A Life Like This (Life #1)

by Cs Jacobs

  “Oh, sweet girl, we’ve been trying to get you down here for years. You’re too busy working too hard. You need to give yourself a break every now and then, come on home and get some rest and good food in you. Look at you. You’re withering, child. Get in here and let’s eat.” She holds me at arm’s length, giving me a once over. She kisses my cheek then leads us toward the kitchen. “TJ, leave her bags by the stairs. Come on in and let’s eat while supper is warm.”

  My grandfather does as he’s told and follows us into the kitchen. His name is Timothy James, but Betty has been using that nickname since before I can remember. The smell hits me like a wall, engulfing me in all my favorite scents. I can smell the corn bread with a hint of honey first. The fried chicken, BBQ ribs, and mashed potatoes follow suit. But best of all, I smell dessert—peach cobbler, my favorite. Nothing compares to Betty’s peach cobbler. Lordy, I think I’m drooling. Lordy? Jesus, I’m going country real fast.

  “My God, Betty, you are going to make me gain ten pounds this week.” I tell her jokingly.

  “Angelica Marie, you know we don’t be usin’ the Lord’s name like that,” she warns me sternly. Shit, I almost forgot. The Lord is big down here in the south.

  “Sorry, ma’am,” I tell her.

  “None of that ma’am nonsense. I am far from old,” she replies sassily. God, I missed this. Fuck, I did it again. At least I did it in my head. The three of us make our way to the dining room and sit in our spots. I’ve always sat to the left of my grandfather. We hold hands and say grace. I dig in as soon as my hand is free.

  “Mmmm…” I have no words for the taste explosion going on in my mouth right now. “I have missed this kind of cooking. You can’t get this in the city.”

  “No, you can’t. This food is made with passion and patience. Y’all are movin’ too fast in the city. It’s here in the south where we slow down and enjoy the little things. Like cooking properly.”

  “I love it!” We all break in to a fit of laughter. We enjoy the rest of the meal with pleasant conversations about the ranch and what’s been going on with the animals. I didn’t even notice until the talk of animals came up that Roger isn’t at my side. ”Roger?” I call out loudly.

  “Honey, he is probably passed out. I left him a bowl of food in the kitchen,” Betty informs me. I walk into the kitchen and find an empty food bowl. I walk into the living room and sure enough, Roger is passed out on a large fluffy doggie bed. Smiling, I stride back into the dining room. “You are already spoiling him,” I admonish as I sit back in my seat and finish my cobbler.

  “He’s a dog; you’re supposed to spoil them,” Betty tells me. Her smile is so warm; it feels good to be here in a house filled with love and warmth. It’s going to be hard to go back home. I always think I love living alone and I’m fine in that big house. But truth be told, I’m lonely. Joey is there often, but I’m alone more than not. When I was little with my mother, we didn’t have this flowing love in our home. We didn’t talk at the dinner table and we didn’t laugh together. It was just cold. I guess now I’m living a cold, lonely life. Why haven’t I realized this before?

  We finish our dessert and then walk our plates to the kitchen. “Now leave me be to wash up these dishes. Go on and get situated in your room. Everything is ready for you. I’m sure you’re spent. You’ve had a long day. A long few days,” she adds sadly.

  I hug her tightly, and her smell alone reminds me of my childhood. Betty has been around since I was a child. My grandmother died of breast cancer when I was three. Betty was always a housekeeper and cook and she just never left. Thank God for her. Grandfather would never be able to live without her. She takes care of him; even he knows he’d be lost without her. Ever since I can remember, Betty has been on the ranch. She was here that bad summer when I was ten. I heard my grandfather cry to her my first night back at the ranch once I left the hospital. He didn’t know what to do. She helped him.

  I will always remember the tender way she took care of me that summer. We went clothes shopping, and she even took me to the drugstore and told me about feminine needs. My mother never talked to me about those things; I guess she just assumed someone else would teach me. Thankfully, Betty did. I’ve always thought of her like my grandmother and I always will.

