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Heather
Todd trusted Eric so well that he didn’t bat an eyelid about me renting one of the ranch hands’ cabins on the Grand River property. While those places weren’t available for just anyone, it seemed that my association with Eric was enough to pass his satisfaction.
“I’ll figure out a rent, hunny,” Todd said with his country drawl. The hunny came out more like hun ya, and somehow, that made it all right. Any octogenarian who could still handle horses and cattle as well as men a quarter his age simply demanded respect.
“Thanks, Todd,” I said.
Before Eric and I left the bar, with a cabin key in hand, Todd squinted at me. “The city didn’t work out for ya?” he guessed.
I sighed, shrugging. No. “Not quite.” Admitting how poorly I fared in Chicago was simply too hard of an admission to tell anyone in town yet.
Outside again, I glanced at the busted door that should’ve led to an apartment above the bakery. The screen door was still hanging there, lopsided and dented.
“So much for that,” I muttered.
“I can’t say I’m surprised.” Eric walked ahead of me.
He wasn’t a man of many words, but I hoped he’d elaborate. “How come?”
“You know what kind of a conman Jerry is.” He glanced at me as he headed toward his truck. “He probably pissed off the wrong guy and got what was coming. You wanna follow me out there?” He glanced at the key in hand, checking the number. “It’ll be a twisty few turns out there in the dark.”
I nodded. “Yeah. Sure.”
I got in my car and exhaled a long breath. It should’ve been a sigh of relief. I had a place to stay still, and it didn’t include having to sleep in my car. But it also could’ve been a groan of annoyance. Being expected to cover the costs of a break-in when I wasn’t there was a slap in the face.
Driving down Main Street passed in a blur. While part of me was intrigued to scope it out and see if anything else had changed around here, I couldn’t bring myself to care at the moment.
It wasn’t like this was a visit. I wouldn’t be leaving the confines of this small town tomorrow. I was here to stay. I was returning to have a break from the fear and anxiety in Chicago. Burton would be my stepping stone to figuring out how to really start my future.
I could see all the changes tomorrow, if any had happened. But with the permanence of being back, I’d need to get a better grasp for everyone raising their brows at my presence.
Ashely was a bitch about it at the convenience mart.
Even Gavin was surprised to see me here on Main Street.
“They’ll just have to get over the shock,” I muttered aloud. Until then, I’d need to work on perfecting my blank face and ignore them all.
The drive out of downtown didn’t take long. Fifteen minutes later, I bumped and bounced along the rough route toward the Grand River cabins.
“Holy freaking pothole.”
Gritting my teeth, I clung to the steering wheel with both hands. If all four tires remained on, I’d be surprised. Darkness shrouded the landscape, and only a sliver of the moon shone down on what would be my next lodging.
Eric braked and parked, but it wasn’t until I’d shoved my gear stick into park that I loosened up my grip on the steering wheel.
“A little bumpy on the road,” Eric commented as I got out and joined him on the path toward a short cabin. It seemed to have a fresh coat of paint, but even I knew that new layers of paint could be a coverup for the rot beneath. I’d have to wait until daylight to make a further appraisal. So far, though, nothing seemed to fall off with the breeze. The stink of manure hit me hard though, and I mentally whined at having to acclimate to that again.
“A little?” I joked back.
He shrugged, not looking at me as he fitted the key in the lock.
Then again.
And again.
“Huh.” He rubbed the back of his head.
I closed my eyes, not even wanting to think of another obstacle. With the way things were going, I’d never get in a bed. A cot. On a blanket. I didn’t care what. I was coiled up so tight with stress I needed to sleep however I could.
“Looks like he gave me the wrong key.” Fiddling with the keychain fob, he grunted. “Oh.” He held it up to me. “I think this is number nine. Not six. See.” His dirty fingernail tapped on the plastic that had numeral scrawled on it in Sharpie. “I bet he forgot to put a line under it to show it’s a nine, not a six.”
I shrugged. “Where’s cabin nine?”
He pointed. “Further back. I’ll show you.”
And he did. Over what felt like another mile of craters left on the dirt road, I slowed my car to a stop at another cabin. More trees surrounded us back here, giving it a slightly eerie vibe. I wasn’t afraid, like Roarke taunted on Main Street, but I was tense. On alert. Hell, a frigging bat could swoop out from those branches and hit me. Or a rabid coon, or—
“You coming?” Eric asked. He didn’t say it harshly, like I was dragging my feet. More curious.
“Yeah. Right behind you.” I hustled to catch up with him, dismissing the haunted forest feelings that struck me. I wouldn’t fare well if I was flinching at every little sound or counting on something nefarious to pop out at me.
As we approached another cabin, this one lacking as new of a coat of tan paint, I realized the odor of manure wasn’t as pungent back here. Perhaps this was further from the busier part of the ranch.
Which is fine by me. It’d take me a few days to adjust to the drastic differences between the city and being here. Sounds and smells would be in total contrast.
