by Ciara Shayee
Back in the kitchen, Lola had already started preparing the mountain of toasted sandwiches for the men. She, Indie, and Grace prepared the fillings earlier in the morning, so it was just a matter of assembling them once they were all there. Marley even got in on the action, sitting on the counter where she could assist in layering the fillings and bread.
“What shall we put in these ones, princess?”
Marley tipped her head to the side, eyebrows crinkled.
“She doesn’t know what ‘princess’ means,” Grace supplied when it became obvious Lola didn’t know what was confusing Marley.
“What do you mean? Surely, she knows what a princess is. Hasn’t she seen any on TV in cartoons or something?”
Indie scoffed, drawing Lola’s attention. “Have you seen any cartoons on around here?”
Lola frowned.
Marley made a small sound of protest at being forgotten, reaching for Grace. Safe in her arms, she frowned and patted Grace’s cheek.
“It’s just a nickname, Marley. Like ‘Mars,’ right?”
This seemed to be enough of an explanation for Marley. She nodded, then wriggled toward the counter so Grace would know what she wanted. Back on the counter-top, she continued layering sandwiches, giggling silently into her hands when Lola snuck her a slice of cheese. She didn’t eat the morsel; instead, she clutched it in her fist while she used her free hand to place slices of cheese and ham between the bread. Lola watched from the corner of her eye, but the little girl never ate the cheese while they were in the kitchen together. She didn’t see what she did with it, but at some point while she was distracted the cheese disappeared from Marley’s hand.
A short while later, when they had prepared an enormous array of toasted sandwiches and stacked them in the oven to warm, Lola cheered, “It’s stopped snowing!”
Grace offered her a wry smile. “That doesn’t mean much out here. It could just start up again in a few hours.”
“She’s right,” Indie murmured. “If it’s anything like last year we’ll have snow on and off ‘til April.”
“April? You’re kidding, right?”
Indie, Grace, and even Marley all smiled at the scrunched-up expression on Lola’s face.
They’d were gradually getting used to each other, becoming more used to the new woman’s mannerisms and expressions over time. They’d started to let down their guard a little more each day, their jobs getting easier the more they communicated. More often than not, they split up after their breakfast duties and spread out to finish the household chores quicker, but it hadn’t taken as long as they’d expected to feel comfortable around Lola. It was a positive for all of them, really. They all felt less lonely with the added bonus of finishing their chores earlier in the day.
Begrudgingly, Indie had already admitted to Grace that she was beginning to appreciate Lola’s company. After years of being the only women living on the ranch, it was surprisingly nice to have another around; even if they weren’t best of friends, and their camaraderie was built on years upon years of carefully crafted and maintained lies.
Hearing the men arriving for lunch, they gathered up the warm platters and carried them to the dining area. Jesse and José appeared as the first sandwiches hit the table. Ten minutes later, everyone was seated and tucking into the feast.
“These are amazin’,” Jesse grunted, eating half of his sandwich in one enormous bite.
Indie smiled and held out the big bowl of sliced fruit; they’d managed to can and preserve a lot of fruit before winter hit, so they had melon, oranges, apples, grapes, and pears. “Fruit, anyone?”
Nine pairs of narrowed eyes jumped to her face.
Snorting, Indie set the bowl back down after spooning some onto Marley’s plate. “I’ll take that as a no, then.”
“Anyone got a ham they want to swap?” Ryan murmured hopefully.
The guys either complained they’d eaten all their ham sandwiches or shielded what they had left—Grace quietly cleared her throat and held out her plate. “You can have mine. I’m full anyway.”
Ryan’s impossibly wide smile made her cheeks flame crimson as he slid the sandwich over. “Thank you, Missy.”
Something about Ryan set off butterflies in Grace’s stomach. The cheeky, boyish smile on his stubble-framed face frequently sent her heart rate soaring. What confused her the most was that he didn’t make her uncomfortable at all, like the rest of the men on the ranch. He was the loudest, most jovial, and the most cheerful by far. They were all qualities she didn’t like to see, knowing they’d only remind her of a similar young man she missed terribly. The only thing she could think of to explain her ease in his presence was the fact that he’d been on the ranch for the longest.
