Gravel Road

by Walls, Stephie

  Before I could spend too much time pondering what kind of drug addiction my sister must have developed or what program I should check her into in order to get her help for her delusions, I caught sight of Brock. I spun on the ball of my foot, took off out the door, and raced down the steps.

  “Brock,” I called across the driveway.

  He stopped, and his shoulders sank. It wasn’t the response I’d hoped for, although probably the one I should have expected. He covered his discomfort with a bright smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. It was forced, but at least he tried. “Hey, Randi.”

  I didn’t correct him. I hated to hear that nickname pass anyone’s lips, but right now, I needed a friend more than I needed to let go of my past.

  Brock searched the vicinity for onlookers and spoke when he found none. “How’s your dad?”

  Small talk. I could handle this. “He’s good. Glad to be home, I think.” We stood there and stared in uncomfortable silence. Things shouldn’t be like this. Not with Brock. Austin, fine. My dad, I got it. However, I didn’t do anything to Brock. “So, umm, Austin said you and Charity got married.”

  “Yep.”

  He couldn’t keep this up. Brock was too outgoing. We’d been too close. It wasn’t possible for him to hold a grudge this long.

  “I bet the wedding was gorgeous. Charity would make a beautiful bride.”

  Brock dropped his head and put his hands on his hips. When he lifted his chin, a flash of regret crossed his eyes. “Woulda been better if her best friend had been at her side.”

  I wanted to tell him I would have, had I been aware the event had taken place, but that was a lie. “Brock…”

  “Save it, Randi.” Gone was the mellow baritone he’d had since puberty, and in its place came an abrasive scratch I hoped never to hear again. “I ain’t gonna pretend to know what caused you to bail, ’cause it don’t matter. What matters is, we ain’t heard from you since. And that ain’t how things are done here.”

  I bit my lip and chewed on it for a minute before releasing it. “I didn’t handle things the right way. I should—”

  “That’s the understatement of the century.” Austin cut off my attempt at an apology. “Brock, don’t you have better things to do than stand around chitchatting? Last time I checked, you got paid to work.”

  Brock tipped his hat in my direction. I wished I thought it was a kind gesture. The truth was, Brock was merely raised to be polite. It had nothing to do with me and everything to do with the manners his mama gave him.

  The moment I was satisfied Brock had moved from earshot, I hit Austin in the arm. “Seriously? You couldn’t let me have that?”

  “Apologize on your own time.”

  “My own time? My own time.”

  “Are you a parrot? Yes, your own time.”

  “Newsflash, Austin. This is my time. I’m not being paid to work. As a matter of fact, I’m not even being paid at my actual job while I’m here doing yours.”

  He jerked off his hat and started messing with the bill, bending and flattening it out. “First of all, you aren’t doing my job. This ranch ran just fine without you for years, and it will run just fine when you hightail it back to the big city with your hoity-toity friends.”

  I didn’t attempt to stifle my laughter. “Just fine? Nearly a quarter of it was lost to fire, and even more is going to be lost because no one bothered to pay the insurance. Not sure what your definition of fine is, but that doesn’t qualify in my dictionary.”

  “One was an act of nature; the other wasn’t within my control.” Spit flew from his mouth when he hurled his excuses my direction. “Cross Acres will survive, just like it always has…without you here.” If he weren’t careful, he would have a stroke. I could only guess at what his blood pressure had risen to, based on the color of his face. And if that vein in the side of his neck throbbed any harder, it might explode.

  I’d tried to avoid this at all costs. I’d been foolish enough to believe that I could. Had I known Austin Burin managed my daddy’s ranch, I can’t say that I would have returned regardless of my father’s condition. With every fiber of my being, I wished I had gone back to New York with Eason. Austin was right. I didn’t have any business being here. It was a joke, and so was my presence.

  Crying wouldn’t help, and I refused to give Austin the joy of witnessing my pain. The only way I could fight off tears was through anger. And I lashed out. “What’s your problem, Austin?” Heat rose in my cheeks, and my heart pounded beneath my sternum. Nerves, anxiety, fear—they all fueled whatever explosion brewed.

