Chapter 7 #2
His observation cut deeper than I cared to admit.
He wasn’t wrong. The polished, quiet woman I had presented to business associates for the past few years bore little resemblance to the passionate equestrian who had captured my attention with her knowledge of quarter horse genetics and her genuine concern for land stewardship.
I had molded her, deliberately or not, into what I thought a Holt family matriarch should be, then had resented her for losing the qualities that had drawn me to her in the first place.
The realization was uncomfortable, a chink in my carefully constructed worldview.
“She adapted to her role in the family,” I said stiffly, unwilling to concede the full scope of Waylon’s point. “As we all do.”
“Yeah, we adapt,” he agreed, leaning forward in his chair, elbows on his knees.
“But seems to me you might want to think about why she felt she had to leave. Not that it’s any of my business,” he added quickly, raising a hand as I opened my mouth to protest. “I’m just saying, people don’t usually abandon a life like you gave her without damn good reason. ”
“A life like I gave her?” I repeated, hearing the harshness in my own voice. “You make it sound like a prison instead of a privilege.”
“I didn’t say it was either.” Waylon stood up slowly, his expression more tired than confrontational.
“Just saying that maybe the problem wasn’t that you didn’t give her enough, but that you didn’t take enough of her.
Her ideas, her passion, her self.” He shrugged, his usual nonchalance returning.
“But what do I know? I’m just the guy who watches your back while you’re building empires.
And I’m a lifelong bachelor, so maybe marriage ain’t my area of expertise. ”
He was almost at the door when I spoke again. “Waylon?” He paused, turning to face me. “She’s not answering her phone.”
He nodded, a flicker of sympathy crossing his face.
“Then maybe she’s said all she needs to say for now.
Give her some room, see if she comes back on her own.
” A wry smile touched his lips. “And if she doesn’t, well, we’ll figure it out.
Holt Enterprises didn’t get here by letting one setback stop us, and you sure as hell aren’t going to let it be your weakness now. ”
With that, he was gone, leaving me alone with thoughts that were more troubling than comforting.
Waylon had a way of cutting through bullshit that was usually valuable, but tonight it only highlighted my own uncertainty.
The confidence that had carried me through every business negotiation and expansion seemed suddenly shaky when applied to the landscape of my marriage.
I moved to the bar, pouring a healthy portion of scotch, the liquid amber catching the last light from the sunset outside.
My phone sat dark and silent on the desk, Larkin’s name no longer hovering on the screen as a constant reminder of her absence.
Had I really given her so little space to be herself that she had felt compelled to leave everything we had built together?
The thought was followed by a flash of anger at the selfishness of her timing, walking away just as we were on the brink of acquiring the McCullough property, at the peak of our influence in regional politics.
What kind of wife abandons her husband when he needs her most?
But even as the question formed, I felt the hollow ring of self-deception.
Had I truly needed her, or just her presence as a symbol of my success?
The scotch burned down my throat, but did nothing to quiet the storm of questions brewing in my mind.
Waylon was wrong about one thing, this wasn’t just a “setback.” It felt more like a reckoning, one I hadn’t been prepared for and didn’t particularly want to face.
I prided myself on being a man who could identify problems and solve them, but Larkin was not a water rights dispute or a contested property boundary.
She was the person who was supposed to be on my side through all of those battles, the one constant in my carefully controlled world.
For the first time in my adult life, I didn’t have a strategy, didn’t have a five-point plan to address the challenge before me.
The feeling of being unmoored was deeply unsettling, making me reach for my glass again, seeking comfort in the familiar burn of alcohol when I couldn’t find it in my usual business solutions.
As darkness settled over the ranch, I moved to stand at the window, looking out over the valley that had been both my inheritance and my creation.
Everything I could see had been acquired, managed, optimized, but the most important piece of my kingdom was now absent, and no amount of land or cattle could fill that void.
It was a bitter pill to swallow, the realization that my greatest achievement as a Holt was somehow incomplete without her presence to share it.
I would have to find her, would have to make her see that walking away was not the answer. Whatever issues we had could be worked through, compromised on, solved. That’s how the world worked, that’s how I operated. People didn’t just leave their lives behind without a damn good fight.
But even as I resolved to track her down, a small, insidious voice in the back of my mind wondered if Waylon was right about more than just business.
What if Larkin needed something I had no idea how to provide?
What if bringing her back required more than the force of will and strategy that had always worked before?
“Where are you, Larkin?” I said to the empty office, my voice swallowed by the expanse of the room and the even greater emptiness of the night beyond.
Seeing my reflection in the window, it was almost like a light went off in my head.
I might not know where Larkin had gone for sure, but there was one place where I was sure she would at least check in with regularly.
The horse rescue in Seattle. I knew I could call.
There was always someone on site to care for the horses.
But I also knew Harlan Briggs. He wouldn’t hand over information about Larkin to me, nor would he put me on the line with her if she didn’t wish it. But a letter... He might pass that on.
With renewed determination, I walked back to my desk, sitting down to compose what might be my most challenging negotiation yet, a letter to my missing wife.
I started with the formal, rational arguments about responsibility and commitment, but even in my own writing, the words seemed hollow.
The truth was, I didn’t know how to reach her anymore, didn’t understand the person she had become away from my influence.
After an hour of crossing out and rewriting, I was left with a page filled more with white space than ink, a reflection of our relationship that was uncomfortably honest.
Larkin,
We need to talk. This situation needs resolution.
You’ve made your point, whatever it is. We need to discuss this like adults.
I get that the phone isn’t ideal for it.
I’m assuming you’re in Seattle somewhere, which is why I’m writing to you at the rescue.
If you would prefer, we can meet on neutral ground.
How about the Four Seasons in Bellevue, say Thursday evening, at 8PM?
This affects more than just you and I, as you well know.
Waiting,
Ephraim
It wasn’t perfect, but it was a start. I signed it, folded it into an envelope, and put it in the stack of outgoing mail to be sent first thing in the morning.
As I walked back through the darkened halls of the ranch house, I felt the weight of my own footsteps echoing around me, the vast space suddenly too big for one person.
The master bedroom was as I had left it hours ago, her side of the bed undisturbed, her presence more palpable in her absence than when she had actually lain there beside me.
Lying in the darkness, I found myself remembering things I hadn’t thought of in years, our early courtship, her fierce intelligence during debates about sustainable ranching practices, her laugh when she was truly relaxed and happy, the way she would look at me across a room full of people as if I were the only person in it.
These memories had been buried beneath the practicalities of running a growing enterprise, the social obligations and strategic alliances that had become our life.
Was it possible I had traded those moments, that connection, for a more polished but emptier version of what we once had?
The thought was too uncomfortable to explore further, so I pushed it away, replacing it with resolve.
Whatever she was going through, we would work through it together.
That’s what marriage was, after all, a partnership that weathered storms together.
And I had never been the type to let a storm damage my property.