13. Leo

CHAPTER 13

Leo

Dear Giana,

How’s my pretty girl? If I start this letter by saying I miss you, it’s not enough. The word miss doesn’t do justice to how I feel. Each day that passes since we’ve been apart is too long. It feels as if I’m walking around with only half of a heart since the other half is in Maple Ridge.

I’m counting down the minutes until we can be together again. I don’t think it will be much longer. Dad is getting regular therapy and his movement to his left side is improving. It doesn’t look like he’ll be taking care of the cattle anytime soon, but I still remain hopeful.

Mama has been trying (and failing, I must add) to set me up with girls at the church. It’s downright irritating. Maybe it will take her attending our wedding before she accepts our relationship. At least she stays busy with her annoying friends and charities.

My little brother, Marco, and sister, Sara, stay busy with their studies and help where they can around the farm. Sara has a horseshow in Tennessee in a few weeks, and she’s asked me to go. I told her if I’m still here, I’d be tickled to attend. But between you and me, I’m hopeful in a few weeks’ time, I’ll be holed up in our cabin with my favorite person.

My heart aches without you, Sugar. Until I can be home, I love you. Forever and ever.

Love, Leo

I t’s been five weeks since I’ve been back on the family ranch in Texas. Not a moment goes by that I don’t think about Giana. I close my eyes and imagine being back in Maple Ridge with her. We send letters and talk on the phone every Sunday afternoon. Despite Mama’s attempts at tearing him down, Dad is getting stronger each day.

The divorce has been put on hold. I don’t think either of them has the strength for it. Dad because of his stroke and Mama because of the rumor mill in town. A woman divorcing her husband while he’s recovering from a stroke doesn’t necessarily scream Southern socialite.

Sara’s horseshow in Tennessee is this weekend. She’s excited I’m traveling with her. While I’m happy to support her, I hadn’t planned on coming at all. I had hoped I’d be back in Maple Ridge before now.

But Dad isn’t quite ready to run the ranch. And besides him and I, none of the other employees know how. That leaves me the responsibility.

Marco isn’t old enough to take it on. Having him hold down the fort for the weekend while I’m in Tennessee with Mama and Sara is already expecting too much from him. But I’m only looking forward to the end of the weekend. When I get to have my weekly call with Giana.

Dear Giana,

The only thing getting me through our months apart is thinking about being back at the cabin with you. But as each day passes, that dream feels like nothing more than that. A dream. Since my dad fell off the horse and broke his hip while we were at Sara’s horseshow, I’ve been overloaded with work at the ranch.

Even with physical therapy, doctors aren’t sure if my dad will walk again. Training Marco to take over the ranch will take months. The whole situation is unfair.

Here we are again, it seems. Talking about life not being fair. I’d give anything to see you. To hold you in my arms. To touch you. To taste you.

When I get to Maple Ridge (after laying the biggest kiss on your perfect lips, of course), we’re going to the Freeze Hut for a double scoop of rocky road. Make sure Pete doesn’t eat it all up before I get back.

Until then, I’m holding you in my heart, Sugar.

Love, Leo

“ D amn it, Marco,” I huff, climbing off the horse and patting my hands across my thighs.

“Y’all are as impatient as a hungry newborn calf,” Marco fires back.

I tear off my cowboy hat and scrub a hand over my face. “It’s like you’re not even listenin’ to me.”

“Maybe because all you do is yell.” Marco hops off his horse. “You remind me an awful lot like Dad.”

The remark is like a sucker punch to my gut. It’s intended as an insult, and we both know it. I readjust the hat back on my head and bring the horse into his stall, latching the door closed behind him.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay?”

Marco doesn’t look up, just watches the toe of his boot as he digs it into the dust beneath it. “This situation isn’t ideal for me neither, I hope y’all know.”

I exhale a breath. “I know. I’m really trying to be patient and teach you the best way I know how.”

He looks up and nods. “I know.”

I bring Marco’s horse into her stall next. “What do ya say we take a break and go into town and grab some ice cream?”

“Make it a beer and I’m in.” Marco gives me a hopeful waggle to his brows.

“Not a chance in hell, little brother.” Hooking my arm around his neck, I wrestle him playfully, and he resists, chuckling.

“C’mon, I only got ten more months.”

The mention of his age reminds me of how long I’ve been here. It’s nearly Thanksgiving. One of my and Giana’s phone conversations a few weeks ago was about the upcoming holiday. She said Uncle Jim invited us to join their family for dinner. But I’m quickly realizing that’s yet another thing to add to my list of Never Gonna Happen.

Marco’s age also reminds me he’s almost old enough to join the service and help the fight in Vietnam if he wanted. Shit. He’ll be old enough to go even if he doesn’t want to. All over the news, they’re talking about the war and the likelihood of a draft. Between Marco and I, Mama cries at church every Sunday over the possibility.

Most of the time, I try not to think about the war. It’s the worry in the pit of my stomach that I won’t ever get back to Maple Ridge that keeps me awake at night. The worry that these so-called “family obligations” will consume the rest of my life.

Suddenly my view of the world shrinks. Time on this earth diminishes. And a measly ten months feels like nothing. Sharing this with my brother feels like what’s most important right now.

“Ya know what?” I tip the brim of my cowboy hat as we head back toward the farmhouse. “How ’bout we do get those beers instead.”

“Yeah?” Marco’s brows lift.

“Yeah.”

“All right,” Marco says excitedly, pumping a fist in the air.

“Just don’t tell Mama. Or your ass is grass.”

“I swear. Takin’ it to the grave.”