by Snow, Nicole
I nod again. Then, because I should at least acknowledge he’d spoken, I say, “I hope you feel better soon. Gramps went through something like that maybe ten years back...he was practically doing cartwheels a year later.” God. I’m really out of my element here.
“Ah, I hope to be half that lucky. And you won’t be alone in this, let me assure you. Your grandfather was a careful man and a good planner. He left generous provisions for my services as long as you need them. Additionally, you’ll have the full support of his most trusted companion, who’s also listed in the will. Mr. Larkin will provide you with everything you could ever need.”
His...companion? Mr. Larkin? What the what?
I knew Gramps had an assistant around the house, of sorts, but...I’m drawing a total blank on the man’s name. Gramps never said much about him, only mentioned his helper a few times.
Someone who worked at the ranch, and sometimes dealt with company business. Probably an old Army buddy or something.
It’s a big place, but there’s not as much to manage as there used to be.
Gramps sold off his cattle and chickens years ago and rented the majority of his land, so his man simply filled in the gaps, did odd jobs he couldn’t keep up with in old age.
Honestly, I was glad he had someone there with him, living on the property. I wish I’d asked more, knew more, but whenever we’d talked, it was always about me. That’s what Gramps loved to talk about more than anything. Living vicariously, maybe.
To hear what I was doing, and when I was coming home.
We’d talk for hours, even when the visits I’ll always regret not making couldn’t happen.
Gramps heard it all.
Life. Dreams. Triumphs. Every good thing any loving grandfather wants to know about.
Well, I’m here now, and at least I’ve got help.
Sorta. An old attorney, an old companion, and an old horse.
Hopefully they don’t all die on me the same week.
I catch myself, shaking my head. What an awful, selfish thought to have. I hope it isn’t Mom’s craptacular attitude rubbing off.
Slowly, I plant my hands on the black dress covering my thighs and try to refocus on what Sheridan says.
“...need to live at the ranch for at least six months. I’ll be checking in with you regularly. Do you have any questions?”
Considering I hadn’t been listening to most of what he’d said, I should have a million, but I shake my head. I don’t want him to know what a failure I am at business, or today, following a simple conversation.
My shoulders slump. He probably already knows.
From what I gather, I have six months to either make it or break it here.
God only knows what’ll happen then. Or maybe Sheridan does, but right now, I don’t even ask because I don’t even want to know.
“As I said,” he continues, “Jonah has everything in perfect order down to the last T crossed. The board of directors will handle everything with North Earhart Oil. The company has a vast legal framework, so I won’t be as involved in that, but will be available to assist you with anything you don’t understand pertaining to your role in the founder’s seat.”
Heavy lies the crown, they say. Except, in this instance, the thought of even sitting in my grandfather’s seat before a gaggle of sharp-dressed executives makes my stomach twist.
I nod, swallowing hard, pretending it’ll be just dandy.
He leans back in his seat. “As I told your father earlier, his position with the company won’t change, and neither will his income. Jonah saw no need to modify his usual compensation.”
Fair. Dad barely does anything to warrant his six-figure salary, but I know my parents would be ten times as irate losing it.
Gramps inherited North Earhart Oil when it was small. His father was a wildcatter way back when, and the company had always been prosperous, but when the oil boom hit North Dakota with Gramps at the helm, North Earhart did exceptionally well. Practically the only thing about Gramps that Mom was extremely proud to talk about.
“I know this is a lot for you to take in. For someone as young as you to take on, but I’m here to help. Twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. Just call.” A smile curves the edges of his lips. “Jonah was very specific about his wishes, and how they ought to be overseen. I gave him my solemn word I’d help ensure every detail gets executed to the letter of the law.”
I nod again. What else can I do? It’s sink or swim, and I can barely doggy paddle.
Still, I can’t let that show.
He pushes a pile of papers toward me. “I’ll need you to sign these, please. Two copies of what we discussed here today.”
I pick up a pen and sign my name mechanically next to the little red Sign Here stickers.
“Have you been out to the ranch yet?” he asks.
“No. As soon as I got the call, I packed up and drove straight here,” I say, signing the second copy. “I arrived yesterday and went straight to the funeral home. I stayed at the hotel last night, with the service today and then this meeting.”
He collects both copies. “I understand. Do you have a house key?”
“Absolutely.” Truly, it’s never left my keychain since the day Gramps gave it to me when I was twelve.
I don’t share that. To some, it’d be insignificant. To me, that key symbolized belonging somewhere.
“Would you like your copy, or do you want me to keep it?” Sheridan’s smile holds sympathy. “We can go over it again, in a few days, if you’d like, after it’s not such a shock to the system.”
I think of my parents, and until they’ve left, everything is safer out of their reach. “Go ahead and hang on to it. I’ll get my copy then.”
“Perfect. Before you leave, there’s one more thing...”
I look up, almost afraid. My fingers flex before reaching out to take the white envelope he’s holding.
“It’s from your grandfather. A personal message.”
Nodding, I close my eyes for a moment, and then draw a deep breath before unsealing the flap.
