Shall we sell it, love?” Ben swung an arm around Indio’s shoulders.
She leaned into him, her eyes fixed on the deplorable sight of the hacienda before them. They stood in the courtyard, in the cup of the U. Blackened walls rose on three sides. In its center, the tiered concrete fountain lay on the cobblestones, split into many pieces. Where plants and flowers once flourished, ash piles shifted in the breeze.
She said, “This is like standing inside a charcoal grill.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“You were serious?”
“It’s been seven weeks. We need to decide something.”
“Who would buy it in this shape, and especially now, without a second entrance?”
“The horses made it. Kennedy and I talked about blasting a trail through the boulders in the south section between our properties. It wouldn’t be a road, but it’d be enough of an option. Better than the one we had.”
Could have, should have. That night was over. “Ben, I can’t imag-ine selling this place. It’s our life. It’s the Beaumont heritage.”
“Max is giving up the same by selling his business. It’s time for a new start for all of us.”
Indio sighed. She hated the thought of losing the hacienda. “No more Hideaway retreats? We had guests booked for almost every weekend through Easter. Those poor people, missing out.”
“Truth is, the thought of keeping up this place and entertaining guests makes me want to go take a nap. I feel as burned out as this courtyard looks. You know, I am almost seventy-nine.”
“You saying you’re ready for the nursing home?”
“No.”
“Well, where would we live?”
“I don’t know.”
“With Max? He says we can stay as long as we like.”
“Good Lord, no. He really is a chatterbox, isn’t he? Can hardly get a word in edgewise these days.”
She chuckled. “I guess he’s making up for lost time with us.”
“I sure do miss the quiet up here and my horses. Maybe we could park an RV in the yard and live in that. Leave the house as is. Just build a new barn.”
She poked him in the ribs. “You’re a rambling, growly bear today, Benjamin Beaumont, and that makes me want to go take a nap.”
“I’ll call a Realtor tonight. See what we can get for this place. What’s that woman’s name in Santa Reina, the one from church? Isn’t she a Realtor?”
“Oh, go soak your head.” Indio moved out from under his arm and marched through the yard. “I’m getting to work.”
Out in front of the hacienda, Indio reached Ben’s new truck. She was grateful the burned vehicles had been towed away from the lot.
She lowered the back hatch and reached into its bed for a broom. Although they’d hired a professional group to clean up the fire’s after-math, she wanted to go through the kitchen some more. She kept finding salvageable things, all the while trying not to think of what had been lost that night—especially the photos and keepsakes in Claire’s car. Ben saves his pipe, and baby mementos get incinerated. She questioned God’s sense of fairness as never before.
“Mom, need some help?” Max spoke from behind her.
She turned to see him and Claire approach from the side yard. “Thanks.”
He started pulling brooms, shovels, and other cleaning items from the truck. “Want all of it out?”
“Yes, please.”
Indio eyed her daughter-in-law. She prided herself in not butting into the affairs of Max and Claire. She’d kept a muzzle on her mouth the past three weeks, reminding herself that the couple had to find their own way back to each other, outlandish as their behavior seemed to her.
Claire still lived in her apartment, like some misguided feminist who felt the need to prove her independence. She and Max met often for lunch or dinner. A more peculiar setup Indio could not imagine, but it was having an effect. The defensiveness Claire had worn like a neon sign was fading. She’d grown softer. There had been no talk, though, of her returning home.
Overcome by a sudden sense of despair over her house and her husband, Indio could not let go of her last hope: that Max and Claire would reconcile. The muzzle broke off, and the words tumbled out.
“Claire, are you all right?”
Her daughter-in-law blinked a few times. “No, not really. We’re going up to the mine. Max wants to pile the rocks over the entrance.”
Indio thought of Claire’s screams that night, her intense terror, her inability to easily crawl back out. “You don’t need to go with him.”
“And I can’t pretend it didn’t happen.” Claire smiled gently. “You’re supposed to tell me to go face my fears.”
Indio nodded.
“Mom.” Max handed her a broom. “Are you all right?”
“No, I guess I’m not either.”
Claire said, “This is really hard on all of us, but the worst part is you’ve lost your home.”
She nodded again.
“We’ll be back to help in a bit,” Max said. “Where’s Dad?”
“In the courtyard. He’s talking about selling the place.”
“No way!”
“Oh no.” Claire’s face showed her disappointment.
“He’ll get over it.” Indio shooed her hands at them. “Now run along. Don’t worry about us here. Take all the time you need.”
Max gave her a quick hug, and they climbed into the truck.
She watched them drive off, a prayer she said often these days on her lips. “Lord, bring them back together.”
Carrying her broom across the yard, she was struck with the need for more prayer.
“Okay, Lord. I’m listening. Yes, I admit it. I have a hankering to leave my husband until he sees the light. I do not like this idea of selling one bit. Maybe he could woo me like Max is wooing Claire, until I see the light.” She laughed aloud. “Lord, bless us all. We’re never going to make it without You!”