Going on six years this summer, she realised.
Forgetting herself, Grace smiled nostalgically at the memory of the goofy, floppy-haired eighteen-year-old who’d rocked up that hot summer day almost six years ago.
If it weren’t for Indie’s pointed cough, Grace might have spent the whole afternoon pondering the conundrum that was her reaction to Ryan McCabe. Instead, she refocused on the breakfast table, helping Lola and Indie with the cleaning while Marley clung to Indie’s back. The men chugged the last of their drinks before trudging back out into the cold, thankful of the warm food in their stomachs to tide them over until dinner time.
By the time all the household chores were completed, Indie and Grace were exhausted and Marley was valiantly fighting her nap. Watching Lola wander in the direction of her room, they followed suit and headed upstairs, perching on the bed with Marley fast asleep between them. Charlie was curled up on Indie’s pillow, eager amber eyes pleading for a cuddle. She sat with him while Grace restlessly paced in front of the window before sitting on the old chair to look out at the falling snow; the flurries were light. She stared at the scenery with troubled eyes, her gaze unseeing. It only snapped into focus when Ryan, Jesse, and Paul appeared in the entrance of the barn for a smoke break.
Grace’s expression turned wistful as she watched them laughing, joking, and shoving each other like teenagers. The normality of their behaviour hit her like a sledgehammer to the gut and reminded her of how abnormal she was. The reminder, however innocent the men were in their banter, hurt.
“Hey, what’s wrong?”
As always, Indie immediately noticed there was something eating at Grace. She moved carefully, making sure she didn’t wake Marley, and began playing with the loose hair hanging at Grace’s back. It was a little longer than she usually let it grow, but both girls liked it this way.
“Will we ever be like that?”
Indie’s eyes followed Grace’s gaze out into the settled snow, landing on the trio of roughhousing men. Jesse had Ryan in a headlock while Paul was laughing, doubled over nearby. “You mean immature? I hope not.”
Breathing out an amused sigh, Grace tipped her head back to peer at Indie; she was so confident and brave despite everything. Even at that moment, with the last of the bruises from the last punishment barely visible—a yellowing tinge to her pale skin now—she looked strong. Stronger than Grace had any hope to ever be. Just once, she’d like to be able to stand up for herself when it really mattered.
“You know what I mean. They’re normal, and we’re…not.”
Shoving aside her own feelings, Indie focused on Grace. Leaning in, she rested her chin on Grace’s wavy, auburn locks and huffed. “Who cares about being normal? Normal’s not so great.”
The words lingered heavily in the air. The subject was shelved for the moment, but neither girl believed it.
What Indie and Grace wouldn’t give to be normal, just for a day.
~ oOo ~
January thirtieth rolled around painfully and quickly. Just like every other year, it brought a tense blanket which shrouded the entire ranch.
The men, and Lola, couldn’t miss the negative vibes emanating from Indie and Grace. They did their best to avoid them and keep their rowdiness to a minimum. Lola
offered to deal with breakfast the night before, the girls having come to an agreement that every now and then they’d do alternate shifts to give each other extra rest time. With the boss away on business, the ranch hands were more relaxed with their work and not quite as regimented with the times they popped back into the house for a hot drink, or to use decent plumbing. They unknowingly made the girls more edgy by taking away their security blanket—the schedule.
When the second-to-last day of January arrived, there were two empty seats at the breakfast table.
While Lola served up waffles and toaster pastries to the men, the girls remained silent and still in their bed. Marley lay between them, confused but knowing not to question the hushed sobs escaping Indie and Grace. For hours before the dawn they had remained beneath the covers, waiting for the day to get underway.
