“There’s nothing to talk about.” There really wasn’t. Whatever I felt for Harmony, whatever life changes she inspired in me, whatever future I wanted to share with her, was totally inconsequential. Nothing could be done about any of it.
“Oh now, that’s where you’re wrong. You’ve been sourer than milk sittin’ out on the porch in the middle of July for the last few weeks. And I get it. Harmony makes you crazy. Always has, always will. And it seems from your sunny disposition this past week that it’s reaching critical mass.
“But, son, answer me this: what did you think was going happen when you finagled the situation so the two of you would be working side by side on a project that you’ve been working on for over four years? And haven’t told anyone about? And is the closest thing you have to a child?”
My mom was right about one thing. Reed Ranch, or I guess now Reed Rescue Ranch, was my baby. When I’d decided that I wanted to start a camp to help kids, that came from tough home situations, or that were headed down the wrong path, I hadn’t shared my plans with anyone. For years I’d researched both success stories and failures. Gone over liability, insurance, permits, and cost. Done all my due diligence until I was ready to move. Then, a few months ago, all the pieces had finally fallen into place and I told my parents.
I found the perfect property. My aunt and uncle had agreed to being the caretakers and running the day-to-day operations. And now, they’d also agreed to include caring for the rescued animals that would be there year-round.
The idea for the new direction had come from watching Harmony with Romeo, from afar of course, this week. Watching her nurturing side shine in the way she talked to him, cared for him, and protected him like a mother bear. Feeling the unconditional love that she had for him radiate from her even when he chewed up a post she was working on, or dug up a flower she’d just planted. And, most importantly, listening to her open up to him about her fears, her worries, and her anxiety. It seemed to me people could talk to dogs about things they didn’t trust discussing with people.
Harmony always presented herself as a tough girl. A girl who wasn’t scared of anything. A girl who could take on the world and not break a sweat. And that definitely was one side of her. But that was just the surface. Beneath the hard shell was a soft, sensitive underside that no one got to see.
Hell, I’d only seen it because I’d been watching so closely when she didn’t think anyone was. In my experience, both in my professional and personal life, people really showed their true colors when no one was watching. Harmony had shown me who she was, the real her, over and over again.
The first time, I’d overheard her confronting three fifth-grade boys when she’d discovered they were bullying a disabled boy in her first grade class. I’d been in middle school at the time and had only been at the elementary school to pick up my brothers.
She’d stalked across the asphalt to where the boys were playing basketball and interrupted their game by grabbing the ball and giving them a piece of her mind. At first they didn’t take her seriously. They’d teased her and asked if she was going to run and get her brothers for back up. I’ll never forget the look on the boys’ faces when she calmly and confidently explained that she didn’t need to get her brothers to kick them all in the nuts, which was what she was going to do if she ever found out they’d picked on the boy in the wheelchair again. When one of the boys stepped up to her and said that he would do whatever he wanted and wasn’t scared of a girl, Harmony took two steps forward, a large grin on her face and proceeded to lift her knee straight into the kid’s balls.
He dropped to his knees, and his friends had to help him off the court. They were in a hurry to get away with their manhood intact. She stood tall until they were out of sight, then when they were gone she let out a breath, bent over, and put her hand on her stomach. That was the first time Harmony Briggs snuck into my heart. There was so much vulnerability in her strength and I couldn’t help but admire her bravery.
Then there was the time that she’d been cast as Mary in the Easter play at church when she was twelve. I remembered it because I was cast as Joseph and, as disappointed as I was to have to play such a pivotal role in the performance, she had the polar opposite reaction. That was the role every girl coveted and only a few ever got. But Harmony never got to experience it because the night of the production she was “sick” and her understudy Isabella Conner, who was dating my friend and Cara’s brother Colton, filled in.