I don’t look up. I keep tightening the wire, letting her wait until I’ve got this twist secured. Finally, I grunt and turn, wiping my forehead with the back of my wrist.
"Ms. Banks," I bark, not bothering with a smile. My tone is strictly business—or maybe just annoyance.
“Lilly, Dom. Please, just call me Lilly.”
“What brings you out here this way? You’re pretty far away from that fancy office of yours.” She says she likes to have her hands on everything happening at all times, a CEO who doesn’t allow for an ounce of breathing room, so it doesn’t surprise me she’s here.
I often wonder if she knows she’s on the brink of burnout. Can she recognize the signs? I know I didn’t, not until my entire life had imploded in front of my eyes. Wife gone, an empty house, parents I barely knew, brothers with passions and a life I wasn’t privy to. All because of that same rush I see in Lilly—except mine was fueled by ambition and hers by devotion and a promise: keep her family ranch alive.
"Nothin' major. Just need a tiny thing," she says, leaning against her old truck.
I already know where this is going. "I'm busy, Lilly. This fence won't fix itself."
"I know, I know. I just need a quick sec. Maybe three minutes?"
Just a quick sec. That’s code for a two-hour ordeal. My jaw clenches. “Fine. What’s up?”
Her face shifts uncomfortably. I know the ranch is struggling, and, judging by how tense she’s been, maybe I misread this whole situation.
Shit.
I take my hat off, covering my torso with it, and take a seat in front of her, by the fence. “What’s wrong?” I ask, unable to contain it, because something is wrong. “If I did something wrong, I’m happy to fix it.”
She shakes her head. “You know I have no problem letting you know if that was the case, but it’s not. It’s, um, Arnold.”
“What’s wrong?”
She sighs. “It’s not news he’s not doing great. I’m sure you’ve noticed, as has the rest of the ranch.”
“I thought it was just old age.” Lies. I can tell there’s more to it, but it hasn’t been my place to say anything. It isn’t now either. What is it that my youngest brother, Lucas, says all the time? When in doubt, play dumb.
She shakes her head, confirming my suspicion that there’s more to it. “Old man is harder to crack than a macadamia, so I’m not exactly sure what’s going on with him, but he’s not doing well. Gertrude—” She searches my eyes for confirmation that I know who that is, but how could I not, when Arnie talks about his wife all day long? “She called yesterday, concerned about him. She’s going to call his doctor and let me know, but we both fear there might be something major going on with him.”
I nod. Makes sense. “Thanks for letting me know.”
“That’s not even one of the things I need. That was just the backstory.” Now that she’s standing in front of me, her guard down and not spitting orders every two seconds, I don’t know how I didn’t notice the resemblance between the two of them sooner. Similar hair, same sad blue eyes, same rosy cheeks. They are different, by a lot, but I can see the similarities as clear as day now.
“I might need you to take on more responsibilities. I know you said you were up for the challenge when you first came on board, but I thought we had longer before he deteriorated this much.”
Wait. “I thought you just said you didn’t know what was going on with him.”
Her eyes open wider than saucers. I don’t even know why she tries to lie. It’s not like she knows how to do it properly.
“Lilly, if there’s something I need to know…”
“Me and my big mouth.” She lets out a breath, one she’s been keeping deep within her chest. “It’s more than age. He has ALS.”
ALS? She must see the question behind my eyes, because she continues, “It’s a disease that affects the nervous system. He got diagnosed last year.”
I stand in a jiffy. Nobody thought to tell me? That old man is out there picking shit up and doing all sorts of stuff he probably shouldn’t be doing if he has a condition affecting hisnervous system.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. That was one of his stipulations when we hired someone new. He knew we couldn’t really afford adding someone full-time, so the only reason he told me was because he knew he didn’t have long before he couldn’t do everything on his own.”
She looks out into the pasture, in the direction of Arnie’s house, beyond the mountains and the main road. This is hard for her to share, either because she wasn’t asked to, or the most likely reason: Arnie is important to her. I know that, and everyone around here knows it too.
He’s important to the whole damn town. He’s like town royalty. His great-grandparents were pioneers in this area, children of ranchers who had ranchers, who went to have more ranchers. Arnie is the last of his lineage, since he and Gertrude have no children of their own. It’s my understanding he’s been working here forever, practically a piece of the land himself.
“How severe is it?” I ask. I don’t know much about ALS, but if it’s anything like the other neurological conditions I know of, it’s not easy on the body or the mind.
