“No, as a matter of fact, I didn’t.Someonetold me to go sit in the diner while he talked to the mechanic, so I missed out on the sightseeing.”
I grunt out a noise that’s somewhere between an acknowledgement and an apology.
“It ain’t a dealership, Ms. Bryce. He has to finish something before he can tow your car, and then he has to order the parts to fix it.”
“You’re joking,” she says, glancing between my face and the mechanic shop. “What are we supposed to do? How do we even get back?”
I’m sure there’s a landline somewhere in the diner that we could probably use, but I’m not particularly in the mood to putup with her attitude when all I’ve tried to do is help. Sure, it was my fault we were late, but it wasn’t my fault the car broke down. And it’s not my fault the mechanic doesn’t have parts for her car.
“Guess we’ll just have to spend the night in town and see what the mechanic can do,” I say blandly.
She can suffer a single night in a shitty motel in the middle of nowhere.
“Fine,” she bites out. “I’ll put it on the company card.”
Before I have the chance to snort out a response, the waitress stops by with two plates of food. She slides a sandwich and fries over to Mary and a thick burger with a side of onion rings for me. I look between Mary and the burger in confusion, but she’s busy asking the waitress for a refill on her drink.
When she finally looks at me, she just raises her brow in question and pops a fry into her mouth.
“What?” she asks after swallowing.
“You got me food.” It was supposed to be a question, but I just sound surprised. The last thing I expected was for her to… take care of me. “Thanks.”
She just shrugs.
“I figured a burger would be a safe choice,” she says.
I nod and pick up my burger as an excuse to stop talking and keep from saying something stupid. No one’s bothered to make sure I eat since Laura died. She was the one who did most of the cooking, although I liked to help when I wasn’t busy on the ranch. Since she passed, it’s just been me.
No one worries about me anymore.
Maybe it doesn’t mean anything to Mary, or maybe she’s just being nice, but the act makes my chest go tight. Silence falls between us as we eat, and it feels a little less awkward than usual.
I debate asking if I can use the diner’s phone to call for a ride back to the ranch. Maybe she’ll believe me if I say I just thoughtof it. Before I get the chance to excuse myself, Mary breaks the silence.
“Would you tell me about how the ranch started?” she asks.
Her voice is soft, almost hesitant, like she’s ready for me to ignore her completely. I suppose I can’t really blame her. I’m not normally the most talkative, no matter who’s trying to rope me into conversation.
Maybe it’s the way she’s still smiling at me, or the hopeful shine in her eyes. She never seems to stop thinking positively for more than a handful of minutes, and it took a pretty big problem to make her good attitude even falter. Something about that unwavering faith makes me want to believe in her, too.
“I always wanted to own a ranch when I was a kid,” I say after a long pause. “I grew up on a horse farm, and my parents were working most of the time. I wanted to spend more time with my dad, so I helped out on the farm a lot. Fell in love with all the land and the work. They left me the farm when they passed.”
Mary hums sympathetically, but doesn’t say anything. I’m grateful, because I don’t reminisce very often. I think about all the things that went wrong, what I could’ve done differently, but I very rarely just sit and take a trip down memory lane without the heavy weight of grief on my shoulders.
“I used the money they left me to buy the rest of the land, get my initial herd, and all the equipment I needed. Then I met this girl at a cattle auction. She was a ranch hand at another farm, and I thought she was the prettiest thing I’d ever seen. For some reason, she said yes when I asked if she’d come to a bonfire with me that night.”
Mary is smiling at me softly, a gleam of affection in her eyes. I don’t know if it’s aimed at me or if she’s just a sucker for romance, but I find myself smiling back.
Thoughts of Laura only ever make me smile or cry.
“Black spruce burns long and hot, and someone had a whole truckload of it,” I recall with a grin. “I don’t remember how late Laura and I were up, but at some point, everyone else wound up going home, and it was just us.”
It’s been a long time since I’ve thought about this, and the memories choke me up for a second. I can remember that night so clearly, and the stark reality of her being gone hurts so much that I can hardly stand it.
“What happened with you and her? I haven’t seen her…you know, on the ranch.” Mary says softly, filling the silence as I try to collect myself.
“We never split,” I say, smiling sadly at my ring. “She passed almost ten years ago. Cancer.”
