Rustic Hearts

Sophie

 

I feel a gentle shake to my shoulder that jolts me awake. I remove the earbuds and stretch my stiff, aching limbs like a cat. I must have fallen asleep shortly after we left the Denver city limits because the last thing I remember is the buildings fading off into the sunset.

“We’re almost there,” he informs me as my eyes start to adjust to the twilight sky.

Up ahead in the distance, I see the familiar, old iron gate that leads to my childhood home. I sit up and focus on the top where the words Rustic Peak Ranch welcome us, and a sliver of nervous energy runs down my spine.

“It looks exactly the same as I remember,” I utter with bewilderment as we approach the massive entryway.

“Yeah, Jefferson isn’t much into change,” he agrees.

My daddy, Jefferson Lancaster, has run the daily operation of Rustic Peak Ranch since Pop put him in charge when I was about ten years old. Not that Pop actually took much of a step back. He was still up with the sun and working the ranch every morning like clockwork. He just handed off all the management responsibility and ranch-hand oversight to Daddy.

“Sounds about right,” I whisper into the cab.

“He’s excited to see you, ya know. Nervous but excited.”

“Daddy? Excited?” I ask in disbelief.

“Well, as excited as he gets.” He shrugs.

“I don’t know what he does or doesn’t do anymore. For all I know, he gets as giddy as a schoolgirl now. We’re strangers.”

“Yeah, well, maybe you finally coming to visit can change that.”

“Finally?” I turn in my seat to look at him. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Means it’s about time you made a trip home to see him.”

“No one asked your opinion. And my relationship with my father is none of your business. Besides, he’s the parent. If anyone should’ve been flying to see anyone, it should’ve been him.”

“Right.”

The truck pulls through the gate, and the retort I was about to deliver falls from my mind as I take in the beauty before me.

The long, pear-tree-lined driveway stretches out before us. I reach over and roll the window down, and the sweet brown-sugar smell of chrysanthemums drifts in on the breeze and wraps around us. The crunch of the gravel under the tires brings a flood of memories back to me as I watch the dust settle on the windshield.

Me sitting on Daddy’s lap as he let me steer the old tractor. Riding bikes to town with Dallas and taking Blackberry out for her evening run. Me and Pop walking to the pond out behind the stables with fishing poles in hand. Gram and me taking our evening walks. So many happy times spent on this long, winding driveway. Memories I had long-ago filed away in that closed compartment in my heart.

A gasp escapes me when the house comes into sight. I’ve been trying to remember exactly what it looked like. The four-story white farmhouse with a huge wraparound porch is a shade past needing fresh paint, but it is still stu

“It’s like time stopped,” I state as we draw closer.

But it hasn’t. It just moved on without me. New people moved in, life continued, and now, Gram is gone.

As soon as the truck stops in front of the house and Braxton puts it in park, the front door swings open, and out bounds my aunts and Pop and Emmett. Emmett is one of Daddy’s best friends and has been working the ranch alongside him since before I was born. I grew up calling him Uncle Em. He is as much a part of the family as anyone.

As I open the door and jump down, Aunt Doreen comes ru

“Hi, Aunt Doe.”

She pulls back and looks me over from head to toe.

Aunt Doreen is tall and soft around the edges. Her blonde hair is cut shorter than I remember and laced with white. Her kind blue eyes are set in fine lines now, but she’s still so lovely. I must have inherited my hair, eye, and complexion coloring from my father’s side.

“You’re a woman. All grown up and so beautiful.”

Her eyes fill with tears, and Aunt Ria comes up and shoos her away.

“Oh, don’t start the waterworks, or you’ll have us all blubbering.” Then, she wraps me in a bear hug of her own.

Aunt Ria has always been what I call a robust lady. Big, round, loud, and strong as an ox. Dallas and I were terrified of her and her switches when we were little. I can remember spending many days hiding from her among the hay bales in the barn.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes, girl.”

“So are you, Aunt Ria.”

A throat clears, and I look up over her shoulder. There stands my daddy on the porch with his arm around a pretty woman who’s wearing a timid smile.

Jefferson Lancaster is a presence, standing at over six feet tall with broad shoulders. His dark hair has turned a distinguished salt and pepper, and so has his mustache.

“Hi, Daddy.”

He looks intently at me for a moment, like he’s not quite sure if it’s actually me. Then, he nods his head and barks out, “Everyone give Sophie a little breathing room, will you? She just got here, and I’m sure she’s tired after a long day of travel.”

The pretty lady under his arm breaks away and makes her way to me. “Hello, Sophie. I’m Madeline.”

I look down at her outstretched hand. I pause for a moment before my ma

“We’re so happy you’re here. Everyone has been waiting on pins and needles for you to arrive.”

She motions for a girl, who looks to be in her early twenties, to come over.

“You’ve met my nephew, Brax, and this is his sister, my niece, Elowyn.”

She looks very much like her aunt’s twin. Long black hair, thin frame, and large brown eyes.

“It’s nice to meet you, Sophie,” she says as her aunt pulls her in front of me.

“Same to you,” I clip.

Her face falls a little at my tone.

“Elowyn can’t wait to hear all about living in New York. She’s been obsessed with fashion and celebrities since she could walk and talk. I think she might have been the most excited when we found out you were coming.”

I give her a tight smile, and she beams back at me.

I’m overwhelmed at this moment with this little family reunion and introduction. Not sure how to act, I look up at my father. He can see the plea on my face.

“Are you hungry?” he asks.

“A little, I guess, and I could use the ladies’ room.”

“Oh, of course. Look at us, making a fuss when you have to be ready to freshen up and eat. Let’s get you inside.” Aunt Doreen guides me up the steps to the house. “Brax, can you bring her things in, dear?” she asks as she shuffles me in.

“Yes, ma’am,” he calls.

I walk into the foyer, and the first thing I notice is a portrait of Daddy, Madeline, Braxton, and Elowyn where one of him, Mom, and me used to hang. I stop in front of it. Aunt Doreen stops with me, and her chattering goes silent.

She gently tugs my elbow to get my attention. “Let me show you to the bathroom.” She nudges.

“I know where it is. Unless that’s been moved and replaced too?”

She lets out a heavy sigh. “No. Still right where it used to be.”