I can’t help but smile, even as tears sting my eyes like hornets at the sight of the tan Post-it note with JONAH REED printed across the top of it.
Gramps adored those little sticky notes. They were tucked inside every card, every gift he ever sent me.
I pull out the three-inch square slip of paper and blink back more tears at the familiar handwriting.
Bella, you followed your head to California.
I know who put those thoughts in your head, so this time, I want you to follow your heart.
Trust me.
Love, Gramps
The subtlety makes me grin. In my twenty-four years of life, I’ve never heard my grandfather say a bad word about my parents outright, even though the opposite was true for them.
He hadn’t this time, either, but his meaning shines through crystal clear. I can almost see his eyes twinkling and one winking at me.
“I trust he had something important to say?” Sheridan asks, maybe a little curious, but ever the professional.
“He did.” I slip the note back in the envelope and tuck that in my purse. “He just...he wanted to make sure I’d get through this. Guess he knew it was coming, sooner or later, if he had this will set up with you.”
Sheridan nods. “Well, then, I’ll ask one more time, any questions?”
I draw in a deep breath, letting it fill my lungs and settle deep inside me. “For now, nothing. We’re good.”
“Great. There are papers at the ranch that you’ll need to sign, too. Please return them at your convenience.” He hands me a business card. “Here are all my numbers. Office. Cell. Home. Call any time, Ms. Reed. Day or night.”
I watch as he stands again, takes his sweet time, and winces. Poor guy.
I won’t be calling him unless I absolutely have to. He needs to be home in bed resting, not dealing with this mess.
“Would you like me to call your parents back in? I coul
d give you folks some privacy, or stay, if you’d like.”
“Not today, but thanks.” I stand. Not ever.
He’s already had enough of Mom’s outbursts for this lifetime.
He walks me to the door, and then through a front office to a small waiting room where my parents are sitting in red leather chairs. Mother snaps shut her compact mirror as we step in the room and stuffs it in her purse. She was more than a little put out over how private the funeral was.
I’m sure she was looking forward to showing the entire town of Dallas, North Dakota, what a wonderful life she’s had since leaving here decades ago.
Dad stands and crosses the room. “All set?”
“Yes,” I say, and then turn, holding out a hand to the lawyer. “Thanks again, Mr. Sheridan.”
“It’s been my pleasure,” he says, shaking my hand.
Dad bids him a curt farewell, and then the three of us walk out the door and into the sunshine.
And wind. Seems like that harsh, sudden wind is always blowing whenever it pleases in North Dakota, a permanent caress reminding everyone who and what created this landscape of hills and flats.
“You can follow us to the hotel,” Dad tells me.
I nod, walking to my car. It’s a souped up Jeep that Gramps bought for my high school graduation. We lived in Oregon then, and he’d insisted I’d need the four-wheel drive if I was going to be driving from California to Oregon all the time, and of course to North Dakota to see him.
It hurts that this is the first time the Jeep made a trip to North Dakota.
Stupid me. I kept thinking there was time.
Wrong. So wrong.
If only I’d known.
The hotel isn’t far, right on the edge of town. My parents are already standing by their rental car when I park.
“We’ll discuss this in our room like civilized people,” Mom says. No sense of irony whatsoever. “No need for busybodies overhearing our private business and running their mouths. This town never changes with its wretched gossip.”
My stomach keeps churning, and her attitude just makes it worse.
“I mean, what do we even have to discuss? I’m here to collect my stuff, check out, and head to the ranch. You’re welcome to join me. That’d be a better place to talk, anyway.”
“Absolutely not!” Mom’s eyes are huge, staring at me in disbelief. “That place was falling down years ago and must be in worse shape now. It can’t possibly be safe to live in, Annabelle.”
Falling down. Right.
Her definition: any place that doesn’t have its own hot cocoa bar and indoor waterfall.
I don’t say that, of course. There’s no use.
I’ve always known how she felt toward Gramps and his perfectly charming ranch, but let it go years ago when he asked me to. He said not to let her problems become mine.
Good advice then, and now.
A bout of hope fills me as I think about the place. Gramps won’t be there, but Edison will, and I can’t wait to see him again.
“Don’t tell me you’re serious?” Mother steps up, looking me over like she wants to check for some exotic fever.
“I’m going. Somebody needs to look after Edison.”
“That old horse was ready for the glue factory years ago,” Dad jokes grimly. I think.
Either way, it’s hardly the time.
Mom’s words were like water off a duck’s back, but Dad’s crassness strikes a chord. If I’d had any second thoughts about the will, about fulfilling my part by living at the ranch for the next six months, they’re gone.
“No way,” I say. “Edison deserves to live out the rest of his days at the ranch, and then he’ll be buried there. I’ll make sure of it.”
Thirty minutes later, after one more bout of them badgering me in the parking lot while I throw my suitcase in the back seat, I drive away from the hotel.
It’s hard, going against instinct, because I’ve always listened to my parents. Taken their advice, even in my misadventures, but this time? Forget. It.
This time, I’m following my own muse. Or maybe something more.
