Chapter 1: Ayasha

“You would think the Queen of England was coming for a visit,” Ethan whispers in my ear.

Rolling my eyes, I watch Ola move around the breakfast table, arranging flowers in the intricately woven baskets she’s spent the better half of the last month creating. Ola is short for Olathe, which means beautiful. It’s a name I’ve called my grandmother for as long as I can remember. It fits the strong Native American woman who raised me.

With the chance at life I’ve been given, her heart of gold and quiet determination inspire me every day. I don’t know anyone who doesn’t adore her, including myself. Everyone admires Ola’s courage in taking on the responsibilities of the ranch. I never had the chance to get to know my mother or my grandfather. Ola and the inhabitants of the ranch are the only family I have.

I still remember the afternoon Ada Mae told me my grandparents’ love story while she hung clothes out back. I sat quietly in Gilligan’s lap, trying to shell peas with my small hands, though I wasn’t very good at it. Gilligan never minded. Ada Mae and Gilligan were the first people Wayward Ranch helped. Their only son got involved with drugs and lost everything they had worked for. With nowhere else to go, they came to us looking for work. Because of their age, Ola was the only one willing to give them a chance. She always said you should judge a person by their heart, and she was right. Ada Mae and Gilligan became part of my family, and I can’t imagine life without them.

Ada Mae is a wonderful storyteller. Even though she wasn’t there when my grandparents met, she pieced the story together from others in our small community. That wasn’t hard—our town is built on faith and plenty of front-porch gossip. I listened with purple-stained fingers as she told how my grandfather went to the nearby reservation to buy a horse and saw Ola for the first time. He was instantly taken with her. Their love became legendary in our small southern town, where prejudice is common.

Both families disapproved, but my grandfather was stubborn and convinced Ola to date him anyway. They kept their relationship secret, sneaking out at night to a special place they found on the Henderson Ranch. It wasn’t long before they fell deeply in love and decided to elope. After days of planning, they slipped away one afternoon and were married by a minister in their favorite spot in a place I now think of as my own.

Their families were angry, and years passed without anyone speaking. Ola made peace with her parents before they died, but my grandfather never reconciled with his brother, whose ranch borders ours. The Henderson Ranch land was divided, and a line was drawn.

The feud only grew.

Under the loving care of both my grandparents, our ranch grew and prospered. Despite the differences in culture and the family’s contention, Ola was known for her kindness. Folks were drawn to our ranch. It soon became successful as a working ranch and a haven for those lucky enough to find their way to the Henderson’s door.

Ada Mae smiled when she recalled times with Ola and her grandfather together. He was good-natured and humorous, while she was warm-hearted and quiet. My five-year-old self yearned to meet the man that everyone spoke so highly of, but a heart attack took him away before I had the chance.

The story that still circulates today recounts the strength of my grandparents’ love. A love so strong that Ola’s screams could be heard before grandfather was found in the fields he’d loved riding in. Even in death, their connection was strong.

I believe that. I still find Ola staring off into the distant fields some days or walking toward the family plot on the hill.

My mother, Rose, was born a year after my grandparents’ wedding. They named her after the flowers Ola favored. She was sixteen when my grandfather passed away, leaving Ola to raise a stubborn teen on her own while running the ranch.

People still found their way to Ola’s doorstep, and our ranch earned its name Wayward Ranch from all the “misfits” the town declared she took in. Over the years, our ranch maintained a significant portion of its income as a working ranch while the other portion was turned into a non-profit organization. It’s a halfway house for families of those in need and a summer camp/school for disabled children. Ola went to school and earned her PhD in Special Education. I believe her daughter, the ranch, and its residents saved her from dying of a broken heart.

“The centerpieces are perfect, Ola. I seriously doubt a crew of military men will take that much notice.”

“Your father will, my dear. I want everything to be just right.”