  I kiss her cheek gently then head up to my room. But first, I stop by the living room and rub Roger’s back. He wakes and I make him follow me to my room. Walking up the stairs brings back memories of sliding down them in sleeping bags with my grandfather. He was such a big kid. There were no kids my age around here, so all I had were Betty, my grandfather, and the animals. I was never lonely though; I was always busy. Back at home, my mother would surround me with her friends’ children on occasion and I would feel so alone. Those kids were always different from me. I would rather be on the ranch any day.

  Once we are on the landing, I am surrounded by pictures of all of us. Granddad, Betty, me, a few of my mother and even the animals. Such a warm, calming feeling comes over me. Each picture takes me back to that time. We eventually make it back to my room. Granddad already brought my bags up. The room hasn’t changed one bit and I wouldn’t change it if I could. The four-post queen bed still has the pale pink comforter with lace trim. My nightstand still has an old round silver alarm clock with two bells on top. The dresser has the same two pictures on top of it, Granddad and me building the tree house and me riding Betsy, my Clydesdale. I run my fingers over the frame. Spotless. Betty must have cleaned my room before I came; it had to have been dusty. The only thing different is in the corner of the room where once sat a rocking horse now lays another doggie bed. I smile at their thoughtfulness. I unpack my suitcase into my dresser and then take my toiletries to the bathroom. I wash my face and brush my teeth quickly before changing into my flannel pajamas. I dig in my purse for my phone and jump into bed. Roger is already asleep in his bed in the corner. I check my emails, nothing important. I know Bill is making sure no one emails me. When someone is on vacation, we do not contact them for anything. We handle it ourselves. I have no missed calls or texts either, jeez. I shoot a quick text to JoJo, and tell him I love and miss him. Then I get back into my emails and compose a quick email to Blake.

  Thank You

  Blake,

  I wanted to thank you for calming Joey down today. It slipped my mind to call him and he didn’t handle it well. I’m sorry you had to deal with his erratic behavior. I’m all settled in and getting ready to go to bed, early I know. It’s been a rough few days. I’m not sure why I am telling you this. Anyway, thanks again.

  Night.

  -Angie

  I hit send quickly before I change my mind. I know I didn’t have to email him, but I wanted to. I enjoy talking to him. I sit my phone next to the old alarm clock then tuck myself into bed. Right before I’m about to fall asleep, I hear my phone vibrate. I read his response.

  No Thanks Needed

  Angelica,

  I’m glad Joey got a hold of you. He was tremendously worried and I don’t blame him. Please don’t apologize to me. I was only helping to calm his nerves, something he had done for me recently.

  Sweet dreams, beautiful girl. Get some rest.

  Good night.

  -Blake

  With that, I fall into an amazing night’s sleep with a grin on my face.

  The sun shining through my bedroom window wakes me up early this Wednesday morning. I pull back the blankets and walk to the window. The ranch looks stunning at this hour. The grass is covered in dense dew and the sky is a pale pink as the sun is starting to make its rise. The smell of coffee snaps me out of my moment. Roger is panting next to me, obviously ready to head out and play in all the acres out there. Together, we head down the stairs. I can hear Betty in the kitchen starting her breakfast routine. There was never cereal in this house, something some people would find odd, but I loved it. Betty makes breakfast every morning. It was a little gesture I cherished since cereal was my daily breakfast back at home. It seemed more persona
l to have someone wake up early to make you a nice homemade breakfast. I walk in and find my grandfather reading the morning paper in his normal seat at the breakfast bar.

  “Morning, Granddad. Morning, Betty,” I greet them both.

  “Morning, darlin’,” my grandfather responds with a smile.

  “Sweet girl, I hope all my banging around in the kitchen didn’t wake you up this early. It’s only five am. You should be sleeping in and enjoying your vacation!” Betty exclaims and rushes me with a warm hug.

  “I’m an early riser. I can’t sleep in if my life depended on it.” I hug her back then make my way to the coffee pot. “After I have some of this here coffee in me, I’ll be ready to start my day.” I walk Roger to the back door and let him out to handle his business.

  “Hmm, just like your granddad, aren’t you? He won’t do a darn thing ‘til he has got that coffee in his system.” She walks to the refrigerator and hands me my favorite French vanilla creamer, always thoughtful.

