Chapter 11 Veda
eleven
Veda
Iended up on a sunflower ranch.
The image of the beautiful flowers growing tall to reach the sun warms my heart now, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t wonder if this was part of Grandpa’s torture. A calculated move to make sure the lesson sinks deep.
Sending me to look at sunflowers when I wanted to name my daughter after the very same flower? Cruel genius. But then I remembered that Mirasol only had a name in my mind, and I brushed the suspicion aside.
Sunflowers were always my absolute favorite, so when I read the name in a romance book while I was pregnant, I knew it was her name. Mirasol. I called her Sol in my head, the perfect nickname for the little growing peanut that became my whole life.
Grandpa said I wasn’t allowed to name the baby about a million times, so I knew nothing was going to come from it.
And if I were ever to keep her, he wouldn’t let me name her after a flower in a romance book.
All the girly things he despises about me.
Despite the warnings, that became her name.
Even now that she’s not moving inside my belly, I can’t think of her as anything but Mirasol.
That night, I dream about my daughter, but for the first time, it’s not about her distraught shrieks as we were separated. This is a happy dream about us chasing and playing right in the middle of the sunflowers.
I wake up in the best mood, and I move to the kitchen, happy when I find slightly burned gluten-free pancakes waiting for me. Jesse made them. I don’t give a damn if they are burnt. I eat them all with a smile on my face.
My mood might be on the rise, but my body is not feeling its best. I’m still lactating, my breasts are like bricks, so hard that my nipples get stiff and visible even under multiple layers.
Everywhere else I’m tender. I feel like I’ve been beaten to a pulp.
My muscles cry every time I move, but I’m careful as I round the kitchen, making sure they can’t see how much everything hurts.
“You’ll be going with me today,” Major barks the minute I finish my plate.
“I can bring her around for animals,” Jesse offers.
Major shakes his head, not even listening to what the other cowboy has to say. I don’t want to show weakness even though it would be wise to do so. I tip my chin high, wave away Jesse’s concern, and follow Major out of the house.
His steps are larger than mine, so I have to practically run to keep up with him, which makes my breasts hurt even more.
I grimace, but I keep pushing. I don’t want to give him or anyone the impression I can’t work hard.
I can do whatever I want. Also, taking care of the animals did wonders for my mental health.
For the first time in weeks, I had something to pay attention to rather than the voices screaming inside, and after all that work, I was so exhausted I slept like a baby.
And had a good dream instead of a nightmare.
The pros of Wilde Ranch keep stacking up, I’m sure whatever chore Major has reserved for me will rejuvenate me just as much.
He leads me to the barn where they keep the goats, cows, and pigs. The goats are the cutest thing I’ve ever seen, and I hop to their pen with a huge smile on my face.
“Oh, look at you! What’s your name, cutie?”
The goat doesn’t answer, but her grumpy owner does.
“This is Desiree,” Major formally introduces us.
I don’t spare him a glance and keep cooing to all the animals. “What about her?” I point at the cow.
He sighs as if I’m doing something wrong by asking.
“Bessie.”
Major likes to puff his chest and keep the image of the grumpy guy around here, but he’s the one who has cute animals named Desiree and Bessie. I have nothing, though I love animals and always wanted a pet. Grandpa reminded me I’m trouble enough as it is.
“Here, take this.”
My attention is now on the pigs. I want to ask their names too, but Major shakes the shovel until I take it from his hands.
“Start with the goats and work your way down the barn.”
That’s all he tells me before turning around. He wants me to do what? I have to run after him and curse as my breasts weigh me down.
“What am I supposed to do with this?” I shake the shovel just as he did to me.
Major blinks down at me like I’m insane for asking and shakes his head. “You’re going to shovel shit, Veda.”
He turns on his heel and leaves the barn.
I’m so baffled by his reply that I don’t run after him this time.
The animals are cute, but I wanted to pet them, not deal with their shit.
It’s not pleasant work, but I don’t have an excuse not to do it.
Major brought me here to push my limits.
Either because Grandpa told him to or because he thinks I’m a spoiled brat and he can break me.
Well, he can’t. So I start with the goats.
The work is not exactly horrible once I get into a rhythm. The animals are cute, and I keep reminding myself that they need and deserve a clean pen, and that’s what I’m providing for them.
It takes me a long time from pen to pen.
I wasn’t exactly strong before, but now any physical activity brings bright spots to my eyes, and from time to time, I need to sit down on a clump of hay until my vision is back to normal.
I chat with the animals as I go, trying to keep my spirits high by humming happy songs, but by my third hour, my arms start shaking, and I feel like I’m about to puke.
There’s only one pen left, with a cute brown cow.
I'm not sure what her name is, but she has big dark eyes and loves to be pet. I sit on the hay in front of her pen to rest before I can tackle her shit. She seems understanding about it all. I’m concentrating on gathering the last of my strength, that I almost don’t hear the raised voices until they are too close.
