I first met Jack Reynolds the day I moved into the large boarded up house on Hwy 87. My Grandfather Jonathan Summours had died in a car accident ten years earlier leaving my Grandmother Eleanor truly alone for the first time in her life and increasingly lonely as each year passed. My Dad's family had owned and successfully managed one of the larger ranches in that area and knowing how much the ranch had meant to my Grandfather and my Dad, Grammy had stayed in the house, determined to make it work. Running the business was difficult at first, but with the help of her neighbor and old friend Jack Reynolds, she was able to keep it operating and more importantly profitable.
Grammy passed away almost a year ago, and since then, the house had been vacant.
I remembered the house from my childhood and the many wonderful summers that my cousins and I had spent running through the house, playing in the yard, fishing and swimming in the large pond behind the house. I would never forget the delicious summer barbeques and large, noisy family gatherings; it was a very special place, and I had to admit that my Grandmother leaving the house to me came as an unanticipated surprise.
At the time of her death, I was in the midst of a terribly unhappy marriage. I suppose a divorce was inevitable, but I still held out hope that my then husband Martin and I could save our marriage, and the last thing on my mind was moving south and taking on the responsibility of an old house. A year went by, and the fighting, yelling, and animosity continued. Finally, I had had enough. Fortunately, Martin wanted out as much as I did and the divorce proceeded without any major problems. As soon as it became final, Martin bought me out of my share of our house; I packed up my things, loaded them into my car and started driving. After almost three days on the road, I pulled into the winding driveway of the house that held so many memories.
I sat there behind the wheel and without knowing quite why I began to cry. Maybe it was thinking about Grammy; maybe it was the final release of tension from the divorce. Hell, maybe it was just the realization that a new door was opening for me.
As I sat there blubbering, a loud but measured tapping on the driver's side window pulled me from my momentary funk, and I looked up to see a big, tall man wearing a cowboy hat. Standing next to the car with an aggressively impatient expression on his sharp featured, leathery face his fist came down hard on the roof of the car. I sat there silently staring at him until he began tapping on the window again.
"Hey! You can't stop here. What do you want?" he shouted in a loud, gruff voice.
Now angry and refusing to let him intimidate me, with all my strength I pushed the car door open, forcing him to step back and I got out of the car.
"My name is Miranda Summours . . . I own this place. Who the hell are you?" I demanded, indignation dripping from each word.
A look of surprise momentarily flickered across his face before being replaced with a stern no nonsense demeanor. The man was about forty with thick dark hair that was just beginning to gray. Hard bodied, broad shoulders, flat muscled stomach and slim hips, he towered over me. The man took a step toward me, coming so close I felt as if he were about to pin me to the car door. So close, I could smell the faint scent of fading cologne, tobacco, and sweat that clung to him.
"So, you're Miranda?" He asked, taking in my body in a slow lecherous scan that made me feel vulnerable and exposed.
"My name's Jack Reynolds; I was good friends with your Dad when we were growing up and got closer to his parents, your grandparents after he went off to college and moved away."
He was standing too close, practically leaning over me now.
"I spent a lot of time working for your Grandmother after her husband died, coming by here checking on her, helping her run the ranch. She talked about you often. I caught a glimpse of you at her funeral, but we didn't get a chance to talk. I was surprised when you didn't show up to claim the house. When I realized the house was going to be left vacant, after a while I came by and decided it was better to board it up, you know, to keep the animals and vagrants out."
I squirmed away from him, my breast brushing hard across his chest as I did so.
"Well, thank you for being there for her," I began before realizing that he was staring at my chest. I glanced down and saw to my chagrin my nipples were standing hard and erect under my thin blouse, my involuntary excitement obvious. Blushing with embarrassment, I turned abruptly and headed for the house.
*****
Unlocking the front door, I entered and stood in the foyer silently looking about the lower floor, flooded by long ago memories of a happy childhood, spent with loving grandparents. The quiet of the moment was interrupted when Jack came up behind me and stood so close I could feel the warmth of this body.
"The house is yours," he said in a matter of fact tone.
"It's going to take some work to get it back in shape after being empty for so long, he added, but I'll have a couple of the boys come over to help you out until you're settled in."
"Thank you Mr. Reynolds, but you don't have to . . ." I began nervously before he dismissed my objection with a wave of his hand.
"Well, thank you anyway," I said as he walked away and headed back to his truck.
That was our first meeting.
