RUMORS

by Bellus, HJ

  My steps are confident and sure as I make my way to him. My hair is longer than it’s ever been, let down and flowing in the breeze. He turns his head to see me coming his way. Cray doesn’t flinch and I don’t either when the beautiful blonde next to him grips his forearm and leans her head on his shoulder. After the war I just fought, nothing will stop me from what I’ve wanted for so damn long.

  “Hey.” I tuck some hair behind my ear.

  Dalton clears his throat. “Frankie.”

  His deep, caring voice saying my name creates the biggest smile I’ve ever dared let loose. It’s as real as they come.

  Adrenaline pumps through my veins. It’s my time, so I go for it.

  I’ve missed you, Dalton. God, I’ve missed you so damn much. “Cray,” I reply, tucking my hands in my jean pockets.

  “Cray?” the blonde asks, a question scrunching up her brows.

  “Sorry, it’s an old habit,” I admit, peering down at my brown cowboy boots.

  “Hey.” The blonde woman on his arm pats his chest. “I’m going to chat with an old friend I just spotted.”

  Cray nods as she bounds off. The woman is gorgeous. Like I mean, model gorgeous with an hourglass-shaped body, full in all the right places. I can tell she’s his age or even a bit older. I’ve filled out over the years, there’s no doubt about that, but still, around women like her, I feel every bit a scrawny teen even though that stage of my life is long gone.

  “How have you been?” I ask, kicking a large pebble at the toe of my boot.

  “Hey, hey, hey!” A tornado of dark curls comes bounding up between us. “Feed goat. Feed goat.”

  Cray swoops down, grabbing the precious little girl and clutching her to his chest. There’s no doubt this little one is his. She’s the spitting image of Cray, from the color of her hair, eyes, and the shape of her nose.

  All of my bravado disintegrates. He’s moved on and I can’t fault him for that. I left to take care of myself and succeeded; that’s all that matters.

  “She’s beautiful.” I force a fake smile. “Just wanted to say hey, but can see you’re busy.”

  “Feed goats. Feed goats. Feed goats.” The little one now has both of her chubby hands pressed to Dalton’s cheek forcing him to look at her.

  “The black and white goat’s name is Lilly, and she’s super sweet.” I nod to the pen of them. “Make sure to give her extra love. It was nice seeing you, Cray.”

  I turn and walk toward the barn, defeated and elated at the same time. What a beautiful blessing for Cray. I have no doubt he’s an amazing father and husband. I no longer lie to myself or avoid getting hurt. Yes, it stings like a bitch.

  “You okay?” John asks as I pass him.

  “Yeah.” I nod. “Just going to the barn for a bit.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Frankie

  Another thing that has changed is I allow myself to cry. And that’s just what I do when I sit down on a straw bale. I always knew deep down I was a fool to think we’d ever reconnect again. It didn’t stop me from hoping. I’ve tried searching for him a few times on social media and came up empty-handed. The only thing associated with the Cray last name is Truckee, and it’s mostly to do with ranching.

  I had to go and will never regret that decision. I have a life now where hopes outweigh fears. That’s priceless. I still have bad days, but who doesn’t? I spent five months at a wilderness therapeutic camp in the desert, where everything was stripped so I could focus on me. Those were the hardest days and nights of my life. Because I was eighteen, I could walk out of the program at any time, and on so many occasions I was tempted. I stayed strong.

  I spent a year in Costa Rica at another program that transitioned me back into the real world. I got a job, and ironically live and function only four hours from my hometown. Boone is nothing like where I grew up. Nobody knew me and honestly doesn’t care who the hell I am for that matter. It helps that it’s double the size of Birch Creek.

  One of the hardest assignments during my therapy was writing to June. It tore me apart. There was no sugarcoating my feelings. It was honest and brutal. I took ownership of my faults and let her know how I felt. My therapist at the time warned me that the letter June wrote back wouldn’t be easy to read, but it was up to me. She was right. It broke my heart, every single word in it.

  If it wasn’t for her handwriting, I’d guess her mother or father wrote it, spewing their hatred back at me. She didn’t believe any of my truths, and made it clear that she was done with my drama. I grieved her loss just like I did Grandma.

