Page 90 of Not Another Yesterday
“Another month or two and the cattle will be moved up the mountains. We just need the snow to melt a bit more. They’ll spend the summer months in higher altitude and then we’ll bring them back down for the winter,” Thomas says, and is met with expressiveohsfrom my parents. “You see those houses in the distance? Those are our guest cabins.” Thomas motions toward some smaller homes ahead of us. While clustered, they’re sufficiently spaced out to provide whoever is staying there adequate privacy. “We have ten of them. Well, nine at the moment. One’s occupied by another one of our on-again, off-again ranch hands.”
I bet I know who that is. Has Ronan been spending all his time with her since he got here?
“Oh, so, it’s like a dude ranch?” my dad asks.
Once again, my instinct is to roll my eyes at him.
Thomas nods graciously. “We don’t call it a dude ranch, but yeah. We have guests here. That’s only a small part of the Soult family business. The main source of income is cattle, but we do get really busy, especially in the summer months. Last year, all guest cabins were occupied from May through September. Erin—Perry and Saoirse’s daughter—and her husband Martin run that side of the business. They live in that house up there with their kids, Riley and Colin.” Thomas points at a ranch-style house about a hundred yards to theright of a much larger, two-story log cabin. The driveway ends there, framed by tall grass, pastures, and mountain light.
“And that beautiful home right in front of us is Perry and Saoirse’s house,” Thomas says as we climb a small incline and pass a large barn on our left. He drives about fifty yards more, then comes to a stop. I spot Saoirse already waiting on the stoop of the wraparound porch; the smile on my lips is instantaneous.
She bounds down the steps like a teenager. I’m still struck by how young she looks. Mid-fifties isn’t old, sure, but “grandmother” feels like the wrong word for the vibrant woman pulling me into a tight hug.
“Oh, Cat, it’s so, so good to see you!” She holds me at arm’s length to examine my face. “I don’t know how it’s possible, but every time I see you, you’re even more stunning.”
My face heats up again.Great. Living furnace mode activated.
Saoirse turns to my parents. “Your daughter is such a beautiful young woman. Inside and out.”
My dad nods. “We’d have to agree.”
She waves us toward the house for a tour. Inside, it’s even more incredible. The rustic interior should feel heavy, all wood and stone, but thanks to floor-to-ceiling windows and an open floor plan, the space feels bright, spacious. Free, not confined.
I glance left, where a wide-open kitchen flows into a long dining room anchored by a table big enough to seat a small army. I can practically see the extended Soult family occupying each chair, the air filled with noise and clatter and the smell of hearty Irish food in the air.
A door stands open to my right. Boots are neatly lined against the wall, and jackets and hats hang from hooks above a sturdy bench. Mudroom, clearly. But somehow even that feels warm and lived-in.
Straight ahead, the living area unfolds like something out of one of my mom’s home design magazines. A woven Native American-style rug centers the space, topped by a thick wood coffee table bloomingwith wildflowers nestled in a vase. Dark leather sofas and chairs ring the table invitingly. But what pulls me most is the staircase. It’s wide and inviting, and yet I can’t look at it without remembering.
Ronan talked about this staircase at the trial. One of his earliest memories of abuse involved his mother pushing him down those stairs. Another time, she locked him in the barn outside after beating him. It was the middle of Montana winter.
Surprisingly, the house doesn’t feel haunted. Not like Frank’s. The air here is unadulterated. Steady. The hairs on my arms don’t stand like they do in that awful kitchen back in New York. Maybe the difference is that IknowRonan feels safe here. Maybe that’s enough to shift the energy.
Saoirse leads us on a practiced tour, her voice warm. “Guests are always welcome to come and go. The kitchen’s open twenty-four hours. I mean that. If you find yourself craving brownies at two in the morning like Stevie always does, come on in.” She winks. “You’ll get a key to your cabin, and to this house too. Just let yourselves in. You won’t bother us.”
She rattles off meal times: seven-thirty for breakfast, noon for lunch, six for dinner. “We’re early to rise and early to bed,” she says. “Well, except for the boys. I swear they run on fumes.”
She gestures to a door beside the staircase. “That’s Perry’s and my quarters,” she says, before beckoning us upstairs.
I hesitate at the side table by the stairs, drawn to a cluster of picture frames. My fingers find one instinctively—a simple silver frame holding a photo of baby Ronan.
“His second birthday,” Saoirse says softly behind me, a smile curling on her lips. “Wasn’t he just the cutest little stinker?”
The grin on tiny, chicken-wrangling Ronan is so mischievous it punches the breath right out of me. Blond hair, wide green eyes, arms wrapped around a bird almost as big as he is.
“I still remember this.” Saoirse laughs. “I don’t know how, but he caught that chicken and schlepped it into the house like he’d just found himself a new pet. He was so proud of himself.”
“He still smiles like that when he’s up to no good,” I say.
Saoirse laughs. “Isn’t that the truth. That grin gives him away every time.” Then she nods toward the staircase again. “Come on. Let me show you to your room.”
“Isn’t Cat staying with us?” my mom asks.
“Well, I tried to figure out how to best accommodate everyone,” Saoirse says, folding her hands. “The cabin you’ll be in only has three bedrooms, and I figured a young woman like Cat might enjoy a little privacy. Unless that’s objectionable to you, of course.”
“Oh no, of course not,” my mom chirps, already trudging up the stairs beside my dad.
We follow Saoirse upstairs into a sunlit hallway. Four doors—two on each side—lead to the bedrooms, and at the very end another floor-to-ceiling window glows with golden light from the west.
