Chapter 5
Ava
Kip leaned back in her chair and removed her Dollar Tree readers to study Nina and me. “She’s big. She’s three now?”
I nodded.
“Geez, she looks just like him.”
Every response caught in my throat.
She straightened, folded her hands, and rested them on the desktop. “So … You still hell-bent on buying this place?”
“Of course. I’ve been working overtime to build up my down payment.”
“Hmm.” Her deep-set toffee eyes held mine in challenge. “We weren’t sure you’d come back.”
I swallowed my rising guilt. The reel from that horrible day didn’t cycle through my head like I had feared it would.
Then again, the brittle, treeless landscape, the odd angles of the round pen, the splintered fences, they looked nothing like the ranch I remembered.
My heart ached at the signs of a slow struggle.
Piles of broken helmets, forgotten tools fading in the sun, barn doors hanging by a single screw.
Unlike Jason’s swift death, Hidden Meadows screamed the end stages of a long, drawn-out illness.
All preventable if I’d found the strength to stay.
I watched Kip watching me, wishing for something other than indifference in her smooth expression–even anger or disappointment. I’d deserve it. I’d let them down, and I owed it to everyone to revive this dying friend.
“Let me ask you something,” Kip said. “Why would you dump all your hard-earned money into this place?”
“B-because …” I made a promise? This was home? I wanted my old life back. I doubted those sappy answers would penetrate her pragmatic shell. “It can’t be that bad. You’re still here.”
“Yeah, well, someone needs to keep an eye on that stubborn geriatric coot.”
“It has nothing to do with your love for the job? Or this ranch?”
Kip shrugged. I hadn’t considered that once my name transferred onto the deed, everyone would leave. Including her. An ominous cloud swelled over my head. “You’d rather the other buyer tear it down?”
“What other buyer?”
“The corporate offer.” I tilted my head, eyes narrowing. Terry didn’t tell her?
Kip leaned forward, placing her elbows on the desk, a dip in her lip, and a single wrinkle forming between her eyes. “Corporate, huh? How much are they offering?”
“More than I can match.” A number so high it didn’t need a verbal confirmation.
She sighed, steepling her fingers. “Didn’t realize he’d put the place on the market.”
“He didn’t.” I’d checked.
One win. I just needed one win. I’d been confident the prospect of leveling the ranch would push her into my court, but she sat there, pressing her fingertips into a pensive frown.
“You’re a good kid,” she said. “Smart. Hard-working. Stubborn as hell, just like Terry, but I figure that serves you pretty well.” She paused, looking at me for confirmation, but none of what she said felt complimentary.
I waited for the “but.”
“You have a good heart,” she went on. “And he’d do anything for you.”
That’s when I realized this conversation had backfired. “Kip–”
“Now, I know you’ve got your reasons. But think about what you’re trying to achieve and ask yourself if buying this ranch is the only way to do that.”
My voice took a defensive turn. “I just want my family back.”
“You don’t need a ranch for that. We’ve been here all along. Where were you?” Finally, I saw her eyebrows come together in anger.
“I, I couldn’t stay–”
“No. No, no.” She waved her hands in front of her face, then dug a fine-boned finger into her desk. “I don’t mean here. I mean, where were you? You didn’t even call.”
I locked my jaw, holding back a rush of things that had no name. Emotions all marbled together, impossible to separate. A lump threatened to choke out my words. “I-I didn’t know what else to do.”
She shook her head, her gaze dropping to her desk. “It was hard enough losing him. But you too? And Nina?”
Back then, I couldn’t see the arena without reliving the replay.
Or bear hearing Kip’s deflated sigh at every canceled lesson.
Or Terry’s weary gait when he came into the office for cheap, bitter coffee.
There were times I’d wondered, how can emptiness feel so heavy?
Moments when the air vanished from the entire world.
The need to fill that void consumed me. I had to get back to where we’d been.
