“Two-hundred-eighty-three days.”
After a moment, Bill nodded and stuck out his hand to shake on the deal. “Get me the total you’ll need to pad your herd and pay the feed lots, and I’ll get you a check.”
My fingers closed around his, mind whirling. “Let me talk to the rest of the family first, but I’m pretty sure you have yourself a deal.”
Had that really just happened? Would we actually have a decent surplus this year? Expand? We weren’t on our way to becoming Deseret Ranch in Florida—330,000 acres, 44,000 head of beef cattle, and over sixteen million dollars in revenue—but we could breathe a little easier. Maybe not worry about next year’s taxes so much. Put some money aside for Miriam’s college fund. Pay off Nate’s personal loan.
My thought train came to a screeching halt as if someone had thrown on the emergency brake. Paying off Nate’s loan meant he wouldn’t have to sell Domino. Which meant Jocelyn wouldn’t lease him. Which would leave her with no reason to come back.
My chest squeezed, but I tried to tell myself this was good news. This was what I had wanted all along. What was best. A quick split and I could stop torturing myself by being so close to her and yet entirely too far away. Having her within arm’s reach but no right to trail my thumb across the crest of her cheek. Being enraptured by her easiness while simultaneously struck inarticulate.
But the problem with trying to convince yourself of something was that, deep down, you knew you were filled to your eyeballs in steaming piles of nonsense. And right then, I reeked of my own lies.
Because the truth was, Jocelyn leaving and never coming back didn’t solve anything. I couldn’t pretend that I’d never met her and that she hadn’t awakened something inside me that had been dormant until now. Yes, I could go back to how things were before she’d turned up on the ranch. I could bury myself in my work and collapse into my bed each night, but even exhaustion wouldn’t keep the regrets ofwhat ifat bay.
What if I’d pushed past my awkward discomfort and met her eyes for longer than a heartbeat?
What if I’d forced myself to put to words my growing feelings, no matter how clumsy or inelegant such a declaration would have been?
What if the only thing standing in the way of seeing what could grow between us was my pride?
The heels of my boots ground into the dirt below me. I had twenty-eight years of life lessons that had taught me the best things were the ones a person worked hard for. I’d never been afraid of demanding labor before, but that was work that had roughened my hands and lined calluses along the pads of my palms. I could pull calves from sunup to sundown, spend days in the saddle, move thousands of pounds of hay in a day, and cajole the inner workings of a cantankerous tractor into motion, but putting my thoughts and emotions into words to let Jocelyn know how I felt about her was going to be the hardest thing I’d ever done.
One of the rules on the ranch: never put off to tomorrow what can be accomplished today. But first, Thunder. Twenty minutes later, the Appaloosa’s hooves neatly trimmed, I let him out to graze with the others. The farrier tools went back to their spot in the barn, and I made my way up to the house.
The creaking of the rocking chair sounded from the corner of the porch. Gran sat, an open Bible on her lap.
“Hey, Gran, have you seen Jocelyn?” I asked.
Her eyes pinched as she looked up at me. “She left a few hours ago.”
“Left?” The question roared in my ears. “Why?”
“She got a phone call saying her mama was in the hospital.” Gran sent the chair to rocking again. “Poor girl.”
I ran a hand down the length of my face, my tenuous hope sinking with the action. She was gone. That was it. The end before there had even been a chance at the beginning.
“I’ve been here praying. For her and her mama.” Gran folded her thin fingers over her Bible as she studied me. “For you.”
I took a half step to the side and leaned my spine against the support column of the porch railing, letting my eyes slide shut. Just a moment. I’d allow myself a minute to imagine what could have been before putting my hands back into the work of the here and now.
“Truth be told, I’ve been praying for that girl even before I met her.”
I blinked. Stared at my grandmother and the way she regarded me with her knowing expression. “What do you mean?”
She lowered her eyes and used her finger to trace words as she read aloud. “‘Place me like a seal over your heart, like a seal on your arm; for love is as strong as death, its jealousy unyielding as the grave. It burns like blazing fire, like a mighty flame. Many waters cannot quench love; rivers cannot sweep it away. If one were to give all the wealth of one’s house for love, it would be utterly scorned.’” She looked back up at me. “Song of Solomon chapter eight, verses six and seven.”
“Gran.”
“I’ve been claiming this verse as a benediction for you since you were knee-high to a grasshopper. Praying for the girl who could love you so fiercely and completely that your passion for each other would burn like a wildfire that nothing in this world could put out.” She laid her Bible aside and stood. Walked my direction and planted herself right in front of me. “I know you’re smarter than to let that girl go without so much as a by-your-leave.” Gran reached out and gripped my hand, pressing a folded piece of paper into my palm. She squeezed then let go and walked away.
I glanced down at the torn paper in my hand. At the top was Jocelyn’s name. Below that, her phone number.
19
Jocelyn
“Jo Jo, sit down. Your pacing is making me dizzy.”
