9. Sarah
Sarah
Eight Years Ago
I grab my purse from the passenger seat and climb out.
The September air carries a chill that wasn’t there a few weeks ago, and I wrap my arms around myself as I start toward the house.
Something immediately feels different. It takes me a second to realize what it is.
The pole light near the barn isn’t on. Daddy has been complaining about it for weeks, saying he needs to replace the bulb, but he’s been too busy, and now the entire side of the property sits in darkness.
The ranch always looks different at night.
During the day, I know every inch of it.
I know where every fence line runs, where every horse is kept, and where every trail disappears into the trees.
At two in the morning, though, everything becomes shadows and silhouettes.
The barns loom larger. The spaces between them seem deeper.
The darkness stretches farther than it should.
I’m halfway to the porch when a tiny burst of orange flares near one of the barns.
The glow appears for only a second before fading again.
I stop walking immediately. My heart gives a startled jump before my brain catches up.
A second later the orange glow returns, and I realize somebody is lighting a cigarette.
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter.
Changing directions, I head toward the barn.
As I get closer, a familiar figure comes into view, leaning against the fence with one boot crossed over the other.
Randy looks up when he hears my footsteps.
The cigarette glows between his fingers, briefly illuminating his face before he takes another drag.
“Shit, Randy,” I say, letting out a breath. “I didn’t know who was over here.”
He laughs, smoke curling into the darkness around him.
“Little late to be wandering around by yourself, ain’t it?”
I roll my eyes. “Says the man standing in a field at two in the morning.”
Another laugh rumbles out of him. Randy has worked for Daddy for years. Long enough that I can’t remember the ranch without him. He’s been around for birthdays, branding days, county fairs, and every other event that seems to happen out here. Most of the time he’s covered in dirt, grease, or both.
“A girl like you shouldn’t be out this late.”
“Oh my God.”
“I’m serious.”
I snort and adjust my purse higher on my shoulder.
“You’re not my dad.”
“No,” he agrees, glancing past me into the darkness. “And if I was, I’d tell you the same thing.”
“Are you giving me rules now?”
“Somebody has to.”
I let out a laugh.
“Randy, you’re what? Ten years older than me?”
“Twelve.”
“That’s not helping your case.”
He shakes his head and takes another drag from his cigarette.
“Doesn’t matter. I’ve seen things you’ll never see.”
I snort.
“Congratulations. You’re old.”
That earns another laugh.
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Sure it isn’t.”
I lean against the fence beside him and glance out across the property. Everything looks different at night. The barns are just shapes. The fields disappear into darkness. The only light comes from the moon and the glowing tip of Randy’s cigarette.
“You think you know everything.”
“I do know everything.”
“That’s the confidence of somebody who hasn’t had real responsibilities yet.”
I gasp.
“Excuse you. I cleaned three horse stalls this morning.”
Randy laughs so hard he has to look away.
“Three whole stalls?”
“I know. Try not to be intimidated.”
His grin lingers as he looks back at me.
“I’ll do my best.”
I hold out my hand.
“Give me a hit of that.”
The smile disappears from his face. For a second, he stares at me.
“What?” I ask.
“Your daddy would shoot me.”
“He doesn’t have to know.”
“That’s exactly what somebody your age would say.”
I roll my eyes.
“Oh my God.”
Randy studies me for another second before muttering something under his breath and handing the cigarette over.
“There. One.”
I immediately take a drag and immediately regret it. The smoke hits the back of my throat like a freight train. I double over coughing while Randy bursts out laughing beside me.
“Don’t say a word.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were thinking it.”
“I was.”
I glare at him through watering eyes and hand the cigarette back.
“That’s disgusting.”
“Yet you asked for it.”
“Because I thought I looked cool.”
“You do not.”
“You’re a terrible friend.”
The corner of his mouth lifts.
“Good thing I’m not your friend.”