“I’m sorry, Kip.” It came out as a whisper. “I messed up. But I want to make it right. I-I thought if I could stop seeing him everywhere, if I–” I couldn’t stop it. Guilt rose past the roadblock in my throat and leaked all over my face. “If I could get through one d-day–”
“Oh, stop that.” Kip’s chair squeaked as she stood.
I swiped a hand across my wet cheeks, then froze as she wrapped her arms around Nina and me. Traces of rosewater lifted off her skin. Not once in the five years I’d been there had she ever hugged me. Not even when I told her I was pregnant.
My heart shattered into a million fragments, each reflecting wasted time and missed opportunities.
“You have every r-right to be mad at me,” I stuttered into her shoulder.
“No,” she scoffed. “Never mad. Worried maybe. And a little disappointed.”
“I’m sorry.”
“We just wanted to know you and Nina were okay.” She squeezed me tighter.
“Kip, stop. You’re making me cry.”
“Nonsense. You were already doing that.”
“Well, you’re making it worse,” I blubbered.
She stepped back, holding me at arm's length, waiting while I composed myself. Nina stared at her, unblinking.
“You good?” Kip asked.
I took a deep breath, blew it out, nodded, wiped my eyes.
“Good.” She let go of my arms. Then, in true Kip fashion, she added, “You tell Terry I did that, and we’re not friends anymore. Got it?”
I nodded again.
Nina put a hand on the top of my head. “Mama, why are you crying?”
“Miss Nina,” Kip declared, saving me from a watery reply.
“You remind your mama not to take everything on by herself.” A tall order for a three-year-old.
A strange expression crossed Kip’s gaze.
She dipped her head and cleared her throat.
“Now, go make sure Terry’s not doing something stupid, will ya?
I’ve got work to do.” Halfway out the door, just as the sun hit my face, Kip called out. “Ava?”
My feet paused on the top step. “Yeah?”
“It’s good to see you. Both of you.”
I’d fled this place so I could finally breathe–short, dissatisfying breaths, but breaths all the same.
Steven’s office kept me busy. Paperwork, showings, deadlines …
very few quiet moments for my mind to wander, for the grief to overwhelm me.
I’d refused to burden everyone with my broken heart, but in my numbness, I’d missed that theirs were breaking, too.
The sky yawned dusty pink with orange highlights. Maybe that meant new beginnings? I set Nina on her feet, searching for Terry, Eli, and my truck.
“We used to live here,” I told her. She wouldn’t remember early mornings in the stable, and pony rides on the sweep. “Every morning, we’d greet the horses.” I sighed. One day, we’d get back there.
“Mama, where’s da horsies?”
I glanced at the barn. “Good question.” Getting the ranch was only the first step.
The reliable growl of an engine caught my attention, but it didn’t sound like mine. I led Nina toward the sound, rounding the corner of the single-wide as a sputtering, high-pitched groan hit my ear.
“Roxy!” A smile shone through my emotional exhaustion. “You fixed her!”
Eli’s truck idled nose to nose with mine. An automotive kiss of life. He slid out from behind the wheel of my Chevy, exuding confidence in his slow stride, and something borderline painful pinched in my chest.
“Far from fixed,” he said. “But she’ll run for now.” After a brief pause, he added, “Someone should look at her. Sooner rather than later.”
When was I going to have time for that? I had to find an apartment, a job, and convince Terry to ignore the dollar signs raining down from a soulless industry. “How soon?”
“You hear that whining?” Eli asked.
I listened. It sounded like it always did. “Not really.”
He walked over to the open driver’s door and put his foot on the accelerator. “Hear it now?”
“Sort of?” I really tried to listen for it, but something happened in my brain. Everything went in one ear then just sort of faded around his hands, now smudged with grease from touching my parts–my truck’s parts.
“The timing’s off,” he said. “Could be a few things. But if you ignore it, you could burn out your engine.”
I heard the words, but what registered were things like how his mouth curved down at the edges, and the way his Adam’s apple settled low as he waited for my response.
That some family heritage made his eyes almond-shaped.
That the little wrinkle in his forehead just under the bill of his hat painted him compassionate instead of cocky.