“I’m done with this, Derrick.”
Major’s voice echoes loud and clear. They must be on the other side of the barn, where they keep the horses. Major must have thought I was done with the chore. Joke's on him—I’m the slowest poop shoveler in the world.
“What exactly are you done with?” Derrick spats in return.
“I’m tired of you hiding.”
Derrick laughs, but it’s obvious he doesn’t find any humor in it. I grimace and look at the cows, wondering if they hear the edge in his voice, too.
“Is that what I’m doing?”
“You ignore Champion, and you refuse to tame the wild horse.”
“Storm,” I whisper to myself. I named her Storm in my head, though no one knows but me. Naming who doesn’t belong to me became a habit of mine, but I can’t help myself. The mare is proud. She deserves a name of her own.
“Why is any of this your concern? Hurts so bad you can’t fix me?”
“You’re not broken, Derrick,” Major says so softly his tone surprises me, and I feel a tug inside. The urge to hug the grumpy cowboy is so great, I know I need to get checked. There’s no way Major would accept a hug from me, or should I ever offer.
“Funny, that’s how it looks to me.” Derrick’s reply comes again with his horribly sarcastic chuckle.
The brothers seem to be frustrating one another, but really, they should talk.
Big feelings are gone easily when people listen to them, but I have to admit, I can’t imagine either of them going for a heart-to-heart.
You need to be in a place of vulnerability for that, and I’m not an expert on them, but it feels like neither of them is willing to let their guard down.
“I’ve been patient and understanding…”
I scoff. Major is none of those things.
“Are you telling me my time here is done? You brought me here to get better, and since I’m not, you’re kicking me out?”
“No.”
“I’m never going to ride a horse again, Major. Get that through your thick skull.”
Silence follows that statement, and I assume Derrick walked away.
I wonder what happened to him to make him never want to ride a horse again.
He’s a cowboy. I thought that’s what they do.
I don’t agree with Major’s approach. I understand how frustrating it must be to watch your sibling hurt when you can’t do anything about it, but forcing someone to get better is not the right move.
I stay where I am for a little longer, afraid to make too much noise and call their attention to my accidental eavesdropping.
Only when I’m sure they're left do I move to the last pen to clean up. This time, I don’t even see time passing by. My mind is back on the brothers, especially on Derrick.
When everything is done, I drag my feet back to the house. I want nothing more than a shower, but my stomach growls, demanding food. The walk to the house isn’t bad, but the sun beats down on me, and I’m sweaty on top of everything else by the time I make it.
There’s no one around when I let myself in, and I’m thankful for that. I don’t have it in me to talk. I almost run straight to the shower, but I stop short when I see a lonely sandwich on the table.
Made with my gluten-free bread.
There’s no mistake, the cut is different from the regular ones they eat.
This has to be for me, yet there’s no note, nothing.
My stomach growls again, and I end up sitting down and taking a bite.
It’s a ham and cheese sandwich, very simple, but I moan when I start eating.
There’s nothing better for a hungry belly than food waiting.
Just as I’m finishing it off, Jesse and Derrick come in. I wipe my face of the crumbs and stand, heading to the bedroom.
“Going?” Jesse asks as soon as his eyes land on me.
I edge closer to the hallway. “I’ve shoveled shit for the last few hours. You don’t want me around.”
Jesse flinches. “I wondered what Major had in mind for you.”
I wave his concern off. “It’s fine. The animals are cute.”
“That’s one way to think about it.” Derrick chuckles.
He looks in good spirits, and I try not to compare his tone now to the one he directed to his brother earlier. I’m not a good liar, and I blush even if I’m only thinking about something I shouldn’t know. I need to make my exit before they realize how much I heard before.
“Err– I’m going to wash myself. Thank you for the sandwich.”
Jesse frowns. “For what?”
“The sandwich?” I point dumbly at the now empty space at the table. I made sure to load the plate into the dishwasher.
“I love getting credit for cooking for you, sweetheart, but I’m afraid it wasn’t me this time.”
My eyes flick to Derrick, but he’s already shaking his head. It’s impossible. I’m far more inclined to believe that a ghost made that sandwich than to believe Major left it for me.
“I’m going to take a shower,” I say again, shaking my head.
I leave them be, but the question still follows me to my bedroom.
Maybe Major made a sandwich for himself.
I brush that possibility off quickly. No one who can have gluten would try gluten-free bread just for fun.
It never looks yummy compared to the real deal.
Or maybe that’s just me and my gluten cravings.
Well, I’ll know if I hear him shouting about it soon.
No shouting makes its way to my bedroom. Later, I come out for dinner, and I’m face-to-face with the grumpy cowboy himself. I wait for him to accuse me of stealing his sandwich, but he doesn't. All he does is try to feed me again.