I can’t feel that with my original family. Not that strongly, anyway. Because of my faith, I believe they are in Heaven, right alongside Helen, but the bond fades a little more every year. Probably because I’d spent so long blocking their memories out.
My eyes don’t water up with grief anymore over losing Helen, my adoptive mom. We had a good, full life together, and she was in a lot of pain from the cancer at the end. It was a blessing when she slipped away, clutching my hand in hers.
But, God, I miss her so much. The woman who is personally responsible for all I am today.
The woman who actually saved my life, then built it into something that was far greater than I ever could have imagined based on where I’d come from.
In the distance from the direction of the main ranch house, the dinner bell clangs. Smiling, I push up to my feet. Raul loves ringing that damn thing, even though he could have just as easily sent me a text to tell me to come on in and eat.
“Okay, Nënë… His Lordship is calling for my presence at the supper table,” I say, not the least bit abashed by talking to her grave. “Sorry I can’t stay longer, but really… not much more to report. I’ll come back in a few days.”
I get no response besides a slight breeze from the west. Is it her answering me? Who knows, but I like to think so.
“Love you,” I say before turning and heading to the Gator.“Wash your hands,” Raul orders me as soon as I walk into the kitchen. He’s stirring taco meat in a pan, and I can smell fresh corn shells roasting in the oven. On the counter, several spice bottles are lined up, because Raul would rather die than use pre-packaged stuff.
I head to the sink and give my hands a good scrub, my stomach rumbling with hunger. For lunch, I had a package of peanut butter and cheese crackers, and nothing for breakfast prior to that. I wouldn’t be having this meal of tacos and what looks like charro beans in a pot on the stove if it weren’t for Raul.
I’m terrible at cooking, and I’m a sucker for anything that comes in a convenient package. In addition to managing the ranch, Raul has taken it upon himself to get at least one home-cooked meal in me per day if he can manage it.
At first, I’d thought to complain about it because he does so much for so little anyway, but then I realized… Raul has an empty home. His wife died years ago, and all his kids have moved away. If he doesn’t eat with me, he would be alone in one of the small staff cabins on the land. That’s a sadness I don’t want to bear.
“Grab us a few beers,” he says as he turns the stove off and grabs a pot holder.
I do as he asks because an ice-cold beer after a long day of work is always the best-tasting kind. Raul pulls the hot corn shells out of the oven, placing them on the Formica counter. After I open the beers and put them on the tiny kitchen table, I move to accept a plate from Raul that he’d pulled out of the cupboard.
I load up three tacos with the meat, beans, and freshly grated cheddar Raul has in a bowl. He never bothers with lettuce and tomato, but I spoon on some green tomatillo sauce he made. My mouth waters slightly in anticipation.
Raul had worked this ranch long before I bought it at auction with the help of my mother. It was here that I had my very first riding lessons from none other than Raul himself when I was twelve. He was a gentle and patient teacher, and he curated a love for horses within me. It was a special outlet for me, where I could be free from my horrible memories of the time before Helen rescued me.
When I bought the ranch, it was only done with the promise by Raul that he would stay on and help me with my vision to use horses as a means of healing. Not like he had anywhere to go. He’s sixty-seven and most employers think that’s too old, but frankly… I couldn’t do any of this without him.
At the table, the only sound is the crunch of tacos and the occasional slurp of beer. Eventually, Raul asks, “What’s the deal with the new client?”
He knows I can’t tell him any details about my counseling with Tacker, but that hasn’t even begun yet. I shrug. “He’s not talking yet, so I put him to work in the stalls.”
Raul chuckles. “That usually gets their gums flapping.”
“He noticed my accent,” I say as I pick up my beer bottle.