But not just yet.
It’s weird because that’s what it feels like already. Like I need to roll up my sleeves and work alongside Ben to help him provide for everything.
To help provide for us.
“I love it, Ben. And I love you,” I remind him, gushing with enthusiasm, probably way over the top but I don’t care anymore.
I love the man and his house and I want to shout it from the rooftops.
“I’m glad you like it,” he echoes back. “I’m glad you like it…”
“Show me around, tell me everything,” I urge him, tugging at his huge hand with my own little one, begging him to show me around the whole house.
“It’s no Ranger Station,” he laughs, reminding me there are no deep stores of food, water, or even electricity.
“I don’t care,” I almost shout back at him, dragging him along, “I want you to show me everything,” I gasp, only craving more of Ben and the life I know we can have together from now on.
Hugging his huge arm like my life depends on it, I let him show me around the huge ranch home.
There are some rooms still under construction or re-construction as Ben calls it, but as he observes as we stroll around, “this place has held up better than the Ranger station, by a mile.”
“We could stay up here tonight,” he ventures, letting me know the bathroom and most importantly, the master bedroom are fully operational.
“But what about food?” I ask, noting his sly grin as he tries not to chuckle.
“I think I have a few things in the truck we can get by on,” he says mysteriously and finally laughs to himself as I realize his game.
“You planned to bring me here all along, huh?” I ask, feigning a little annoyance but in truth, I’d rather be here than the ranger’s station.
Anywhere with Ben is perfect though, and here is just so special already. I can feel it.
“You don’t mind it here though?” Ben asks a note of expectation, hope in his voice.
“I love it here,” I assure him. “And I love you,” I add, wondering if it’s really too soon for me to keep saying that.
“It means a lot when you say that,” Ben tells me, reading my thought before gripping me by the waist and drawing me close to him.
“Show me the rest,” I beg him, only wanting to have his arm around me while we walk, hearing how excited he is to show me the one place I know we truly belong.
Chapter Sixteen
Ben
The last person I expect to hear from is the state parks director. My boss.
Every ranger in the state’s boss. He’s also a buddy, or so I thought. But it’s hard to tell friends from regular folk now.
Anyone who’s trying to get between me and Stacey isn’t high on my list, and once I’m reprimanded for taking the weekend off? I let him have it both barrels.
Stacey looks worried and tells me not to throw everything I’ve worked for away for her sake. I guess she’s right.
I accept the boss’s call back and he agrees to let me have a day or two to get some rest.
“It’s been a trying few weeks, and yesterday was no picnic for any of us,” he tells me, breathing easier once he knows I won’t quit on him just yet.
“I’ll put your request for long service leave to the top of the pile, Ben,” he adds.
“I never—” I start to say, but I guess he’s not so bad after all.
“How long’s it been since you had a proper vacation?” he asks, sighing heavily again. “I’m sorry, Ben. We can’t afford to lose good men like you, it’ll take some doing, but after ten years of service, I think you’ve earned it. We can talk about it Monday or Tuesday. Pending Armageddon, I’ll leave you to yourself for the next forty-eight,” he adds, hanging up before I can say anything else.
At her request, I show Stacey around and feel everything else fall away once I realize she loves it up here as much as I do.
It’s really home for me, even though I’ve been here so little lately.
Home for both of us from now on, I’ve decided.
My little tour winds its way back to my truck and helping Stacey with her luggage, I have her help me by carrying the boxes of supplies I already packed from the Ranger’s station.
“Do you really think the storm’s passed?” she asks me, looking skyward before exploring the contents of her open box as we walk.
I still feel a chill in the heavy breeze, but no. I don’t think the hurricanes coming back.
“We’ve got a different storm coming,” I tell her, noting the sadness in my voice.
She makes a face and although I don’t want us to dwell on it, we both need to be realistic.