We meet in the hallway outside our bedrooms, then make our way to the front door together.
Half of Hell’s Bells has arrived, most of them in trucks, led by Flint. “Got a few helpers to clear out the barn debris,” he says.
As if it’s that simple.
As if it’s that easy.
As if none of these people has anything better to do on a cold Sunday morning than come out here and haul away the barn.
He shoves a stack of papers at me. “Liability waivers,” he adds.
Six months ago, when we were living in Cedar Rapids, I couldn’t get a neighbor to return a simple phone call or email about if I could sign up to deliver a meal as part of a meal train for a friend who’d had a baby.
Now, half a town has turned out to help me with what would be a major headache if it were just me but will be an easy day job with this many people.
I will not cry.
I will not cry.
I will not cry.
“Thank you,” I stutter. “I’ll get coffee going, and—”
“We brought coffee and donuts from town,” someone interrupts.
“Gonna ask that we get to keep whatever wood we take,” someone else says.
“Weird stuff, too,” yet another someone pipes up. “I live for the weird stuff.”
“Of course,” I reply. “Of course. Let me get dressed. I’ll come help.”
I shut the door before my eyeballs start leaking.
Junie watches me.
And then she does the last thing I expect, and she wraps me in a hug. “They don’t hate us here.”
I laugh into her shoulder. “They don’t hate us,” I agree.
“It’s a really nice change.”
“So much so.”
“I’m still going to college on the East Coast. Or in California. It’s not even snowing yet, and I already don’t like the snow here.”
“Okay.”
“And you’ll have to visit me for the holidays because there’s no way I’m coming back here when it’s already ass-cold.”
“Okay.” I still have some time with her at home. And when she goes to college, I can sell the ranch and move closer to her.
Not on top of her.
But close enough to visit.
Being here is about giving her stability until she’s ready to spread her wings. It’s not about forever insisting that we stay here.
But even as I think it, I know it will kill me to give up the ranch before I get a chance to see if I can turn this into a women’s retreat.