  I continue to heal and grow every day. That’s just the way my life will be forever. I’ve come to terms with the fact that what I went through is not fixable. It’s a part of me. It took me two years to be able to walk among crowds of people allowing my back to face them. And only recently have I started wearing short sleeve shirts without being ashamed of my scars. Every day it’s something else.

  And today I’m not going to hide in this barn, away from my past and regret. I stand up and dust off my bottom. A whinny catches my attention. I smile, walking over to Pokey and hold his face. Truckee and Opal took care of everything after I left. Opal kept her promise and never told anyone of my whereabouts. She had my personal items shipped to me and kept Pokey at her place.

  The day he arrived here at the rescue ranch it was evident he had been well-groomed and taken care of. John is letting me keep him here since I’m still finding a place to settle my roots. This town has been my home for only six months. I was thinking it might be the place for me, that’s until I saw Cray. It only took a matter of seconds for me to imagine a whole new life with him. But he has a different life and that’s okay. The pain will ease. It always does.

  “Love you, boy.” I kiss the tip of his nose and dig in my pocket for a sugar cube. “Better go help cook.”

  I stay far away from the pens of animals and head to the barbecue grills and food tables. Everyone working here is a volunteer, just doing their part to make the world a little better. Juanita, who is elbow-deep in pulled pork, nods me over to the green salad.

  “All those veggies need cut up.”

  “On it.” I wink at her then wash my hands in the outdoor kitchen set-up.

  John truly spared no expense on this place. Mindlessly, I find myself peeling and slicing cucumbers, carrots, onions, and peppers. Slowly, the visitors on the ranch meander over to the food, generous with their donations and kindness. I slink back, fading into the background. Yeah, it’s still one thing I need to work on. It’s my comfort zone, though.

  “Well, all-bee.” A booming voice startles me from my spot on a rock, soaking up the sunshine.

  I jerk my head up to see Truckee with a shit-eating grin on his face. I hop off the rock and right my shirt.

  “Thought I was seeing something. Had to wipe my eyes a few times to make sure it was really you, squirt.” He holds his arms wide open. “Get your cute little ass over here.”

  I smile, wrapping my arms around his waist. Truckee kisses the top of my head.

  “Ass. Ass. Ass. Ass.” Dalton’s little girl comes racing up to us.

  “You look damn good, Frankie.”

  “Thank you.” I blush.

  “Don’t worry about telling me the same because I know I always look damn fine.”

  I shake my head. This man hasn’t changed at all.

  “Ass. Ass. Ass.”

  “Shit,” Truckee growls.

  “Ass. Shit. Ass.” She holds her chubby hands up in the air.

  “Your momma is going to kill me.” He leans down, grabs her, and tosses her up in the air.

  Her giggles rain down on us in the sweetest way. She is perfection. She balls her little fist up shaking them in the air while doing her best to wiggle her butt in Truckee’s hold.

  “Again. Again. Again, dadda!” She slaps his cheeks and giggles. “Dadda, please, dadda.”

  “Dad?” I ask in shock.

  Truckee nods his head. “Yep, t
his one is all mine.”

  I laugh.

  “What’s so funny?”

  I shake my head. “Nothing.”

  Wow, talk about strong family genetics. She does look like Dalton, and well, Truckee and Dalton are very similar in looks. Their body builds are about the only difference.

  “There you guys are.” The blonde who was with Dalton earlier joins our conversation. She leans her head on Truckee’s bicep.

  “I’m starving and exhausted. Is this almost over?”

  What the hell? Is she with Truckee? And if so, where in the hell is Opal? At this point, I quit assuming that I have any clue what’s going on.

  “Have you met Frankie?” Truckee points to me.

  “No. Saw her earlier when she talked to Dalton, or should I say Cray?” I don’t miss the taunting tone in her voice.

  “Don’t be a bitch, Penny,” Truckee barks.

  His little parrot decides to do the same thing. “Bitch, bitch, bitch.”

