CHAPTER 73
Emma
Phyllis presses the blankets tight to my sides. No one has ever done this for me. I’ve only seen it on TV.
“My grandma made these quilts. Are you comfy enough?”
I look up at her face. I don’t remember ever being tucked in. She’s such a caring woman. And I can't figure out why. She’s not getting a monthly payment to take care of me. I'm a complete stranger to her. A stranger she’s wrapping in her grandmother's quilts.
Tucking me in.
“You’re tucking Emma in?” Jamie appears at the guest room doorway.
He’s still dressed in his work clothes, but he's in his socks.
There's no way that Phyllis would let him in the house with muddy work boots. It’s been a long day for him, and I think about how much work it takes to run the ranch.
I wonder if a man his age wouldn't prefer to just take it easy.
Just rest on the porch in a rocking chair and watch the latest season of The MacLaines unfold in front of him.
Who needs a TV when life is full of so many fascinating people?
I smile to myself.
One look at him and I have my answer. He’s happy. Tall, with a straight back. He always has a smile on his face. I've seen him with Finn and his other sons. He can’t get enough of his family. I'm sure he thinks having them all on the ranch together is a blessing.
I wonder what it’s like to love life the way Jamie MacLaine does.
“Of course I’m tucking her in,” Phyllis snaps at him. “She's had a rough day. I tuck everyone in when they have a rough day.”
“Well, you’ve never tucked me in,” Jamie says. “But don’t you go getting any ideas.”
Phyllis scowls at him. “Did you eat dinner? There’s a plate for you warming in the oven. Sugar-free pudding is in the refrigerator. Don’t go to bed on an empty stomach. You need something warm in your belly to sleep right.”
Phyllis just tucked in Jamie with words.
It must be nice to always have someone to take care of you.
A new job is my top priority, but I tell myself that while I'm staying here with Jamie and Phyllis, I’m going to enjoy every second.
She turns off the light and closes the door, leaving it open just a crack so I have a night light from the hallway.
I wiggle in deeper under the covers, wrapping myself even tighter in the quilts.
Jamie’s house isn't as grand and modern as Finn’s, but it’s beautiful.
Massive rafters line the ceilings. The walls are wood too.
There's a shabby elegance everywhere. Luxury.
Safety.
I’m always chasing safety.
As comfortable as I am, I can’t get to sleep. Three hours pass while I use every method I know to clear my mind and relax. I toss and turn. I throw off the quilts. I flop around like a hooked fish.
I give up.
I decide to go for a walk outside. It'll be nice to clear my head with some fresh air. Besides, I don’t know how many more nights I’ll have to wander the ranch. And now is the time of day I’m least likely to run into Finn.
I've already applied to five jobs in Reno and two in Lake Tahoe.
Most of them are jobs that no one else would want, so I'm sure something will come through.
Probably by this time tomorrow, I'll be back to my old life, setting up a place in a budget motel room and getting ready for another first day on the job. I’ve had so many.
I get dressed and carry my shoes as I tiptoe down the stairs, careful not to make a sound.
When I get outside, I put my shoes on and take a deep breath.
The air at this time of night is delicious.
Even in the summer, nights are clean and crisp.
I let the air fill my lungs, and then I stare up at the stars.
It’s a sensual experience. The only kind I’m likely to have for a while.
Because I’ve already decided that I won’t get involved with another man for at least one solid year. It’s not that I expect to be over Finn within a year—that would take several lifetimes—but a year will give me time to reset. Get my head clear on what I want for myself.
Maybe I’ll decide to just hang it up. I already know that no man could ever compare to Finn.
I put my hands in my pockets and walk slowly, taking in the stars. Out here, the sky is littered with them, like someone came by and splattered the black universe with tiny drops of white glitter. It’s just one of the many magical things about Yosemite Ranch.
I continue on, happy that I chose a walk over counting sheep. Walking always soothes my brain and stops the noise long enough that I can get a glimpse of the truth.
The truth is, I got ahead of myself with Finn. I let my fantasies take over. I should have kept my feet firmly on the ground, but I let myself fly too high.
I've been stupid. I knew better. And I screwed it up anyway.
For people like me, there are no Yosemite ranches.
I mean, look around, Emma. This is a ranch full of mansions.
This family has more money than the richest people in the movies.
Sure, they're nice, and they’re country people at heart, down-to-earth and welcoming.
But that doesn't change the fact that they’re way out of my league.
It’s as if I wandered into a new country and pretended to speak the language and understand the customs. I really thought that if I believed enough in my own make-believe, I could become one of them.
What a joke.
I’m a joke.
A tear rolls down my cheek, and I sweep it away. I’m sick of crying. At what point am I going to stop? It’s impossible to mourn the loss of something I never had to begin with, right? This whole thing has been just dreams and delusions.
My walk takes me by Finn's house. Like the other homes, his is lit up outside with white lights, making it look like it's Christmastime, even though it's the middle of summer. I can't help myself. I stand for a moment and stare.
I’ve cleaned almost every inch of it. I moved the dishes around to where I like them. I know where the remote control is kept. I know that there's a broken outlet in the garage.
I stare up at the second floor. Finn’s window is up there, but there's no light inside.
He must be sleeping. He likes to sleep in the middle of his bed.
He uses both pillows to his right and left.
He probably tosses and turns in his sleep.
I don't know. I was never lucky enough to spend the whole night with him.
That should have been a clue for me. He said I couldn’t stay in his bed overnight because of Jasmine, and I agreed. But maybe it was something else. Maybe it was the stink of trash wafting off me. Orphan trash. Waitress trash.
Victim and criminal trash.
No matter how hard I scrub, I’ll never get the stink off me. I’m still that sixteen-year-old in the snow, trying to remove the stain of violence.
I continue walking. I pass Cal’s and Victoria’s home. Just ahead is Declan's house. Every light is shining from inside. He must be a night person.
I get to the end of the main road before it branches off into the pasture lands.
It’s pitch blackness out here. I turn from it and head back to the main compound.
I see lights on in some of the sheds and work structures.
Ahead is the bunkhouse, but that’s dark.
There are lights coming from the horse barn, though, and I head toward it.
It's nice that they keep the lights on for the horses.
Everyone needs a little night light. Even a horse, I guess.
As I enter the stable, I hear several horses whinnying and banging at the stalls. It sounds like they’re unhappy. I don't know a thing about horses, but I walk inside. If one of the animals is in trouble, I can yell for help.
I walk down the center aisle, and to my eye, every horse in here seems out of sorts.
I come to an open stall door. I don’t see anything at first, but when I turn into it, I'm stopped dead in my tracks.
“What are you doing here?” Finn demands.