Page 7 of Begin Again
Sloan waves over his shoulder and hops into the cruiser, starting the trek back down the mountain.
I watch the taillights for a moment longer, gripping the handles of the drawstring and plastic bags in my hands a little tighter. The contents of the drawstring bag from the hospital are all I have left of my past—a pair of gym shorts and one tennis shoe. The hospital had to cut me out of the shirt I had been wearing, it was torn and covered in blood, from a head wound and countless scratches and scrapes across my body. No one knew where my other shoe was. I wasn’t wearing it when they found me.
“Well, c’mon, boy, let me show you to your room,” Joseph calls from the porch behind me.
Taking a deep breath, I finally turn on my heel and follow him inside the house, passing by Charlie, who glares at me the whole way in.
Joseph leads me upstairs and down the hall to a bedroom, next to the communal bathroom. The room is decorated to match the farmhouse aesthetic. A blue patchwork quilt covers the queen-sized mattress with a matching blue rug on the floor, a carved wood dresser against the exterior wall, and a desk in thecorner to the left of the bed. All that’s missing is some rooster décor.
“This’ll be alright?” Joseph asks.
“It’ll be perfect.” I set my bags on the bed, but don’t let go of the handles. “Anything is better than another night in that hospital bed.”
Joseph laughs and pats me on the back. “You can say that again. I couldn’t wait to get out of there when I had heart surgery a couple years ago. Well, make yourself at home, Xavier. Dinner is at six, make sure you wash up.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Enough of the ‘sirs.’ You can call me Joe.”
I nod, smiling toward the older man, and wait until I hear his retreating footsteps completely disappear before I let out the breath I’ve been holding. With another look around the room, it all starts to sink in…This is home for the next however many days…weeks…months…
Until someone figures out who I am or the Blackwoods get tired of me.
It’s homey, but it’s nothome.
“Just because my dad is okay with you being here, doesn’t mean I am.” Charlie stands in the doorway, arms crossed tightly over her chest. No longer blinded by the sun I get a proper look at her. She’s pretty, with auburn hair falling below her shoulders and a slender figure. She doesn’t wear much makeup, if any, and is dressed in blue jeans and a plaid flannel tucked into her waist—like her father. But something about her feels out of place, like she’s playing the role of the rancher’s daughter, not that she is one. Her eyes narrow, looking me up and down, and she says, “I don’t know what kind of ‘deal’ you have worked out with him—”
“That’s not any of your business, is it?”
Charlie scoffs. “There’s something about you…I don’t like this.”
“Well, if you know something that can help me get out of here quicker, by all means…I’d love to know.”
“My dad thinks everyone can be trusted, but I don’t, and I sure as hell don’t trust you.”
I roll my eyes. This tough girl routine is going to get real old, real fast if I’m stuck here for a while. “There’s nothing here that I want, Charlotte.”
That’s the formal name for Charlie, right?
“It’s Charlie,” she quips. “And what was your name again?” A devilish grin spreads across her lips as she kicks off the wall and disappears down the hall.
CHAPTER THREE
April 2028
WALKING INTO THE BARN the next morning, I had no idea what to expect. Joseph said it needed work, but he forgot to mention how much.
Last night, Joseph wasted no time listing off the biggest things that troubled the ranch, but as I got ready for bed, I thought the old barn was the best place to start. Having the barn as a workplace in case the weather decided to unleash one final cold spell seemed like a good idea. It is April, after all, and being up this far up in the mountains, there is always a possibility for snow.
How do I know that?I thought as I changed into my pajamas. Was it common knowledge? The kind of thing everyone knew? No, it couldn’t be. The thought seemed like it would be more common to someone used to this area. Was this a clue? Was I from around here?
My first night at the ranch had been uneventful, thankfully. Charlie had been absent when I came down at six o’clock on the dot for dinner, and I would never tell Joseph, but I was grateful. The thought of dealing with her across the table made my head hurt.
Joseph spent most of the meal recounting the story of Blackwood Ranch. It was a rundown farmhouse built in the1800s set for demolition after it sat abandoned for so long, but his parents bought it instead because his mother always had a soft spot for the old place. They hated to see something with so much history torn down. She had always dreamed of opening a bed and breakfast in their small town, a place where visitors could come to enjoy the simple life that Bezer had to offer. A place of refuge away from the hustle and bustle of the rest of the ever-changing world. His parents opened the Blackwood Ranch B&B when Joseph was five years old and ran it until he took over when his mother passed twenty years ago. He loved that Charlie had been able to grow up in the same place he had. Charlie’s mother had died when Charlie was six years old, so it had been the two of them and whatever guests for a long while now.
The once steady stream of guests they used to see every year had dwindled to maybe one or two a year recently. Joseph knew the decline was partially due to a lack of an online presence, but that’s not what Bezer was about. If he had gone this long without the internet, he’d be fine…He could’ve asked Charlie for help, but he said she had been so busy in San Diego the last few years, that he didn’t want to bother her.
I found myself growing more curious about what the future held as I listened to Joseph’s story. What would happen if they continued down the same road, refusing to enter the modern age? If you wanted to be noticed, you had to have an online presence, and if you didn’t it was considered “sus.”
