“I wish I could say I was surprised she wants to step in,” Mack said. “But she’s Frank’s kin, after all. Giving up isn’t in the Brent genetic makeup.”
I stopped, turning to him with my brows strung tight. “You figured she’d want to stay?”
He rolled one sloped shoulder. “Oh, I dunno. But I didn’t figure she’d give it all up, either. I wasn’t convinced she’d just pick up and leave. Frank was just as much a father to her as he was to you.”
That thought hit me in the softest of places. “You let me go on thinking it was a sure thing, her turning it over to us.”
“Well, you seemed real sure of yourself, Jake. None of us coulda told you any different. Kit figured there was a chance you were right and didn’t want to upset the apple cart for no reason.”
“Kit too?” I snapped. “And all this time, I thought you were on my side.”
“Oh, quit it. There’s no side to pick here.”
“Doesn’t matter,” I said, taking back to my task with a little more determination. “She’s gonna fold like a lawn chair, just watch and see. If she really knows what’s best, she’ll let it go. Her meddling is only gonna make things harder around here, not easier.”
“Guess we’ll see,” he said like he knew something I didn’t. “I’m getting out to the barns to check on the milking crew. Want me to keep the news buttoned up?”
“They’re gonna find out anyway. Better from you than me.” I dumped the hay, irritated that the trailer was full.
“Don’t be too hard on her, Jake. She wants what’s best for the farm, just like all of us.”
“Except she doesn’t know what’s best for the farm.” Annoyed by my own petulance, I added, “I’ll give her a fair shake. I promise.”
With a dubious look, he nodded once and turned, leaving me with my thoughts.
Which were largely consumed by Olivia.
I turned for the stalls, hoping if I mucked them, I might muck her too.
When I’d seen her at the airport, that red hair flaming, I’d barely recognized her. I hadn’t seen her in near two years, and the truth was, I avoided her as best I could when she came home. It hadn’t always been like this—once upon a time, I reveled in her homecomings, hoping for … I didn’t know for what. Another kiss maybe. Something more. She always said she’d come back straight after college, but after that trip home when she dismissed the truth so easily, I never looked at her the same.
I’d told her right then that Frank needed her, but she left anyway. And when she graduated and got a fancy job, we all knew.
Olivia wasn’t coming back to the farm. Not if she could help it.
And here she was now that it was imperative, just like I’d figured.
When she’d reached for that pink suitcase on the belt, there was no denying it was her.
She was small like I remembered, a delicate thing. A wisp of fragile bones and wild hair. Her skin so fair, ten minutes in the pasture would boil her like a lobster. She seemed porcelain, breakable. And the farm was no place for breakable things.
Maybe she had more mettle than I figured, but I hoped that possibility was nil. Because if there was one thing I’d protect to my last breath, it was this farm. Every cow and calf, every acre and blade of grass.
And I’d be certain to make good on that vow whether Olivia liked it or not.
4
Know-How
OLIVIA
I stomped up the stairs with enough fury, even Kit knew better than to follow.
I’d known I wasn’t ready to hear what Jeremiah had to say, but whatever I’d imagined, this was a trillion times worse. Not for the knowledge that I’d split the farm with Jake.
But that Jake hated me so desperately.
I flew into my old room blindly, closing the door behind me with a slam.
It had remained unchanged, and when I passed the threshold, I was teleported back in time. I was sixteen again and had gotten the news that I was going to live with Annette, my mother’s sister, in New York. The tears were the same. The rip in my chest was identical. And there was nothing to do but take a minute to wallow.
I’d been handed a bucket of lemons, and I wanted to squeeze them all into Jake’s eye.
I sank onto the bed, curling into myself, but along with the squeak of the old mattress came a crinkle of paper.
The letter in my back pocket beckoned, momentarily forgotten. Holding it in my hands was surreal, the weight of the words inside as tangible as the paper itself. These words were the last he’d ever speak to me, and that knowledge left me as reluctant to open it as I was desperate to devour the words inside.
Wasn’t that how it always went? The moments you needed your lost one the most was when they were gone.
And I needed Pop.
With shaky hands, I tore open the envelope, begging the slip of paper for guidance.
Livi,
Seems like a million years ago that you and me rumbled up to the house after losing everyone we ever loved. You were just a pocket-sized little thing, and I remember lifting you out of the truck, thinking of how precious you were to me. I remember realizing just how badly you needed me and the answering understanding that I needed you too. Because we were alone. But we could be alone together.
So I made myself—and you—a promise. I’d never leave you alone again.
Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about that promise. It comes to me on the wind sometimes, on cricket songs, in the sound of my rocking chair on the porch. It comes to me in moments when I feel every mile between us, and there you are, as alive in my mind as if you were standing in front of me. Someday, I’ll be gone, and what will become of you?
I can’t leave you alone. Not again. So I’m leaving you with Jake.
I hope you don’t hate me for splitting up what’s yours by right. But I suspect that the two of you will need each other, even if just for the farm’s sake. I also suspect that Jake will not take kindly to your interference any more than you can stop yourself from interfering. But promise me you’ll listen to him. Never have I known a man so devoted to the farm or to me. I know that between the two of you, you’ll make something of our farm that none of us could have imagined. Truth be told, that thought makes writing this letter that much easier.
I love you, Livi. I’d wish for you to be strong, but you already are—you don’t know any other way. You persist with joy in your heart, and you’ll keep going despite my absence. But I’ll wish for you to take care of yourself and the farm. Take care of Jake in the way I hope he takes care of you. And try not to miss me all that much. Because I’ll always be here, with you.
All my love,
Pop
It took me much longer to read the letter than it should have, for both the unceasing curtain of tears and the hungry wish to hear his voice.
I can’t leave you alone.
I remembered that day, the day I’d come to the farm in Pop’s truck, teddy bear in my arms and my little pink polka-dot suitcase stuffed with my belongings. I remembered the way he’d smelled, the song on the radio—“Blue Eyes Crying In The Rain” by Willie Nelson. The squeak of the seat as we bumbled up the drive. I remembered Kit, who was unchanged in my eyes. I remembered the loneliness I’d felt up until the moment Pop picked me up from the airport and swept me into his arms.