Rustic Hearts (Poplar Falls Book 1)

by Amber Kelly

  “What about work? We’re just starting to get busy.”

  “I think I can hold down the fort for a few days.”

  Honestly, in the age of laptops, iPhones, Messenger, and FaceTime, it’s not like you have to be physically present in your office anymore to keep a business running smoothly. We live in a world where you can run it from just about anywhere.

  The truth is, I am scared. Scared to be rejected again.

  It’s time to be brave.

  I decide before I can talk myself out of it. “Okay. I’ll do it. It’s a couple of days. I can do anything for a couple of days. Will you book me a flight to Denver, and can you make a reservation with the car service? An SUV if they have one available. I’ll have to be driven out to Poplar Falls. It’s about two hours from the airport.”

  “You got it.” She stands and heads for the door. Then, she stops and turns back for a moment. “I’m proud of you.”

  “Don’t be proud of me yet. I still have to get on the plane.”

  Sophie

  “You’re what!” my mother’s panicked voice shrieks across the line as I corral my luggage out of the taxi and into the airport.

  “It’s just for a few days, Mom. I want to pay my respects and see Pop.”

  I knew she was going to be upset about me going to Poplar Falls, and that’s why I waited until the last possible second to tell her.

  “This is a bad idea, Sophia,” she says nervously.

  “Maybe so, but I’m about to board the plane, so for better or worse, I’m going.”

  “You don’t have to. You can turn around right now. I’ll send you a car myself.”

  She sounds even more distressed than I expected.

  “It’ll be fine, Mom. I’m a big girl now, and you don’t have to protect me anymore. If it’s too uncomfortable or unpleasant, I’ll come back early. It’s not like they’re going to hog-tie me and refuse to let me leave.”

  I try to ease her mind, but she doesn’t laugh.

  “I just don’t understand why you have to go. You haven’t seen your grandmother in over twenty years. It’s not like you were close anymore. Sending a condolence card would suffice.”

  “Mom …”

  “Just the thought of you being around that woman and those children turns my stomach.”

  At her admission, I drop some of my annoyance. I know how crushed she was when word got back to us that Daddy had remarried so quickly after their divorce—and to the other woman, no less. The last thing I want to do is hurt her.

  “Trust me, I’m not looking forward to meeting them either, but this trip isn’t about them. I want to see Aunt Doreen and Aunt Ria, Emmett, and Pop.”

  “And your father,” she whispers over the line.

  “And my father,” I admit.

  She sighs, and there is a long pause.

  “Mom, you still there?”

  “Yes, darling. Promise me something before you go.”

  “Anything.”

  “No matter what happens while you’re there, promise me you’ll come back.”

  I laugh at her request. “Of course I’ll come back, silly. I live here. My apartment, my office, my friends, you and Stanhope—my entire life is in New York. Nothing could keep me from coming home.”

  I hear her sniffle, and I know that she’s crying.

  “Mom, don’t you think you’re being a little overdramatic? There’s no reason to be so upset. It’s a quick trip. A vacation. I’ll be there and back before you know it.” I dig in my bag for my ID and ticket as I near the head of the security line. “I have to go. I’m about to go through the TSA check. I’ll call you when I land in Denver.”

  “All right, Sophia. Have a safe flight. Remember you’re my onliest only.”

  “Bye, Mom. Love you.” I hang up just as I pass my ID to the scowling agent. “Sorry about that. I have a nervous Nelly for a mother.”

  He grunts at me as he passes back my card.

  Okay, I guess we aren’t in the talkative mood today.

  Once I’m through to my gate, I pull out my Kindle. Time to get lost in my latest obsession—historical romance—for a while, so I don’t overthink this trip.

  At the Denver airport, I head to baggage claim to grab my luggage before making my way to the information desk to inquire about my car service.

  Just as I pluck my bag from the carousel, I hear a deep voice calling my name, “Sophia Lancaster!”