  “My God, Betty, you’re an angel.” Shit! I realize what I did as soon as I said it. I slap my free hand over my mouth. “Sorry! Sorry! It won’t happen again.” She tsks at me then gets back to her cooking. My grandfather winks and smiles at me. I sit at the bar next to him while Betty cooks a feast and Granddad reads his paper. I love the normalcy of this. I hope to one day have something similar. One Day.

  Roger barks once from outside the door, his sign he’s done, and I walk over to let him in. He makes a beeline to his food bowl and digs in. Again, it is full and ready for him. I head back to my seat at the bar, grab my phone out of my shirt pocket, and start going through my texts and emails. Again, there isn’t much. But there is one email sent twenty minutes ago.

  Pleasant Sleep

  Angelica,

  I hope you had a pleasant night’s sleep. I slept well thanks to your email. I wish you relaxation and fun in Texas. I hope your trip helps to clear your mind and perhaps you see things in a different light when you get back. Perhaps you can tell me all about your trip over froyo. ;) I am about to head into an early morning meeting. Have a good day. Think of me, and know I will be thinking of you.

  -Blake

  I smile at his thoughtfulness. Men like him exist only in movies. He already fucked me, so what’s in it for him? Maybe he just wants me until he finds someone better. Until he gets bored. Perhaps I’m making him out to be some vulgar asshole that he isn’t. God, why do I make everything so complicated? Would it be so bad if he just wanted to fuck me for a while? He’s a god in the bedroom. Can’t say I wouldn’t mind a few more rounds of that action. I just won’t get attached. Pfft, that won’t be hard to do. JoJo always tells me I’m cold as ice and never show emotion toward men. It’s just what I do.

  Restful Night’s Sleep

  Blake,

  Thank you for your kind words. I did in fact have a very pleasant night’s sleep. I’m glad to hear I was able to help you have a good night’s sleep as well. Hmm, who knows, maybe Texas will help to change my perspective on a few things. Only time will tell. You know the best place for frozen yogurt is in Texas, right? Where do you think my obsession started? At a wonderful place in the city. It’s worth the drive. My grandfather would take me there every summer I visited him. We’d spend hours just walking around, talking, and eating our frozen treat. Sometimes we would even refill our cups mid-walk. Anyway, I hope your meeting goes well. Have a great day, Blake.

  -Angie

  I smile at my phone as I hit send.

  “So that’s the Blake I’ve heard about?” Betty says to me. I snap my head up and look at her with my head tilted to the side. “Honey, don’t act like you didn’t think your Granddad would tell me about that boy. Sounds to me like you’re smitten over him. Looks that way too. Your smile’s almost as big as Texas.” I blush at her observation and stare back down at my phone.” You were just smiling into that phone of yours for five minutes.” She grins then turns back to serving up breakfast. I look over at my grandfather and shake my head.

  “What?” he asks me. “She asked me how everything went. I had to tell her the details; you know how she is. She would have gotten it out of me sooner or later.” He’s right; after all, Betty is persistent.

  “Darn right I would have gotten it out of him,” Betty remarks. She brings our plates to us at the bar and sets them down in front of us. “Now you both eat up. Y’all know breakfast ain’t good when it’s cold.” She smiles at us then heads into the living room.

  “Betty, you’re not eating with us?” I ask.

  “Honey, you are late risers. I ate an hour ago. Now enjoy your food. Go on, girl, eat up.” There is no need to tell me twice. I dig into my plate of sausage, bacon, two eggs over medium and homemade biscuits and gravy, of course. I’m going to be running a lot while on this vacation. Betty leaves me and my grandfather to eat in blissful silence.

  After practically licking my plate clean, I wash it and then head up to my room to change for the day. Roger is lying on his bed next to Granddad in the living room, so I leave him be. I walk into my room and notice it’s spotless. Betty made my bed and tidied up my stuff. God, I miss this. I feel like a kid again. I plop on my bed and grab my phone. I have an email. I must have not heard it downstairs. I smile before I even click the icon. I know who it is from.

  A Challenge?

