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Unless I sold the ranch. Or just the cattle.
That would give me a real pretty penny to get going with.
Energized by the idea, I do an internet search on how to start animal sanctuaries.
I quickly become absorbed in the details of the different ones around the country. They all have so much to offer — far more than I could ever provide. But I could start small.
Erin rolls over in bed, and I look up from the laptop to see her snuggling deeper into the sheets. I blink, trying to clear my mind, which is suddenly filled with thoughts of Erin and I havingour own place. A big patch of land filled with animals that have been through hell and back and just need someone to give them a second chance.
If I sold off the cattle from the ranch, that would be a huge chunk of money to work with. Then I could start small, maybe with a few of the smaller animals, and then slowly expand to more of them until it was a full sanctuary.
That’s the kind of life that I want to have.
“What are you looking at?” Erin asks, her voice soft and slow as she sits up in bed.
“Oh, nothing,” I say, my heart pounding.
“Nothing?” she asks. “That requires so much concentration?”
“Just browsing,” I lie, putting the laptop aside. “I thought you were still asleep.”
“I was.” She smiles sleepily at me.
I grin back. God, this woman makes me feel on top of the world. What’s more, she gives me the courage to be the person I really am.
Unfortunately, it’s so easy when I’m with her, and so hard when I’m not.
What would my dad say if I told him I was selling the cattle and starting a nonprofit for one-eyed rabbits and old hunting dogs?
He’d flip his lid; that’s what would happen.
I’ve never been a rebellious person, and that’s the thing about the ones who aren’t. They don’t know how to.
Sure, I could talk to him about it.
But he’d think I was crazy, and he’d be right. I can’t sell off the cattle because it would absolutely crush him. Even though my dad is retired, he still lives for this ranch.
Erin moves closer to me, and I realize I’ve been quiet way too long.
“What were you thinking about?” she asks.
“Just something,” I say.
“Something? Or someone?”
“Both.” My answer is honest. “Especially someone.”
She climbs into the window seat with me. “You’re still thinking about your dad?”
“A bit.” I put the laptop down. “Also, different options for the future, going forward.”
Her eyes dance with something I can’t identify. Is she wondering how much of that future includes her?
All of it, I hope.
“How about some breakfast?” I suggest.
She smiles. “Yes, please.”