No traffic. No horns. No people. It was just...still and quiet out here, like we were walking on the furthest reaches of the earth, far removed from civilization and commerce.
This time, the key slid in and turned with ease.
“Told ya. He must have forgotten to write a line under the number,” Eric said.
“Well, he is eighty.”
A faint chuckle came from him as he opened the door.
“How many cabins are there?” I asked, now worried about a bunch of rugged, noisy men near my space, for however long I’d need to hang out here.
“About a dozen or so.”
“Are they all occupied?” I stepped into the open studio set up of the cabin.
“I think a few are,” he said, looking around the living space with me, “but I don’t remember which ones are occupied or who’s in them.”
I’m not looking for neighbors anyway.
Upon further perusal, calling this one-room abode a cabin was a stretch. The word cabin brought to mind a cozy, inviting, and perhaps even rustic setting. This was none of those.
Jerry’s apartment that had been so unsecured and abandoned that it was broken into was a dud, despite it being in a building within the downtown Burton offered.
Out here on the ranch, in the middle of nowhere and without any city lights shining, this “cabin” was old and dated. Dirt covered most surfaces of this place, but it did have some furniture.
It wasn’t inviting, but the hominess hardly mattered.
It had a bed.
I slowed my careful, skeptical walk around the whole room, reaching out to turn the faucet handle. Water flowed clearly.
It had water.
The lights were dim but on.
It had power.
It’s not like I should expect much from a place like Burton.
Meeting Eric’s expectant gaze, I shrugged.
“It’s not much,” he said, almost sounding sorry, which made his comment that much less convincing.
“But it’ll do.” I held my hand out for the key, and he passed it over.
After I tested the doorknob and reviewed how the lock worked, I could claim that the one thing that did matter was acceptable.
A working lock and key. Those, above all other details, were important.
“Want help bringing anything in?” he offered without enthusiasm.
“No.” I shook my head and glanced at my watch. “It’s late for you.” Ranching hours started early, and as I noted the late hour, guilt hit me. “Thanks for...” I gestured at the place. It wasn’t his, like he was personally extending me a place to stay, but still. “Thanks for asking Todd and helping me out.”
Being indebted to anyone was something I never relished. I hating feeling like I owed anyone anything, likely a severe counter-reaction from being raised by parents who wanted and expected handouts and loopholes for everything.
“Yeah.” He nodded once and left without saying much else. I followed him outside to grab a couple of bags from the backseat. He stopped halfway to his car and paused. When he glanced back at me, he seemed stuck on whatever he wanted to say.
I wouldn’t push him. I respected that he was a man of few words. If he had something he wanted me to know, he could tell me on his own terms.
“Welcome back, Heather.”
I almost smiled but huffed instead. There was a welcome, after all. I hadn’t been expecting one, but now that my cousin uttered it, I couldn’t help but feel touched. We weren’t close, and I doubted we ever would be, but it was something.
“Thanks, Eric. Goodnight.”
He lifted his hand in a wave and left.
Bringing two bags inside turned into transferring all the bags from the backseat. I didn’t want to. I planned only to bring in what I needed, but I forgot where I packed my contact cleaning solution.
Later that I anticipated, I had showered in the world’s smallest stall, was in my pajamas, and nestled in a surprisingly roomy yet mildly too-hard full-size bed. As I lay down and stared up at the cracked ceiling, physically and mentally drained, I waited for sleep to come.
Oddly, it didn’t. Being back in Burton had me wired, and I sighed heavily.
Is coming back here a mistake?
I wasn’t prone to being superstitious or looking into “signs” or anything like that, but I wondered if arriving to find my expected apartment broken into was an omen. A warning. A clue from the beyond that I shouldn’t stay.
“But where else would I go?” I whispered to the darkness.
I could’ve started over anywhere. Yet, the only destination that came to my mind and stuck was here. Burton. This little town was home. I hailed from this area, and somehow, it seemed fitting to return so I could get in a better state of mind to prepare for my future again. Somewhere. Somehow.
Ever since I was a child, I faced the criticism my mom and dad earned. While a lot of it went over my head, I was mature enough to realize that they were a laughingstock. A joke. Those earlier memories of feeling in a rut here with no hope or brightness to look forward to, I latched onto a soul-deep need to find my place, to belong, somewhere far from here.
And I’ll try again.
Chicago wasn’t an option anymore. But once I saved up a little to relocate again, I could find another city to strike out on my own and be happy.
I relaxed to that goal, knowing that being here wasn’t a final sentence on my life. I left once, and I could leave again.
And not just because this is a ‘bit of country.’
I snorted a laugh, recalling Roarke’s taunt near the bar.
He didn’t know what he was talking about. He didn’t know me, and I wasn’t in any position to let him any closer.
All I understood about that tall man was that he was new.
Imagine that. Someone wanting to move here.
I closed my eyes and let my humor fade as drowsiness crept in.
What the hell could have made someone willingly move here?
It wasn’t my business. And I wasn’t about to make it my business either.
I was here for myself. To get back on solid ground so I could launch again—far from home.
