Page 75 of His Secret Wish

Chapter 17

The house that he and Izzy had built just after they got married was on the Callahan property, far enough away from the main house so they’d have a modicum of privacy, but close enough so they wouldn’t be completely isolated.

He turned off the driveway and onto the small, dirt road that led to the house. His heart bashed against his ribs like a stampede. It wasn’t like he didn’t come out here every week to make sure the grass was cut, and the flower beds Izzy had planted were watered and weeded. He just hadn’t been able to actually go into the house. Not since the day his brothers found him wallowing in his heartbreak and reeking like a distillery.

The trees gave way, and the house came into view. It was a two-story farmhouse, with the requisite wrap-around porch. He’d wanted to paint it white, but Izzy had insisted on a light gray. That way, it would be less likely for anyone to see how dirty it was, she’d said. He’d caved, and they’d painted the house gray. He’d at least gotten his way with the white trim and shutters.

He parked the truck and got out. The windows on the house were looking dirty. He was going to have to come out and wash them one of these days. The grass was lush and green, not too long. Not surprising since he’d just mowed it last weekend. He walked around the side of the house and grabbed the hose. The flower beds needed watering. While he hadn’t planted any new plants or flowers, the tulips and daffodils that Izzy had planted still came up every spring.

There were a couple of weeds that had taken root, but they’d be easier to pull once the soil was damp. He sprayed the plants, their little shoots reaching for the sky. Then he pulled the little weeds, tossing them into the compost bin.

He walked back around the front of the house, and then just stood and stared at it. When it was being built, he and Izzy used to come here and imagine what their future would be like. All their hopes and dreams wrapped up in two by fours and drywall.

Too bad it had all been a complete fantasy.

Without thinking too hard about it, he walked up the walkway and climbed onto the porch. It needed a good power wash. He’d have to add it to his list.

He pulled out his keys and reached for the lock. His palms were so sweaty, the keys almost slipped from his fingers. He took in a deep breath and unlocked the door.

The house smelled musty, which was understandable, given that no one had lived here for a few years. He opened the front windows, hoping for a bit of a cross breeze to air the place out.

Everything was exactly as he’d left it, minus the mess of dirty dishes and empty bottles. There was a layer of dust on most of the surfaces. He ran his finger through powdery dirt on the ledge of the half wall that led to the kitchen.

Even though the house was fashioned after an old timey farmhouse, the inside was all modern conveniences. Izzy had insisted they go all out on the kitchen, since she loved to cook. They’d had a large island installed, with lots of stools for people to sit at. There was also a large table set off to the side of the room, with enough room to seat six. They’d planned on at least three kids.

He slid his hand along the table, leaving behind a clean streak. His chest felt like it was caving in. Maybe he should sell the house, see if one of his brothers would like to buy it. Although, Jake had moved out of state, and Mason and his wife Grace had their own house built on the property. Simon and Noelle lived on their own farm. That left only Declan, who was still currently a bachelor. What was he going to do with a five-bedroom house?

Shaking his head, he turned and headed for the stairs. Upstairs was even mustier smelling, and he opened a few of the windows and propped the bedroom doors open. He couldn’t bring himself to go into the master bedroom. Too many memories.

He headed back downstairs, making a mental note to come back and close the windows if there was any chance of rain in the forecast. The last thing he needed was water damage. Especially if he wanted to sell.

Maybe one of the hands on the ranch would want the house. Sam, the ranch foreman, and his girlfriend Cassie had a house just down the road, but some of the other cowboys were in relationships. Like Drew and his girlfriend Lea. Owen had overheard some of the more gossipy hands talking about it. He’d have to talk to Drew and see if he was interested.

At least that way, he’d know someone would appreciate it.

He locked the door and headed back to his truck. Firing up the engine, he took a last look at the house, and then pulled a u-turn and drove away. Although he didn’t think he’d ever be whole again, at least he was moving forward.

The idea that he was being reactive to everything that had happened crossed his mind, but he pushed it aside. This wasn’t a rash decision. It was one he should have made a long time ago. He’d spent the last few years in limbo, waiting for something that was never going to happen. At least he knew where he stood now. He could move on.

He turned back onto the driveway and headed toward the ranch house. A heavy cloud balanced on his shoulders, dragging them down. He felt hollowed out, a shell of himself.

It was nothing a good ride and a great night’s sleep in his own bed wouldn’t cure.

He pulled into his parking spot and cut the engine. It was just after noon, so there was plenty of daylight left. He got out of the truck and headed toward the stable. He’d head out and see how the work was going.

And, it wasn’t like he didn’t trust Sam. Sam had worked the cattle since he was a teenager. He and his siblings had mostly grown up here on the ranch, Mama babysitting them while their mother worked. Owen had known Sam for most of his life, and he knew Sam loved this land almost as much as he did.

His gelding, Ranger, a chocolate brown American quarter horse with a white stripe that started at his muzzle and stopped between his ears, was in his stall. Owen had had him for more than a decade. They were good friends.

“Hello, Ranger.” He reached over the stall door. Ranger nuzzled his fingers, looking for sugar cubes. “Sorry, old friend, nothing sweet today.” He opened the stall and bridled and saddled the horse. This was second nature to him, something familiar.

Some of the tension slipped out of him. This was what he needed. He swung up into the saddle, feeling more like himself than he had in days. It was easy to forget about everything else when he was on a horse.

He nudged Ranger into a trot, which turned into a gallop when they cleared the buildings and there was nothing but field in front of them. The herd should be in the western pasture, so he adjusted course and headed that way. He leaned low in the saddle, the wind whipping against his face, making his cheek sting.

The herd came into view, and he slowed Ranger, not wanting to race up to them like the devil was on his ass, without there actually being an emergency. He steered Ranger toward Sam, who was on his horse, directing a couple of the newer hands about what they needed to do. He wasn’t yelling exactly, but Owen could tell he was frustrated.

Owen trotted up next to him and pulled Ranger to a stop. Sam swung his horse around, a nasty scowl on his face.