Page 49 of The Wedding Ranch
Ryder held his son’s hand between his trying to warm it. “I love you,son. Mommy and I both love you more than our own lives.” He sat there wondering how he’d tell his son his mother was gone. That was something he’d have to figure out later. “Come on, buddy. Stay with me.” He took in a stuttered breath. “I need you.”
Ronnie Dwayne never moved. There wasn’t a hand squeeze or a blink. Just a fragile life accented by the noise of machines in the room.
Hours went by. Ryder hadn’t moved from the chair. A strong grip on his shoulder grabbed his attention. Pop-Pop stood there, tears in his eyes too.
“You will get through this, boy. Pray to Him. It’s His plan. You must journey forward,” Pop-Pop said.
Mom and Dad took up on the other side of the bed.
“Come with me.” Diane took his hand. They stepped into the hall and she hugged him, and they both cried. Pop-Pop stepped up and wrapped his wide arms all the way around them both.
“They will be in our hearts forever. They live on like that,” he’d promised.
Ryder didn’t know how that could be possible. It wasn’t until the next morning, when Ronnie Dwayne was pronounced dead, that Ryder mustered the courage to see Valerie. He’d wanted so badly to be able to tell her their son was okay. But then, she knew well before Ryder how things were playing out. She had a front row seat.
“Lord, you got yourself two fine angels to do your work. Don’t you need me too?”
But those prayers went unanswered and he had to find his way. Often he thought if he’d only lost one that it would have been easier, but the truth was they were all one working unit. It would have been heartbreaking no matter what.
And putting his life together without those two cornerstones—Valerie and Ronnie Dwayne—was darn near impossible.
Anger replaced some of the grief when the police reported the driver of the other vehicle had been intoxicated. With a blood alcohol level of over .32, he shouldn’t have been conscious, much less driving.
Ryder lost it, smashing things in the barn, putting his hand through a cabinet door. Even Pop-Pop couldn’t console him the morning they got that news.
Pop-Pop passed away three weeks later. Just didn’t wake up one morning. HSB. That’s what Pop-Pop had always called it when one of the cows died for no apparent reason. HSB. Heart stopped beating.
In one short month, Ryder had buried his wife, son, and grandfather, and his life unraveled like a rope in the wind.
It had been a slow go rebuilding his life.Survival is a sorry way to live a life.
Ryder’s heart hung heavy in his chest, burning with each breath. He hated days like these. He never knew when they would happen. And he still couldn’t control his emotions. Raw and painful tears slipped down his cheek. He ran the back of his hand across his face, then rested both of his hands upon Thunder’s strong neck.
Lord, you’ve got to make sense of my life. I was a good husband. A good father. A good grandson. You took all of them away in one sweep. I’m tired. So tired. I’m humbled every day by the land and crops you’ve put me in charge of. I’m so grateful for the life you’ve given me, and thankful for Diane and Reece and Ross. If it weren’t for them, I couldn’t wake up every day. Help me, Lord, help me. All I ever wanted in this life was to be a good father, and my heart feels empty.
He lifted his chin to heaven, tears trailing down his face tohis neck. Dropping the reins, he let Thunder keep moving. The horse knew the way.
In the small family cemetery, Ryder guided Thunder around the headstones. His great grandparents, whom he’d never known, only heard stories of. Grandma and Pop-Pop. Valerie and the tiny plot where he’d laid his son to rest. Only four years old, he hadn’t even had the chance to skin up his knees.
Ryder threw his leg over Thunder and stepped to the ground, then took a knee in the soft grass. Thunder snorted and lowered his head, letting out a gentle vibrating puff, as if he too could still feel the gaping hole.
Ryder knelt there for a long moment, then stood and pressed a kiss to his hand and touched first Ronnie Dwayne’s, then Valerie’s, and then Pop-Pop’s stones. The marble was as cold as the hard truth. He clenched his fist and tapped it to his chest.
He drew in a breath. The sweet smell of alfalfa hung in the air. Tomorrow he’d cut it and begin the process of bailing.
Thunder walked over to him, pressing his face closer to Ryder. “Thanks, Thunder.”
He took the reins and walked Thunder down the path a good ways before stepping back into his saddle. They completed the lap around the perimeter, then loped back to the barn. Ryder took comfort in the routine of unsaddling and brushing the big gray horse down. Sweat made him look almost bluish gray in this light.
“I’ve got to finish Diane’s present. You chill here for a bit, huh?” He gave Thunder a pat on the shoulder then went to his workshop. He’d been working on Diane’s gift for weeks. Building, sanding, staining, and finishing the cabinet. He’d made itfrom reclaimed wood from Dad’s barn. When he’d learned they sold the property, Ryder had spent every last hour salvaging everything he could.Our whole life had been there.
Ryder had to put up another storage building to hold everything he’d salvaged. He ran his hand over the breakfront. It had turned out even prettier than he’d hoped. Using the wood from the stall where Diane had kept her mare, he’d left the childish scrawl of her horse’s name, Brandy, intact on the back of the piece. No one else would appreciate it, but he knew Diane would. The two of them had used nails to scratch the names of their horses on those boards. It had taken weeks to do it. A labor of love.
Ryder’s phone rang. “Hello?”
“Hey, son, it’s Dad.”
The man had impeccable timing. “Hi, Dad. I was just thinking about you. I’m finishing up Diane’s birthday present. I made her a breakfront from the wood I reclaimed from the old barn at your place.”
