Windswept Hearts, Robynn Gabel [good summer reads .TXT] 📗

Beginnings

 

 

What happens if you break a deathbed promise? Anna mused, the pull of the Corvette's engine infusing her with a sense of daring.

The car growled over the music, happily consuming miles, bringing her closer to a decision she didn’t want to make. Checking the mirror, she caught sight of the luggage behind her. A frown creased her brow. Leave it to Wyoming weather to be so unpredictable you need to pack sweatshirts with shorts.

The strident voice of a car horn caused her to glance over at a cocky grin beneath expensive sunglasses. For several miles, she had toyed with the driver of the yellow Mustang, speeding up when he would draw even with her.

Those who knew Anna Sanchez didn't have a clue about this side of her. She floored the gas pedal with competitive glee as the powerful Vette surged ahead, effortlessly widening the gap. Gripping the steering wheel, she felt the car attached to the road like a magnet to steel. Again checking the rearview mirror, she noticed dark shadows under her eyes and the Mustang disappearing into a little dot behind her.

A smooth, mechanical voice spoke against the growl of the engine and beat of the music, "Make a right-hand turn at next exit." Confidently, she handled the power that shot the car onto the ramp, ignoring the forty-mile-an-hour sign.

Memories popped up as a slide show on a computer screen. Anna learned to drive early on her grandfather's tractor due to a farm permit--one positive to living in the country. But in her mind, there were more negatives than positives.

Anna's hands tightened on the wheel. Her grandmother, rotund and cheerful as she bustled about the kitchen, was the complete opposite of her glacial grandfather. He sat at the head of the table during quiet meals; his stern, eagle-eyed stare watched them chat, rarely joining the small talk

She rubbed her left temple. The last two years had been nothing but funerals and endings. Only her goal of completing college kept her going. Had it only been six months since Mom's passing?

The navigation system's voice broke into her reverie. "Take a left-hand turn in one-quarter of a mile." She knew the way to the ranch; the unit was on for the illusion of company. Anna slowed the Vette, rumbling over the metal bars that created a cattle guard to keep livestock from escaping to the highway. After the narrow drive cut around a low hill, a bunkhouse came into view. From there a small path traveled down to the traditional, two-story ranch house. It had two dormer windows above a white summer porch in the front. A ridge covered in scrub pine rose behind the home.

Further down the dirt road, a weathered but well-kept barn stood guard over the sloping pasture where several horses grazed. A dark-blue sedan sat parked in front of the porch. Two boys, with the exuberant energy of youth, raced around brandishing branches in Musketeer fashion.

A young woman stood on the porch, red-gold hair framing a welcoming smile. Two years older, Emily, her second cousin, filled the role of big sister. The Vette sighed as Anna flipped the ignition off. Jumping out of the car, she opened her arms wide, giving Emily a bear hug. Their laughter tinkled in the breeze.

"How was the drive?" She stepped back, looking Anna over.

"Fast today, but, of course, the mode of transportation does make a difference."

Emily raised an eyebrow as she gazed at the sleek sports car. "I guess so. When did you get a Corvette?"

"First of May. It probably seems extravagant for a school teacher, but it's my reward for graduating college while dealing with everything that has been going on the last few years."

"If anyone deserves it, you do. You haven't visited in forever, girl!"

Anna leaned in for another hug. "Thankfully, it's not for another funeral."

"Been tough with your mom gone, hasn't it?" Sympathy softened Emily's green eyes.

Words tumbled out, tears rising. "It's hard. I miss her so much. I'll think of something I want to tell her and suddenly remember she's gone."

 Emily wrapped an arm around Anna's shoulder, murmuring "I'm so sorry." They stood for a minute, leaning on each other. Anna drew a deep breath and stepped back, brushing away tears.

One little musketeer, with his brother hot on his heels, ran around the side of the porch. Emily reached out, snagged the bedraggled twig in one hand and his arm in the other. His brother recognized her intent to grab his branch next and moved away.

Anna leaned down and grabbed them both in a warm embrace.

"Oh, my, you boys are getting big! So, John, Matthew, how old are you now?" The boy closest to her, a skinny, strawberry blond, smiled at Anna.

"I'm eight, and Matthew is six."

"Already?" Anna shook her head.

"Auntie, when I get older, can I drive your car?"

Anna grinned. "We'll see. I'll give you both a ride later." She watched as Matthew circled the car, his eyes wide.

"Well, shall we check out the house?" Anna rummaged in her small purse and brought out clanking keys on a simple metal ring.

The worn key slipped easily into the brass door handle, turning with little effort. The musty smell of old inhabitation wafted out into the spring air. As if frozen in time Anna noticed tattered house slippers lay next to her grandfather's overstuffed chair. A newspaper dated October twelfth straddled the arm of the chair as if the occupant would be back any second to resume reading.

The chair's mate, a spindly wooden rocker, had an end table beside it. Small reading glasses and a worn Bible fought for space on the table. Anna's throat tightened as she remembered her grandparents sitting here in the evening.

