Wednesday's Words: Sense, an excerpt from my current work in progress

    Welcome to #WednesdayWords where I share a snippet of a story using yesterday's word from the New York game, WORDLE. Yesterday's WORDLE was SENSE. 

Before Bailey’s arrival and strange proposition, I’d been considering dropping in on Hillary Hale and asking if she wanted to go riding. I had even considered taking Poncho out to the back thirty—the property where I’d found Bailey yesterday. But now, I wanted, maybe even needed, to be alone. Something that couldn’t happen in my dorm or the farm. I gathered up my backpack, not sure of where to go from here. Just two days ago on my twenty-first birthday, my parents had announced they were giving me property for a graduation present. Could I ask for property with a barn on it? A barn that Bailey wanted to rent?

Could this be the windfall I was hoping for? She could rent the property, and I could earn enough to update the farm’s online presence. Build a website. Set up a direct mailing system. Of course, I’d run my ideas past Dad a number of times, but he wasn’t interested.

We’re doing just fine, Dad insisted.

And maybe we were, but what if we could be doing great? I growled in frustration, and Sean, overheard.

Glancing up, Sean grinned. “Girl problems.”

“No,” I said through gritted teeth.

“So, that girl dropping in on you.” He cocked his head at the door Bailey had passed through. “She’s not giving you grief.”

“No,” I said, and the word came out harsh, much harsher than I had intended.

“So, can I ask her out?”

“No,” I said with even more force, even though Sean could ask out whoever he pleased, and Bailey, of course, was free to go out with whoever.

Just not Sean.

Not that I had anything against Sean. He seemed like a good enough guy. Rumor had it, he had a job lined up with Microsoft and if Bailey hooked up with him, she probably wouldn’t have to live in a barn with her niece and grandmother.

Why did she want to live in a barn, anyway?

I puzzled over this all the way to my car. Inside my truck, I went in the opposite direction of the Hale’s house, even though Hillary Hale was a very pretty girl with a brilliant mind and a royal fortune. I enjoyed her company, mostly, and whenever I needed a date to one thing or another, she was top on my list, but Hillary Hale would not appreciate my funk nor explain why Bailey living in a barn—my barn! should bother me. If I told her about it, she would laugh and maybe even turn her barbs and sarcasm on Bailey. She would never understand. I couldn’t make her understand—especially since I didn’t understand any of it myself.

All I knew was someday soon that barn would belong to me and Bailey wanted to camp out in it.

I revved the truck’s engine and pulled off campus, threading my way through the congested portion of the city and out into the comparatively empty highways, until at last I found myself in the suburbs.

Why not go back out to the barn? I tried arguing with myself. After all, I had just been there yesterday.

I began to look about and try to see things through Bailey’s eyes.

Most of the fields were green with spring. Pastel colors painted the horizon, and a few tall, lank trees sprouted blossoms. Dusk brought a chilly air, and, with the truck’s windows down, I drew in a long breaths.

Behind a copse of old willows, age-tall and hoary with weather, their extremities just hinting of green, as they stood knee-deep in the brook on its way to a larger stream, I caught sight of the old barn.

Was it habitable? I found it both regal and shabby. Substantial. I could see it just as Bailey had seen it, and something in me responded to her longing to live there and make it into a home. I pulled up beside the barn and got out.

The sun was just going down, touching the stones and turning them into a lustrous gold. I stood in the evening air, listening and looking. I could see the romance of it, and somehow I could see Bailey’s face as if she stood there beside him.

 She was right. It was beautiful, and it was a magic soul that could see it and feel what a home this would make in spite of its being nothing but a barn. Some dim memory, some faint remembrance, of a stable long ago, and the glory of it, hovered in the back of my mind, just beyond reach.

I went to the doors, practical, even if I was a dreamer. I tried the big padlock. Who locked this up and why? Was there anything to steal? How had Bailey gotten in? Would I be forced to break into my own barn?

I walked down the slope, around to the back, and found the entrance close to the ladder; but the place was dark within the stone walls, and I peered into the basement and took in the dirt and murk. She couldn’t live in this, could she? She wouldn’t want to, would she?

A crack looked toward the setting sun. A bright needle of light sent a shaft to pierce the inky shadows. Then I spotted a ladder. Had Bailey gone inside? And if so, if she could do it, so could I. The sense that she was stronger tickled at the edge of my confidence.

I got out my phone, flipped on the flashlight ap, and stepped into the gloom. Holding the flash-light above my head, I surveyed my property with a frown; then with the light in my hand, I climbed up the dusty rounds to the middle floor.

I stood alone in the center of the big barn, with the blackness of the hay-loft overhead, the darkness sliced by the flash-light and a few feebler darts from the sinking sun. A shudder ran through me.

Why live here?

Yet, that same feeling that Bailey had more nerve than me forced me to walk the length and breadth of the floor, peering into the dark corners. I climbed part way up the ladder to the loft and sent my flash-light searching through the dusty hay-strewn recesses.

Disgusted, I headed down the ladder, through the dingy basement, and out into the sunset.

The smell of damp grass enveloped me and it felt clean and pure after the barn’s dustiness.  The charm of the place stole back over me; and I stood and wondered about Bailey, Layla, and the Lady G. Where were Layla’s parents? Where were Bailey’s parents? Didn’t Layla have relatives on her father’s side? How would they feel about their granddaughter living in a barn?

Could I somehow make my barn habitable? What did I have to do? Because if it were in my power to help Bailey, Layla, and this Lady G person, I wanted to do that.

At dinner that night I brought a few pieces of the puzzle to Dad. "Did Grandpa Haywood ever live out on the old Glenside Road?"

"Sure!" he said, putting down his fork. "Lived there myself when I was a kid. I can remember rolling down a hill under a great big tree, and your Uncle Billy pushing me into the brook that ran at the foot. We boys used to wade in that brook, and build dams, and catch little minnows, and sail boats. It was great. I used to like to go out and stay at the farmhouse. After your mother and I married, we rented it out to a prepper; but his wife was a hoot, and made the best apple turnovers for us kids—and doughnuts! The old farmhouse burned down a year or so ago. But the barn is still standing. I can remember how proud your grandfather was of that barn. It was finer than any barn around, and bigger. We boys used to go up in the loft, and tumble in the hay; and once when I was a little kid I got lost in the hay, and Billy had to dig me out. I can remember how scared I was when I thought I might have to stay there forever, and have nothing to eat."

I leaned forward and propped my forearms on the table. "You said I can have an acre when I graduate. Would you mind if I have that old barn in my share? Can we arrange it? The others won't care, I'm sure." 

Dad blinked at me. "I guess that could be fixed up. Although, you haven’t graduated yet.”

“It’s two months away.”

“Geez. Time flies. Seems like you were just starting kindergarten.” Dad returned to his steak. “See Mr. Dalrymple about it. He'll fix it up. Billy's boy got that place up river, you know. Just see the lawyer, and it’ll be a done deal. No reason in the world why you shouldn't have the old place if you care for it. Not much in it for money, though, I guess. The property's way down out that direction now."

The conversation turned to my plans for grad school, and I didn’t mention Bailey or my visit to the old barn. Instead, I took Dad’s advice, and saw the family lawyer, Mr. Dalrymple, the first thing in the morning.