Alex
I laughed. “Your farm is huge, and it has got to be one of the hardest I’ve worked. You have a lot going on.”
“It used to be a lot more than what it is. I sold off the north hundred acres or so about ten years ago. I realized I didn’t need so much. A buddy’s grandson was looking to start in the farming business. I figured I’d give him a hand and let him buy that land from me for a real steal. I hear he’s built himself a small house on the land.”
“That was nice of you,” I told him. “Most farmers I’ve met hold on to their land until their last dying breath.”
He smirked. “I suppose we do, but the two-hundred acres I have is plenty. I’m an old man. I don’t need to make a killing in the wheat business.”
“I wish others could be as easygoing as you are. Hell, I wish I could be that easygoing.”
He chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “It’s taken me seventy-two years to get to this point. A man realizes somewhere along the way that life is too short to be uptight. We’re all here for a short time, as long as the good Lord allows, and that’s it. We have no control over any of it. It’s arrogant to believe otherwise.”
I smiled. “But it’s human nature to try.”
“I suppose it is.”
“Alex, I’ll get someone in to take over this operation. Promise me you’ll stick around until I can make that happen.”
“Of course, Oliver. I’m not going anywhere. I came here to help get things tidied up. I’m not done yet.”
He nodded, looking me directly in the eye. His stare was intense. It always made me feel like he was looking right into my soul. “Promise me that no matter what happens, you will make sure this farm is functioning. I don’t want it to be auctioned off to the highest bidder because it has fallen in the red or the disrepair is beyond fixing.”
His concern was real. “Oliver, your farm isn’t in bad shape. It’s hard but that’s not a bad thing. You need the right person in here that will devote the time, energy, and most importantly love for the art of farming to this place. There are plenty of folks who would love the chance to do that. It’s going to be okay.”
He didn’t look convinced. “I think I’m going to lay down for a minute. I’ll be out later to take a walk around.”
I nodded and reached out to rest my hand on his arm. “Are you feeling okay?”
I knew it was risky to ask a tough guy like Oliver if he was feeling all right, but he didn’t seem quite himself. I had worked his farm for about a month and had come to know him pretty well. I was fond of him, and even though I was hired to take care of the management of the farm, I wanted to take care of the man as well. I didn’t have a lot of maternal or nurturing instincts, but just then, I did.
“I’m fine. The traveling wiped me out. I need a few minutes. Then I’ll be right as rain.”
I smiled. “Okay. I’ll go track down Deke and see what he’s up to now. One never knows with that guy. He means well, but I just don’t know what he is thinking half the time.”
“I’ll take care of that situation later today,” he assured me.
“Why don’t you rest, and I’ll handle it? I’ll let him down easy. Honestly, I don’t think he’ll be all that upset to be given his walking papers. He’s been telling me he wants to follow the rodeo.”
Oliver groaned. “I suppose he could be a clown. I hope like hell he doesn’t plan on trying to ride.”
“You never know. That could be his niche.”
He chuckled and walked over the original hardwood floors of the seventy-year-old house as he slowly made his way to his bedroom. I watched him go, noticed he was moving slowly. He looked like he was in pain. I thought about offering him some aspirin but remembered he was a tough old coot, and old coots hated to be coddled.
I carried the glasses to the old farm sink, emptied them, and put them in the dishwasher before heading out in search of Deke. He was a lot like a toddler—you didn’t dare leave them alone for long. He’d been quiet for too long, which was always alarming.
“Deke?” I hollered, shielding my eyes with my hand as I surveyed the pasture and the wheat field looking for his ridiculous cowboy hat.
“In here,” he called out.
I groaned. He was in the barn. There was so much he could get into in there. I quickly walked across the dirt and gravel, dust collecting on my old work boots and the cuffs of my faded jeans as I moved. Most people didn’t see me as the farmer type. I’d been told I was too pretty to be a farmer. It was about the dumbest thing I had ever heard. And a little insulting to all the other farmers. Like there was a certain standard of beauty that determined who was good at farming and who wasn’t.
I never worked out, I never watched what I ate, and I never really cared much about putting on makeup. I usually wore boots, jeans, and a dirty old hoodie with a plain T-shirt underneath. I kept my hair short in a blunt-cut bob to keep it from getting in my way. There were times I liked to get dressed up but not often.
I wasn’t the average woman and I didn’t care to be. I liked what I did. I liked who I was, and I didn’t give two shits about fitting into someone else’s standard about what a twenty-seven-year-old woman should be doing.
