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Rio’s fingertips were buried in soil - in fact, the better half of each forearm was caked in the stuff. Though the other woman would’ve wrinkled her nose at the thought, it reminded her a little of Agatha. Its deep, vivid shade of brown brought the soft wave of her girlfriend’s walnut-coloured tendrils of hair to mind. The dirt’s pleasant, earthy smell was something she wished she could bottle and keep, for the sole reason that it reminded her of one of Agatha’s many scents. Not the carefully-selected perfume she wore, or the cherry-like smell that lingered on her clothing, but the scent of her during the early morning, before such formalities were necessary. The dewy feeling the dirt left between her fingers reminded her of Agatha’s laugh, every frame of it; how her lips would part and, for a split second, a delicious string of saliva would make itself clear between them, the rich, thrilling rumble of the laugh itself, plus the biting satisfaction that came with bringing out that side of Agatha. The wetness reminded her of other things, too…
Rio snapped out of her daze as she looked up at Sharon, who was looking at her expectantly. She thought for a moment, trying to recall anything the older woman had said within the past five minutes, and drew a resounding blank.
“Sorry, I didn’t sleep too great last night. What was the question?” she asked, smiling politely. She was eager to cover up her Agatha-induced daydream - talking Sharon out of the idea that somebody had broken in late at night, while simultaneously not tipping her off to the fact she’d been huddled in the toolshed with Agatha, had been a tough enough feat.
Sharon giggled. “That’s all right - I know how difficult trouble sleeping can be, sweetheart. I brew a pretty great chamomile tea, if I do say so myself. You’re welcome to have some anytime.” She paused, getting herself back on track. “I was waiting for you to pass me the watering can.”
“Right! Sorry,” Rio replied, handing over the can and returning to her handiwork - weeding a flowerbed of petunias.
“Looking gorgeous so far. I wish I had your magic touch,” Sharon said, then gave Rio a steady look, far too prolonged to follow a simple compliment. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that.”
Rio didn’t know what it was exactly, but something about the look in Mrs Davis’s eye made her stomach drop. Like she knew an apologetic blow was headed her way before the gun had even been aimed. Like she had been blessed with the useless foresight that something truly terrible was coming. Fighting back the unprecedented urge to stumble backward, she gulped and voiced an apprehensive reply. “Yeah?”
“I’ve been thinking. You know I love this place more than anything,” Sharon began.
“I know. I love it, too.”
“Of course,” she said, nodding politely. “I just… I’m not getting any younger, you know? And I may be perfectly happy taking care of the ranch now, but it worries me not knowing if the same will be true in five years or so.”
“Well, that’s expected. I mean, you’re in your seventies. What you’re doing is incredible, but help wouldn’t hurt - I’m sure I could help you find some awesome ranch hands, and maybe you could limit the garden a little next season,” Rio suggested, her eyes glued to the weeds she was yanking from between the flowers’ leaves. Sharon had learned not to take offense when she appeared withdrawn like that; with Rio, this apparent disinterest actually meant she was more focused than usual.
“That’s very sweet of you, hon, but it’s not exactly what I’m getting at. I keep thinking of Todd. I know he adored this place even more than I did, but my mind keeps going back to what else we dreamed of. The places he promised we’d visit someday. I love this little corner of the world, and I’ve had a wonderful few decades here, but I’d like to discover another corner. Sip mojitos somewhere hot and sandy, or go exploring someplace. I don’t know. I just think I’d like to try something new.”
Rio drew in a deep breath, clawing onto the final shreds of denial. “What are you saying?”
“I think I want to sell the ranch - give it to somebody younger, more capable. I mean, it’s been in the back of my mind for a while now…” Her sentences stretched onwards, but Rio tuned them out involuntarily, her fists tugging the final few weeds from the soil.
Nope. Sharon’s astounding politeness hadn’t made the final blow any less deadly.
***
A pouty, displeased Rio was always a sorry sight - the expression she usually took on after losing a board game or being teased was enough to make Agatha’s brains turn to mush. Her disposition when she returned to the guesthouse, though, was something else entirely. Her face was splotchy, marred by the faint remainders of tear-tracks, and her brow was fixed in a permanent frown.
