“How’s your mother?” Grandma asks kindly, but the question stings.
Pissed I’m here. I keep the last part to myself, sour on my tongue. “Fine.”
I must grimace, though, because Grandma excuses, “She always had her own ways.”
Grandpa nods, the pain threading Grandma’s voice echoed in his face.
So much time lost.
The ache eclipses everything else—even the tap of my heart when I catch sight of Ash off in the distance.
“Well?” Grandma asks, leaning her head back to eye Grandpa.
“The usual,” he chuckles. “Had to talk Ash into it. Jo helped.”
I arch an eyebrow.Did I?
“We’ll be prepared, then,” she says with a nod.
“How about the ranch hands?” I ask.
They both look puzzled, exchanging glances.
Grandma says quietly, “It’s just Martin and Ash these days.”
Concern floods me, eyes darting to Grandpa.
He shrugs. “Smaller operation, Miranda. Told you we’ve got it covered.”
“But your herdandhis?” I don’t mean to question, but?—
“He’s a tremendous help. Worth more than ten ranch hands. Tireless.”
I shake my head.
Grandpa raises an eyebrow.
I say, “I’m just trying to wrap my head around all the ways this place has changed and stayed the same.”
Grandma nods, reaching up to take my jacket. “Martin, can you show her to her room. Make sure she’s comfortable?”
A huge smile captures my face as we climb the stairs, me carrying the lighter of the two bags.
Grandpa teeters slightly under the weight, though he hides it well. He breathes heavier than I remember, too. A man who never used to get winded. But when I ask to swap bags, he refuses. Stubborn as always.
The bedroom door opens. The air shifts, transporting me back in time.
My stuffed bear slumps against the pillow as if he’s been waiting. The air smells faintly of flowers and dust.
Everything exactly as I left it. I clutch my chest, taking it in for a moment. I breathe through my mouth, fighting back tears.
“You okay, girl?” Grandpa asks, half amused, half moved.
“Yeah, just remembering.”
“Hope it feels like home.”
I nod, eyes blurring.
