Page 58 of We Redeemed the Rain

“Is it in your office?”

I watched her, undecided. I did need someone to take that off my plate. But thirty seconds in my files would show her how badly I’d handled the paperwork side of my business. Something I’d like to hide from everyone. Especially her.

The task list awaiting me was impossible—insurmountable. Would it be so bad for her to help? Maybe I could avoid a panic attack if I went straight from here to the pastures. Going into the office and rifling through filing cabinets was a terrible idea. Paperwork got the best of me every time.

I shrugged my shoulders, probably looking more defeated than I meant to. “Somewhere. I have a file, but I’ve got no clue where it is.”

“I'll find it.” She started backwards, slowly, waiting for me to react. “If you don’t want me in your office, you better grab me before I go.”

Something deep within me stirred. A hard knot formed in my throat as emotions hit me fromleft field.

“Okay, I’m going.” She picked up her pace, still walking backward. “Is it unlocked?”

“Yeah. It’s—a humiliating mess.”

“My closet back home is a humiliating mess.” She lifted a shoulder, mirroring me. “We all have messes somewhere.”

“Bea.” I shook my head, unable to name the feeling unfurling deep in my throat. “Thank you.”

“I got this.” She smiled then turned toward the house.

EIGHTEEN

Bea

Nothing about Tag’s office was a mess.

At first glance, anyway.

A simple wooden desk sat in the middle of the room, in front of three tall filing cabinets. On the desk was a clear pamphlet holder with white pamphlets inside. I pulled one out.Meadowbrook Performance Horseswas across the front in black type. Who designed these? They were not very attractive and nothing about them looked branded to the ranch. Coming up the driveway this morning, I saw Meadowbrook’s logo on the sign by the road. It was a circle with anMin the middle. Why wasn’t that at least on the pamphlet?

The walls were bare aside from a large framed map. When I stepped closer, I realized it was a map of the old Meadowbrook, when it was still three thousand acres. What happened? How on earth was it only eighty now?

My stomach twisted. It had to be something awful. The Tag I knew never would’ve parted with the land willingly. He loved the space, the rolling hills, the creek that flowed through them. From everything I’d seen over the weekend, he was well on his way to building a new legacy as a horse rancher. But I knew, deep down, hewas fighting for it. I could only imagine the obstacles he’d had to overcome.

Maybe he would open up and tell me about them…eventually. For now, understanding him was left to my observational skills.

Behind Tag’s desk on the floor, I found a box of unopened mail. All kinds of stuff dating back a few months that hadn’t even been opened yet. Considering he bought the semi recently, I’d put my money on the warranty registration being there, but I felt really uncomfortable sorting his mail so decided to check the files first.

I jerked all my body weight against the first filing drawer. It creaked out, metal scraping against metal. There were tabs likepedigrees, vet receipts, vet insurance,and the like, but quick inspection proved very few files contained the appropriate documents. They seemed stuck in at random. I wondered why. How hard was it to take a few minutes in order to put mail where it belonged?

I shuffled through stacks and stacks of papers. I did my best not to be nosy, but a few times my eyes lingered out of sheer curiosity. There were some overdue bill notices, credit card statements, and hospital bills.

My heart clenched with pain for Tag. What a burden these must be.

I knew better than most the financial pressure of medical debt. A tragedy could bankrupt an otherwise well-off family even if they had decent insurance. Out of pocket costs could wrack into the thousands in the blink of an eye.

Samuel Taggart was the name on the invoices, but that didn’t necessarily mean he was the patient. Was it someone else? An employee maybe?

My brother’s life had cost my father everything. Our family went from comfortable to barely scraping by within a year. Not only did the medical bills pour in, but Dad took months away from his job and worked for a gravel and mulch company, which allowed him to stay in the Denver area. It was amassivepay cut. But he didn’t want to be across the country while Peter hung by a thread. We all stayed close to the hospital, in arm’s reach of a phone, and every moment as a familywas soaked in as if it could’ve been the last. We lived on credit and prayers.

Dad still says it was worth it. We loved Peter to life, and that was all that mattered. Not money, career, or opportunity. Only life and love and the gift of existing without regrets. Dad always said if Peter died, he wanted to send him onward knowing he was every bit the father he could’ve been.

Couldn’t fault a dad for a motive so pure. Even if it did wreck financial havoc on our family.

Peter and I did our best to throw chunks of money at some of our parents’ debt and chip in when we could. Both of them deserved to retire before their bodies forced them too.

I tried to shove the bills out of my mind and focus on the task at hand. I’d only made it through two of the six filing drawers before giving up and deciding to check the pile of mail. I hadn’t seen anything dated past February in the drawers, so new stuff was likely my best bet.

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