I swing myself up onto the fence rail and balance there, my boots resting on the lower board. Randy glances over but doesn’t comment on it. He takes another drag from his cigarette and stares out toward the fields.
“What are you doing out here anyway?”
He shrugs.
“Thinking.”
“About what?”
A corner of his mouth lifts.
“If I told you, it wouldn’t be thinking anymore.”
I groan.
“That’s such an old man answer.”
“I’m thirty, not eighty.”
“Same thing.”
He laughs quietly and shakes his head.
For a few minutes we sit in comfortable silence. The night is cool, and somewhere in the distance I hear a horse move around in one of the pastures. Randy flicks ash into the dirt.
“Got a girlfriend?” I ask.
He glances over at me.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugs again. “Never found the right woman, I guess.”
I make a face.
“That’s depressing.”
“It wasn’t supposed to be.”
“It was.”
He laughs.
“What about you?”
“What about me?”
“You got some little high school boyfriend?”
I snort.
“No.”
“No?”
I shake my head.
“I don’t date high school boys.”
His eyebrows lift.
“Oh?”
“Nope. I’m waiting until college.”
He looks amused.
“That’s a strategy?”
“Absolutely.”
I cross my arms.
“The boys at my school are idiots.”
“Right.”
“Half of them think cow tipping is a personality trait.”
That earns another laugh.
“So college boys are different?”
“Hopefully.”
The smile stays on his face, but something about the way he’s looking at me changes. It’s small. Small enough that I can’t quite put my finger on it.
“How old are college boys?”
I shrug.
“Nineteen. Twenty. Twenty-one.”
His gaze lingers for a second too long.
“That so?”
“Yep.”
The smile on his face doesn’t change. For some reason, the knot in my stomach appears for the first time all night.
“What?” I ask.
Randy flicks ash into the dirt and looks back out across the pasture. “Nothing.”
“That wasn’t nothing.”
A laugh slips out of him. “You’ve got your whole life planned out, don’t you?”
I roll my eyes. “No, I don’t.”
“You kind of do.” He gestures vaguely with the cigarette. “College. Degree. Future husband. White picket fence.”
I snort.
“First of all, I never said white picket fence. Second of all, I don’t have my whole life planned out.”
“Sure.”
“I don’t.”
“Okay.”
The amusement in his voice is annoying enough that I have to fight the urge to kick his boot.
For a minute, neither of us says anything. The night settles around us again. Somewhere off in the distance, a horse nickers. The cigarette glows between Randy’s fingers before fading back into the darkness.
“What happens if somebody doesn’t want to wait until college?” he asks.
I frown.
“What?”
“You said you’re waiting until college.”
“Yeah.”
“What if somebody doesn’t want to wait?”
I stare at him, trying to figure out what he’s asking.
“I guess they’re out of luck.”
The words come out as a joke, but when I look at him, he isn’t laughing. His eyes are on me. Not the way they’ve always been. Not the way adults look at kids they’ve known forever. Not the way Daddy’s friends look at me.
A second later he smiles again, and the feeling disappears so quickly I almost convince myself I imagined it.
“You know, while you were gone, Melody had her foal.”
I stare at him for half a second before the words register. “What?” My voice comes out louder than I intend. Melody has been ready to foal for weeks, and I’ve been checking on her every chance I get. Daddy has spent the better part of a month telling me it’ll happen when it happens.
Randy’s grin widens. “Couple hours ago.”
“Why didn’t you start with that?” I jump off the fence before he can answer and start toward the barn.
His laughter follows me across the yard, but I barely pay attention to it.
All I can think about is Melody and the baby.
The excitement chases away the strange feeling that had settled over me a few minutes ago.
The barn door groans as I pull it open. The familiar smell of hay, leather, and horses wraps around me immediately, and I head straight down the center aisle.
Moonlight slips through the gaps in the walls, throwing pale stripes across the dirt floor.
