Page 9 of The Inn

The first few pages are adorned with black and white photographs, their edges softened by time's gentle touch. Each picture unveils a glimpse into the rich history of Findlay Farms and the generations of ranchers who have called it home over the years.

Time slows and with every turn of a page, Maisie shares little anecdotes that breathe life into the frames. The farm's legacy unfolds before my eyes. I feel a deep and unfamiliar ache to be a part of it. There’s something special about Findlay Farms. The history here reminds me that we aren’t on this journey through life alone. It’s a soothing thought and I inhale slowly, reveling in the comfort.

I look at the album in Maisie’s old, wrinkled hands and I can't help but wonder what my legacy will be.Will I make a mark at all?I’ve never even met my grandparents and I’ve got no aunts or uncles to speak of.

As it is, I expect the odd Facebook message from my friends or a happy holiday text from my dad, but that’s the extent of it. Dad’s remarried now so our visits have gotten few and far between. I can’t imagine being a part of a family as close-knit as the Findlays. It must be an enormous source of comfort.

I take the opportunity to ask Maisie everything I can think of. She tells her stories in great detail. Dakota chimes in both rushing and slowing her mom down where she sees fit. When we get to a Findlay family picture, it’s easy to spot a teenage Jameson with a sus-mustache staring up at me. It makes me laugh.

“What a good-looking group. Life is really unfair. This should’ve been his awkward phase. But it looks like, he’s always been handsome. Dakota, that must be you, stunning even as a kid. The genes in this family are unreal… Oh my goodness, I see little Archie, adorable. That must be Olivia, your older daughter. Wow, Maisie, she looks just like you… And who’s this?” I point to another boy standing next to Jameson.

Standing shoulder to shoulder, the teens look remarkably similar right down to the handlebar mustaches. Jameson is smiling at the camera, flexing his big-even-back-then bicep. He looks so light, this was before the weight of the world turned him into the grump I met, that’s for sure.

“Thats—” Maisie starts but she stops when the front door opens with a crash.

All our heads swivel in time to see Jameson and Archie stepping inside. Their cheeks are reddened from the chill and white snow decorates the shoulders of their jackets.

“It’s getting cold out there, like the middle of winter cold. I don’t know what's going on but I wouldn’t be surprised if we see some kind of storm tonight. CC you should be all right, I’ve got your wood-burning stove going. We came back up to get Moms on. You’re going to need it,” Jameson says.

“No, that’s whyhecame back up. But I’m much more of a gentleman than that. I’m here to walk CC back to the inn.” Archie winks at me and I can’t help but smile when Jameson mumbles something under his breath in response.

“Thank you, Archie, I appreciate it.” I direct everyone’s attention back to the photo album on the coffee table. “I’m sorry, who did you say the other boy is?” There’s a story here, I can sense it.

The room falls silent for a beat too long. Dakota avoids my gaze and when I look at Maisie, her lips part with a faint inhale of breath.

“That’s my son Jake. Jameson’s twin bro—” Maisie starts.

“That’s none of your business.” Jameson's voice is harsh, biting, and loud.

I twist around on the couch, my eyes widen, mirroring the astonishment that courses through me. Perched on the edge of my seat, my mouth hangs open. Jameson’s face is pinched into tight lines. No one speaks. Instead, we all sit in pin-drop silence. I’m pretty sure I’ve just touched on the source of Jameson’s personality shift and immediately, I wish I hadn’t.

Finally, Maisie shakes her head. “Jameson.” There’s an unspoken warning in her tone, but I’m having trouble connecting the dots.

“This article is about the farm, not our family,” Jameson barks.

“They are one and the same,” Maisie raises her voice.

“I want our privacy back intact tonight. This is exactly what I was worried about when you brought her here.” Jameson turns to face me, pointing a finger in my direction. “Jake will not show up in this article. Do you understand?”

Archie springs to his feet. “Enough.”

Jameson rolls his eyes. “Sit down, I’m not going to hurt her you dumbass, but I’m going to stop this from going off the rails. Enough is enough.”

“Jake passed away. He was Jameson’s twin and our brother. But he passed away a few years ago and it was horrible. Some of us never got over it.” Dakota’s soft voice quiets the room. “I think we’d all appreciate you not including his story in your article. There are a lot of emotions that are still raw within this room, and within our sister Olivia too. It was the most trying time we’ve ever had as a family.”

The air in the room is thick and I can hardly breathe. “I understand. Of course, I won’t print anything you aren’t comfortable with. You’re so much more than just a story to me.” My heart pounds in my chest. “I’m sorry to hear about Jake and I will respect your privacy.”

Jameson gets to his feet. “I’m done here. No, Summer, you are done here. You’ve got plenty of information. You can write your article and be gone when you wake up in the morning or as I call it, the afternoon.” He doesn’t stop grumbling until he disappears out of the front door and into the dark of night.

I should be angry at the way Jameson just talked to me, but all I can feel for him is sad. The undeniable sizzle between Jameson and me is tangible, even if he stubbornly refuses to admit it. But right now, amidst all the sparks, there's something about his raw, broken reaction that tugs at my heartstrings. I’m overwhelmed with the urge to wrap my arms around him.

After a moment of hesitation, Archie stands and says his goodnights before heading out of the door himself. When it’s only Dakota, Maisie, and I left, I apologize for being the catalyst for such a difficult conversation. The intrusion hurt all of them, I can see that. But the Findlay women are eager to wave it away.

Maisie nods as she talks with a faraway quality to her stare. “The thing about grief is that it never leaves you. It just becomes something that you get good at dealing with. And Jameson isn’t there yet. He was there when it happened. Olivia was too. Their grief is still white hot. I know Jameson thinks it’s his fault. He feels totally responsible for all of us, all the time. He takes on the burdens of this family even when we ask him not to. In a way, I lost both of the twins and Olivia that day. Jake is gone. Olivia left town, and Jameson hasn’t been the same. He’s isolated and lonely, I know he is, and I can’t do anything to get through to him.” She closes the album on her lap and puts a hand on her chest. “I do worry about them.”

Dakota stands, takes the album from her mother, and places it back on the shelf. “That might be enough for tonight Mom, what do you say?”

“Yes, I suppose it is,” Maisie says.

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