“Not completely. I’d say you’re quite lucky I came by when I did. Sometimes we don’t get more than ten cars passing by on this road in a day.” Grady chuckled with a smile as he angled the Chevy up the long road, pocked with gravel-filled holes that ricocheted off the undercarriage of the vehicle. It sounded like BB’s hitting a tin can. The last thing Adam needed to worry about was this truck breaking down too, so Grady flipped the radio dial and let the warbling of Johnny Cash drown out the plinking and plunking.
“Is it safe for me to leave my car back there?” Adam half-shouted over the noise. “On the side of the road like that?”
“My buddy and I will go back and get that tire changed after I drop you off at the Friar’s,” Grady said, hoping to quell a little of Adam’s worry. Leland’s uncle owned the only auto shop in Riverburn and had spare tires coming out of his ears. It wouldn’t cost them more than sweat to get the job done. “Not that I think anything will happen if you leave it longer. Though there is a saying around here: Trust your neighbor, but brand your cattle.”
Adam’s shoulders popped up with a hearty laugh. “Understood.”
Grady liked the guy. They were different, sure, but Adam appreciated his humor and seemed genuinely grateful for the ride. What Grady didn’t like was the nagging in his chest that told him it was Maren the man was planning to see. Grady had no claim to her anymore—never had, really—but this man beside him had all of the qualities she seemed to want, or at least all of the qualities she strived to find.
Grady assumed Adam to be a smart man, mostly based on the clothes he wore and the air in which he carried himself. Of course clothing was not an indicator of one’s IQ, but he was put together in a way that hinted at a job requiring some set of skills. This man was on a different level, and that fit. Maren had always been on a different level, too.
“This is the address?” Adam’s eyes bugged out as Grady turned onto the long dirt drive. It was an impressive sight, that was certain, and even though Grady lived just on the other side of the hill and saw this view nearly every day, it never did get old.
Thick wooden logs rose out of the ground, and a long flank of timber with “Friar Ranch” carved into its surface stretched out between them. On either side of the drive were rows of fencing that wove up the mountain like the meandering slither of a snake. The Friar home wasn’t expansive, but still notable all the same. All sides were wrapped in a porch whose pickets were painted bright white, a match to the twin rockers that sat upon it. The siding was pale yellow and the pitched roof was covered in wooden shake shingles.
It felt as much like home to Grady as his ranch that shared the adjoining property line.
“Wow. Even more impressive than the pictures,” Adam gaped. “This really is God’s country, isn’t it?”
Reaching his hand across the cab, Grady slapped it to his passenger’s shoulder in camaraderie. “Glad to see an outsider can appreciate that well-established fact.” Adam grinned and as much as Grady tried to find fault with the guy, he couldn’t. “I know it’s not any business of mine, but you mind me asking what business you’re seeing to here?”
It was bold—probably intrusive—but the part of Grady that needed to know won out over the part that cautioned him to just let it be.
“Just checking in on something.”
Grady let that cryptic response serve as his warning. He’d overstepped.
“Understood,” Grady laughed, but it was flat and fake.
Grady didn’t have plans to pull all the way up to the house—he couldn’t risk getting that close—so when the turnout to the barn came up along their left, he angled the Chevy into the open space.
He let the truck idle and nodded toward the Friar residence. “I’ll pick up my buddy and get that tire taken care of. Want me to swing by and get you once we’re done?”
“Any idea how long that will be?” Adam asked. He flipped down the passenger visor, probably looking for a mirror, but when he didn’t find one, snapped it back up. He ran a hand through his dark hair.
“One hour, tops.”
“That should be perfect.” Adam’s hand shot across the cab. “Thanks again, Grady.” This handshake was decent; not completely floppy. “Let me know what I owe you for the tire.”
“Nope.” Grady swung his head side to side. “Not the way we work around here. No favors, no debts. We’re all repaid for our actions one way or another in due time.”
“The more time I spend here, the more I think I could see myself making Riverburn a permanent address. Maybe I should take a closer look at the real estate market.”
Grady didn’t like that idea. His mind ran through a list of all the reasons Riverburn was a terrible place to live, but it was a short list and wouldn’t do much to convince Adam to stay away.
Grady also had a feeling the more time Adam spent with any of the women living in that house, the greater his list of reasons to stay would grow. If there was one thing he had learned, it was that things were entirely out of his control when it came to the Friars.
11
Maren
Adam looked uncomfortable. He forked at his slice of pie like he was designing a needlepoint pattern in the flaky crust. Maren was surprised when he’d called to ask to meet her at the diner, wondering how he’d even gotten her number. He was several years older, and nothing about their earlier interaction on the train indicated any sort of romantic interest from either party.
Shoveling a helping of apple pie into her mouth, Maren cocked her head to the left and narrowed her eyes, willing Adam to give her something she could work with.
“Can I get y’all anything else?” Kiley Swift’s words snapped Maren from her futile attempts at telepathy. Kiley’s belly pressed into the table’s ledge and her apron wore grease prints right at the roundest point. If Maren knew Kiley better, she would’ve pressed her hand to that stomach in the hopes that the baby would kick at the same serendipitous moment. It was some inexplicable, maternal instinct. “Tea? Coffee?”
“I’m good. Just the check, please,” Maren answered.
Kiley winked and shuffled to the cash register in the way pregnant women waddled, as though she had to keep that baby from popping right out and onto the checkered linoleum floor.
Maren knew things had been hard for her, unwed and pregnant in a stifling, small town. Rumors exchanged lips without regard for her feelings or privacy. Maren had her suspicions about who the father was—they all did. But, she also just couldn’t let her mind go there. It did awful things to her heart.
Once Kiley was out of earshot, Adam looked up from his half-eaten dessert. It was as though his words were playing tug-of-war with his mouth. Finally, the words won. “Maren, I wasn’t completely honest with you about why I’m here.”
“I didn’t ask you,” she offered.
“No.” He smiled, but it felt disingenuous. It fell just as quickly as it appeared. “You haven’t, but you deserve to know.”
“Your business isn’t any of mine, Adam. We hardly know each other.”