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"Of course!" She said. "We need someone fast, so don't forget to let us know soon!"
"Absolutely." I hung up as soon as Christian walked up behind me.
"Who was that?" He asked, scratching his head.
"Oh, uh" I stirred the eggs. "That was Tamara. She was just telling me she was on her way." I couldn't tell him about the job offer yet. I needed to process it for myself first. I wanted to know that I was making the right decision, and I needed to know what I thought before anyone else. I tried to change the subject. "Let’s eat!"
The aroma of breakfast lingered in the air as Christian and I sat at the table, savoring the moment. Tamara and Brett had gone back outside to enjoy the morning and take Sparky out. The morning sunlight filtered through the window, casting a warm glow over the room.
Christian walked over to the window. He ran a hand through his hair, his gaze fixed on some distant point.
The ranch stood as a somber reflection of its former self, bearing the scars of the recent fire that had mercilessly consumed its warmth and hospitality. Christian, multitasking between a phone call with the insurance company and a visual assessment of the devastation, grappled with the overwhelming responsibilities. Nearby, Brett and I absorbed the heart-wrenching sight of what was once a haven now heavily damaged.
"Structural damage, smoke damage... you name it, we've got it.”
I turned my attention to Brett, my eyes mirroring the concern etched across his face.
Brett sighed, his gaze tracing the charred remnants of one of the columns on the porch of the ranch.
"How was dinner with Tamara?" I inquired, my voice filled with genuine interest. I wanted to set a more positive tone for right now.
"It was great.” He tried to suppress a smile.
I nodded thoughtfully. "You like her, don't you?" My voice carried a playful note, a knowing smile gracing my lips.
Brett hesitated, momentarily averting his gaze before meeting my eyes. "Yeah, I do. It's just... with everything happening, now might not be the right time to tell her."
I chuckled, offering him a gentle nudge. "Brett, if you like her, you should tell her. Life's too short for missed chances, especially now."
Scratching his head, Brett sported a half-smile. "You think so?"
"Absolutely. Look at Christian and me. We're dealing with all of this craziness, and we are...well we are whatever we are."
Brett laughed, appreciating the levity I brought to the somber scene. "Alright, alright. I'll talk to her."
I smiled. This was going to work out perfectly.
Christian returned; his expression determined despite the weariness in his eyes. Gesturing toward the ranch house, he took a deep breath. It was black and charred on more than half of the porch. It had burnt up the side and travelled to the porch. The damage wasn't extreme. Luckily Sparky woke us up so we could put it out. It definitely needed some work, though. I was heartbroken. We had worked so hard.
"Alright, here's the plan," he began, rallying us with his words. "Today, we'll focus on fixing the fence. I've got some supplies stacked up by the barn—wood, nails, and tools. They're going to assess the damage and prioritize the areas that need immediate attention."
As he spoke, I could sense the resilience in his tone, showing his motivation to restoring not just the physical structure but also the sense of security the ranch provided. We followed his gaze to the supplies.
"Let's take it step by step," Christian continued, exuding a sense of leadership. "We'll rebuild the main structures first around the southern edge." He looked stressed. Distracted.
Under the beautiful sky, we loaded the supplies into Christian's truck, each piece of wood and every nail a small beacon of hope amid the wreckage. Sparky wagged his tail, sensing the renewed energy around him. He was a different dog when we found him a week ago. We drove down to the southern side of the fence, the landscape unfolded before us.
The southern side, bordered by rolling hills and a distant view of the mountains, held a particular charm. The open space felt infinite, and a gentle breeze carried the scent of wildflowers. I couldn't help but marvel at the serenity of the scene, the untouched corners of nature that had witnessed countless moments of joy and resilience.
Yet, as we worked on securing the railing on the porch, my mind couldn't help but wander to the distant city lights I remembered so well. The urban landscape had its own allure, the bustling energy, and the opportunities it held. There was a distinct pull, a contrasting desire that tugged at my heartstrings. I felt torn between the simplicity of ranch life and the vibrancy of city living.
In the rhythmic clinking of hammers and the creaking of the posts, I grappled with the internal struggle. The city offered career prospects, a fast-paced existence, and the allure of the unknown. On the other hand, the ranch whispered promises of tranquility, a slower pace, and the familiarity of community. It was a choice between two worlds, each offering a different kind of fulfillment.
As I pounded a nail into the wood, I glanced at Christian, his determination evident in every movement. His commitment to rebuilding the ranch mirrored my own internal battle. The clash of city dreams against the roots of the ranch played out in my thoughts, leaving me with a poignant uncertainty about the path ahead.
After a few hours, the repaired porch stood as a symbol of progress, but the conflict within me lingered. In that moment, surrounded by the quiet strength of the ranch and the distant hum of the city, I found myself torn between two worlds, each vying for a piece of my heart.
CHAPTER 10