However, once it arrived, they didn’t know what to do with themselves. They weren’t sure whether to try to push the torrents of tears away or embrace them along with the crushing sorrow they represented. It was the same dilemma they faced multiple times a year, but they never felt different—except perhaps increasingly resentful.
“It’s okay, Gracie, it’s gonna be okay,” Indie eventually murmured into Grace’s hair. When Grace lifted her eyes a moment later, they shared a resolute look of determination.
Determination to get up and get on with their day now that the melancholy mood had been pushed aside just enough for them to function.
“Lola will be done with breakfast by now, but we can help with the other stuff.”
Grace nodded after a quick sigh, running her fingers gently through Marley’s hair. It hadn’t been brushed and would doubtlessly be a nightmare to comb. She knew as well as Indie that if they stayed in bed all day wallowing, it wouldn’t make a blind bit of difference. They’d only feel worse for wasting the day when they could have been using their chores as welcome distractions.
With a heavy, drawn-out breath, Indie pushed herself up before stretching out her achy muscles, scooping Marley into her arms, and padding into the attached bathroom; Grace’s resigned footsteps weren’t far behind.
The trio washed and dressed in silence, leaving their room in morose, sombre colours that matched their moods. Marley insisted upon wearing the same as Indie, so they were matching as the trio stepped out into the now-quiet dining area.
Hopelessly oblivious to what this day represented, Marley used her two index fingers to coax Grace’s lips up into a smile, not realising just how painful a gesture it was for the older girl.
For Grace, the birthday of her long-dead mother was not a day she could celebrate—and it hadn’t been for many years.
It was, however, the first day in a long time that the girls allowed themselves to think of their true parentage; to think of the families they’d left behind.
It didn’t bring them anything but the despair they’d grown so used to.
cHAPTER THREE
Just as Indie and Grace expected, the day passed in a slow, sad haze.
They went about their chores as normal, preparing sausage and tomato pasta for lunch and chicken with all the fixings for dinner. By the time the men left after eating their pasta, all the day’s tasks had been completed ahead of schedule, the girls working without pause or chatter. A shroud of misery cloaked the entire ranch; Indie and Grace’s mood affected the others around them more than they realised. Despite their quiet natures, they were the heart of the ranch—them and adorable, silent little Marley. They fed more than just the men’s rumbling stomachs with their soft gentleness and sweet smiles. It was a credit to their acting skills that they could keep up their unaffected, settled act for the better part of the year, though on this day, it wasn’t fooling anybody.
At dinner, everyone noticed the gaping hole at the dinner table where they should have been sitting. Ryan’s eyes danced between the kitchen and the stairs, wondering where they were and why they weren’t eating.
I miss them.
He missed Grace’s blush when he complimented their cooking, hearing Indie tell the guys off for eating with filthy hands, and seeing the way Marley would duck shyly into Indie’s embrace with a grin whenever he pulled cheeky faces at her across the table. Their disappearance shouldn’t have made this much different to his sunny mood, but it did, and he wasn’t sure what to think about it as a scowl replaced his smile when it became obvious they weren’t joining them.
The men around him were just as sullen, so even though they’d become used to laughter and smiles around the table, joy was glaringly absent this particular day.
As Ryan and the rest of the men mustered up the courage to head outside to make sure everything was set for the evening, he glanced back towards the kitchen and spotted Grace just as she ducked back inside with the empty plates from the table. His already dark mood plummeted; she was avoiding them.
Avoiding him.
Over the past couple of weeks, he’d thought they were creating a friendship of sorts. He’d even started helping the girls learn a few chords on an old guitar one of the guys dug out from an outbuilding, although so far only Grace showed any talent on it. A slight smile pulled at his lips as he tugged on his beanie and remembered Indie’s excitement when she discovered her talent for playing the harmonica. Where she struggled remembering the chords on the guitar, she excelled at the mouth organ and played intricate melodies seemingly without any effort. Ryan had picked it up on a supply run early last year and forgotten all about it, so he was happy to gift the instrument to Indie after seeing how much she enjoyed playing it.
