Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 70445 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70445 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Worst of all, it feels abandoned. In my mind, Leader Ranch is a bustling place full of people and animals. There were always workers everywhere moving from one place to another, always a cousin nearby, always an aunt or uncle chatting away at whoever will listen, none of them willing to do any real hard work but all of them trying to look like they’re involved. This, though, it’s like a bad dream, like a ghost.
At least the house looks the same. It’s a rancher with a slanted modern roof, lots of red wood and stone, like a mixture between a castle and a barn. Big, wide windows gape out at the wreck of the land like they’re accusing me for leaving the place. Sitting toward the back is the tower, a tall structure connected to the house and overlooking everything, built for my mother when she was on her death bed. Dad told me she used to sit up there and stare out at their property for hours in those last days, and I’d do the same thing when I was a little girl, up in that airy and lovely room at the top, alternating between reading adventure novels and daydreaming.
Those were perfect afternoons, far away from the stress of work and the disdain of my family. Except now the tower looks abandoned, like nobody’s bothered using it for years.
“You ready?” War asks me, putting the car in park and killing the engine.
I sit in the sudden quiet. “No. Not at all.”
“One week,” he says and puts a hand on my leg. “You can do this.”
I stare at the hand. I stare at the man it belongs to. I try to connect the things in my head—War touching me, War’s comforting smile, his serious face, his handsome mouth—but I’m having trouble forming coherent thoughts. Eventually, I push it away and step outside.
He follows. We walk up the steps to the house together. I start to knock but stop myself. When did I ever knock on my own door? Never, not once in my life. I’m a Leader still, even if I did leave home. I turn the knob and step into the cool, airy entryway. “Hello?” I call out.
Quiet. Deep and heavy quiet.
“Maybe nobody’s home,” War says, sounding skeptical.
“Hello?” I call again, poking my head into the sitting room. It looks unused and untouched, dusted and cleaned, but like it’s a photograph. There’s nobody in the office, in the kitchen, or in the living room. Everything feels so familiar, but slightly off—there are fewer pictures of the family hanging on the walls, replaced by modern paintings that I don’t recognize. I can’t imagine Dad would ever want this stuff around. Abstracts, colorful and contemporary, at odds with the traditional vibe of everything else. He’d hate this stuff.
“Oh, hi there.” A woman appears, looking startled. She’s older, dark skin, and wearing a blue nurse’s uniform. Her hand presses to her chest. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
“Hi,” I say, moving toward her. War leans against the kitchen island, head tilted curiously. “I’m Melody. Uh, is anyone else home?”
The woman’s eyes brighten. “You’re Melody? Of course you are, look at you, sweetie. Oh, I should’ve recognized you, but I wasn’t expecting anyone. Your father didn’t tell me you were coming.”
I exchange a look with War. He told Dad we were on the way, or at least he says he did. “Uh, right, well, I’m here. Is anyone else home?”
“No, honey, not right now. They’re all in town and won’t be back for a few hours.”
In town? Nobody would ever go into town on a workday when my dad was in charge back when I lived here.
“Right, okay, that’s fine. Maybe I can wait here?” I feel strange, asking for permission to sit in the kitchen I grew up in from a woman I don’t know. There are too many memories in this room and I try not to let them invade me.
The woman smiles kindly. “Your daddy’s awake and doing all right if you want to come for a visit? He’d love it.”
My guts twist. I wanted to speak with Uncle Lovett or Uncle Dudley first, get a feel for how things are around here, maybe get a little insight into Dad’s state of mind, but if they’re not here—I don’t know how I can turn down following this woman back to my father, but the idea is terrifying, facing him without any preparation.
I look to War, not sure why. His face is hard and he nods slowly, eyes narrowed like he knows what I’m thinking, and panic’s sucking at my chest and making my heart go wild. I don’t want to do this—coming home was a huge mistake—I can turn and run away now and pretend like this never happened—
But I’m here for a reason. I don’t have to let the ghosts haunts me anymore. I’m not owned by my past, and I’m not defined by the things that happened to me back then. And I need this money, for Bomber, and for myself.