5. Lyla
Lyla
I have to crane my neck to take in the expansive foyer as Wade Hollis leads me through his house. The place is huge, but not ostentatious. The massive ranch house has been built from logs, and everything in here is either a warm wood grain or painted a deep, rich green.
Austin suggested I come by the house to talk to Wade about how I might be able to help out on the ranch.
Back when Austin was left with nothing to his name, it was Wade that had offered him a job and a place to live.
No questions asked. He gave him a steady paycheck and a roof over his head, but he also supported him the way a father would.
I’m not exactly one to go looking for handouts or favours, but Austin seemed to think that Wade wouldn’t hesitate to help another Morgan.
The question is, how? It’s been almost a decade since I set foot on a cattle ranch, and I never took Farming 101 as an elective in business school. I never saw myself coming back here, let alone looking for work.
I follow Wade from the foyer through to the open-concept living space and kitchen, a wall of floor to ceiling windows opening up before me. Dusk has settled over the Alberta foothills, and it’s too dark to see out to the property, but I can imagine the view.
I remember it. Sage Valley always had the most breathtaking vantage point of the Rocky Mountains.
Tonight though, the focal point of the room is a roaring fire in the hearth on the opposite end of the living room. Flames lick the logs, sending a plume of smoke curling up into the floor to ceiling chimney made entirely of large, smooth river rock.
Wade limps over to the kitchen, and it strikes me how much he’s aged since I’ve seen him last. He wasn’t much older than my father, and there’s a tugging in my chest at the stark reminder that I will never have the privilege of watching my parents age.
“Can I offer you a drink? Whiskey?” Wade asks, pulling himself down a crystal highball glass from one of the cabinets and pouring himself two fingers of golden liquid from the bottle on the counter.
I shake my head. “None for me, thanks. I will take a tea if you have something herbal.”
Wade nods and flicks on the kettle sitting next to the broad gas range before coming to sit across from me at the round kitchen table. He places a plate of Biscoff cookies between us, and I help myself to one.
The light from the hanging pendant light above us casts shadows on Wade’s sun-weathered face that highlight his deep wrinkles.
“So, how ya been, kid?” He asks, taking a cookie of his own. He dips it in his whiskey once before taking a bite.
I consider whether I want to give him my usual answer, or if I want to give him the truth: that I don’t exactly want to be here, jobless and living in a motel, and if given the choice I’d be nowhere close to my old hometown again.
“Could be better,” I say, finding a middle ground between the truth and an outright lie. If I want to make any progress toward landing a job, I can’t tell him I’m miserable about being here.
I’m not one to schmooze, per se. I never have been.
I’ve always told it like it is, never watering down my opinions.
But that’s what landed me here in the first place.
I stuck my foot in my mouth one too many times.
“Job hunting is never easy, and I think I’ve reviewed my resume so many times I’m going cross eyed. But it sure is nice to see you again.”
Wade nods contemplatively, his throat bobbing as he swallows his sip of whiskey. He sets his glass down on the wooden table with a clink.
“We’ve sure missed you around here,” he admits.
“It was a sad day when you moved to Calgary. Sad day when Austin had to sell off the estate, too. Your parents put a lot of love into that place.” There’s a beat of silence between us before he adds, “Sorry. Didn’t mean to bring it all up again.
I’m sure it’s not something you like to talk about. ”
I shake my head. “No, I don’t mind. I think about my parents every day. It’s actually better when people don’t dance around the subject. Makes me feel like I’m not the only one walking this earth who remembers them.”
This is especially true now that the only place holding onto my memories of them has been sold off. Austin had to free up his half of the estate to pay for the legal fees after he got himself into some trouble out at the bar one night.
We don’t exactly see eye to eye on the fact that he sold our family’s property.
In fact, I never agreed to it, he never gave me the chance.
He told me he didn’t have another option after he broke the news of the sale.
Our parents weren’t wealthy except for the land they owned and the love we shared in our family, and Austin needed the money. It was either that or do jail time.
Maybe that’s why I’m still so bitter. He wasn’t exactly the guardian I needed after Mom and Dad died. He rebelled against every new responsibility that was thrust upon him.
Then he lost our home. It wasn’t the first time he let me down, but it was the worst blow by far.
I still carry the hurt with me that my childhood home is no longer mine. The only place I’ve ever felt truly free to be myself, the only place I ever felt truly grounded, now belongs to someone else.
Maybe I’m looking back on my childhood with rose coloured glasses, but something about that place, and my parents… it’s the last time I remember feeling like I belonged somewhere. My job was the one thing I excelled at, and with that gone too, I’m drifting.
“Everyone in Sage Valley remembers them, kid. It’s also what bonds you and Austin,” he says. “He’s been such a huge help around the ranch the last few years. I know Beck appreciates having him.”
My brother always fit in here better than I did. He’s charming, suave, a true people person. Austin could make friends with a tumbleweed.
A comfortable silence falls between us as I sip my steaming tea, and Wade takes another swig of whiskey.
“Do you have room on the ranch for one more Morgan?” I venture.
Wade looks up at me, his expression almost shocked, but his eyes are shrink-wrapped.
“Always. Your daddy and I were good friends, and we Hollis’s are a loyal bunch, so you know you always have a place here.
” He clears his throat. “You’ll have your work cut out for you, I’m afraid.
Don’t let this big ol’ house fool you, the ranch is in rough shape. ”
I roll my lips together, letting out a pensive mmm. I had a feeling there’d be more than meets the eye when it came to this job. But I’m not in a position to be picky.
