say with a sigh, feeling thankful that he didn’t push me for more information. It’s too
painful to talk about, and I’m certainly not in the mood to relive it all.
“Wait, you’ve got four kids?” Mitch asks, sounding a bit surprised.
“Yep! All boys,” I say with a chuckle. “How about you? Got any kids of your own?”
“Two, actually, a boy and a girl,” Mitch replies, and at first he smiles. But then the smile quickly fades into a frown, and his brows furrow
in what I can only imagine is pain. “We uh, haven’t talked much since their mama died.”
“Oh,” I say, “sorry to hear that.”
“No worries, they’ll come around eventually, I’m sure,” Mitch replies, but something about it seems off to me. I know that mourning
and loss can really mess people up, but for a family to break up like that after such a devastating loss, it’s not only heartbreaking, but
odd. But in the same spirit that Mitch hadn’t been nosy about Mel, I decide to let it go. If he ever wants to tell me, he will. Until then,
it’s his business.
The boys wake up, and before I can say a word about Mitch, Zack slips out the door. So, Noah and I leave Mitch to get his stuff all
unpacked and sorted. I see him walk back and forth from his truck a few times while we’re running around on the farm, and I feel bad,
trying to rush around so I have time to help him. But Eugenia finally gave birth to her piglets, and I’m caught up making sure they’re
okay until lunch.
“You sure you don’t want any help?” I call out again as I walk back toward the house to grab something.
“Nope! Thanks, but I got it,” he says, so we just go back to chorin’, only taking a break to eat lunch, which Mitch opted out of. Zack still
hadn’t returned from his blatant ditching, but he was still young and unlike Noah, had just started getting interested in girls. So, I
figured I’d leave it alone.
Dinner time rolls around, and I come inside just as Zack pulls into the driveway.
“Mitch is still here?” Zack asks.
“That’s the first thing you ask after abandoning your chores all day, Casanova?” Noah shoots back, sounding annoyed. “You would
know what’s going on if you’d have been here.”
“Wait, what?” Zack replies.
“Mitch is going to be staying here with us,” I reply as we walk inside, and I go to the fridge to start pulling stuff out to get dinner
going.
“Seriously?” Zack asks, but his tone isn’t one of excitement but of concern. I stop in my tracks and turn around to face the boys, a bit
surprised by Zack’s poor reaction to the news.
“Yeah,” I reply. “You make it sound like it’s a bad thing.”
“Dad, we don’t know this guy from Adam,” Zack replies. “What if he’s some looney tune?”
“He’s got a point,” Noah chimes in. “I mean he’s only been here what, a month? Barely?”
“I understand what you boys are saying, but we need to keep in mind what the Lord would want us to do,” I say. “God would want us
to help someone in need, and Mitch is in need. He lost his wife and his home.”
“Oh. . .” Zack replies, the worried look on his face slipping into a sad one. “I didn’t know.”
“Well, he’s a man, Zack,” I reply. “It’s not like he’s going to advertise it. Shoot, I didn’t even know how bad it was ‘til yesterday when I
offered for him to stay here.”
“So, does that mean Becky can come move in too?” Noah jokes, his attention at trying to lighten the mood.
“Haha, very funny,” I say as I roll my eyes. “That’s a little bit of a different situation.”
“I don’t know Dad, her parents are kind of a pain,” Noah insists, and my only response is an annoyed groan.
“I was wondering why he was on the couch this morning,” Zack says, still looking like he feels awful. Out of all the kids, Zack had
always seemed to take it the hardest when his mama died. He’d been a big time Mama’s boy, and when she was taken from us, for a
long time he wasn’t right.
Lately, he’s finally coming into his own, which has been lovely. But as he sits there with that dejected look on his face, I wonder if
Mitch’s story has stirred up the past in his mind.
“Well, now you know,” I say. “He’s in Jeff’s old room, and I’d appreciate it if all of us could be understanding of Mitch’s situation and
welcoming, just like people were with us.”