  “My problem?” he screamed. He had his back to the barn, so he didn’t see the group of men who’d gathered behind him.

  Since I didn’t know any of them well, I couldn’t be certain whether they were there to collect gossip or to guarantee Austin didn’t do something he’d regret.

  Austin threw his hands in the air. “You, Miranda. You are my problem.”

  I shook my head and clenched my hands so tightly that my nails broke the skin on my palms. “It’s been six years, Austin. And guess what, you won. You got it all.” I spun in a circle with my arms outstretched to indicate the vastness of his rich world. The same world that I’d left behind. “Every last bit of it. You got it.” I should have been embarrassed by the scene I caused.

  This wasn’t the time or the place. Yet even though I was aware that I’d lost control, I couldn’t bring myself back. My brain screamed at me to quit, not to engage. Yet the longer we held each other’s gaze, the more entrenched I became in the battle with little regard for who won the war.

  The bill of his hat would be ruined by the time this ended. “You think I won? What world do you live in, Miranda?”

  I gasped for breath. “Of course, you won. You have my daddy’s love and his ranch, my sister’s admiration, all our friends, life in Mason Belle, and—”

  He leaned in and narrowed what little gap remained between us. “And I lost the only thing that mattered,” he hollered, inches from my face. “You didn’t even leave a damn note. I didn’t get an email, not a phone call—hell, you didn’t even mail me a Dear John letter. You just vanished. I didn’t win a damn thing other than a life without you in it.”

  Austin stopped hollering. He expected me to retaliate. And I wanted to. I just couldn’t argue with the truth, and without more explanation than I was prepared to give, I couldn’t justify anything that had happened.

  “We were supposed to make it, Miranda. You and me. Anyone who’d ever come in contact with us believed that as much as they trusted the sun would rise and set.” Austin ran his hand through his hair and then clamped it down on the back of his neck. He let out a huff and shook his head. “You were my forever. You were supposed to be my wife. And you left…without me.” His tone had softened, even if his expression hadn’t.

  I didn’t have a response that would fix that hurt. For either of us. My voice was barely a whisper when I uttered his name. “Austin.” I reached out to touch his forearm, and he swatted my hand away.

  “No.” He stepped back and shook his head. “You don’t get to waltz back into my world with your live-in and rub your happiness in my face. I may not have known any better then, but I sure as hell do now.” Austin scanned me from head to toe before hurling another insult at me. “You’re toxic, Miranda. You didn’t just obliterate me, there was a long line of people you left in the wake of your departure. I don’t have a clue what Jack said to you that made you leave…although I’d wager that every word was spot on.”

  I lost the battle against tears right about the time that Tommy approached. The first one fell when Tommy put his hand on Austin’s shoulder.

  “Hey, man. Why don’t you step away and calm down?”

  Austin was out of breath from his emotional unloading, and his chest heaved as he gasped for air. His brown eyes held mine for a painful beat, and his Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed. And when his lips parted, I was certain his words would hurt. “You need
to go, Miranda.”

  Austin didn’t give me the chance to respond. He retreated with Tommy, who glanced back. If expressions could speak, his apologized profusely. By the time someone intervened, it appeared everyone on Daddy’s staff had witnessed it, along with a little boy I’d never met but definitely recognized. With tears running down my cheeks, I stared at my sister’s son. He was the spitting image of Austin at his age, and he’d just witnessed his uncle tear apart the aunt he’d never met.

  He held my stare, and he didn’t turn away. Even as young as he was, he regarded me with sympathy, not condemnation, as if maybe he understood me, even though we didn’t know each other at all. Rand flicked his attention to Austin, and when he confirmed no one watched him, he raised his tiny hand and waved. I didn’t have a chance to wave back before he took off around the side of the barn and out of sight.

  The front door creaked behind me, and the stilted sound of footsteps approached. I swiped at my cheeks to remove the visible signs of my distress. Before I turned around, I took a deep breath and straightened my shoulders.