I’m sure I’ll find something else in the city again, it’ll just take some time and effort.
Time and effort that I’ve already put in, with no return as of yet.
It makes sense, and I shouldn’t have expected anything different.
My boss is well-connected, and I underestimated how small the business industry is in Calgary.
Certainly my dramatic departure made some waves.
I’m not one to back down from a challenge, though. Even if it means I have to figure out how to make a cattle ranch profitable.
“What do you think is the biggest challenge facing the ranch?” I ask, feeling my voice switch to the cool and measured tone I take on with my clients.
Wade waves a hand in front of his face. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been in charge. You’ll have to get into all that with the head honcho.”
“The head–” I’m just about to clarify who he’s talking about, when the sound of the front door opening and slamming shut interrupts our conversation.
“That must be him now.”
I turn in my seat when I hear heavy footfall enter the kitchen, only to find Beck Hollis standing in the doorway.
Looming is more like it.
Despite the grandeur of the tall ceilings in this house, Beck seems to fill up the space, towering over both Wade and I. He stops in his tracks when he sees me, and a flush creeps up my neck, skin heating from the intensity of his gaze.
Today he’s wearing jeans and a plaid button down, rolled halfway up his thick forearms. He’s taken off his brown suede cowboy hat, though there’s a hint of a line in his wavy brown hair from where it sat.
Otherwise, he looks the same as he did when I saw him at the rodeo, but I still can’t make sense of the feeling I’m having at the sight of him. The ache in my chest, like a bit of nostalgia for a thing that never was.
Beck throws me a curt nod, his mouth in a tight line. “Lyla.”
He’s never been one for extraneous words, and he certainly never offers any unnecessary conversation to me. I offer him back a thin smile and a wave that's barely a wiggle of my fingers.
Wade pipes up to fill the silence, growing more and more awkward by the second. “Lyla’s back in town to see if she can’t help out around the ranch. Aren’t we lucky to have Sage Valley’s best and brightest?”
Beck’s chocolate brown eyes dart between Wade and me, assessing. He grunts as a response, and moves across the kitchen to help himself to the whiskey that Wade left open. The only sound in the room is the glug of the liquid as he pours it into his glass.
I work my bottom lip between my teeth to stop myself from blurting out the thoughts screaming in my mind.
Is that all you have to say? Not even a hello?
But I know that no matter what I say to Beck, a grunt is probably the best response I’m going to get. I never did quite understand the animosity Beck has towards me.
Sure, I was a pest growing up, following him and Austin wherever they went even though my presence was wholly unwanted, teasing them by making exaggerated kissing noises whenever they were talking about girls.
A lot of time has passed since then, and I mistakenly thought Beck would have let go of his childhood grudges.
He leans against the counter, crossing his arm over his chest and taking a pull of his drink. “The ranch is doing just fine.”
“It’s not,” Wade argues. “It hasn’t been for quite some time now. We need fresh eyes. New blood. Someone to shake things up a bit.”
Beck’s eyes rake over me and take in my appearance, and apparently finding me lacking he scoffs under his breath.
“Lyla doesn’t know the first thing about ranching,” he says in defence, and the words sting only because there’s truth to them.
I don’t know anything about ranching. I rode horses growing up, as did every other kid in town, but my family didn’t operate a ranch when we lived here. And I never really cared for the lifestyle. In fact, I vehemently, wholeheartedly, disagree with it.
“I’d love to learn,” I offer instead. “And I think Wade’s right. Part of why ranches are struggling is because of their negative impact on the environment, and there’s a lot of incentive to start doing things differently. I’d love to look into how the ranch could be more sustainable.”
The words come tumbling out, because I can never fucking hold my tongue. Beck quirks an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth lifting with it. A sneer.
“Ranching has been around for centuries, and I don’t believe in fixing something that ain’t broke.”
“Clearly, it is broke,” I retort before I can stop myself.
Shut up, shut up, shut up.
I need to make this work, whether Beck wants my help or not. Evidently, my job prospects are slim, and since I didn’t exactly leave the last place on the best of terms, it would help to not piss off my only viable reference.
I school my features, plastering on a demure, placating smile, the one I use when dealing with difficult clients. “Listen, I don’t know a lot about ranching, but I do know business. And I think I could offer some assistance.”
Beck stares at me for an excruciating moment, his heavy gaze making me want to sink into the floor. He doesn’t respond, he just sets his glass down with a clink, lets out a huff of breath through his nose, and walks straight out of the kitchen.
Wade and I exchange a cringe when the front door slams shut behind him on his way out of the house.
You know what? Fuck him. If he doesn’t want my help, then I don’t have to be here.
Except I do.
I don’t have another option.
“Give him time,” Wade says, snapping me out of my thoughts. He stands up and hobbles over to the sink to rinse out his glass. I do the same, before making my way to the door to see myself out.
“He’ll come around, he usually does,” Wade says. “Stubborn as a mule, that one. But of course, you know that.”
I pull Wade in for a hug, catching him off guard, and he lets out a soft chuckle.
“Always were such a sweetheart,” he says. “I’ll give him hell for being an ass.”
Beck is standing in the yard when I go outside, looking off into the field, forearms resting on the gnarled old fence lining the area of cut grass around the house.
Something about his posture is… heavy. Contemplative. Morose.
But I can’t help someone who doesn’t want it. So, I blow out a breath through pursed lips to let go of some tension, and storm down the front steps towards my car waiting for me in the drive.