  I turn to see a man standing there with his hands in the pockets of his well-worn jeans. He’s wearing a baseball cap on his head, pulled low over his blue eyes. Tendrils of dark hair are escaping at his nape. His tanned arms are barely contained by his rolled-up shirtsleeves. He’s a very impressive sight indeed, except for the annoyed scowl he’s wearing.

  I shake myself from my staring and slowly approach him.

  “I’m sorry, do I know you?” I ask.

  “Are you Sophia?”

  “Yes,” I answer hesitantly.

  “I’m your ride,” he announces matter-of-factly.

  I look around, confused. He’s definitely not a driver for the service we usually hire. Their uniforms consist of black ties and jackets, not flannel and dusty boots. Maybe there’s another Sophia he’s supposed to meet.

  “I think you have the wrong girl. I’m Sophia Lancaster, but I’m not expecting a ride. I have a car service picking me up.”

  He walks over and firmly takes my bag from my hand. “Lancaster. Yep. You’re the one I’m here for.” He turns and starts walking toward the exit.

  “Wait. That’s mine.”

  I hurry after him as he rushes toward a parking deck, dodging cars arriving to pick up other passengers.

  “No time to wait, sweetheart. Rush-hour traffic is about to hit, and we want to be on the other side of Denver when it does,” he calls behind him.

  We make it to a large gray Chevy truck, and he tosses my bag over the tailgate as I skid to a halt behind him.

  “I’m sorry, but I’m not getting into your truck. I have no idea who you are. Please give me back my bag before I call for security,” I rasp out as I try to catch my breath.

  At that, he smiles a little half grin and walks toward me. I start backing up as he approaches.

  “Name’s Braxton. Doreen sent me to get you. The ranch isn’t that easy to find in the dark, and GPS isn’t much help. So, if you don’t mind getting your ass in the truck, we can get on the road and make it back before Emmett scoffs down supper and leaves us nothing but scraps.”

  Braxton. The new wife’s nephew. Why would Aunt Doreen send Braxton to get me? He and his sister are the ones who replaced me.

  I stand there, rooted in my spot.

  I knew I would eventually meet him and his sister, Elowyn. I went over the scenario in my head a thousand times. I’d be introduced to my father’s new family, and I’d be polite but distant. Then, I’d do everything I could to avoid them the rest of my stay.

  Here I am, caught off guard at our first meeting, and I can’t seem to get my practiced mask in place.

  There’s no way I can ride two hours in a confined space with him.

  “I’d prefer to try to make it on my own.”

  He lets out an unamused chuckle and shakes his head. “Look, Princess, I’m not thrilled about this either. I have work to do, but it’s important to Doreen, and that makes it important to me. She just lost her mother.”

  At that, I deflate a little. I realize I seem like a petulant child at the moment, so I give in. How bad could it be? “All right, fine.”

  I walk over as he unlocks the passenger door and swings it wide for me. I climb up and slide into the seat.

  “You’re welcome, Princess,” he says sarcastically as he shuts the door and rounds the truck.

  This is going to be the longest road trip of my life.

  I take my earbuds from my purse and stick them into my ears as I close my eyes. I’ll let Norah Jones sing me all the way to Poplar Falls without sparing a single word or g
lance at my companion.

  Sophie

  I feel a gentle shake to my shoulder that jolts me awake. I remove the earbuds and stretch my stiff, aching limbs like a cat. I must have fallen asleep shortly after we left the Denver city limits because the last thing I remember is the buildings fading off into the sunset.

  “We’re almost there,” he informs me as my eyes start to adjust to the twilight sky.

  Up ahead in the distance, I see the familiar, old iron gate that leads to my childhood home. I sit up and focus on the top where the words Rustic Peak Ranch welcome us, and a sliver of nervous energy runs down my spine.

  “It looks exactly the same as I remember,” I utter with bewilderment as we approach the massive entryway.

  “Yeah, Jefferson isn’t much into change,” he agrees.