She walked into the kitchen where dishes sat unwashed in the sink. The refrigerator hummed endlessly; the rooster clock on the yellowed wall still ticked off the moments as it had for years. She gripped the edge of the kitchen counter, her ribs feeling like they were collapsing, crushing her racing heart.

Emily had headed down the hall to scout out the rest of the house. Anna heard the bathroom door squeak open, a familiar sound. The boys scampered up the narrow staircase to the attic bedroom where Anna and Emily had spent many nights together. She pushed off from the counter and joined Emily in the room at the end of the hall; quickly glancing around noticing clothes laying over a chair; medication sitting on the nightstand, and the unmade bed. Anna had the distinct feeling she was intruding. She sighed. It was nothing new.

"I'll need to find someplace with moving boxes in town. Are any of the churches or secondhand stores taking donations?"

Emily pursed her lips. "Yes, the Methodist church, but a lot of this we'll have to throw out."

Anna nodded as she opened the closet. Antique boxes and old albums lined the top shelf. Well-worn clothing hung limply. She moved to the nightstand, absently opening the drawer. Next to a few odds and ends, she found a small, red, leather-bound book with the word 'diary' printed in faded, gold lettering. In her hand, the rustling pages gave off a slight rose odor, her grandmother's favorite perfume. She tucked the diary gently away.

Anna heard John yell. She stepped out onto the front porch to see the boy's backside as he lay on the weathered planks, peering over the edge. "I think I hear baby kittens under here. You can see where the momma cat squeezed under the boards. Eww, it stinks too."

She walked over, noting the bare earth: evidence of an animal going to and fro under the deck flooring.

Emily poked her head out. "Leave them alone. They got a momma somewhere around here. Don't disturb them. Where's your brother?"

John jumped up. "Matthew!" he hollered, running around the side of the house.

"Want to visit our old haunt?" Anna chuckled at Emily's glare.

"You know I hate those stairs. Especially how narrow they are since I'm older and much wider."

"Race you!" Anna pushed past Emily heading to the steep staircase to the attic bedroom, the old wood squeaking loudly under her steps. The spacious attic took up the entire upper level. The top of the stairs ended at the rear of the room.

It was her favorite place in the house. The old, pine floor sported a shiny glow. Two single beds, covered in Chenille bedspreads of aged white, sat under two gabled windows. Old pictures of family long-past decorated the walls. Red checkered curtains completed the Western decor. Anna gazed out the window, remembering the evening sunsets over the Wind River Mountains.

Her ribs now expanded easily to take in the musty air. Snapshots of childhood memories filled her mind. The nights they spent reading under the covers with a flashlight, Emily planning the next day's adventures and both of them giggling late into the night.

Emily's heavy footsteps thudded, her breathing labored as she got to the top of the stairway. Anna sat down on a bed, smiling.

"Gosh, girl, what a workout, and as always, you get the best bed. Think I'll crash here and take a nap."

Anna giggled, feeling young again.

"You know, I told you that you were going to marry Seth Higgins!"

Emily blushed, heaving a pillow at Anna, who gracefully ducked out of its flight path. Emily plopped down, the mattress squeaking in protest.

 "Yeah, well, we'll find a knight in shining armor for you yet."

"I'm perfectly happy being single, especially after the run-in with Miles."

Emily quickly changed the subject. "What are you going to do with the ranch?"

Anna lay back, gazing at the patterns on the ceiling. She rubbed at both temples for a second. Irritation tinged her voice. "You know, just when I'd finished going through Mom's things, I got the letter saying the probate period was over. I wanted a break after graduation. Instead, I get handed a cattle ranch. I only have eight weeks before I have to start my teaching job."

 A loud snort turned Anna's head. "Girl, I didn't think feeling sorry for yourself was one of the steps of the grieving process."

"Ergh," Anna growled, turning her face towards the wall. She'd come here looking for Emily's stalwart advice, grounded in country experience, but had forgotten her cousin's pragmatic side.

"You know, Emily, you have a brother to shoulder some of the responsibility should something happen to your parents. I have to handle all of it myself. It was supposed to be my mother's inheritance, not mine. And by the way, anger is one of the steps of grieving." She turned back to face her cousin, waiting.

Emily grabbed another pillow off the bed, hugging it, studying the homemade throw rug on the floor. "You're right: got to be hard to handle this, but you're not alone. We're your family too."

Anna sighed. Emily had a point. Aunt Evelyn and Uncle George was the closest thing she had to parents now. In the brief silence, the house creaked with age.

"I know, you've all been wonderful. Thank you. Just hard to believe this ended up being mine." Anna stared at the ceiling again. "I've thought about selling the herd to Herman Miller. He already has time and money invested in them. I haven't the faintest idea how to run a cattle ranch. The only contact I want with a cow is on my plate. I just need a break to think this through."

"Well, you don't have much time. You've got a herd that needs branding, vetted and moved to summer range. A cattle ranch is a business; it waits for no one."

Anna sat up, smoothing the bedspread. "By the way, how's your dad doing?"

"Grumbling about the good old days and driving Mom nuts. He healed well from the hip replacement and is moving around okay. He'd help you out with this. He grew up in the business. He could give