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For a long moment, we simply sat there, letting the drumming rain envelope our silence.
But some things needed to be said. And I knew I had to be the one to say them. I would be sharing a vulnerable part of my life, yet I gathered my resolve and began.
“Max, I need to tell you something. I’m a Christian, and I’ve taken a vow of celibacy.”
A flicker of surprise crossed his eyes. He blinked, his eyes searching mine.
“I went through a period of darkness and pain after we were no longer an item. But in that season, I found God. Or maybe, He found me. And now, I’ve grown close to Him, relying on Him for strength, guidance, and peace.”
The smell of wet hay and rain mingled around us as I pushed on.
“This means that I can’t be intimate with anyone outside of marriage. Even in a relationship, there are boundaries of physical intimacy I can’t cross.”
His gaze was intense as if he were absorbing every word.
For a moment, I felt exposed. There were so many unsaid emotions between us. And the walls I’d built around my heart threatened to crumble.
Yet, there was one thing I didn’t say out loud. I hadn’t truly forgiven Max for leaving years ago. I knew it was something I needed to do, something God required. But for now, I’d not gotten to it.
My voice softened.
“I felt it was essential to be honest with you, especially after… well, you know.”
I gestured vaguely around us.
There was a heavy pause that felt endless. Max sighed, running a hand through his wet hair.
“I understand, Anna. It’s just… being close to you like this after so long, it’s hard.”
Max had said exactly what I hadn’t but needed to. Inside, I battled with the need to accept his offer to help with the ranch. But the sparks between us made it clear that I couldn’t have him around. Not when our interactions were becoming more romantic each day.
The fierce tempo of the rain softened, signaling the end of the storm.
“I’ve decided,” I whispered. “I can’t accept your help, not with everything that’s between us.”
He looked away, his shoulders stiffening. Without another word, we made our way out of the barn.
The cool post-rain breeze felt refreshing, almost cleansing. Max climbed his horse, ready to leave. I turned my face away to avoid those deep green eyes.
“Goodbye, Max,” I said.
*******
The familiar scent of old leather books greeted me as I entered Grandpa’s study.
It was a room I often visited as a child. But now, neglect had taken its toll on it.
Grandpa’s dark mahogany desk, once polished to a shine, had started to lose its luster. His leather armchair had cracks. His extensive bookshelves still housed literature ranging from different versions of the Bible to cowboy classics. But they now had a musty smell.
Framed photos of my maternal ancestors, the Harringtons of old, had faded. Their eyes still seemed proud but had muted colors.
The room, like the barn, was a poignant reminder of the Harrington legacy’s decline. But for me, it was more personal. It was in this room that Grandpa and I spent hours discussing ranch life, cattle breeds, and God’s word.
Sitting at his desk, I began sifting through the ranch documents. Although they were in different folders, there was no order to the arrangement. They were a hodgepodge of financial statements, supply orders, and administration records.
Invoices showed debts that were only paid up at the last minute, equipment purchases that had never been delivered, and several unfulfilled contracts.
The ranch’s condition was much worse than I had imagined. Grandpa had clearly struggled to keep things afloat in his last years.
