Chapter 32 #2
He didn’t pressure me for conversation as we drove the windy path to where we’d first met, a concrete ribbon to the past. If I closed my eyes, I could pretend we were returning from a used trailer show, Jason complaining about the prices of fifth wheels, but I had my sights set on a 30-foot Coleman.
Willowy mesquite branches would wave us in the long driveway.
We’d pass families unloading their vehicles for a day at the ranch, wagons with coolers, kids in cheap cowboy hats, their faces white with sunscreen.
Friendly horse-hands standing by in their worn and dusty denim and boots.
A rainbow of horse breeds saddled and waiting in the arena.
But when I opened my eyes, I saw only the skeletal remains of a past I desperately sought to reclaim. As soon as he’d parked, I teetered out of August’s truck with my crutches. He ran to meet me, offering a hand.
“I’m good,” I said. “Can I just have a minute?”
“Of course.”
My extra legs clacked and clicked as I worked my way down the ghost of a path alone, towards Jason’s favorite trailhead.
The ranch hadn’t changed since last I’d come, but everything about it felt wrong.
Broken fences shouted like live-auction bids–money spent for wood and screws instead of new toys for Nina.
The nearly empty barn wept lonely tears, a time-abyss to recruit new boarders.
I’d miss out on floor puzzles before lunch, and ice cream dates when the days hit triple digits.
I no longer saw potential; I saw a thief.
What else would it rob me of as I fought to bring it back to life? We had so little time already.
The sun beat mercilessly on my skin. The dust made my eyes dry.
Terry and Kip were probably in the air-conditioned office, taking a break, or wrapping up for the day, but that wouldn’t be my reality.
I’d be out there every day, all day, making up for the lack of staffing.
Building equity with my own sweat. Terry’s words echoed in my mind.
“Just because you can, doesn’t mean you should.
” He was right. He’d been warning me from the start, but I’d been too na?ve to realize that cost meant more than money.
When my truck flipped, I’d been sure I’d never see this place again. And I didn’t care, because nothing overshadowed the fear of leaving Nina behind.
Hidden Meadows had changed, but so had I.
My crutches swung me past the leaning arena with its uneven gate, past withered sheds with their peeling paint, splintered picnic tables. Decorative stones used to line the path to the trailheads at the east end of the ranch, but now stringy weeds and burrs danced around my ankles.
My trek ended at the mouth of Jason’s trail, where we’d scattered his ashes. I wasn’t wearing boots or denim. I didn’t have my cowgirl hat. And the tangerine sleeve on my leg ensured I wouldn’t ride for weeks, maybe more.
We’d built our life’s routine around a single goal: Hidden Meadows.
Every choice, every sacrifice pivoted on how to make it ours.
I knew nothing else. But did I really want Hidden Meadows?
Or was I seeking the connection to Jason that it gave me?
“You’re probably wondering what I’m doing here like this. ”
The mountain felt massive to a little seed like me, seeking somewhere to land.
“What am I saying? I bet you already know.” A tear slid down my face before I could sniff it away.
My voice shook. “I screwed up, Jason. I lost sight of what mattered. I don’t even know how it happened.
I did everything I was supposed to. Stayed strong for Nina.
Focused on the goal, kept busy. But … I’m not happy. ”
No sudden gust of wind stirred at my words. No burst of rain erupted from the cloudless sky. Jason wasn’t here. No one was. Maybe that’s why the truth I’d been holding back finally burst free.
“I know we promised each other a home here, but I can’t keep doing this. I’m tired of fighting. A day in a stuffy office is better than one that doesn’t end with Nina.”
Next to Jason, I knew where I belonged, what came next, and how to get there. But without him, I was shifty. Uncertain. A horse without a herd.
My vision blurred. He was supposed to be there. To reassure me.
Sweat ran down the opening of my cast, and my flamingo leg shook from heat and strain. “I’m really sorry about Roxy.” Somehow, I’d known that I couldn’t raise the dead with her. Why did I think I could do it with a ranch?
“I wish you’d say something.”
But he wasn’t there.
Of course he wasn’t. He hadn’t been for a year.
I was just too grief-stricken to see it.
Jason had so much passion for the ranch.
To fall in love with him meant falling in love with Hidden Meadows.
And I had hoped that reviving it would keep him alive.
But it felt impossible to do it without him.
Because it was him, and he wasn’t coming back.
I pivoted on a single crutch, leaving a circular gouge in the dirt that mirrored the one in my chest where all my whimsical plans gushed out.
Then I scraped and sweated across the ghostly ranch to the single-wide until the office door loomed in front of me.
I knew the hinge would squeak when I opened it, and the interior would smell of paper, Sharpies, coffee, and horsehair.
Kip would probably be leaning over the books, pencil in hand, readers fixed at the end of her nose.
Terry might watch her with a half-smile as he jumped between slurping his third or fourth cup of coffee and catching up with August. A little pocket of familiar bliss.
And never had I been so terrified to enter.
I stood on the bottom step, my heart galloping up my throat. No plans, no direction, no idea what came next–a foreign predicament that chafed against my very nature.
What do I do?
Then, like a sigh, an invisible weight settled over my shoulders. It closed around me, holding me together. Fed me strength. A sun-soaked cocoon. And within that breath, I believed everything would be okay.
Tears rolled down my cheeks. I didn’t know who I was supposed to be anymore. Without him. Without Hidden Meadows. But I needed to find out. Because I couldn’t live in the past and be present for Nina. I pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes and wiped away my doubts.
It was never about a place.
It was about a family.