It was with that thought, the girls will bounce back, that he set off with the other men into the now-melting snow to bed down the horses for the night.
Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Indie tried to force conversation onto Lola. She was all-too-aware their act wasn’t fooling her; Indie feared she was making up all kinds of theories about why she and Grace were so distraught.
The idea of someone, anyone, making guesses terrified Indie.
It had always been the main rule the boss enforced—nobody could know anything. It had to stay that way.
Who knew what he’d do if he thought she or Grace had been shooting off their mouths to the new housekeeper. It didn’t even bear thinking about. Indie shuddered and tightened her arms around Marley, burying her face in the little girl’s hair.
“Indie? Are you showering first or second tonight?”
A wide-eyed Indie spun to face Grace. She blinked a few times before focusing. “Um…”
Anything to do with the shower was their code to check if they were okay. In this instance, she supposed she wasn’t, so she nodded and said ‘goodnight’ to Lola in a semi-trance before carrying Marley up the stairs into the bedroom they’d shared since the beginning.
Since those first terrifying days of both confusion and hope.
“Are you okay?” Grace asked worriedly, her own sadness creeping back up on her like a tidal wave now they’d escaped prying eyes. It took everything to keep in control throughout the day. Back in the relative safety of their room, it was impossible to carry on holding it together.
As though reading her mind, Indie realised the same thing. She snapped out of her trance with a sharp gasp.
Grace watched with a vague sense of horror as Indie changed before her eyes from white-faced, to cool and collected. She had to admit it made her even more nervous to see the almost instantaneous transition between the two emotions, despite it not being the first time.
More than once, Indie had somehow gone from opposite ends of the emotional spectrum within seconds. It wasn’t hard to see it was her defence mechanism—the thing she relied on to keep herself, Grace, and Marley safe when things went bad, when she needed to be strong enough for the three of them. Times like this.
Indie reached back to kick the door shut, turning just in time to wrap her free arm around Grace before she slowly sunk to the ground. “It’s okay, you’re okay. You can cry with me,” she murmured into Grace’s
hair, rubbing her back gently as she rocked them side-to-side. She felt Marley’s breaths even out against her neck and knew she’d lost her fight to sleep.
As minutes slowly passed, the pair moved from the floor to the bed, tangling themselves together beneath the covers, their tears dampening the pillow beneath their faces as they cried until their voices were gone and their eyes were dry.
Outside, the sky turned from grey-blue to grey, from grey to navy and then to black, the clouds finally parting around midnight to display the stars in a stunning vista. As the first day of February dawned, Indie padded on socked feet to the window, leaving Marley wrapped around Grace so she could gaze out at the dark, rainy night. Sleep wasn’t going to come easily.
It wasn’t quite one a.m. when her eyes caught movement.
She squinted, making out the silhouette of a familiar man, his pale blond hair covered by a hood. She watched him walk towards the barn, pausing just outside the doors to glance up at her window. With the light switched off, Indie knew he wouldn’t be able to see her, especially with the sheets of rain pouring down, so she didn’t move even as he stared up. Then, he turned, pushing the door open just enough so that he could slip inside. Just as he disappeared, she saw him pull something from his coat pocket. Perhaps his phone, she mused, suspicions now thoroughly roused. What could necessitate Paul having to go out to the barn, in the rain, this early—or late—to make a call?
~ oOo ~
“Good morning. Thank you.” Indie’s eyes stayed trained firmly on Paul as he accepted the coffee Grace poured with a grateful, tired smile.
No wonder you’re tired, she thought wryly, moving on to pour the rest of the men their wake-up drink of choice. Ever since she watched Paul walk back into the house at almost two a.m., she’d been wondering what he could be up to. She’d been unable to sleep thanks to Grace’s agonised, fitful rest and the possibility that Paul could have been brought in to spy on them. Indie couldn’t think of anything they could have done to warrant a babysitter, but since when did they ever have to actually do anything?