Mom smirks. "The man sleeps more than he does anything else."
A twinge of worry tugs at me. "Is he healthy?"
Mom tips her head to the side. "That depends on how you define healthy. He's old, honey. His body is tired." She makes a face. "But that mind of his is sharp. I won't tell you what he said last week. His filter is gone."
I chuckle. "Hopefully I can get him to say some bad things in front of me."
Mom shakes her head. "Don't worry, he will. He doesn't give a fuck about anything anymore."
"Mom," I chastise, acting offended by her swear word.
She winks at me. "Just getting you warmed up for Gramps."
I leave her in the kitchen and go to my room to change into jeans. I grip my taller boots on either side, sliding my foot into the supple leather, and curl my toes when they're all the way on. I stand up and look at myself in the full-length mirror.
Tight jeans tucked into my favorite pair of boots, and a T-shirt knotted on the side. This is the person I've been missing, but there's just one more thing I need. I smile at my reflection and grab my purple suede cowboy hat. I fit it over my head and look once more.
Just right.
4
Sawyer
Sometimes,Sierra Grande feels more like a person and less like a landscape. Green lawns, mature trees, the Verde River cutting through the town. Go south and find cactus. Head north and hit the pines. The town nestles between the two, marrying the landscapes. But all that is surface beauty.
Underneath, it's the heart of this place that makes it seem human. The people of the town care about each other. They tell stories about the flood in 1988 when so-and-so's barn washed away and they all came together to rebuild it. Or the time Lucy Wilson's dog went missing, and she was too blind to find it herself, so everyone turned up to help. The story doesn't have a happy ending, unfortunately, but that's not the point.
Sierra Grande's residents act like family. They support each other, show love through action, and aren't afraid to piss each other off.
When I first showed up in town, I assumed I'd be nameless in the crowd, but the waitress at the diner knew me immediately. She took one look at me and said, "There's only one other person I've seen with eyes gray as an angry summer thunderstorm, and I think you're him."
I introduced myself, though I didn't need to. Cherilyn welcomed me back to Sierra Grande, didn't ask me why I'd returned, and didn't say a word about why my dad and I left the way we did. She brought me a piece of pie and that was it. A shred of my reservation about coming back melted away, and I began to understand returning to a place that will undoubtedly hold sadness may also contain hidden joy.
After that, I checked into The Sierra and told them my stay was for an undetermined amount of time. Then I met up with the realtor, and she presented me with the offers for the ranch. I could've sold for more, but money wasn't going to soothe the pain of letting go of the last place I saw my mother. The second I heard of Jo Shelton's plans for the ranch, I knew it should go to her. The realtor, Jericho, argued with me, but I'd shut her down. There was no room for my mind to be changed. Once the deal was finished, Jericho asked me out. I politely declined.
Quickly I realized the town is a gold mine. Exponential growth, but the price for land hasn't gone up much yet. It’s the sweetest spot a buyer can find themselves in, and I began taking advantage of it.
Then Jo approached me. She stopped me outside The Bakery on blueberry muffin day, and my heart leaped into my throat. She had the same white-blonde hair as Brea, with the addition of pink tips. They also shared kind eyes and an endearing smile. When she told me she needed an investor, I knew I didn't have a chance. I couldn't say no to a woman who reminded me so much of Brea.
I wouldn’t have thought it possible, but Sierra Grande is starting to feel like home. A lot of it is new, so it doesn't hurt as much as I anticipated. There are moments, though, memories that rise to the surface like pieces of a sunken ship. Sometimes I see my mother in an arc of sunlight, stepping from the Merc holding a bag of saltwater taffy. Those moments are when I'm not sure it's good that I'm here, but I suppose it beats being in California and remembering my wife. I've traded new grief for old grief.
On my way to my rented office space, I stop in at the diner to see Cherilyn. I order the same sandwich as always. I watch the same midday news channel. The only difference today is the woman in the booth across the room. I've never seen her before, but Cherilyn addresses her like a long-lost daughter.
When the woman gets up, I avert my gaze. There's a mirror on the wall behind the counter, meant to keep the servers from running into each other as they come around the corner. I use it to look at this woman. She’s younger than I thought at first glance. Her cheeks are full, her lips pouty, but it's her eyes that take me by surprise. They hold no trace of naïveté. Wise beyond her years, and determined. In the three seconds time it takes her to pass me, I decide there's no way I want to reckon with a force like her.
It's a damn good thing I'm still in love with my wife, because there was a day when that woman would be just my type.
Sometimes,I do this thing that's pretty stupid. And here I am, doing it right now.
I park my car in front of Wildflower and get out. It looks nothing like the Circle B from my memories. Jo has changed more than just the name. The entire place has undergone a face-lift. Even the heart of the place has changed. Jo is at its core now, a place my mother once occupied.
I am partial to Jo, not just because she reminds me of Brea, but because she also reminds me of my mom. Considerate and caring, but not a pushover.
I head for the stable, where the stupid thing I'm about to do waits for me.
Wyatt Hayden, Jo's husband, is inside, showing two boys the proper way to brush a horse. Equine therapy is an integral part of the program Jo has created with the help of the psychologist she hired, and Wyatt leads it.
He says hello to me in that short way of his. He's not rude, but he's not over-friendly either. I didn't make it known who I was when I agreed to invest in the ranch, and somehow Wyatt found out. He'd asked me about it, and I explained I came back to the place where I could last remember being happy. It was the truth, and Wyatt accepted it as such. I can still sense a low level of wariness from him though. I think it has more to do with his last name than it does with me. From what I've heard, Hayden's are trained to be suspicious. When you're on top, there are always people who want to bring you down. Considering the Hayden Cattle Company is the largest cattle ranch in Arizona, their fall could be catastrophic. Heavy is the head that wears the crown.