  My daddy, Jefferson Lancaster, has run the daily operation of Rustic Peak Ranch since Pop put him in charge when I was about ten years old. Not that Pop actually took much of a step back. He was still up with the sun and working the ranch every morning like clockwork. He just handed off all the management responsibility and ranch-hand oversight to Daddy.

  “Sounds about right,” I whisper into the cab.

  “He’s excited to see you, ya know. Nervous but excited.”

  “Daddy? Excited?” I ask in disbelief.

  “Well, as excited as he gets.” He shrugs.

  “I don’t know what he does or doesn’t do anymore. For all I know, he gets as giddy as a schoolgirl now. We’re strangers.”

  “Yeah, well, maybe you finally coming to visit can change that.”

  “Finally?” I turn in my seat to look at him. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “Means it’s about time you made a trip home to see him.”

  “No one asked your opinion. And my relationship with my father is none of your business. Besides, he’s the parent. If anyone should’ve been flying to see anyone, it should’ve been him.”

  “Right.”

  The truck pulls through the gate, and the retort I was about to deliver falls from my mind as I take in the beauty before me.

  The long, pear-tree-lined driveway stretches out before us. I reach over and roll the window down, and the sweet brown-sugar smell of chrysanthemums drifts in on the breeze and wraps around us. The crunch of the gravel under the tires brings a flood of memories back to me as I watch the dust settle on the windshield.

  Me sitting on Daddy’s lap as he let me steer the old tractor. Riding bikes to town with Dallas and taking Blackberry out for her evening run. Me and Pop walking to the pond out behind the stables with fishing poles in hand. Gram and me taking our evening walks. So many happy times spent on this long, winding driveway. Memories I had long-ago filed away in that closed compartment in my heart.

  A gasp escapes me when the house comes into sight. I’ve been trying to remember exactly what it looked like. The four-story white farmhouse with a huge wraparound porch is a shade past needing fresh paint, but it is still stunning. Regal. The centerpiece of the ranch. The heart. I can still picture Gram at the table, peeling apples, and Aunt Doreen sitting on the front porch, snapping beans. So different from the Fifth Avenue lifestyle I was thrust into in the city.

  “It’s like time stopped,” I state as we draw closer.

  But it hasn’t. It just moved on without me. New people moved in, life continued, and now, Gram is gone.

  As soon as the truck stops in front of the house and Braxton puts it in park, the front door swings open, and out bounds my aunts and Pop and Emmett. Emmett is one of Daddy’s best friends and has been working the ranch alongside him since before I was born. I grew up calling him Uncle Em. He is as much a part of the family as anyone.

  As I open the door and jump down, Aunt Doreen comes running down the steps and throws her arms around me. “Oh my, Sophie. Let me get a look at you.”

  “Hi, Aunt Doe.”

  She pulls back and looks me over from head to toe.

  Aunt Doreen is tall and soft around the edges. Her blonde hair is cut shorter than I remember and laced with white. Her kind blue eyes are set in fine lines now, but she’s still so lovely. I must have inherited my hair, eye, and complexion coloring from my father’s side.

  “You’re a woman. All grown up and so beautiful.”

  Her eyes fill with tears, and Aunt Ria comes up and shoos her away.

  “Oh, don’t start the waterworks, or you’ll have us all blubbering.” Then, she wraps me in a bear hug of her own.

  Aunt Ria has always been what I call a robust lady. Big, round, loud, and strong as an ox. Dallas and I were terrified of her and her switches when we were little. I can remember spending many days hiding from her among the hay bales in the barn.

  “You’re a sight for sore eyes, girl.”

  “So are you, Aunt Ria.”

  A throat clears, and I look up over her shoulder. There stands my daddy on the porch with his arm around a pretty woman who’s wearing a timid smile.

  Jefferson Lancaster is a presence, standing at over six feet tall with broad shoulders. His dark hair has turned a distinguished salt and pepper, and so has his mustache.

  “Hi, Daddy.”

  He looks intently at me for a moment, like he’s not quite sure if it’s actually me. Then, he nods his head and barks out, “Everyone give Sophie a little breathing room, will you? She just got here, and I’m sure she’s tired after a long day of travel.”