  My sister waited at the top of the steps. “Wanna come inside?”

  I didn’t. Hiding sounded like a much better option. Or packing. That would be an excellent precursor to a flight back to New York. It had been stupid to come here and even more foolish to believe I could escape without harm.

  Sarah waved her hand to encourage me to take the first step. Somehow, it seemed more significant than simply dodging my embarrassment. The men behind me had dispersed, yet the trail into the house still felt like a walk of shame. If this was anything like the talks Sarah and I’d had in the past, or better yet, lectures, I couldn’t handle that on the backside of Austin humiliating me.

  When I reached the top of the steps, I pleaded with Sarah. “Please don’t make this any worse than it already is.”

  She smiled, and it reminded me of my mom. The way I remembered her when she still loved us. It was gentle and kind. And most importantly, it reached her eyes. When I was in high school, I’d always sensed anger or resentment. Sarah hadn’t wanted the role she’d been dumped into any more than I wanted her to be in it. Yes, she could have handled it with a bit more finesse…so could I. A piece of the wall I’d erected when I left Mason Belle crumbled with that admission.

  “Come on. I’ll get you some tea, and we can talk.”

  I accepted her peace offering and followed her into the kitchen. It seemed as good a place as any to chat about whatever Sarah had on her mind. The stools had been replaced since I’d left. I couldn’t say that I was a fan of the new ones. Saddles were made for horses, not sitting at a bar.

  “Lemon?”

  I stopped appraising the seat and stared at my sister. “Huh?”

  She set a pitcher on the island, along with two glasses filled with ice. “Would you like lemon for your tea?”

  “Sure.” I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had sweet tea. I quit asking for it shortly after I got to New York. A packet of sugar and a glass of cold tea did not equate to what I was accustomed to. I tried to explain to a waitress that it needed to be mixed before adding ice. She didn’t care, or she didn’t understand. Either way, I had quit drinking it.

  Sarah went to the fridge, and a wave of nostalgia hit me. With age, she’d become more and more like Mama. Her grin, her mannerisms, the way she played hostess even when she wasn’t supposed to. “Are you hungry? I can whip up something for you.”

  I wasn’t. “No. I feel like puking.” The scene in front of the house didn’t just knock the wind out of my sails; it ripped them from the masts and sent them flying out to sea.

  The hum of the refrigerator almost drowned out the low sigh that passed her lips. “Miranda, he’s hurt.”

  “That makes two of us,” I mumbled.

  She quit rummaging for food, poured us both glasses of tea, and took the stool next to me. Her fingers were warm when she gave my forearm a gentle squeeze. It should have been comforting; instead, it reminded me of all the things I missed. I’d never get them here again, and I just wanted to go home, back to the life I’d made in New York with Eason. Even though our relationship wasn’t conventional, it worked for both of us.

  “I don’t have a clue why you left. I assume it had to do with the accident, but I was afraid to ask Daddy, and you barely talk when I call, so I haven’t asked you, either. The only thing I can tell you is what happened here once you were gone.”

  I had a hard time believing she didn’t know what Daddy had said. They were thick as thieves, and according to him, my departure had been her request.

  She traced the trail of condensation down her glass while she stared at it. “Austin had a tough time.”

  “So did I,” I quipped.

  Sarah shook her head. “I don’t doubt that. I just think you should be aware of his side since I would be shocked if he ever tells you himself.”

  Fair enough. I could keep my mouth shut and listen. Or I could try.

  “He came here every morning before the sun came up and did all your chores.”

  My mouth dropped, but since she wasn’t looking at me, she didn’t see the shock.

  “Austin took care of Nugget like he was his.” She paused as if she were remembering the days after I had first left. “There wasn’t a single day that boy wasn’t in that barn, taking care of things for you. He believed you needed time. That you’d come back. And he wanted you to know he hadn’t forgotten you. He loved the things you loved the way you would have loved them.” She paused long enough to glance at me and absorb my reaction.

