“How peaceful it is.” She flinches.Asshole. I didn’t mean it as a jab, but it’s the truth. It’s what I like the most about working here. I don’t think I saw the sunlight for more than a few minutes at a time when I worked in finance, and now, I’m terrified of going back to those patterns if I ever have to be inside for long.
“I like how peaceful it is too,” she says.
“Oh yeah? You don’t strike me as a girl who enjoys quiet.”
She turns her body, facing me directly this time. “I love quiet spaces as long as there are things to do. It’s when everything is the same that I have issues. “
I nod, noting her little outburst and filing it away for later.
“And I’m a woman, thank you very much.”
Note that too.
The road is as it always is—narrow and bumpy, reminding us all to slow down and drive carefully through the misty night. I slow down, entering the gravel road and out into the open sky. The space is draped in a thick, cool darkness, with the scent of damp earth and pine needles hanging heavy in the air as I park the truck.
Everything is still in a deep, peaceful slumber—even the cicadas are silent, leaving only the sound of the tires crunching on the gravel and the distant, mournful call of a lone whippoorwill. My youngest brother, Lucas, is obsessed with birds, and for a long time, he couldn’t sleep.I’m nocturnal like them, he would say. Now, I’m a nocturnal avian expert, and I recognize that sound wherever I go.
This is my favorite time of the day. There is a profound,uninterrupted peace, a rare moment when the ranch feels like it belongs entirely to me. It’s the time to get the real work done, accomplishing more in this hazy pre-dawn hour than in the hustle of the mid-morning. I don’t do it often, but when I do, I enjoy it. Riley is quiet, her eyes trained on the stable, but she doesn’t utter a word.
As I arrive at the far fence line, the eastern sky is just beginning to show a faint hint of deep indigo. The cedar posts I need to reset are sturdy, but the wire has sagged, requiring a firm hand to mend. It’s back-breaking, sweat-inducing labor, yet nothing has ever made me feel more alive.
“What are we doing here?”
“Iam working on that fence.Youare waiting for the sunrise with that blanket wrapped around you.” I point to the blanket draped over the backseat, the first thing I bought when I took this job. I don’t know what I thought the blanket was going to do, but it felt right.
I open the door, grab the fencing pliers, and head forward with Riley on my heels.
“You can sit over there.” I point at a clearing away from the fence.
“What? So I can’t help and I can’t run? Why would you bring me out here then?” She looks frustrated, and I think this is the first time I’ve seen the not-so-happy side of her.
“You’re running yourself ragged. Just take a break.” I sound like my father.
“You’re not my dad, you know?” She sees it too. I could almost be. Just a few more years, and I definitely could be. “And you don’t tell me what to do. You want to start working on your fence. Have at it. I’m gonna go for a run. I’ll be back in thirty, yeah?”
“Riley.” This is worse. So much worse. On the other side of the ranch, at least it’s just cabins and the lake, but out here, so much could go wrong, and I wouldn’t know.
“Why do I have to keep reminding people I grew up here? I know this place like the back of my hand. I’ll be fine; actually, I love that I get a different viewtoday.”
“Riley,” I bite again.
“Byeeee.” She takes off, running away and leaving me behind. I don’t know how we made it here, where I thought I was keeping her calm. Instead, she’s the one leaving me more unsettled than I was before. There’s no taming her wild heart, that’s for sure.
I get working on the fence, tightening the wire against the morning dew. Where I usually feel a sense of pride when I get things done, today, I’m unraveled. Jittery. I don’t even have her number to call if something happens. And if she calls her sister, she could cause me trouble for putting her in this position.
Time passes, and with it, my erratic feelings increase. It’s not until I hear the gravel crunching under steps that I breathe easier again, when thick strong legs and a tiny top flash in front of me. She took her jacket off. Why? It’s cold as fuck out here.
“I’m back!”
“Where’s your jacket?”
“Do you boss Arnie around like that, or is it just me because I’m a woman?” Her hands rest on her hips.
“Arnie’s not out here running in under sixty degrees in practically underwear.”
She gasps. “Sixty is warm. Where did you come from? The Caribbean?”
“Almost. Florida.”