“Yes sir,” Noah and Zack reply, Zack’s face lightening up a bit just in time for Mitch to come out.
“Need a hand with dinner?” Mitch asks.
“Sure,” I say as I hand him a cutting board, a knife, and veggies to chop. “Going to make some fajitas.”
“Ooh! My favorite!” Mitch says cheerfully as he sits down and begins to slice things up. The four of us chat amongst ourselves,
shooting the breeze and getting to know one another better.
Dinner is delicious as usual—thanks to me—and after dinner the boys take off to their rooms after we clean up, leaving Mitch and I
alone to hang out in the living room. I take a seat in my worn-out armchair and turn on the TV as Mitch sort of wanders around the
room, seeming to be scoping the place out.
He stops short of the mantle as he inspects the picture there, picking up the picture frame in his hands. I know what’s coming, and my
heart drops into my stomach as he opens his mouth to speak.
“Ooh wee! Who’s the vixen here with you and your boys?” Mitch asks, and I find myself struggling to keep myself together enough to
answer.
“That’s my wife, Melanie,” I say.
“Oh! Well, where is she?” Mitch asks, appearing to be confused.
“She. . . she’s no longer with us,” I reply, my voice cracking a little bit.
“Oh no. . . I’m so sorry, Eli, I didn’t know,” Mitch says. “I would have never said that.”
“It’s okay,” I say after clearing my throat. “It’s not like you’re wrong, she was ethereal, like an angel, you know?”
“Definitely,” Mitch agrees as he puts the picture back down. “She was gorgeous.”
“She sure was,” I say with a half-smile.
“I hope this ain’t too forward, but what happened?” Mitch asked, and my blood chills. I knew eventually this conversation would
happen. I have plenty of pictures of Melanie everywhere, family pictures too. So, I might as well finally tell him what happened.
“She got killed in a car accident,” I reply. “It was a really rainy, autumn night. So, it was already a bit slippery out there from the leaves
and the wetness on the roads. She was going to turn onto the road that comes up this way from town, and some jackass in a sports car was drunk. Slammed on his breaks, but not in time. . . so he smashed right into her as she was turning.”
“Jesus,” Mitch replies quietly. “I’m so sorry. How long has she been gone?”
“A decade now, about when I hired you, actually,” I reply. “It was hard. Still is.”
“I can imagine,” Mitch replies. “That’s not something you can easily get over.”
“No, it ain’t,” I agree. “I wish I could say it gets easier and give you a bit of comfort. . . but I’ve just learned to live with it because that’s
what she would have wanted. For me to keep going.”
“I guess that is all you can do,” Mitch agrees with his head hung low as he sits down on the couch next to me, and I flip the channels
on the TV. “Golly, ten years is a long time.”
“Sure is,” I say as the TV flickers with each press of the button. “I’m sorry for how I acted earlier by the way. That was her sewing room.”
“No need to apologize,” Mitch insists.
“She liked to make quilts and such and sell them at the farmer’s market. She was just starting to really get going online but then
Emmett Gaines took that all away.”
“Did they do anything to him?” Mitch asked.
“No,” I reply, my jaw clenching as a streak of anger rises up, and I take a deep breath before I go on to quell it best I can. “He was the
sheriff’s son. I’m sure you can guess how that played out.”
“Ugh, disgusting,” Mitch replies, and a deafening silence fills the room for a while as I settle on an old John Wayne movie. We watch it
for a while, and I try my best not to think about the feelings the conversation has drummed up.
The sadness, the anger. The rage I’d felt when I’d nearly catapulted over the barrier in the courthouse when they’d given that little jerk
probation, rehab, and AA meetings. All while my beautiful wife lay six feet under. Unlike Emmett, Mel would never get a second
chance. But money and who you know seems to speak loudest. At least, that’s what I’ve come to learn.
“You know, I don’t want to step on your toes,” Mitch says. “But have you considered that maybe what you need to do is let loose and
move on?”