“Rio, sweetie?” Agatha asked gently, stepping aside so the other woman could enter the guesthouse and kick off her boots. “What’s going on?”
Rio didn’t reply, instead choosing to unlace her boots, suddenly interested in a worn patch of floorboard as she bent down. She stood once again, ready to curl up on the couch, when a dainty hand gently cupped her cheek.
“It’s…” Rio began to make an excuse but trailed off, instead opting to lean wordlessly into Agatha’s touch.
“You can talk to me. It’s all right,” Agatha murmured, her voice silky, her touch feather-light yet grounding, her forehead almost pressing against Rio’s. “What’s wrong?”
Rio opened her mouth, then closed it, unsure of where to begin. She’d done the same thing she had earlier with Agatha - fled the situation in a panic, leaving Mrs Davis bewildered and concerned, and retreated to a safe haven. Only this time it hadn’t been the lush, sprawling grounds of the ranch. “I- what’s so great about change?” Rio finally stuttered out, launching into a misery-loaded rant that even she hadn’t seen coming. “Don’t you think it’s overrated? I mean, I’ve been coming here for years, every vacation, and I fall in love with it more and more every time. I eat the same things a lot, I watch the same shows - and I’m happy. But she hits seventy-one and suddenly it’s all ‘ I wanna try something new’! Just, what the fuck is wrong with trying something you’ve done two hundred times before?” Rio paused, vaguely aware of the hot tears streaming down her cheeks, and Agatha finally cut in.
“Hey, it’s okay, love. Breathe. Take it slow. What happened? Who’s trying something new?”
Wilfully ignoring Agatha’s first few suggestions, Rio resumed her rant, her voice now a tearful rasp. “Sharon just told me she wants to sell the goddamn ranch. I just… that’s my ranch, Agatha! I’m here whenever I can get time off work, all of the animals love me and it’s quiet. It’s the only place in the world where I don’t have to spend my energy lying or nodding along with something I barely understand or putting on a brave face, and it’s fucking blissful. I-I don’t want that to go away.”
She looked up, expecting Agatha to draw back or tell her to cool off. Instead, the woman stepped closer and wrapped two comforting arms around Rio’s frame. The two of them stood in silence for a long time, punctuated only by Rio’s shaky, hiccupy breaths. When her hyperventilations finally began to subside, Agatha finally spoke.
“I understand why you’re upset, my love. I really do. I know what this place means to you - I’m so grateful you shared that with me, you know - and I understand why it’s so difficult that you might be losing it.” She squeezed Rio’s arm gently. “I want you to know that I think you unmasked is the most beautiful, full-of-life, joyful sight I could ever ask for. Whether you’re overexcited about the animals or slumped against my shoulder. I adore that side of you, and it breaks my heart that the way you’ve been treated has made you feel the need to suppress or mask it. And- and I’m not scolding you for that, I understand why you do, I promise. I just want you to know that you can always, always be like that around Nicky and I. No matter where you are. We adore every side of you, every little facet that makes you up, not just the parts that are more ’socially acceptable’.” Agatha spoke those final two words in a mocking tone, making air quotes with one hand, as if she thought the rules Rio had struggled to adhere to for years were the most bizarre, nonsensical thing in the world.
Rio nuzzled her face into the slight dip of Agatha’s shoulder, her final few tears seeping out. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I just- I’m afraid.”
“I know you are, love. I know,” she whispered softly, pressing gentle kisses to the crown of Rio’s head. They both grew aware of the steady plod of footsteps and looked up to see Nicky standing in the doorway.
“Rio!” he said, his eyes wide and full of worry. “I heard you crying. Are you okay, zorro ?”
Rio nodded, wiping her eyes hastily and shooting Nicky a reassuring grin. “I will be, hon. It’s just been a tough morning. But your mama did a pretty awesome job cheering me up.”
He brightened a little, handing Rio a plush penguin. “This is Oscar. You can hold him, if you want. He cheers me up.”