  The pretty lady under his arm breaks away and makes her way to me. “Hello, Sophie. I’m Madeline.”

  I look down at her outstretched hand. I pause for a moment before my manners override my hesitation, and I take it.

  “We’re so happy you’re here. Everyone has been waiting on pins and needles for you to arrive.”

  She motions for a girl, who looks to be in her early twenties, to come over.

  “You’ve met my nephew, Brax, and this is his sister, my niece, Elowyn.”

  She looks very much like her aunt’s twin. Long black hair, thin frame, and large brown eyes.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Sophie,” she says as her aunt pulls her in front of me.

  “Same to you,” I clip.

  Her face falls a little at my tone.

  “Elowyn can’t wait to hear all about living in New York. She’s been obsessed with fashion and celebrities since she could walk and talk. I think she might have been the most excited when we found out you were coming.”

  I give her a tight smile, and she beams back at me.

  I’m overwhelmed at this moment with this little family reunion and introduction. Not sure how to act, I look up at my father. He can see the plea on my face.

  “Are you hungry?” he asks.

  “A little, I guess, and I could use the ladies’ room.”

  “Oh, of course. Look at us, making a fuss when you have to be ready to freshen up and eat. Let’s get you inside.” Aunt Doreen guides me up the steps to the house. “Brax, can you bring her things in, dear?” she asks as she shuffles me in.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he calls.

  I walk into the foyer, and the first thing I notice is a portrait of Daddy, Madeline, Braxton, and Elowyn where one of him, Mom, and me used to hang. I stop in front of it. Aunt Doreen stops with me, and her chattering goes silent.

  She gently tugs my elbow to get my attention. “Let me show you to the bathroom.” She nudges.

  “I know where it is. Unless that’s been moved and replaced too?”

  She lets out a heavy sigh. “No. Still right where it used to be.”

  “Thank you.”

  Sophie

  I barricade myself in the bathroom for way too long. A mini breakdown is had. I didn’t realize how enormous the flood of emotions would be when they finally washed over me, memories crashing over me like waves. This place was my home. This house was where I learned how to walk and talk. I learned to ride my bike on the driveway out front, and I fell from my horse and broke my left arm when she was spooked by a rattle
snake out by the big barn. It’s where Dallas and I played and where she kissed Myer Wilson—a boy we had both been crushing on since third grade—during a cutthroat game of Truth or Dare. I didn’t speak to her for three whole days after that.

  This ranch is where I learned to milk a cow, how to saddle and brush my own mare. I was my daddy’s shadow, following him all day long as he worked this ranch. I woke up with him before the sun every day. During the school year, I would help him feed the cows, horses, and chickens before I caught the bus. On summer days, I would spend hours helping him and Emmett mend fences and build new coops. This is where I picked up a charcoal pencil for the first time and started drawing. I would sketch the landscape or the house and barn and present the masterpieces to Gram. She would proudly display them all on the refrigerator door. This place is where I became me.

  I wash my hands and look up into the mirror above the sink. I brush my carefully curled hair behind one shoulder with my perfectly manicured fingers. My makeup is flawless. I’m a far cry from the tomboy who used to climb trees and shovel stalls. That girl doesn’t exist anymore, except for in my dreams. My armor is securely in place.

  A small knock at the door startles me.

  “You okay in there, Sophie Doe?” Aunt Doreen’s muffled voice comes from the other side. Concern evident in her question.

  “Yes, I’ll be out in just a minute,” I call back.

  I take one last look in the mirror and take a deep breath. I have come this far, no reason to chicken out now.

  “You’re not a little girl anymore. You can put on your big-girl socks and handle your feelings. Be brave.” I give myself the small pep talk, and then I open the door and walk to the living room.

  Everyone is awkwardly standing around, waiting for me.

  Madeline is the first to speak, “You want supper, Sophie?”

  I ate on the plane a few hours ago, but I could eat again.