“I’m happy to take a look,” he was saying, “back at my dad’s place. Get it running smoothly.”
So, help me. “Y-you’re a mechanic?”
“Yeah.”
My chest spasmed as my eyes traced down his arms to the black smudges that marred his hands. Very nice hands. Strong hands that knew their way around an engine. The stress of the day had finally induced a heart attack.
Nina pulled at my grip. “Stay close,” I told her, letting her go.
Eli removed the jump-start cables. “So, you’re a realtor?”
I narrowed my gaze at his tone. “Why do you say it like that?”
“Like what?”
“Dripping with disappointment.”
“I didn’t … It’s nothing.” He tossed the coiled cables into the back of his truck.
“It doesn’t sound like nothing.”
He scrunched his face, like his next words were bitter. “Relators are always talking up school districts, equity, thirty-year loans ... That’s just not my thing.”
“What is your thing?”
“Easy. Open roads and new places.”
My eyes kept dipping to where his shirt stretched across his chest. “So, you’re kind of a nomad?”
“I guess you could say that.”
Nina came running up with a handful of rocks. “Mama! Hold deeze.”
“All of them?”
She dumped them into my open palms. I waited until she’d run off before discarding one that looked suspiciously like poop. Eli watched with a warm half-smile.
“Kids,” I explained. “And just to clear the air, I am not a realtor. I’m an office admin. Was an office admin. I just quit.”
“Yeah? ’Cause of Mr. Mercedes?”
I sighed, the anger rising all over again. “Yeah. ’Cause of him.”
A lazy stillness stretched between us as we watched Nina collect more treasures under a warm watercolor sky.
One thing I loved about Hidden Meadows? You couldn’t hear the city traffic or the music from the car next to you at the stoplight.
The world was quiet. I think I missed that the most. Being swallowed up in nature.
Eli’s boot pivoted on the rocky soil. “You got somewhere to stay tonight?”
“I was going to stay here, but my old trailer’s gone.” A sinking ship hit the bottom of unfathomable depths.
Our home. Gone.
I kept my eyes on Nina.
After another elongated silence, Eli said, “If you wanna stay in a trailer, my old man has one on his ranch. You’re welcome to it.”
I grimaced at even considering it.
“Is that weird?” he added. “Since we just met?”
Before I could respond, Terry snuck up behind us.
“Listen to that!” He wiped his hands on his jeans before giving Eli a pat on the back. “Good work, son.”
Maybe it was the hue of the setting sun, but Eli’s ears looked a little pink.
“You know,” Terry said, combing his fingers through his mustache, “you look so darn familiar. Do you work down at the feed store?”
“No, sir. I don’t live around here. I’m just helping my dad for the summer.”
“Who’s your dad?”
“William Anderson. He’s an–”
“Bill! Bill’s your dad? Well, shoot!” Terry turned to me. “Remember, we had a guy come out to design the event arena?”
I shook my head.
“Ah, maybe that was before your time. Anyway, they boarded here, way back.” He turned to Eli, a new light shining in his eye. “How’s your mom? If I recall, she was the rider in the family.”
A muscle jumped in Eli’s jaw. “She died. About 15 years ago.”
“Oh no. I’m sorry. What happened?”
“Cancer.”
Terry tsked, shaking his head in regret. “That’s terrible.”
“Yeah.” Eli repositioned his cap on his head exactly like he’d had it before.
Nina returned with another load of rocks. And a bone.
“Hey, Crackerjack, let’s leave this one here.” I handed back the lower mandible of some long-dead rodent.
“No! I want it!” She shoved it back at me, and a tooth broke off.
Terry laughed. “That’s Jason’s kid, alright.”
In my peripheral, I caught Eli curl his hands over the bill of his hat.
Maybe it was his visible discomfort that motivated me.
Maybe I needed to release the pressure that had been building since I found that unlabeled blue folder in the back of the Mercedes.
Steven’s words regurgitated like a Taco Bell Gordita.
Have you even talked to Terry? So, I said it without preamble.
“Hey Terry, you still plan on selling me the ranch, right?”