Depths of Lake (15 page)

But there’s no other choice now.

So I save him from having to say anything.
 
I turn and leave.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Mom has already started packing up boxes.
 
Thankfully, she’s hasn’t made it outside her own bedroom walls.
 
But I peek in there and see about five boxes stacked up in one corner of the room.
 
All her knickknacks are in them.
 
There are no more pictures hanging on the walls.
 
Half her clothes seem to already be packed up, too.

I guess this is where Mom finally cracks.
 
The last three years, she’s carried on here at the ranch like nothing’s been wrong, almost like Dad never died.

But here it is: she’s checked out.
 
She’s moving on.

People have all kinds of methods to heal.
 
They take as much time as they need.
 
Sometimes they fool you into thinking they’re just fine.
 
And then the truth comes out in surprising ways.

I sit on the back porch swing Tuesday night, my arms wrapped around my knees.
 
The days are getting long.
 
It’s nine o’clock and it still hasn’t quite gotten dark.
 
A cool breeze blows my loose hair around my shoulders.
 
It smells like a ranch, but it also smells like the mountains.
 
Like Douglas fir and pine.
 
Of fresh water and wildlife.

Mom calls a goodnight to me from inside, and I answer back.

A light turns on up in Lake’s apartment.
 
I honestly expected him to go today.
 
I figured he’d pack up his things in his truck this morning and leave.
 
Yesterday was supposed to be payday, and I could only scrounge up the cash to pay him half of what I owed him.
 
He refused it.
 

But he didn’t go.
 
He carried about his chores and duties like nothing had changed.
 
And in the evening, he went upstairs by himself for the night.
 
Just like he does every normal day.

Lake still doesn’t leave on Wednesday.
 
We both carry on like nothing’s different.
 
I work with the horses.
 
He tends to the stalls and the feeding of the animals.
 
Bear and Chico are always underfoot.

Mom keeps packing.
 
She’s moved on to the living room.
 
But she’s only packing her most personal things.
 
Gifts from friends.
 
Pictures of her and Dad.
 
My baby pictures.
 
Knickknacks she either made or bought as we moved around the country with Dad.
 
She carefully wraps them and packs them away.
 
Our entire lives put in a box, to be unearthed who knows when and who knows where.

Thursday arrives, and by afternoon, Mom will start calling owners of the horses.
 
She’ll tell them they can either pick their animals up, or we can bring them home to them.
 

That will be the final defeat.
 
Cause
as soon as she makes that first call, there’s no going back that we’re selling the ranch.

All morning, I’m fighting tears.
 
My eyes keep getting itchy, and two seconds later they swim in moisture.
 
I feel angry and disappointed and betrayed in a way I can’t really explain.
 
I head out to the barn and let myself into Radio’s stall.

I wrap my arms around his thick neck.
 
His smell is comforting, and there is no one more understanding than a horse.
 
He nuzzles my back, his whiskers scratching across my T-shirt.

My one hand grabbing a handful of his mane, my other braced on his wide hindquarters, I hoist myself up onto his back.
 
I lay on my stomach across him, my cheek pressed into his mane.
 
I let my arms hang down and my fingers trace little patterns on his muscular shoulder.
 

I can let all these other horses go.
 
It really won’t even be that sad having to sell Mom’s horse, Dakota.
 
She doesn’t do much with him anymore.
 
But Radio?
 
He’s my child.
 
He’s an extension of me.
 
How could I ever say goodbye to him?

“I have an idea.”

I look up, moving my head only slightly, to see Lake standing at the entrance to the stall.
 
His hands are on his hips, his eyes bright for the first time in a while.

“Yeah?”
I reply flatly.

He nods, taking a few steps forward until he’s in the stall.
 

“I’ve been doing some research and some asking around.
 
I was looking at your dad’s car a few days ago,” he says this, looking slightly uncomfortable, like he’s pretty sure I’m not going to like whatever he’s about to say.
 
“A Shelby like that is one of the most sought after classic cars out there.
 
I know it doesn’t look like much, but people put a lot of time and money into finding cars like that one.”

