Page 13 of Rootbound
Again with the deflecting,Tait.
He hops in and puts the truck back in gear without making an attempt to look my way. I want to maintain the illusion of my detachedness enough that I refuse to inquire about the call. It’s hours that go by, each minute pushing me farther up this hill I’m determined to die on.
Eventually he relents, huffing an agitated sigh through his nose. “I spoke with Grace, Charlie’s wife. Relayed everything you told me,” he says.
In for a penny, I still refuse to give anything else by asking for details. “Thanks,” I reply.
He chuckles and shakes his head. I refuse to ask about that, too.
We turn onto a gravel road, the nervous fluttering in my belly too strong to worry about music or making conversation. I’ve let about eighty-seven different scenarios mentally play out—carefully developing what my responses will be to each should they occur—when suddenly, the stone barn is in sight.
I lose my grip at the same time Henry seems to speed up. “Wait… please wait,” I say, voice embarrassingly tight.
I grab the wrist of the arm on the steering wheel, and he visibly flinches, but doesn’t pull away. I feel the coarse hair under my hand and wonder if I hurt him? I look at my hand—my fingers don’tnearlymeet all the way around the big wrist and I’m not even squeezing him.
“Your hand… is extremely, extremely sweaty,” he says flatly.
I jerk it back and wipe both on my pants, letting a nervous laugh barrel out of me.
“Sorry.”
He looks at me, brows dipping before his expression softens into what I determine must be his pitying look. And then he offers me an encouraging nod.
For some reason, the gesture bolsters me. I take a deep breath, face the house and say, “Okay. I’m ready.”
Eight
Henry
Tension rolls off of Tait in waves as we pull up past the barn and stop in front of the house.
I wonder what exactly she expects to find here? Whatever she thinks she recalls or seems to know of them doesn’t align with the family I know, at least. If she’s here to do her job, they won’t stand in her way.
I feel validated in that thought when I see Grace already waiting on the porch with their son, Grady. Grady reminds me of one of the pack llamas on the ranch with how his head is weaving to and fro, looking for his first glimpse of her.
To her credit, Tait manages to get out of the truck smoothly despite her obvious discomfort. Shoulders back and head held high, I can’t help admiring her.
Personally, I avoid painfully awkward and uncomfortable exchanges whenever I can. I’m definitelynotone of those people who has to slow down past a car wreck because of some morbid curiosity. Shit, I’m tempted to fastforward through the awkward and embarrassing scenes in my favorite movies, even after seeing them numerous times. I don’t enjoy secondhand embarrassment or discomfort, or other people’s business in general. So after she gets out, I immediately proceed with driving her luggage the three miles out to the cabin Grace told me she’d open up for her. It feels a little like abandonment, but not enough for me to stick around. I don’t miss the filthy look thrown at me in my rearview mirror, though.
Replaying my phone call with Grace, I linger on the lack of shock I sensed from her. I suppose at this point, everyone really has wanted a piece of the place since it became famous, so perhaps she’s been expecting Charlie’s estranged family to come around. Still, it’s September, the time when the unused buildings are shut up for winter before the work of winterizing the occupied ones begins. This particular cabin has never been used aside from a very short period of time… before.
It’s the newest construction, twin to mine from the exterior, with more modern finishes on the interior. The bunkhouse is plenty empty right now though, too, and much farther away than the one that I share the pond with. It feels a little like betrayal to so easily move this stranger into this specific cabin.…
I mentally give myself a shake and a reminder that none of it is actuallymine,anyway.
I’ve grown used to the dull pain that comes whenever I see the new cabin down the road from mine, but passing this time to unload Tait’s things brings it a little closer to the surface. I sort through my keys to find the one I know I still have.
Inside, Grace has already had everything taken care ofand prepped. It’s fully cleaned, minimally furnished. There are freshly folded towels laid on the dining table. It still smells new even though it was built over three years ago now. I quickly set down the first two bags and go unload the other two. I don’t know for certain if there’s an extra key that Grace already had made or anything, but I’d rather not risk needing to be asked for it later, so I toss the spare key on the counter. It’s something I’m completely unprepared to do, but I quickly jet out before the emotion—whatever it is Ishouldfeel—has a chance to take hold.
Directly across the pond is what I know of asmycabin. Charlie’s younger brother, James, used to reside in it until he built his home on the farthest eastern ridge of the property. He manages the outfitting entity of the Range now, which means that we rarely see him. He’s one of three guides, the others being Charlie and myself. I usually only co-guide, since people-ing is not my strong suit. They spend a great portion of the year scouting and doing predator management, and will spend much of October and November doing guided elk hunts. It’s fairly obvious that they’re two grown-up kids living out their dream of riding around quads, shooting, and sleeping under the stars—though no one will accuse them of not taking their jobs seriously.
My beauty, Belle, greets me with a bark and her usual mouth-grab on my forearm when I get home. She’s been cooped up much longer than normal today. I typically bring her everywhere, so I let her outside and throw her ball for a bit. She eventually takes off after some grouse and I head inside, somehow more worn out than if I’d been on a days-long hike, when my phone dings.
Grady: This is the most excitement we’ve had around here in YEARS. And Charlie isn’t even home yet!!!
Leave it to Grady to find entertainment in anyone else’s pain. Where I avoid the awkward, Grady would be the kid to prep the popcorn. He’s only twenty-one, though, and still thinks humor has the power to cancel out any other emotion. I should remind him that we have an Emmy-nominated show that is filmed here for six months out of the year off and on, and all the excitementthathas unleashed.
Me: Go easy on the girl.