Page 13 of Ashes of the Past
He nods, a look of confusion on his face. “I know that, silly, just keeping you on your toes.”
She squeezes his hand before she looks over at me. “Hiya, Mr. Renfrew,” she says.
“Hey, Olivia,” I smile, realizing that she was at my sister Joanne’s place earlier, playing with my niece and nephew. “You can call me Jack.”
“Yes, sir,” she says before she darts back into the house.
“Brynn’s friends with Joanne?” I ask, more to myself than anyone else.
John nods. “Everyone knows everyone around here. Brynn and Joanne go way back. Olivia’s over there all the time with her kids. Small world, huh?”
“Yeah,” I say, though it’s less surprise and more resignation.
Now it makes sense why my sister was telling me I was going to hit it off with the temporary ranch manager. It’s Brynn; John mentioned that earlier.
Not back in town for an entire day, and my sister is already trying to meddle.
Of course, Brynn’s tied into every corner of this town. That’s how these small towns are.
Before I can dwell on it, the screen door slams and Brynn steps out onto the porch of her place. She’s carrying my duffel bags, her expression a mix of irritation and determination.
“Here,” she says, marching down the steps and dropping the bags unceremoniously at my feet. “Your stuff. You can sleep in the barn for all I care.”
“Thanks for the delivery,” I say, smirking. “Didn’t realize I’d get the VIP treatment.”
She crosses her arms, glaring at me. “Don’t get used to it.”
“Trust me, I won’t,” I chuckle.
“Popo, I put the picture on the refrigerator for you!” Olivia calls out as she jumps down from the porch and scurries over to the house with her mom. A merle Australian shepherd is barking and chasing after her.
“Brynn’s a pistol, all right,” John says, shaking his head with a chuckle. “Don’t mind her, Jack. She’ll warm up eventually. Olivia seems to think you’re fine.”
“Sure, she will,” I mutter, grabbing my bags and following him inside.
As I step over the threshold, I can’t help but wonder how long “eventually” is supposed to take—and whether I’ll survive it.
“Have you been to see your mom yet?” John asks.
“No, sir. I got into town, went to the city hall, and then came straight here. I was going to drop my things in my room and head over there, though.”
“Well, I’m sure she’d be glad to see you.”
I nod as I follow him inside. He leads me upstairs and into a plainly decorated bedroom. I drop my things on the bed.
“I’m going to head over there. I won’t be gone long.”
“No curfew around here,” John says offhandedly as he heads downstairs again. “Supper is in the crockpot. Brynn makes those up for us.”
I nod before walking out of the house and to my truck. It’s a short drive into town and to my childhood home. When I pull into the driveway, I see the porch light is on, that yellow bulb shining brightly. The living room light is on, like it always was.
I let out a long sigh. It’s been a long time since I’ve been home. We talk daily, but I haven’t been able to face her since my brother passed away. I went to save him, and I couldn’t. The sting of that guilt hits me hard; the feeling of disappointing my mother hurts more than anything else in the world.
I shut off the truck, climb out, and make my way to the house. I jump up on the porch and give a light tap on the door before I walk in.
“Mama?” I call out.
She gasps as she turns around from where she’s standing in the kitchen. “Oh, blessed be, Jack, is that you?”