I slowly sit up, straddling Radio.
 
“Are you suggesting we put it up for sale?
 
We only have twenty-four hours.
 
That’s never going to be enough time.”

Lake shakes his head, his eyes brightening cautiously.
 
“I’m saying I’ve already got a buyer.
 
And he’s willing to pay $40,000 for it.
 
Is that enough to save the ranch?”

My heart picks up, thundering in my ears.
 

I will feel guilty doing this.
 
That was Dad’s pride, having such a rare gem.
 
That was his goal, to get it restored.
 
But then he died.
 
He’d never see it restored to full glory.
 
I had always planned to get it fixed up to honor him.
 
But that never happened.

This could be our chance.
 
Dad would have sold it if it meant saving our home.

I nod my head as moisture pools in my eyes.
 
“Yeah,” I whisper.
 
“It is.
 
And then some.”

“I’ve got an idea for that extra,” he says, the smallest of a smile pulling on that right side of his mouth.

“I’m listening,” I breathe back.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

By that evening, Lake has taken Dad’s car to the buyer and brings home the check.
 
Friday morning, Mom and I both take it into the bank.
 
We get settled with our mortgage.
 
I turn my face away while she’s on the phone so she won’t see the tears that are slowly running down my face.

They’re happy tears.

We aren’t out of the woods.
 
We’ll need to come up with a way to make more money to stay afloat.
 
But we’ve bought ourselves some more time.

And I make Mom promise me that she’ll never give Travis another dime.

On Monday, Lake sits down with me and Mom.
 
I’m surprised that he’s come with a notebook.
 
The pages are filled with scribbles I can barely read, but it’s obvious he’s put a lot of thought into this.

“I’ve been doing some research,” he says as we sit at the dining table.
 
“And I’ve never run a ranch before, so maybe I’m just way off the marker.
 
So feel free to tell me to just shut up.”

He meets my eyes, and a smile starts pulling on my face.
 

“But I’ve come up with three ideas about how you might start making some more money,” he says as his eyes drop down to his notebook.
 
“I know you don’t love doing it,” Lake says, directing the statement at me.
 
“But I’ve looked and called around, and there’s hardly anyone who teaches riding lessons around here.
 
Seems like there’s a demand for it.
 
What if you started teaching riding lessons twice a week or something?
 
Private lessons aren’t cheap.”

I chew on my lower lip, my eyes fixed on the notebook.
 
There’s
two words I can decipher.
 
Riley in?

I don’t particularly love being around people.
 
I get frustrated with people who are idiots around horses.
 
I’m not a great teacher.

But…

“Yeah,” I finally say, nodding my head.
 
“I can do that.
 
If it means keeping us afloat.”

Mom looks over at me with a smile.
 
She places a hand on my knee and gives it a little wiggle-shake.

“Yeah?”
Lake says with a little breathy chuckle.
 
“I mean, I know you’re pressed for time with the training, but I figure if I start helping with the part where you make the horses run in a circle, that will help.
 
And I’ll pick up anything else I can.”

“The lunging?”
I
ask,
a smile in my voice.

“Yeah,” he chuckles.
 
“That’s it.
 
And I can get the tack and put it away and everything.”

I press my lips into a thin line, containing the smile that’s threatening to spread.
 
I just nod.

“’K,” he continues.
 
“My next idea will take some money to get it rolling.
 
What about building another barn and boarding horses?
 
People would just keep them here, and you could rent out time in the arena or the pasture.
 
No time effort on your part.
 
Just let them use the facilities.”

“How much would that cost?” Mom asks, caution in her voice.
 
“We don’t exactly have much extra.
 
That’s kind of why we’re in this mess in the first place.”

Lake nods and turns his eyes back to the pages.
 
He flips one and I can see numbers and materials written out.
 
“I had Kent help me price it all out, if we just built it basic, but functional.
 
If we can get people to donate the labor, it would only take a weekend and about $15,000.”

Once we paid off the last few months’ mortgage and paid next to give us a little bit of breathing room, we only have $18,000 left over.
 