I shoot him a look of surprise. He’s just lost his wife himself, so why would he suggest something like that, knowing how I feel?
“No, never,” I say.
“But you said Mel would want you to be happy, right?” Mitch asks.
“Well. . . yeah,” I reluctantly agree.
“A friend suggested this app for me, it’s called Love and Company,” Mitch says. “It’s not just for dating, you can make friends on there
too. . . I’m not ready, but I mean, it’s been a decade. I’d just hate to see you live the rest of your life lonely, Eli. Especially after all you’re
doing for me.”
“I don’t know, I just think I’m better off alone,” I reply. “I mean, Melanie was the love of my life. I could never replace her.”
“Of course not,” he says. “But I do know one thing, it’s not healthy for a man to grieve forever. You deserve happiness.”
“I am happy,” I insist, which is mostly true. “I miss Mel like the dickens, but I have four boys that love me, and I see most of them often
—except Robert. He went off to California to be a personal trainer, trying to rub elbows with the stars I guess. But I’ve got the farm, the
animals. . . I’m content.”
“But there’s still that hole, right?” Mitch asks, and I’m not sure how to answer his question. There is one, but I don’t think just anyone
can fill it, nor do I think some app is going to magically solve it either. “Listen, my friend did find someone else on this thing after his
wife died.”
“I’m not really into computers, Mitch,” I reply with a shrug. “Not my forte. The only thing I use a computer for is my emails, business
stuff, and my taxes.”
“But you’ve got a smartphone, right?” Mitch asks.
“Well sure, of course I do,” I reply with a nod. “I’m getting old, but I’m no fossil,” I say with a chuckle.
“Then you should put yourself out there on that app,” Mitch replies. “I’m telling ya, it’s real easy to use.”
“So, you’ve tried it?” I ask, raising an eyebrow, finding it a bit weird that he’d already checked it out, but trying desperately not to
judge.
“Not exactly,” Mitch replies. “I made a profile and such but nothing major. I mean, it’s only been a year since I lost Darlene. . . but I
know someday I will. Because I know that, like Mel, Darlene would want me to be happy. Darlene told me so herself.”
“Hmm,” I say with a little nod as Mitch gets up, stretches, and begins to yawn. “Sorry to gab and run, but I’m beat.”
“It’s alright, I should get to bed soon myself,” I say.
“Just consider what I said, alright?” Mitch replies.
“Yeah, sure,” I say with a nod as Mitch walks out of the hallway, his footfalls echoing in the quiet house, followed by his door clicking
closed.
Maybe he’s got something there,I think as I sit in my chair, hands gripped into the arms of it. It has been a decade, the boys are growing up, soon it’ll be an empty nest here I reckon. Well, unless I hire and board more workers. . .
I pull my phone out of my breast pocket, look up the app on the store, and wait for it to download. The whole while that I watch the
little downloading line tick closer and closer, I can feel myself getting anxious.
What am I doing? I ask myself. Isn’t doing this like spitting on Mel’s grave? She was my everything. . . Am I really ready to do this?
As I wrestle with myself, I remember a conversation we’d had one night. The stars in the sky had twinkled big and bright as we talked
about the future while Zack and Noah were cooking in her belly—though we didn’t know quite yet that we were having twins.
She’d said to me that if anything ever happened to her, she’d want me to live. She would want me to take care of the boys and be
happy, and if that meant finding someone new, then it did.
At the time, I’d laughed it off, kissed her, and told her that’s never going to happen. But never came, and now, I’m thinking Mitch might be right. It’s unhealthy for a man to grieve as long as I have.
I make a profile, answer a gaggle of silly questions that they say will help match you to your perfect mate, and I take a selfie to upload.
But when I go to put the picture up, it refuses to load.
Guess I’ll have to do that later,I think to myself, heading off to bed. I’m not sure that I’ll even find anyone on there interesting enough to
catch my eye,I think to myself as I look out the window. But I suppose it might be nice to have a woman’s touch around here again.