A mare with a newborn foal would be kept toward the back where things are quieter, so I don’t bother checking the front stalls.
At first, I don’t think anything of it when the nearest stall is empty.
Then the next one is empty too. By the time I reach the back of the barn, my pace has slowed considerably.
The stall where Melody should be standing is filled with fresh hay, but that’s all it contains.
No mare. No foal. No evidence that either one was ever there.
I stop and stare at it, trying to make sense of what I’m looking at. For a moment, I wonder if I came to the wrong stall, but that’s impossible. I know this barn better than I know my own bedroom. Confusion gives way to unease as I turn around to ask Randy what the hell he’s talking about.
The question never leaves my mouth. Randy is standing several feet away in the center of the aisle. I hadn’t heard him come in behind me. Hadn’t heard his boots on the dirt floor. The open barn door sits beyond him, framing him against the moonlight.
“Where’s Melody?” I ask.
Randy doesn’t answer right away. He looks at me, and suddenly the barn feels a lot smaller than it did a minute ago.
“Where’s Melody?” I ask again.
Instead of answering, he starts toward me. Every instinct I have tells me to leave. I move toward the aisle, intending to go around him, but the second I do, he shifts directly into my path. My pulse jumps.
“Randy.”
He takes another step.
“Get the hell out of my way.”
His eyes move over my face, and something cold settles in my chest. I step to the side again, determined to go around him whether he likes it or not, but before I can get past him, his hand closes around my arm. The grip is hard enough to make me gasp.
“Randy, let go of me.”
I yank against him, but he doesn’t let go. The lie about Melody. The empty stall. The way he positioned himself between me and the door. Every piece crashes together at once.
Before I can react, he shoves me backward. My shoulders slam into the wooden wall of the stall hard enough to rattle the boards behind me. Pain shoots through my back, and for a second all I can do is stare at him.
Nothing about this feels real.
“Randy, let me go.”
My voice comes out thin. His hand tightens around my arm instead of releasing it. I keep waiting for this to make sense. I keep waiting for him to laugh and tell me it’s some kind of stupid joke.
“Sarah.”
The way he says my name makes my skin crawl.
“No.” I shove against his chest. “Get away from me.”
For a second, his expression hardens. Before I can move, he’s crowding into my space again. I turn my head away instinctively when he tries to kiss me, but he doesn’t stop. Every survival instinct I have finally wakes up at once.
“No!”
I lash out without thinking. My teeth sink into his lip hard enough that I taste blood.
Randy jerks back with a curse. For one brief, stupid second, I think I’ve done the right thing. I think I’ve shocked him enough to make him stop. Then his hand cracks across my face.
The force of it sends my head snapping sideways. Pain explodes through my cheek. The world seems to tilt for a second, and I stumble against the stall wall trying to stay upright. A ringing fills my ears.
I stare at the dirt floor, struggling to understand what just happened. Randy hit me.
The ringing in my ears drowns out everything else. My cheek burns. My heart pounds so hard it feels like it’s trying to break free from my chest. I need to get out of here. I run, but I don’t make it.
One second I’m moving toward the aisle, and the next his hand closes around my arm. Panic explodes through me. I scream. I twist. I fight with everything I have. My nails scrape skin. My boots slide in the dirt. None of it matters.
“Randy, stop!”
He doesn’t.
The world tilts violently as he jerks me backward. My foot catches on something, and suddenly the ground rushes toward me. The impact knocks the breath from my lungs. Before I can recover, before I can crawl away, his weight crashes down over me.
I shove at him. I kick. I thrash hard enough that my muscles start to burn. Terror floods every part of me. My chest feels too tight. My heartbeat is too loud. The air won’t come fast enough.
Above me, the slats in the barn ceiling come into focus. I’ve looked at them a thousand times. When I was little, I’d lie in the hayloft and make shapes out of the knots in the wood while Daddy worked below.
Now I stare at them and pray for it to be over.