It’s an uncomfortably big part of our leftovers.

“Do you think we could get people to help out?” Lake asks.
 
“I mean, I’m certainly going to work on it every minute you don’t need me elsewhere, and I know I could get Drake and my dad to come help.
 
And I think Kale’s going to be home this weekend.
 
Julian might even be willing to swing a hammer.”
 
He says this last part with a little smile.

It’s hard to picture, Julian with a hammer.

But I appreciate it nonetheless.

“You know Jesse will be over here in a heartbeat,” Mom pipes up.
 
“Sheriff Akins would probably come over.
 
I could probably wrangle up some people from church.
 
I’m sure even Kyle would
come
help.”

Lake nods as Mom starts listing off people who might be willing to lend a hand.
 
Both their eyes shift over to me.

“Yeah,” I say with a nod.
 
Something lifts inside of me as we discuss all this.
 
Something that was heavy and dreadful.
 
These are good ideas.
 
There’s no guarantee, but they’re good.
 
“Yeah, I think we could make this work.”

“I can start hauling the supplies later this week,” Lake says.
 
His voice picks up an octave.
 
He’s excited.

Which surprises me.
 
He’s just an employee.
 
One I thought I let go.
 
He shouldn’t have to be doing research and figuring out how to save us.
 
But he’s going above and way beyond.

“My last idea,” Lake says as he flips the page.
 
“Is hosting events.
 
There’s town hall, but other than that, there really isn’t anywhere in Duvall to host big, outdoor events.”

“What do you mean?” I ask.
 
“What kind of events?”

“Family reunions,” he starts, referring to his pages.
 
“Corporate picnics.
 
Stuff like that.”

“What about weddings?” Mom suggests.
 
“Didn’t you say Dania at the hardware store is getting married next month?
 
What if we suggest it to her?”

I shake my head and shrug.
 
“I guess,” I say.
 
This is a concept that I’m having a hard time wrapping my head around.
 
Would people really want to use our place for fancy parties?
 
“It couldn’t hurt.”

“You wouldn’t have to do stuff like that very often,” Lake says.
 
“But I looked up some comparable places and they rent out for over a thousand a night.
 
Some way, way more if they’re nice enough.”

I don’t know that we’re nice enough.
 
We’re a simple ranch.
 
We’re rustic and functional.
 
But I guess we have a certain measure of charm.
 

“Let’s do it,” I say with a smile as I nod.
 
“All of it.”

____

The next few days are somewhat organized chaos.
 
Mom makes flyers to advertise the riding lessons.
 
I post them online.
 
In the first twelve hours of all that being up, I get three calls and schedule three lessons.
 

I teach Lake
how
to lunge the horses.
 
It isn’t hard.
 
It just takes strong arms and hands, which he is not lacking.
 
He already knows how to brush the horses and pick their hooves.
 
He’s surprisingly natural at it all.
 
Every prep thing he can do for me is minutes I don’t have to spend on it.
 
It’s valuable time I can be working on training or lessons.

Lake starts picking up supplies from the hardware store.
 
I use the tractor and level out the spot where we will build the new barn, right at the edge of the pasture.
 
Someone comes to do the concrete.
 
Mom goes to work on the flower beds, weeding, edging,
planting
.
 
Anything she can do to make the place nicer.

We start scouring online ads for old picnic tables, regular outdoor tables, and chairs.
 
Anything cheap or free that we can fix up ourselves to use for outdoor events.
 
We also find a beautiful pergola that would work perfectly for weddings.

Mom turns into a painting, staining, sanding, weeding maniac.
 

Things must just be going right, because on Thursday morning, I get two referrals from Jesse.
 
People looking for a trainer for their horses.
 
They drop them off Thursday night.

For a few minutes, I panic.
 
I’ve already been working long days before we added all this.
 
That’s why we had to bring Lake on.
 
How will I balance all this?

And then I look out in the yard and see Mom working, her hands quick and skilled.
 
I see Lake stacking lumber.
 

I don’t
have
to do it all alone.
 
I have them.

We can do this.