Page 62 of The Moments You Were Mine
“I want to own a ranch. I want all the animals.”
“Fallon is going to be a veterinarian. Those are doctors for animals,” Parker told him.
My stomach twisted, a mix of joy and pain. I wouldn’t finish the program or get my license, but I’d still open the refuge.
“I know what a veg-utarian is,” Theo said proudly, and I bit back a laugh.
“Veterinarian. Not a vegetable eater,” Parker said, lips twitching.
“I know. That’s what I said,” the little boy replied. Then, he squealed with joy, pointing to the shore.
A mama deer lifted her head, warily eyeing us as we came around the bend. Her ears twitched while the rest of her remained frozen. Beside her, twin fawns continued to drink. Their spots were mostly gone, but they were still tiny.
“Deer!” Theo shouted.
The mama bounded toward the tree line, and her babies followed.
“Come back, deer!” Theo squirmed in Parker’s lap, rocking both our tubes and threatening to tip us over.
“Easy does it, buddy,” Parker said, attempting to stabilize us. “You keep shouting, and you’re going to scare all the wildlife away. They like it best when it’s quiet.”
Theo sat for several seconds, and then he dropped his voice to a whisper and asked, “How many animals do you have, Fallon?”
“I’m not sure of the exact number anymore.” I frowned, not liking that answer. “About a hundred cattle, thirty horses, twenty sheep, a handful of goats, and two dozen chickens.”
“But how many deer? And birds? Do you have bears?”
“I don’t own any of the wildlife. They own themselves. But it’s my duty to take care of the land they inhabit so they can continue to live here without being hunted or forced to move.”
“Fallon is opening a refuge here too,” Parker told him, and my heart twisted remembering all the times we’d talked about it. “That means she’s going to save animals who don’t have a place to go at the end of their life or when they’re sick.”
The image of the cow with the words carved into her side slid through me again. It wouldn’t be right to bring more animals here if they’d be hurt. I had to figure out what was going on, not just for myself and my guests, but for the future of the ranch and the dreams I still wanted to make a reality.
Caught in my thoughts, I wasn’t prepared for the water that doused my face. I sputtered, ripping off my sunglasses and glaring at Parker as he laughed.
“You didnotjust do that,” I demanded.
“You were getting all hot and bothered over there.”
“As if!” I unhooked my foot from his tube, dipped my feet in the river, and kicked hard enough to send water over both him and Theo.
They laughed, free and deep and joyous, and it took the darkness I’d fallen back into and ripped it away.
“Kick, buddy, kick,” Parker said. The little boy’s feet barely touched the river, but Parker’s enormous ones sent a tidal wave in my direction. I was drenched from head to toe, but I was smiling in return. In the old days, I would have done my best to tip Parker’s tube, but I didn’t want to scare Theo. Instead, I simply splashed with my hands and feet as we approached the downslope to the lake.
“Hold on tight,” I said to Theo as we went over the tiny crest.
It really did feel a bit like flying as we careened over. Thetube turned dizzily, and I closed my eyes, riding it out. Theo’s laughter rang out once more, joining Parker’s deep boom, and my insides filled with happiness. When was the last time I’d felt like this? Loose and content and truly present in the moment?
I wanted to hang on to it, wanted to keep it and wrap it around me so I didn’t have to think about the nastiness waiting for me once we landed ashore.
As we plunged into the lake from the river, the sound of a boat drew my eyes. A teen was up behind it on water skis, flying by just outside the swim zone roped off by buoys. The languid peace of the lazy river was left behind as more noise crashed into me. Laughter. Music. The rev of Jet Skis and other boats.
People crowded the pebbled beach by the dock, sunning on lounge chairs or relaxing under umbrellas. The snack bar had barbecue smoke pouring from its chimney, filling the air with an aroma that made my stomach growl for the first time in days.
Nearing the dock, I flipped out of the tube, grabbed the handle, and swam for the ladder. Parker eased out of his tube, leaving Theo inside it while pulling the boy in. We’d replaced the old splintered dock from my childhood with a composite one years ago, and my tube slid along it as I tossed it up. I turned back to Parker, steadying his tube while he helped Theo onto the ladder.
As I followed the little boy up, my skin tingled with Parker’s gaze lingering on me. A lifetime of awareness was magnified by a very new and very strange discomfort with my body. I unsnapped my vest and reached into the towel box we rolled onto the dock each day for our guests. I wrapped one around my chest and took two more out for Parker and Theo.