  I didn’t have one to offer. I understood the words she said; they just didn’t make sense.

  “I would hear him talk to Nugget out in the barn. He made promises to him about not leaving him and waiting for you.”

  “That was a long time ago.”

  She pulled back and held her position to stare at me. “You don’t understand. He never quit, Miranda. Every day. For six years. He has shown up and done your chores and taken care of your horse.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, because he gets paid to. He’s Daddy’s foreman,” I scoffed. I refused to accept guilt that didn’t belong to me. I had enough of my own to handle without added pressure.

  “Daddy only hired him because he was always here. Don’t be so daft. He could be working at the Burins’ farm. And let’s not forget, that was the summer after his senior year of high school. He didn’t spend it playing at the lake with his buddies. He waited…for you.”

  That summer had been awful. I’d met Eason minutes after I’d arrived in New York. Looking back, I should be amazed he didn’t give me the boot. I was a sloppy, teary-eyed mess until he made me get off my tail or get out. Without anywhere else to go, I opted to get up. I can’t imagine what it would have been like for Austin here. There was something new around every corner in New York. And once I had started school and began to work for Eason, life fell into a comfortable stasis. Austin had no way to escape us. Although, he didn’t have to torture himself at Cross Acres daily.

  “He should have moved on.” It was a callous thing for me to say in light of what she’d shared.

  Her head bobbed in agreement. “Probably. But that’s not who he is.”

  “You mean who he was,” I corrected.

  “No, is.”

  The implication that Austin’s anger remained firmly rooted because he continued to wait wasn’t one I would willingly accept. “Meaning what exactly?”

  She lifted the glass to her lips and consumed half of the liquid before setting it down. “I don’t believe he’s ever moved on.”

  I’d always considered my sister rather level-headed, even if I hated that she was a stick in the mud. This made twice since I’d been home that I had questioned her sanity. “It’s been six years, Sarah. Austin Burin is not still carrying a flame for me. You heard what he said in the driveway.” I crossed my arms in defiance. I would have leaned back to further illustrate my position, except the new barstools didn
’t allow for that.

  Sarah snickered and shook her head. “And clearly, you didn’t. He believed he would marry you, Miranda. That only happens once in a lifetime.”

  “There has to have been other girls. He’ll find the right one.” As soon as it flowed out of my mouth, I realized the words were for me. They made me feel better. In some odd way, it justified my silence, the way I’d left town, the fact I’d stayed away, regardless of whether they were rooted in any truth.

  She finished her tea, got up to put the glass in the sink, and faced me. Sarah leaned back against the counter and held her hands in front of her. I’d hated that stance when I was in high school. It always showed up just before I got schooled or punished. “Not one.”

  Not one. “Not one girl?”

  “Nope.” She popped the P, yet it wasn’t followed by a smug I-told-you-so expression. If I didn’t know better, I’d think hope glittered in her expression. “Not one.”

  That I refused to believe. “You just don’t know about it, then. No way Austin Burin has been celibate for six years.” My eyes went wide to illustrate my point when I continued. “Trust me.”

  Her right shoulder lifted in a weak shrug. “Believe what you choose, Miranda. I was here. You weren’t.”

  “Has he told you that?”

  That question seemed to dash the hopeful gleam I’d just witnessed and replaced it with something akin to sorrow. “No.” She pulled her lips between her teeth and chewed on them, briefly. When she released them, she took a deep breath before she spoke. “It’s kind of unspoken that we don’t talk about you in front of him…or Daddy.”

  Figured. Austin I got. Daddy, that was unjustified. “Of course.” Sarcasm dripped from my response.

  “That’s not fair. You can’t blame Austin for not wanting to talk about you. You decimated him. Obliterated his heart. He never recovered from you leaving. Don’t you see that?”

  “Clearly, I don’t.” I tried to keep my anger under wraps. I struggled, and Sarah knew me well enough to see it, even if she couldn’t hear it. “He’s done nothing other than yell at me and embarrass me since I stepped foot in Mason Belle.”