DamionI walked into the school, smiled at the receptionist, and joined the other parents there to pick up kids. I waited until Oliver’s teacher had a free moment and approached her. I liked to check in with her at least once a week if time allowed.“Hello,” I greeted.“Ah, Mr. Whittle,” she said with a smile.“Damion, please,” I insisted. “How’s he doing?” It was the same question I asked every time I saw her.The start to my five-year-old’s school career had been rocky. I was assured kindergarten was hard on a lot of kids. It was a big change, and some struggled a bit more than others. My son wasn’t struggling with the learning but with being in a new environment with kids he didn’t know.“He is a bright young man and a pleasure to have in class,” she answered.“But?” I asked, knowing there was something she wasn’t saying.She smiled. “He’s had a difficult week. The class has been doing group projects, and Oliver is so far advanced, he either does all the work or doesn’t do any of i
DamionI had grown up on a farm. I had a tan that started in spring and carried over until late fall from all my time outside. I had worked hard on the farm, helping feed the horses and chickens. When I had gotten older, I used to ride alongside my grandpa in the front seat of his old beat-up truck to fix fences. The fences always needed fixing, it seemed.“I want to go to the museum,” he answered after carefully thinking it over.“Sounds like a plan. We’ll do the museum, have lunch, and then go to the park for some playtime.”“Okay,” he said, turning to look back out the window.I drove to our apartment, tucked the car into the cramped parking area, and headed inside. We lived in a nice building with a doorman. I felt relatively safe on the eighth floor. Our two-bedroom was modest, but a lot bigger than most.“I’m going to get dinner started. You can watch TV for a bit if you’d like.”“I’m going to play on my iPad,” he answered.I put his backpack next to the door and went into the s
AlexI stared out the window of the hospital room. It was a dreary spring day, which was common, but I suspected the rain was God weeping. Not really. The weather suited the mood. I was trying to keep my emotions in check. I refused to show weakness. I hated showing weakness.“You’re still here?” Oliver’s weak voice came from behind me.I slowly turned and looked at the man lying in bed. He looked tired. I didn’t think he looked like a man on death’s door, but the doctors and nurses assured me that was the case. I was in awe of his strength. I had no idea he was sick. Yesterday when I had shown up to the house, he was still in bed. He politely asked me to drive him the twenty miles to the hospital.Initially, I thought maybe he had the flu. He had just been on an airplane. Airplanes were nasty, germ-laden boxes. When he’d quickly been admitted with almost no questions asked, I realized something was wrong. It was all prearranged. It was like he was checking in at a hotel.“I’m here, O
AlexI walked out of the room. “I’m leaving,” I said to the nurse, not stopping to hear what she was about to say. I couldn’t stay there another minute. I was on the verge of tears. I didn’t want to turn into a blubbery mess with an audience.I got back in my truck and drove. I felt numb. When I got within five minutes of town, I called Sadie, hoping she was off work.“Hey,” I said when she answered. “You free? I could really use a drink.”“Alex, it’s one o’clock in the afternoon. Since when do you day-drink?”“I need a drink. You don’t have to drink.”“I’ll meet you at Bob’s,” she said, naming the one bar in town. Bob’s also served as a diner and all-around hangout for the over twenty-one crowd, but it wasn’t all that surprising to see a toddler in the bar with a mom or dad on occasion.I drove to the bar, parking in the paved lot that had more potholes than solid blacktop. When I walked inside, I immediately spotted sleek black hair. It was easy to find her anywhere. She liked flash
DamionI sat at my desk, reviewing a new piece from one of my seasoned journalists when my assistant buzzed the intercom. “Mr. Whittle?”“Yes?”“There’s someone here to see you. He says he’s a lawyer.”I didn’t think I was being sued, but one never knew in the current climate. We weren’t in the business of celebrity news, which protected us from some suits but not all. I adjusted my tie, wanting to present a professional appearance.“I’ll be right out.”I got to my feet and opened the office door. The lawyer was nothing like the other lawyers I dealt with. The guy was wearing jeans, cowboy boots, a cowboy hat, and a bolo tie. He looked to be in his late sixties. I didn’t have to ask where he was from.“I’m Damion Whittle,” I said, extending my hand.“Good to meet you, Damion. I’m Harvey Larson. I’m your grandfather’s attorney.”I nodded, gesturing for him to go inside. “Hold my calls,” I said, not looking forward to the conversation I knew to be coming.Harvey had taken a seat already
DamionHe slowly nodded. “You heard me. Like I said, your grandpa, he was one smart son of a bitch. I tried to do what he did and lost money. He just had a knack for knowing what was a good bet and what wasn’t.”“Wow,” I breathed. “I never knew. He never mentioned investing. You knew him. There was nothing about him that said he knew the first thing about investing.”“He liked to keep his cards close to the vest.”“Shit,” I said, my mind still trying to process everything. “He left it to me?” Harvey waved the stack of papers. “It’s all right here.”I shook my head. “I don’t know what to say. Do I thank you? I feel like a shithead. I didn’t go to the man’s funeral. I don’t feel worthy.”“Honestly, I don’t think he expected you to go to the funeral. He planned it all to keep you from having to relive that experience.”I gulped down the lump in my throat. When Ann had died, I had been a wreck. My grandfather had flown out to be with me. I didn’t even remember the first few days after he
AlexI took a bite of my crispy bacon before sipping the black coffee. I had been starving when I walked into the only restaurant in town. People in town were used to me eating a lot. I burned a lot of calories doing what I did, and for now, I didn’t have to worry too much about putting on a ton of weight. I wasn’t exactly a bodybuilder, but I was stronger than most women.Correction, stronger than most normal women. Women that ranched and farmed were tough. I was proud to be what I considered one of the elite class of females across the country that could rein in a scared horse, load a bale of hay, and then cook up a hot meal for the menfolk. What I really loved was working my ass off on a farm and then sitting down to enjoy a meal someone else prepared. Like my breakfast. Any meal prepared by someone else always tasted a little better in my opinion.“Did you get those new boots you were looking at?” Sadie asked casually.I stuffed a buttery piece of pancake in my mouth, shaking my h
Alex“I’ll give it until the end of the week. If no one shows up, I’ll call the lawyer and let him know I need a body there or he needs to give me the power to hire a body.”“Good plan. I need to scoot. I’ve got an eleven o’clock.”“See ya later,” I said, not getting up. I had already been to the farm, taken care of morning chores, and was going to enjoy a lazy, late breakfast.With the initial shock of Oliver’s death easing, I was able to focus on what came next. I had a couple of calls from potential clients. The easy thing to do would be to walk away, take a new job, and put Oliver and his farm behind me. It was how I lived my life. I didn’t get attached to people or places. I kept everyone at arm’s length.I checked the time. I wanted to be rebellious and ignore the farm. I couldn’t. I didn’t know what I believed about the afterlife, but I wasn’t interested in pissing off any ghosts. I had made a promise and I intended to keep that promise.I left the diner and drove out to the fa