Rio was glad she’d had the time to compose herself a few minutes before; otherwise, Nicky’s sweet gesture would’ve reduced her even further to an inconsolable, sobbing mess. She took the penguin and gave it a grateful squeeze. “Thank you, love. That’s very sweet of you. Do you still wanna head out soon?”
“Head out where?” Agatha asked.
“Oh, I promised Nicky I’d take him to that lake we went to the other night. You can come, too - I meant to ask you.”
“I’ll grab my swimsuit,” Agatha confirmed. “Feels like you two are ganging up on me, though - making up nicknames for each other, planning trips. You’re closer with Rio than I am, sweetie,” she joked, tickling Nicky’s stomach.
“Mommy, I’m not a baby!” Nicky giggled, squirming away. “I call her zorro ‘cause it means fox in Spanish, and Rio is quiet like a fox. See?”
“Oh, of course!” Agatha said, miming a facepalm. “You guys really are too smart for me. Is that why I’m not in on the club?”
“It’s not a club, mommy!”
“Are you sure?” she asked, scooping Nicky up and making him giggle. “I mean, what’s next? The two of you start showing up in matching T-shirts?”
“Let me go pack. weirdo!” Nicky said between laughs, finally wrestling his way out of Agatha’s grip and heading to the bedroom to retrieve his suitcase. Agatha turned back to Rio.
“You know things are dire when your own son calls you a weirdo,” she joked, then tilted her head. “Hey, are you sure you’re okay to go out? Nicky will understand if you’d rather hang out with the animals or chill here. It’s up to you.”
“I’m fine,” Rio replied, her smile widening when she noted a glint of concern in Agatha’s eyes. “Seriously, love, I’m okay. A swim will help to clear my head, and seeing you with a soaking wet bikini clinging to your skin won’t hurt either.”
She elbowed Rio slightly. “I’ll have you know I packed a perfectly respectable one-piece.”
“No cleavage?” Rio pouted.
“Okay, there’s a little cleavage.”
“I’ll take it,” Rio smiled.
Forty-five minutes later Agatha lay on a plush towel at the riverside, watching Nicholas and Rio splash around in the water and snapping photos of the two of them. Nicky was a pretty good swimmer, considering his age, and he marvelled at the lake’s blueish shimmer along with the wildlife that surrounded it. Bringing him here had been a good idea on Rio’s part, Agatha mused as she watched him bob along the water like a baby fish.
The memories this place stirred up inside her - of that late-night escapade with Rio, and of rushing home, horny and overexcited - weren’t exactly unwelcome, either. Nicky had begun sleeping in the single bedroom sometimes, meaning Agatha usually took the double bed with Rio. They’d had sex twice since their date; good, whimper-inducing, hair-raising sex, without the soft, tentative awkwardness of their first time. And Agatha Harkness was not one to whimper.
Nicky grew tired of swimming eventually and, with Agatha’s permission, ran off to play among a small clump of nearby trees. The soothing weight of Rio’s head now rested in her lap, her damp two-piece swimsuit pressed up against Agatha’s warm skin.
“Feeling a little better?” Agatha checked, playing with a few wet strands of hair absent-mindedly.
Rio shrugged. “I think so. You and Nicky helped, definitely. I just can’t stop thinking about what Sharon said. Not even just because of what this place means to me - I just can’t stand the idea of the animals having to adjust to something completely new.”
“I get that,” Agatha replied, squeezing Rio’s hand. “But you know Sharon - she wouldn’t give this place to anybody. She’ll value making sure the ranch is in kind, capable hands rather than giving it up to the highest bidder.”
Rio gave a slow, steady nod. She had to agree with Agatha there - and though the worry from earlier that morning still festered in her stomach, she was grateful that her girlfriend had managed to reassure her a little. “I’ve gotta talk to her about it in detail at some point. It’s just hard, when I tear up every time I even think about losing this place,” she joked. She tried to lean into Agatha’s soothing touch, the lengths of her fingers gliding up and down Rio’s midsection, and to focus on her promise that everything would be okay, repeated over and over like a useless mantra.