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I feel better today, having a good night’s sleep and waking up to the sound of a tractor instead of traffic. I was never one for city life.
Something in the air feels different in Stoney Creek. Everything feels different here. The slower pace. The sounds of nature. The rustling of the oak trees all around the property and especially the smell. It’s like nothing you could ever bottle and try to sell. I’ve taken a simple thing like fresh air for granted all these years.
Though I have a million things to do, my head feels clearer already.
Maybe it’s nostalgia from my childhood, since every memory is centered around this distillery and the beautiful land that surrounds it.
I love it here.
I feel it in my bones, the peacefulness already settling in.
A lump forms in my throat thinking about how long it’s been, and why I waited.
Why didn’t I do this sooner? I guess I was married then, and I thought eventually we would come back here someday. It just took me too many years to realize that was never going to happen. I moved to Nashville just before I met Keira and bought a place there as I planned to work back and forth between the distillery and the music company, but ultimately I ended up spending more time in Nashville to be with Keira; that’s where all her family and friends were. My business was also taking off, and I needed to be in the city. So many regrets flood through me, but I can’t let memories threaten my newly found peace, and my current good mood.
I head straight to Coyote Run because I can’t help myself. It’s all that’s kept me going these last six months of hell. Using the family pickup, she’s old but sturdy. My truck hasn’t arrived yet from Nashville. But driving Bessie, an old Ford pickup, takes me back to when I learned to drive and memories of my brothers and I all hauling anything and everything that was needed in the back tray to and from the distillery, Georgia would always tag along and try to keep up. Dad always had us helping out as youngsters, and we all learned from the ground up.
I rumble along in the truck, thinking about those times.
Now that I think about it, I made out with the first girl I ever slept with, Ellie-May Sanders, right here in this cab. I had the decency to take her to one of the old outbuildings with hay bales for the horses before I defiled her.
I run a hand down my face, thinking about it.
Christ, how things have changed. Thankfully, I know a lot more about women than I did back then. I guess I know a lot more about a lot of things since I was seventeen.
There was something about that night in New York that made me feel young again.
Which is absurd, because I’m well and truly a man at thirty-eight years old… but the thrill and excitement I experienced with Hartley took me back to the times where I was young, free and happy. I guess it cemented the fact that I haven’t been truly happy for a long time, and it takes something like a complete life upheaval to realize it.
I follow the track with all the old familiar bumps, twists, and turns along the bouncy terrain. Bessie may be old, but she’s a beast of a truck, and in no time I’m driving along the rear of the property where my land backs onto the Forest.
I pass the barn on the way and spot Sunny lazing outside, so I know my cousin Callan isn’t too far away. I holler out the window, putting the truck into park without shutting the engine down.
“You in there, cuz?”
Sunny immediately jumps up and barks, racing over to me with her tail wagging.
I jump out to greet Callan’s beautiful, gentle American Staffordshire and give her a pat.
“Hello, beautiful girl.” I bend down and scruff her head as she licks my face to death. A few moments later Callan walks out, placing a hammer back in his tool belt. I stand when I see him. He walks towards me and gives me a great big bear hug, proper country Callan style.
“Hey yourself,” I almost choke, because Callan is about as solid as Hudson is.
“Good to see you, Gray.” He smiles. “You all good?”
“Never better.” I grin, looking over at the barn. “Looks like she’s coming along nicely.”
“Too well.” He chuckles.
This was all my mom and Georgia’s idea to renovate the old building and turn it into a southern wedding venue. After the barn's restoration, a commercial kitchen will be added for functions and catering.
There has been talk of Brooklyn’s ex-wife, Eden, running the wedding venue as she has her own events business. They’ve always been on good terms and have co-parented their daughter Blake for years.
Nothing has been set in stone yet, and it probably won’t be until next spring, anyway. Our aim is to open and have everything ready in time for next year’s good weather.
“I heard things went well in New York?”
His grin is even wider. “Yeah, thanks to you.” He nods. “I don’t know if I properly thanked you.”