I start chopping the vegetables harder, taking out my frustration on the carrots and potatoes until they’re turning to mush. Then a hand covers mine. I look up and meet Ethan’s eyes. I sigh, put down the knife, and reach for the kitchen towel on my shoulder.

“What father, Ola? Aside from pictures, I have never met the man. I may share his last name, but he is not my father.”

Ola’s hands go still. Moving a chair from underneath the table, she gestures to the seat next to the one she now occupies.

“Come. Sit with me.”

I know that gesture well, and her voice is as recognizable as an old shoe. These tabletop conversations have been a custom throughout the years.

Carefully draping the towel on the drying rack, I walk over to the table and sit. Ola has to know it’s hard for me to let go of the anger I’ve been holding on to for so many years. After missing twenty-one years of my life, my father is popping in like this is an everyday occurrence. He has to know he’ll get the cold shoulder from me.

“Ola, this is a conversation I refuse to let you win.”

Lines appear on her weathered face as she tries not to smile. I watch her twist her apron in her hands—a nervous habit she has when she wants to avoid a topic. That makes me suspicious. Ola only gets nervous when she’s hiding something, and this isn’t the first time.

“I get the feeling you aren’t telling me something.”

“You are like your father in more ways than you will ever understand.”

I shake my head. I’m nothing like my father. Breathing slowly, I work hard to control my anger.

“I would never leave the ones I love.”

Ola lets go of her apron and grabs my hands in hers. She raises one hand to lift my chin, allowing our gazes to meet.

“Your mother understood your dad’s desire to save the world from the beginning. He loved being a rescue swimmer and his military career.”

“That’s no excuse.”

My gaze travels to the big bay window on the left side of the table. I notice some of the ranch hands unloading a truck full of feed. Ola has a heart of gold. She’s well-loved, and it seems impossible for her to feel hatred toward anyone. Her name fits. She’s beautiful from the inside out.

“How can anything, no matter how important a person’s career, overshadow your wife and child?”

She sighs. “Your dad always intended to return, but she would never answer his letters.”

Letters? I turn away from the window. There’s a deep sadness in Ola’s eyes that I can’t quite understand.

“She was my daughter, little one, and I know she loved him very much, so she asked him to leave.”

My mom asked him to leave. I glance at Ethan, hoping for answers, but he looks just as confused. He puts a hand on my shoulder, and I find comfort in his touch.

“Leave?” I whisper, my voice shaking. I hate that tremor. I don’t like showing weakness, not anymore. I’ve had enough of that, but now I have a bad feeling in my stomach.

She nods before reaching into her apron pocket and retrieving an envelope with Jonathan’s name written on the outside. I recognize my mother’s handwriting immediately. The envelope looks similar to the ones I’ve received on my birthdays.

“Your mother loved you and her Jonathan just as fiercely. She knew he was a free spirit. He loved her and adored her, and he was devastated when she asked him to go. She never gave him a reason. She just asked him to leave. Then she cried for days. She knew she could never travel with him, but she felt his restlessness growing daily. He tried to fit in on the ranch, but his heart belonged to the water, Ayasha, and your mother knew that. She didn’t want him to see her as frail or weak. It’s not how she wanted him to remember her.”

I did know. My heart aches for the mother I never got to have. Cancer does that—it comes in without warning and takes everything away. Ethan squeezes my shoulder, and I squeeze back. We’ve been friends forever. He’s like a brother to me and was one of the first kids Wayward Ranch took in. My mind is racing to keep up with what my grandmother is saying. That means he didn’t know my mother was sick. It also means...

“He doesn’t know, does he?”

She slides the envelope toward me and lets out a sigh. It’s still sealed, a letter that was never sent.

“No, he doesn’t know your mother’s gone.”

The room goes quiet. Ola glances around nervously, twisting her apron again. I suddenly feel sick and have to fight to keep the nausea down. I think I know what she’s about to say, but it still hits me hard.

“He also doesn’t know he has a daughter.”