  “Anyway, this gem here,” Truckee hitches a thumb to the blonde, “Is my cousin visiting from out of state. Has a damn chip on her shoulder that’s about to get knocked back into place.”

  Awkward introductions, but then again, it’s Truckee.

  “Nice to meet you.” I extend my hand only to be snubbed. Truckee has his work cut out for this one. I don’t have to ask any questions to know she’s messed up in her own sort of way and came to Truckee as a haven. Penny ends up wandering off, and I have to say I’m damn thankful for that.

  “Where is Opal?” I ask.

  “Mommy?” The little girl puts her hands up in the air with a sad face.

  Truckee shrugs. “She couldn’t handle being a mom. Ran off when Gemma was three months old. Haven’t seen her since.”

  “Mommy?” Gemma whines again, this time her bottom lip jutting out.

  I gasp, and decide I’m not asking anymore questions today. My hell. Things have definitely changed over the last three years.

  “I’m so sorry to hear that.” I fumble with the hem of my shirt.

  “Sorry to hear what?” A voice joins us as Opal appears from behind Truckee. “Oh my God! Frankie!”

  She bolts for me, wrapping me in a hug so tight I can feel it down to my toes. Tears, so many happy tears flow down my face. I wanted to reach out to Opal so many times, but just never knew when enough time was enough. That’s been the hardest part of this journey, because there are no solid answers.

  “Let me see you.” She pulls back, looking me up and down. “Holy cow, woman, you’re a woman and glowing and gorgeous!”

  She hugs the hell out of me one more time. When we separate she’s forced to wipe the tears from under her eyes as well.

  “You came back?” I ask, confused.

  “What do you mean?”

  I look up to Truckee and she rolls her eyes. “That lame joke again? I told you to knock it off.”

  “Mommy!” Gemma waves her hands frantically, trying to get to Opal.

  “She’s so beautiful,” I say, watching the interaction between mother and daughter.

  “Thank you.” She kisses the top of her baby girl’s head. “But I’m afraid she’s all piss and vinegar just like her daddy. I’m so screwed.”

  “Eat. Eat. Eat.” She points at the table with food lining it.

  “Yes, eat, eat, eat,” Truckee mimics his daughter. “Make sure to get a few plates in your belly, Gemma. Your momma will put us back on minimal rations again once we’re out of the public eye.”

  Truckee pokes his daughter’s belly and winks. Then the cutest thing I’ve ever witnessed happens next. Gemma twists her face up until she barely manages to get one eye closed in a wink back to her dad.

  “You are so screwed.” I lean over and whisper into Opal’s ear.

  “Don’t I know it.” She shakes her head.

  We fill our plates with food then find a place under a shade tree where we sit in a circle. Gemma is the star of the show. This girl is something else. She is barely two and runs this family. I’m certain Truckee was knocked from his rank as the leader.

  “Gemma, ladies don’t do that,” Truckee huffs and takes a bite from his roll.

  “She learned it at pre-school, baby, it’s fine.” Opal pats the top of his thigh.

  “No, it’s not. Reason number one I don’t like her going there.”

  Opal rolls her eyes. “It’s two hours a week and she needs to socialize with peers her age instead of being raised with old cowboys and horses.”

  “Yeah, dadda.” Gemma waltzes over to her dad, perches her hand on his shoulder, sticks her butt out at him and shakes it, accompanied by her peering over her shoulder smiling at Truckee.

  I try really hard not to laugh, but end up losing the battle. I share stories with Opal of my time in Costa Rica and what I’m doing now. She doesn’t push for answers, even when asking question after question. She’s respectful, soaking up all the details. I swear I could talk to Opal for hours on end about everything.

  I always felt like something was missing the last few years. I could never put my finger on it and chalked it up to the process of me discovering myself. But now I know it’s this. My people. The ones who saved me and who I consider family. I feel whole when I’m surrounded by them. A permanent smile paints my face. It’s easy and effortless.

  “Gemma!” Opal tries to lurch forward but she’s too late.

  A cup of ice water sprays the front of me. Gemma had been told “no” several times, but that didn’t stop her. She was determined to empty her cup.

