You Shouldn't Have Come Here(7)

“That’s actually really good.” She happily scooped up another spoonful.

“I told ya so. You’ve gotta trust me.” I chuckled.

We ate quietly for a few minutes. The only sound was our spoons clanking against the bowls.

“So, you said you don’t eat stuff like this. What do ya eat?” I asked, breaking the silence.

“Normal stuff.”

“Oh, so I’m not normal?” I teased.

She laughed and told me that wasn’t what she meant.

“I’m just joshing ya.” I smiled.

There was another silent period for a few minutes. It was like neither of us knew what to say, or perhaps we were both being cautious with our words.

“Tell me about yourself, Grace,” I said, leaning back in my chair.

She took a swig of her beer and looked at me, her blue, blue eyes fixated on mine. It was the only way I knew how to describe those eyes of hers. Blue, blue.

“What do you want to know?”

“Everything, but let’s start with, what do you do for a living?” I folded my arms in front of my chest.

“I work in banking,” she said matter-of-factly.

“Impressive.” I took another drink, and she nodded.

“Your turn. What about you, Calvin Wells? What do you do for a living?” She cocked her head.

I liked the way she said my full name. “I do a lot of things. Farming, Airbnb, gardening, odd jobs here and there. Anything to keep me busy and to keep this ranch afloat.”

She leaned back, matching my posture, and took another drink of her beer. “Admirable.”

“Why Wyoming?” I asked.

“Why not?” She shrugged.

I raised an eyebrow, letting her know I wasn’t satisfied with her answer. The corner of her lip perked up.

“It’s silly, really,” she said.

“I like silly. Hit me with it.”

Grace took a swig of her beer. When her gaze met mine again, she spoke. “Every year, I close my eyes and throw a dart at a map of the United States. Wherever it lands, that’s where I go for vacation.” Her cheeks flushed like she was embarrassed or something.

“That’s not silly at all. It’s like fate.” I let on a small smile. “But why do it that way though? Why not pick a place you really want to go? Heck, you could be in California or Hawaii right now, lying up on a beach with a pi?a colada in your hand. Not here in Dubois, Wyoming, eating beans and hot dogs with me.” I chuckled.

She laughed too but then got a little serious. Her blue, blue eyes flickered, and she let out a sigh.

“My life is very routine. Everything is planned and planned again. Every minute of my day is scheduled. This gives me freedom in a way.” Grace tilted her head.

I drank my beer and nodded. “I can relate to that. I had that freedom prior to taking over this ranch. Now everything that lives on it depends on me.”

“Why’d you give up the freedom?” she asked.

It wasn’t a question I wanted to answer. I didn’t like talking about what brought me back, but I figured Grace was the type of woman that would get the answer one way or another.

“Had to. My parents passed away so I moved back about a year and a half ago to take over the ranch.”

Grace swigged her beer. What thoughts were running through her head? In under an hour, she had learned three people close to me had died, and they all had lived on this ranch. Almost seemed as though it was cursed. At least that’s what the folks around town said. If I were her, I’d run for the hills before this land swallowed her up too.

“That must have been tough,” she said, folding in her lips.

“Yeah, it was.”

We sat in silence for a few minutes again. It seemed both Grace and I were comfortable with silence. Most people weren’t. They had to fill it with words. What they didn’t realize is a person could say so much more by not saying anything at all. She took another drink, and when she set the bottle down, it echoed, signaling it was empty. I considered offering her another but it was getting late, and I figured I should wrap this up before she asked me any more about my family or my past.

“I must ask: Was picking my ranch random too, or did you throw a dart at the Airbnb website?” I teased but I was serious. I wanted to know if this was fate too, or maybe not fate, maybe a part of the curse.

“No,” she said with a half smile. “I picked this place, Calvin.”

I smiled back and grabbed both our empty bowls, bringing them to the sink. I was happy to hear it was Grace’s decision to come here. There are so many things that are decided for us. We don’t choose where we’re born, who we’re born to, how our parents raise us, what values they instill in us, or even how long they’re a part of our lives. I hate that part of life, not having any control over it. It smacks you right in the face whenever it wants, and you’re just expected to take the hit and carry on.

I glanced over at Grace while I washed up the rest of the dishes. She look tired and was staring off at the patio door, almost as though she were in a trance or something.

I shut off the sink and dried my hands.

“Well, I gotta get up early. Cows aren’t going to milk themselves.”

Grace stood and tossed her empty bottle into the trash can.

“I’ll have coffee in the pot for ya in the morning. And I’ll leave the bread and peanut butter out in case you want a little something to eat.”