“Living in the moment is not about perfection, my son. Life is meant to be messy and challenging. It is our privilege to free our thoughts, sort through the chaos, and take what survives to bring us closer to our destiny. Our path is never-ending. Imperfections will challenge us, break us, and in the end, make us whole.”
I could hear her words like a soft whisper in the wind as I covered the page with inked thoughts and sacred memories.
Moments later, the sound of footsteps approaching jerked me from the depths of my thoughts. I slammed my notebook closed and shoved it into the back pocket of my jeans. With a whip of my head, I turned to find the one person I’d made it my goal to stay away from. She was walking up the path with her eyes pointed down.
Camila was clearly young, yet she was a fierce little thing that knew too much. I pinched my eyebrows together in a glare to warn her to stay away from both me and Harold’s farm. She had no business trespassing time and time again. I’d done her a favor by looking the other way, but I wouldn’t do it again.
“Go away, Wild One.”
My voice must have surprised her, because she stopped in her tracks, and her little eyes widened on me. Wild One was a nickname I’d given her after her mountain-biking incident the day before. The way she didn’t even flinch at the gun I’d aimed at her combined with the way she’d hopped back on that bike after falling showed that the girl clearly had no regard for her own life.
Staring back at her, I couldn’t help but get caught up in her eyes. They were the color of springtime in the cornfields when the stalks were green and lively, and glimpses of golden kernels peaked through the leaves, just like the golden swirls in her eyes. The caramel tone of her skin only heightened the contrast of them, and after just one meeting with her, I knew better than to fall for the innocence of her expression.
A moment later, a fierce stare transformed her face. “This is public land,” she said. “You can’t tell me to go away. Besides, I showed you this hilltop. And—” Her expression changed again but to confusion. “I thought we were friends.”
I chuckled at her absurd comment. Not only was she bold, but she was also clueless in her assumption. “Friends? Why would you think that?”
“We ran through the fields together, you were laughing, and—” She searched my gaze as if something were missing and she was determined to find it. “You helped me after my fall yesterday.”
“What was I going to do? Leave you gasping for air?”
She looked lost, and something in my chest twitched at being the cause of her disappointment. I wasn’t a bully, but I sure felt like one.
“You’re a Bell,” I said finally, as if that would explain it all. I kind of thought it might.
She folded her arms across her chest and glared. “And what about it?”
“Our parents aren’t friends.”
“Doesn’t mean we can’t be.”
I laughed again, adjusting my position on the tree to get a full view of her. She looked taller than I remembered from just the day before as she stood there in her green sundress and worn, dirty white sneakers.
“Why do you want to be my friend so badly, anyway, huh? You don’t even know me.”
Her jaw hardened, and she jerked her chin up before she spoke. “I dunno. Maybe I don’t like keeping enemies. And even if I did, it’s better to keep your enemies close. Isn’t that what they say?”
I nodded. Her intentions were pure. Just one look at her showed her innocence and curiosity. She might not have been a direct threat to me, but if either of our parents caught us together, that could change really fast. Her friends didn’t seem to care for me much either.
“We don’t have to be enemies, Camila. But I think you know why friendship is out of the question. Besides, you’re just a little girl. You should be watching cartoons at home with your parents.”
She stepped closer, releasing her hands as she walked. “I’ll be fourteen in two weeks. And I’m not leavin’. If anyone is going anywhere, it’s you, Farm Boy.”
Camila and I shared the same birthday week. I would be sixteen in two weeks, but if I told her, she would have yet another excuse to want to befriend me. Apparently, my avoidance didn’t matter, because a moment later, she plopped onto the root of the tree inches from me.
I let it go for the sake of the peace I’d come up there for. Maybe two people who didn’t get along could sit next to each other. Soon enough, it was like she wasn’t even there. Each of us was lost in our own thoughts as we stared out at the rising sun.
“How do you know so much about our parents not liking each other?”
Her question came out of nowhere, throwing me off. I thought about what to say, because it wouldn’t be much. Ever since I’d gone shooting with Harold, I couldn’t get the story of our feuding families off my mind. After an entire century, they should have been able to find peace. Maybe Camila knew more than her innocent eyes revealed.
“Do you know the history of our families?”
She was the one who had grown up here. If anyone should be dealing information, it should be her.
Camila scoffed and folded her arms across her chest. “Key word, history.”
I shook my head, frustrated, which wasn’t part of my makeup. I’d been taught to “go with the flow.” Nothing would get solved in anger or frustration. Those emotions only distorted the true problems that lay underneath.
“History doesn’t mean it no longer exists, Wild One. The opposite is true. History is more than a time period or an event. It’s born into our DNA and embedded in our bones. Without history, there’s no future. And the more you know and understand, the more power you have to right the wrongs of our ancestors.”
She stretched out her legs and sighed. “My papa doesn’t go into detail about what happened, but I know the Cross-Bell feud started over a century ago when your family started buying farmland across the creek from mine. Land disputes weren’t uncommon back then. But that was nearly one hundred years ago, Ridge. What is the point of dwelling on something that could easily be righted with a simple handshake?”
Camila’s attitude toward the subject intrigued me. “Is that really what you believe? That our parents should shake hands and begin to live in peace?”
“I don’t understand why it can’t be done.”
My chest warmed, and I smiled, enamored with her and her goodness. It could so easily be destroyed with some simple truths. I didn’t want to be the one to destroy a young girl’s optimistic mind, but I felt like I had to.
“For starters, someone would have to apologize. Do you think that should be your father or mine?”
Camila seemed to be at a loss for words until she frowned. “I don’t know.” Then she turned to me, her eyes still wild, but they held a hint of sadness too. “Did my papa do something to hurt yours?”
“I don’t know about that. I don’t even know how the feud initially got started, but I do know that while your grandparents were planting their first bare root vines to begin their vineyard venture, my grandparents’ farm was filled with livestock. On one side of the land, the Bell family was struggling to keep the animals from the Cross farm off their property. On the other side of the land, the Cross ranch animals were disappearing, one by one. This went on for years until, one day, a horse that had gone missing from the Cross farm showed back up on their property with a gunshot wound in the head, infuriating my ancestors. So the rivalry continued, and a month later, on the first day of the first Bell family harvest, a fire lit a row of vines, nearly destroying the brand-new vineyard.”