Page 2 of Truth is the Ultimate Weapon

“I don’t know Nash as well as you, obviously, but I don’t really see him as the law school type.” Rip teased.

“He’s not.” She laughed. “But he could have done anything, and he didn’t.”

“Maybe this is his dream. You always wanted to be a lawyer. Maybe he always wanted to run the ranch –– preserve something for the family. I could be wrong, but…”

“No. You’re exactly right. Now that I think about it, he’s the… sentimental one. The loyalist of all of us. I guess it makes sense. I’d just never thought of it that way before.” She sat and dropped the files in her hands to her lap, “How is it you look like… that, but you say… the things you say?”

Rip looked down at himself, held out his hands, turned them, and inspected both sides, “Look like what?”

Devyn waved a hand up and down in front of him, “That. Rough, edgy, maybe a little scary when exiting the woods out of nowhere, but… so wise and thoughtful.”

“I don’t know about wise or thoughtful.”

“But you are. You’ve been here a couple of weeks and already have us all figured out. You get my family better than I do.”

“That’s just the job. In my line of work, you learn to read people, even when you don’t want to. It becomes second nature.”

“It’s impressive.” She shared. “And you are thoughtful, or you wouldn’t care about my tantrums or making me see who I really am around here. You... care.”

Something changed in Rip’s expression. His warm and soft expression grew cold and hard, “I don’t.”

“Don’t?”

“Care. I don’t care, Devyn. Just doing my job.” He went back to going through boxes.

She seemed to have struck a nerve. Something she’d said upset him, or worse, frightened him. Maybe he was just realizing how close he was getting to the family and to her, and it bothered him, but why? Was she really just a job, someone he was paid to protect? Devyn couldn't shake the unsettling feeling that lingered in the air after the passionate exchanges they’d shared.

Rip's sudden shift in demeanor hinted at a deeper turmoil brewing beneath the surface. Was their connection merely a facade, a duty he felt obligated to fulfill? Or did his guarded reaction stem from a fear of letting down the walls he had carefully constructed around his heart?

The uncertainty gnawed at her, stirring a whirlwind of doubts and insecurities. Yet, amidst the turmoil, one thing remained crystal clear - she couldn't ignore the undeniable pull she felt towards him, a force that defied logic and reason. There was more to Rip, and Devyn was determined to uncover the truth behind his enigmatic facade, even if it meant confronting the darkest corners of a past she was curious to discover.

“You might want to save this one,” Rip said. “Looks like journals.”

“Journals?” Devyn asked with surprise and rushed to his side, “You mean, like a diary?”

Rip held up several notebooks, some leatherbound, some with pretty floral patterns, and others with simple brown cardboard covers.

“How do you know they’re journals? Did you open them?”

“No, I didn’t open them. Those are the private thoughts of a woman I did not know.” He defended. “Plus, it says journals on the outside of the box as well as across the front of all of these.”

“Great detective work there, buddy.” Devyn rolled her eyes and pulled out a journal, flipping the pages. “These are all full.”

She picked up one, then another, reading the inside cover of each. “She went through these pretty quickly. They’re all dated. There must be a couple of months of life in each of them. For such a soft-spoken woman, she certainly had a lot to say in these.”

“What are you going to do with them?”

“Read them? Is that wrong?” Devyn asked with a curious look.

“I guess that depends on you. What do you think?” Rip shrugged.

“I think my private thoughts are just that, private. But are they still when you’ve… passed?” Devyn closed her eyes and fanned through the pages, smelling them as if somehow the answer to read or not to read was somewhere in that very journal.

Rip shook his head and sighed, “I think only you can answer that, Devyn. Would she want you to read them?”

“I-I don’t know.” Devyn plopped on the nearby chair. “We’ve all been saying how we may not have known our mother the way we thought we did. What if –– what if there’s answers in here that shed some light on, well, everything? What if the small clue we’re looking for to solve all that’s been happening around here is in one of these little books full of our mother’s thoughts… her secrets?”

“Where do you want them?” Rip grabbed a box and studied what remained in the closet, “I see three more boxes labeled as journals in that closet from here. Do you want them all in your room in the main house?”

---