Vivian
MAYBE I HAD a concussion? Maybe it was a brain tumor? Could I just be losing my mind altogether? It was the only possible explanation as to why I was standing in front of Brent’s house on his ranch Boulder.
As my short-lived book tour ended, I had it all planned out for me to go back to Washington, lock myself away in the world of my imagination, and work on my next book. Instead, I was planted back in Texas in the same small town I ran away from ten years ago. I never dreamed of coming back here, let alone being married to Brent Rush.
“It seems bigger than I remember.” I grabbed my laptop bag and purse.
I stared up at the two story house. It looked exactly the same. The bright white siding shined against the blue window shutters. The wrap-around porch still had hanging plants in full bloom. Not to forget the window sill plants. The memories of me helping plant and water them every year came rushing back to me. I couldn’t count the number of times Brent and I ran around this porch or how many times we sat on the swing looking out on the land eating popsicles or drinking Kool-Aid. I could almost smell Brent’s dad working the grill in the backyard and the smell of hay coming from the barn when there was a deep breeze.
“It’s the same. Although on some days it feels never ending.” He gathered up my luggage and headed into the house.
It still smelled the same. Apple pie and love. I could remember as a child running into the house and hugging Brent’s mom, Pam, tightly around her waist. She was the mother one would see on TV. Hard working, loving, caring, and the best cook around. There were many times I wished she was my mom.
“Keep mixing, Viv.” Brent laughed at me. “Haven’t you made brownies before?”
“No, my mom doesn’t bake.” I whisked faster.
“Baking is an essential in life.” Pam came in and hugged my shoulders. “You’re doing great.”
My heart warmed and my smile grew as she gave Brent and me more instructions on the batter. With her help, we were able to get them into the oven.
After the timer went off and they were cooled, Pam let us each sample one.
“These are delicious.” I hummed over the gooey, chocolatey goodness.
“It’s because you made them.” Her smile was warm and genuine. It was something a real mother would show to her daughter or son.
“Where did you say your parents moved?” I set down my purse on the table in the foyer.
“They decided to move into town. The ranch became too much for them.” He carried the bags upstairs and I followed him. “I couldn’t bear to leave the place. It’s home.”
I understood what he meant. This was home to me most of my years here. It had been hard to leave, but I needed to find myself. Had I stayed I would have gotten fatter and lost myself in Brent’s shadow. He wasn’t an Alpha type but extremely protective. He always had my back no matter the situation. I loved that, but I couldn’t rely on it either. I had to stand on my own two feet.
“I thought you would be comfortable in here.” He opened his old bedroom door.
I held back my gasp as it was decorated in simple tones of red and gray. My favorite colors. There was a large bed on the far wall, but my eyes went to the large oak desk facing the window which highlighted the ranch. I walked over and slowly ran my hands over the smooth top. I almost felt the creative juices pulsing through me.
“I thought this would be perfect for you to work and I promise not to disrupt you.” He set down my bags on the bed. “The bathroom is down the hall and you have plenty of room to put up your girly stuff. I’m sure you remember where everything is. I hope you feel at home here.” He touched my shoulder as he walked out of the room.
The strangest feeling came over me. An almost peaceful feeling. It felt so unreal being back here. I stared out the window and saw the land I played on many years ago. I helped till the garden, planted the vegetables, moved the cattle, rode the horses. I knew every part of this land.
It was home.
I moved about the room, hanging my clothes, arranging my items and my laptop on the desk to the fashion I liked. I put away all my toiletries, and when I came back into the bedroom, I decided I should write. I sat down and started to plan out the next book I had been thinking about for the past week when I saw Brent outside walking around. I knew he was heading toward the barn.
Before I could blink, or overthink it, I ran to the closet and slipped into a pair of jeans and grabbed my boots. You could take the girl from Texas but couldn’t take her out of her boots. I jogged out to the barn but didn’t see Brent. I went up to the horses, a few of them I didn’t remember, but a few were from when I was last here. I petted each of them. I wanted them each to know my scent before I invaded their space.
After several moments of making my rounds with the horses, I found a shovel and made my way to the first stall and began to clean it out. I didn’t know how long I was working before someone cleared their throat next to me.
I jumped. “Don’t scare me.”
“Sorry. What are you doing?” He chuckled.
“Helping out.” I stated the obvious by holding up the shovel.
“Why aren’t you writing your book?”
“Because there were things that need to be done around here. You’ve been gone a while and I know how hard it is on a farm to play catch up.”
I turned around and went back to the task at hand. Brent’s eyes were staring at me. I could feel it through my skin. However, I didn’t turn back to him.
“I’m going to check the fence line. I’ll be back in a bit.” I didn’t respond to him and continued my chore.
When I finished, I headed back into the house and cleaned up. I was famished and was certain he would be as well. I had forgotten how much work manual labor was since it had been forever since I’d done it. I searched his cabinets and decided on grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup. It was quick, easy, and filling. I remembered his mom making this exact meal for us a million times in our childhood. Plus, I wasn’t the greatest cook and didn’t want to burn down the house.
“Now, what are you doing?”
I yelped in fright. “Stop sneaking up on me.” I hit his shoulder. “You’re going to give me a heart attack.”
He laughed. “I wasn’t sneaking up on you. The back door slammed shut. You were lost in thought.”
“I was.” I moved the plated food and the pot of soup over to the table. “Grab some bowls.”
He did as I said and I took a seat at the table.
“Why did you do all this?” He handed me a bowl.
“I’m hungry and I figured you are too.”
“I am.” He ladled the soup for me and then himself.
“How was the fence line?”
“All good. Nothing caught up in it and nothing knocked down.” He went on about the cattle and how he’ll have to sell a few of them later this month at auction.
“Do you need money?” A slight panic came over me. Was he broke? Did I need to loan him money?
“No.” He glared at me. “I just need to thin out the herd a bit. I’m not broke.”
His tone was like ice, and I definitely hit a nerve. “I don’t mean to offend. I know how much this ranch means to you.”
He glared at me for a second.
“I mean it. I will help if you need it.”
“I have money and I don’t need yours. Thanks anyway.” He quickly got up from the table and headed back outside, without finishing his food.
Sometimes I forgot how to be around people. Spending all my time in the fictional world I’ve created made me closed off from the reality of real people. I’ve never been one to be a real conversationalist. Only Brent brought that out of me. But it has been a long time since I’ve allowed someone in my life. Then again, he convinced me to move back to Billings and marry him. He still had a tight hold on me, and I knew it.
When Brent did get mad, it was always best to leave him alone. He didn’t get upset often, but from time to time I got on his nerves enough for him to take a walk alone. I wasn’t going to go after him. I finished my soup and sandwich and cleaned up the kitchen. I left a note on the fridge letting him know his food was in the microwave and I’d gone upstairs.
I turned on my laptop, hit the iHeartRadio app and tuned into my favorite country station. As Lauren Alaina’s “Road Less Traveled” started, the words should have begun to flow out of me. But nothing happened. I stared at my notes. Usually it would help my creativeness, but I got nothing.
Seriously – nothing.
How could this be happening to me? I came out here and now I have nothing. I scrolled through my notes again hoping something would hit me, but even the descriptions of my characters didn’t make sense. I rubbed my forehead and pulled out my earbuds. The music was becoming more of a nuisance than helpful. Music was my other escape, and it seemed everything was going wrong.
It had to be because I was here.
However, as I looked out the window at the setting sun, I felt like this was home. Looking out at my cabin there were massive trees and wooded land, which I loved, but right now I could see all the way until there was nothing.
Now if I could just figure out how to get this book written.