Page 7 of Alive and Wells

Lilac blooms never last. Even with the high elevation and late last frost here, I give these a month before they’re done and dusted. Hatred burns my lungs as I make a pact with myself. I’ll grieve whatever I need to, but only for as long as these lilacs stay in bloom. Afterward, I won’t let KJ take up a single sliver of real estate in my mind. Not a single fuck will be given. For all intents and purposes, he will be myex-husband. Even if he ends up making it next to impossible to divorce him.

My car rattles across the bumpy cattle guard and over a small knoll, bringing the farm into view. At the base of a distant hill, there’s a smattering of varied-size log cabins with red metal roofs. A massive barn-like building is further left, surrounded by rusty farm equipment and tall grass. Vibrant green hay fields stretch as far as I can see, with fences cutting across seemingly at random.

My gaze snags on an older woman frantically waving her arms in the air, backdropped by a stunning white farmhouse.Beryl. I know her without having ever seen her. Her brown, spindly body sucks me into a hug the moment my feet touch the ground. My cheek presses into her shoulder, inhaling freshly baked bread that’s permeated through her linen button-up shirt. Though we’ve never met, everything about her feels perfectly familiar and comfortable. And those cozy feelings replace the doubts that began sprouting in my mind on the long drive.

“I was getting worried you’d changed your mind!” She hugs me tighter.

“Sorry, I got a flat tire and was stuck on the side of the road for a while. Some cowboy stopped and helped me.”

“Am I ever glad you’re here, honey. Come inside. Leave your stuff in the car. I’ll show you to your cabin later. I have coffee cake, biscuits—oh, you need to try my homemade black currant jam. Or I can cook you up some eggs and back bacon.”

“Just coffee would be wonderful.” I follow her onto the sprawling porch that’s wrapped around either side of the white farmhouse like a hug. Tintinnabulation of a dozen or more wind chimes announces a swirling breeze. There’s no way a picture-perfect place like this actually exists. Maybe KJ did kill me and this is heaven.

The creaking screen door slams shut behind us. I move to take off my sneakers, but Beryl stops me. “Don’t bother unless you want to get cow crap on your socks, honey. The men around here may as well be wild animals. It’s a lost cause getting them to take their boots off indoors.”

My gaze drifts along the intricate woodwork to the crown mouldings and stair banister in the foyer. Then spans across vintage floral wallpaper and down to the faded pine floorboards. They’re battered in the most stunning way: dents from cowboy boots, scrapes from furniture moved between rooms, and wear marks from the generations who have walked over this floor.

“Is this your house? It’s beautiful.” I’m not saying it to adulate. This is easily the most gorgeous home I’ve ever seen.

“No, no. Jackson Wells and his wife, Kate, live in the big house with their daughter, Odessa. She’s a real spitfire, that one. And she has the biggest doe eyes—always turning up when there’s fresh baking to be eaten. We use the kitchen here as a gathering spot, of sorts, and it’s where we prepare lunches for the employees. Seems there’s alwayssomebodyin the kitchen. You can make yourself at home here, help yourself to anything except the chocolate milk… It’s Kate’s biggest pregnancy craving.” She winks.

She leads me down a dimly lit hallway, and I steal a glance into the living room on my left. My soul momentarily leaves my body when the first thing I notice is a massive deer’s head staring back at me with beady, gleaming black eyes. I’m guessing the people around here won’t find my story about leaving baby carrots for the deer by my grandparents’ cabin very endearing. Still, the rest of the room looks charming enough with its oversized chairs and sofa, brick fireplace, and filled bookshelves. I can picture myself thumbing the spines with a hot coffee in my hand.

Thankfully, there’s nary a dead animal in sight when I follow Beryl into the sunny kitchen. At her demand, I perch on a stool at the big marble island and study the woman I consider my best friend, despite today being the first time I’ve heard her voice or seen her face. Yes, it feels extremely pathetic not to have more friends in my real life. But at least I have Beryl. And right now, I’m thankful my best friend is a talker, because the last thing I want to do is speak.

“So, you take today to settle in properly. I’ll introduce you to Kate later—she usually helps me out in the kitchen. We don’t feed the ranch hands breakfast or dinner except on special occasions. We do pack them lunches, though. I hope you’re good at making sandwiches because,heavens, do those boys eat. We also clean their bunkhouses, do grocery runs, and keep this ship running. Essentially, we’re the farm wives. Jackson’s the one man around here who’s had his head screwed on tight enough to find a good one, and nail her down.”

A white mug slides across the counter into my anxious hands, and I take a long, calming sip. Beryl’s grey hair hangs in plaits down her back, except for a few baby hairs that stand like a crown on the top of her head. Her face doesn’t hide the long hours spent in the sun, or the hard life she had before coming to Wells Ranch, but her eyes and smile radiate pure joy.

What I would give to look peaceful and happy like her.

“Now, when you’re ready to tell me about what finally got you here, I’m all ears. But let’s keep it light today, if you don’t mind?”

I’m about to thank her when my ears perk to the screen door, creaking and slamming, causing a visceral reaction. The crash tries to stop my heart. I steady myself on the wooden stool and take a controlled, conscious breath.

“More time around here, and you won’t be so jumpy, honey.” She rests her work-worn hand on mine and gives it a soft squeeze. “One thing about a cattle ranch—there’s noise all the darn time. But nowhere safer you could be.”

She releases her grasp as a man strides into the kitchen with a scowl. “Fucking Tate didn’t bring in the vaccines. I drove to town and back for nothing, and it means we can’t start branding until—” He stops in his tracks upon spotting me.

The handsome, flat-tire-fixing country hero. His eyes rake across me in a way that leaves me feeling naked and vulnerable. Shifting in my seat, I tuck my arms tight around myself, desperate to be smaller and less noticeable under his glowering gaze.

“Language,” Beryl scolds before gesturing to me. “Austin, meet Cecily. The new help I told you I was hiring.”

With a nod, I say, “We sort of met already. This is the cowboy I told you about—the one who fixed my tire.”

He lets out a scoff, his eyes narrowing as they lock onto mine. “I’m not a cowboy, darlin’.”

The combination of his mocking tone and the fake flattery of the word “darling” alters something in my attitude. It sparks a flame. “No? Sorry. I guess the cowboy hat, boots, too-tight Wranglers, and compensator truck gave me that impression, for some reason.”

Despite Beryl’s giggle, I regret my reply as a wildfire spreads through my arteries. God help me. KJ always says my mouth gets me into too much trouble. I resist the urge to bring my hands up to cover my cheeks, which I’m confident are bright red. The corner of his lip twitches as his eyes continue to drill holes through my weak armour.

“Rancher—not cowboy. I own the land, the cattle, the horses. I keep the cowboys employed.” He scratches at the thick, dark stubble lining his jaw. “You’ll learn the difference if you stick ’round here long enough.”

Not that you will.He doesn’t have to say it. I can tell what he’s thinking, based on his tone and the dark gleam in his amber-coloured eyes.

“Tate didn’t get the vaccines in?” Beryl’s sing-song voice snaps his laser focus away from my blushing face. “Was the shipment delayed or something?”

“No, the motherfu—the godda—that manhasn’t even ordered them yet.” His annoyance grows with each attempt at a cuss word, which Beryl stops with a single look. “So now I guess we’re not branding for at least another two weeks.”

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