“Hear that, Gramps? Heart, not head. Just like you asked.” I smile at the sound of my own voice and steer the Jeep onto the highway, punching down on the accelerator so I get there just a little faster.
* * *
The ranch is several miles north of town, past Big Fish Lake, where I’d learned to fish.
That’s something I haven’t done in years. Fishing was Grandpa’s favorite pastime, and we’d done plenty of it during my stays here. He believed no better day existed than one where he spent a few hours catching a heap of walleyes and Northern Pike and then cooking them for supper.
My stomach growls at the memories.
I haven’t felt like eating much the past few days, but thinking of those pan-fried fish sprinkled with dill makes me think I should’ve taken the time to buy a few groceries before heading out of town.
Too late. It’s a half hour trek one way.
I have some granola bars in my purse, which should tide me over until a proper breakfast. I’ll take inventory of the kitchen before heading back into town tomorrow for real food.
Besides, Gramps wasn’t above keeping extras on hand sometimes. Everything from stuff he’d canned himself to essentials like cream of everything soup and emergency corned beef hash. No matter how rich he got, you don’t drive old habits out of a boy who grew up with Depression era scarcity.
I bite my lip, trying not to sneer at how wrong Mom’s take on the house is, too.
Falling down? Hardly.
The house is old, but Gramps kept it up. That house inspired my love of design. He let me redecorate several rooms, and over the past couple of years, we discussed how he was having some work done on the kitchen.
Mr. Sheridan’s question about me having a key wasn’t necessary. Unless things have changed considerably, Gramps never locked the place. His closest neighbors are ten miles away, and Edison makes a better watchdog than any canine.
My excitement at seeing the horse, at seeing the ranch, at coming home, grows with each mile passing under the tires.
Spring brings longer days here. The late afternoon sun shining through the window, delicate and welcoming. Not hot yet, that won’t happen until summer.
Just warm. A perfect, balmy, peaceful warm.
I’ve missed that. Missed so many things.
Even the wide-open countryside along both sides of the highway. A person can see for miles out here across the flat North Dakota plain that’s only broken up by spotty hills. Another thing I’ve missed. Not being so crowded.
My heart flutters as I top the hill and see the familiar mailbox at the bottom. As I drive closer, I smile at the milk can beneath the battered box. Some things never change, and that makes me happy. I flip on the blinker and slow down, turning off the highway.
The driveway is over two miles long and I haven’t even traversed half of it when my heart leaps into my throat and a cutting smile blurs my vision. I stop the Jeep, throw it in park, and blink through the haze, hardly believing what I’m seeing.
Edison. Galloping toward the fence line. Black mane flowing. Regal as ever.
I throw open the door, jump out of the Jeep, and run into the ditch, racing him to the split-rail fence. We reach the opposite sides of the wide boards at the same time. I have to catch my breath, not from the run, but from the excitement, the joy.
“Hey, hey, hey! Hey, bud. Remember me?”
Edison nickers, tossing his head up and down. I swear I can almost hear him saying, “Of course I do.”
God.
I’ve never felt such pure, innocent relief and jump up on the bottom board so I can wrap my arms around his thick neck. “It’s so good to see you again. I’ve missed you so much, Edison!”
He leans against me, shifting one foot, gloriously calm. “Remember how it was? Whenever Gramps needed to keep me busy, he’d put me on your back and you’d walk around and around the
house.” I laugh at the happier times. “When I wanted off, you’d put your head down, and I’d slide right off. Then you’d go stand by the front porch, so I could climb up on the top rail and hop back on.”
It should be illegal for a grown-ass woman to get this excited about seeing an old horse, but...
But nothing.
He’s here. In my arms. Just like I remember.
It’s proof that sometimes good things happen on rotten, confusing days.
Edison snorts softly again. I squeeze his neck tighter, just enjoying the moment.
It can’t last forever before the tears come, though. I thought I’d finally shed all I could, but I was wrong.
These are hot and happy and sad. They’re lonely, afraid, and familiar. They’re a rush of what being back here at the Reed Ranch really means, and why I have to see Gramps’ last wishes through. It’s freaking non-negotiable.
Edison, blissfully unaware, just leans against the fence. Almost like he knows I need him to keep me from falling off the top rung.
Eventually, I sniff the tears away, and when I suck in air, it’s like I’m taking my first real cleansing breath since I’d gotten the bad news about Grandpa.
I loosen my hold on the horse, running a hand down the length of his nose.
“Just you and me now, bud.”
He stomps a foot, then nickers and steps back, pulling away from the fence.
“I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you. I promise.”
He eyes me cautiously.
I don’t blame him. I’d promised him I’d be back long before now once upon a time.
Sigh.
“I promise,” I say again, more firmly. “This time, it’s different. Just you wait. I’ll be right here, at the ranch, for the next six months. Maybe longer...”
He stretches his neck far enough forward for me to reach him. I scratch behind one ear. “Glad you still trust me. Edison...I’ll need your help. Not gonna lie.”
Edison snorts, this time louder, tossing his head up and down again.
I’ll take that as his promise in horse-speak.