  Angelica,

  Sounds like you had some wonderful summers with your grandfather. Thank you for sharing that with me. Although I do have to ask, are you insinuating Frozen Dessert’s is subpar to this frozen yogurt place you speak of in Texas? I highly doubt that.

  -Blake

  Ha! I laugh to myself. I forgot how much fun banter was with him.

  A Champion

  Blake,

  There is no challenge. It is the best. There is nothing else to discuss. I guess you’ll just have to take my word for it.

  -Ang

  An immediate ding indicates his response.

  Research

  Angelica,

  Being a business man, I feel as though I would need to conduct my own research in order to properly take your word on such a delectable frozen yogurt eatery. Perhaps I’ll have to take a field trip to said establishment.

  Hmm, I’ve never been to Texas. It now has more of an appeal to me.

  -Blake

  Do the Work

  Blake,

  I wonder why...? Have a good day, Mr. Harper.

  -Ang

  I leave our fun banter at that and get dressed. I find my worn jeans, an old shirt, and a Texas Longhorn sweatshirt and throw it on. I head into the bathroom and pull my hair into a messy ponytail. I put on my old boots and head downstairs. The house is quiet. As I walk to the back door, I see my grandfather playing fetch with Roger. I head out back to join them.

  “Hey, so where do we start? I’m ready to get to work,” I call over to him. Roger runs up to me and jumps on his hind legs. I rub his back like he likes.

  “Well, if you’re ready to get your hands dirty, then let’s get to it. The horses need tending too first; let’s go,” he tells me as we start to walk in the direction of the big red barn.

  My grandfather has raised Arabian horses for over twenty years. He breeds, trains, and then sells them. The selling has slowed down over the past decade. I wouldn’t be surprised if he stopped selling them all together. He only has four left, and he handles them like the master he is. I used to be scared of the horses; they were so big. Their raven black hair always made them seem scarier than they were. I always wondered why he only chose to raise black horses, but I never did figure it out. The only horse we ever had that was not black was my Clydesdale, Betsy. As we get closer to the barn, I can hear the horses’ hooves on the ground. They are ready and waiting for my grandfather. Roger stops dead in his tracks, clearly scared of what is behind the large barn doors.

  “Don’t worry, big guy. Nothing is going to happen to you. Come on.” I pat my thighs and Roger returns to my side. We reach the doors and my grandfat
her unlatches the huge latch. He takes the left door and I open the right.

  Inside the large barn, the four horses are all sticking their heads out of their stalls, staring in our direction. Roger just sits at my side staring at the horses. I kneel beside him and rub his back while my grandfather walks to the other end of the barn and opens the back doors. Roger doesn’t budge so I leave him to sit there while I walk over to help.

  “Hey, Granddad?” I ask him the question I never dared ask before for some reason. “Why do you only ever have black horses?” He stops what he’s doing and looks at me sadly. Shit, what did I do? I knew he had a reason for only raising black Arabians, but I never thought much into it. Until now. “I’m sorry if it’s personal. I didn’t mean to intrude. I was just curious. Forget I mentioned it.”

  “No, darlin’, it’s not private; it’s just not something that comes up often.” He walks over to the stable with the name Cash written on the front and pets the horse’s mane. “When your grandmother passed of cancer, I had a very rough patch. I was depressed and wanted to just quit and be with her.” He shakes his head as if remembering the moment vividly. I’m saddened to know he would ever think to end his life. I knew he loved my grandmother dearly, but I couldn’t imagine my life without him in it.” Obviously, that wasn’t an option. I had you and your mother to live for.” He looks over and smiles at me. “After she passed, I happened upon a black Arabian and thought how perfect the horse was. It was dark yet beautiful. It reflected my mood. I was in a dark place, yet your grandmother left her beauty with you and your mother. I could never leave that. That’s how it started and it just stuck after that. No other horse every caught my attention.” As if knowing he is talking about him, Cash rubs his head deeper into my grandfather’s touch. I smile at the beauty of his words. These horses are his connection to my grandmother, such a somber thought. I walk to the horse closest to me; the stable says Abel. I pet his big head that he offers to me over the stable door. These horses are big and so beautiful. Knowing what they represent makes me want to ride that much more.