  Truckee laughs hard. Well, that’s until Opal’s glare strikes him full force.

  “Your child is a hellion on wheels. She’s going to end up being arrested by the age of five.” Opal shakes her head, standing up to chase Gemma who is doing her best to escape. “And you’ll just be laughing. I swear.”

  Truckee’s laughter dies down. “Sorry, Frankie. Gemma saw me toss a cold cup of coffee on the dirt the other day and she’s been determined to give it a go herself. I’m not sure what’s funnier, the look on your face or Opal’s reaction.”

  I shake my head. “You are in so much trouble, Truckee.”

  He shrugs. “What’s new? Not having my woman chewing my ass would be weird. It’s what I love about her. She fires up so damn easily.”

  “Gemma, you need to apologize to Frankie.” Opal has her daughter hitched on her side with the little girl doing her best to squirm away. “You need to say sorry for throwing water on her.”

  Opal sets the little girl on the ground in the middle of our circle and she shakes her head “no.”

  “Gemma,” Opal scolds.

  She sticks her hand on her hip and raises her chin in defiance.

  “Now, little one,” Truckee’s deep voice booms.

  This gets her attention. Her brown eyes go wide, zeroing in on her dad. Her little chin waivers for a tick before she covers it up.

  “Gemma,” Truckee urges her.

  Several long silent seconds go by before she opens her mouth. The first time no words come out.

  “Sorry. Water. Sorry.” She crosses her arms, turns on her heels, and bolts for her dad, landing right in the middle of his chest. Loud, desperate wails come from the little body as her body shakes.

  “Oh, no.” I look to Opal. “I didn’t want to make her sad.”

  Opal waves me off. “That girl would rather take a spanking than say sorry. And once the word does slip from her mouth, she has an epic meltdown and goes right for her daddy.”

  I can’t even begin to imagine what life will be like when this little girl becomes a teen. I feel bad for any boy who catches her eye.

  “I’m going to change my shirt.” I grab Opal’s hand. “I’ll be right back. Don’t leave.”

  “We won’t, don’t you worry. Rock Bottom Ranch is being presented a plaque.”

  “Rock Bottom!” I pop up on my feet. “I knew I recognized that name from somewhere.”

  Tears of appreciation and everything g
ood in the world well up in my eyes. I walk over to Truckee and lean down to give him a hug from the back and kiss his cheek. It’s awkward because he’s sitting on the ground.

  “You’re one hell of a man, Truckee Cray.”

  He shrugs and shakes his head. “It’s just money.”

  “Thank you,” I say anyway, turning for the barn.

  At first, it was an anonymous donation, but John had to find who donated one hundred thousand dollars before he could accept it. It was Rock Bottom Ranch. That money is one of the reasons Beautiful Things is even a place for rescue animals and a place for souls that have been lost and broken by war to work with them.

  The barn is empty as I enter. John put me up in a small, furnished room inside of it. There are three more identical spaces throughout the barn. They provide a place for veterans to have a bed and running water when they stay here. I unbutton the flannel shirt and hang it over a stall. Surprisingly, my tank top escaped the soaking and is dry.

  The sun is warm out, so I decide to go with it. Giddy with excitement to hang out more with Truckee and Opal, I whirl around hoping to find them again in the large crowd.

  I take two steps and stop dead in my tracks. I jump back a bit, startled by the presence of someone else in the barn with me.

  “Hey.” Dalton raises his hands in surrender and takes one step back.

  The action takes me to my backyard and all the other times he did the same thing, letting me know he meant no harm to me.

  I lick my lips and walk. Walk right up to him on steady and sure legs that know right where to guide me. I grab each of his hands and pull them down to his sides.

  “Step into the sun,” he says in a low, gravelly voice.

  I follow his command, taking a step closer to him so we are both coated in the sunshine.

  “Hi,” I whisper.

  “Hey.” He smiles back at me.

  “I thought she was your wife and Gemma was your baby.” I shrug one shoulder.

  He smirks. “Yeah, didn’t look too good. Saw you spending time with Truckee and his family.”

  “Yeah?” I crane my head to the side. “Why didn’t you join us?”