The Romantic Pact

by Quinn, Meghan

  Despite what Pops said we had.

  Despite how my heart is now breaking.

  Together, we make our way into the house, Uncle Dad and Paul helping with the luggage. When we reach the inside, there’s a man sitting at the large, wooden dining room table with a folder in front of him.

  I turn to Dad in confusion and he grips my shoulder. “Crew, Hazel, this is Mr. Earnshaw. He’s Pops’s lawyer.”

  Oh shit.

  I glance at Hazel and her face pales. She immediately retreats inside herself, and her arms fold over her chest, as if to give herself a reassuring hug.

  “Let’s all have a seat,” Mr. Earnshaw says.

  Mom and Dad guide us to the table and I attempt to sit next to Hazel, but Uncle Paul takes that seat and I’m forced to sit across from her. I try to make eye contact with her, but she’s avoiding me.

  I don’t blame her. I’ve been acting strange. I know I’ve been acting strange, but I can’t seem to wake myself up from the daze I’m in.

  “How was the trip?” Mr. Earnshaw asks while taking a seat. “Did you have a good time?”

  “Yes, thank you,” I answer. Hazel just nods.

  I can practically feel her nerves from all the way over here.

  “I’m glad to hear it. Your grandfather put great time into planning it. We were good friends, and I’m sad to have seen him pass. He was a great man.”

  “Thank you,” Mom and Uncle Paul say together.

  Mr. Earnshaw flips open his folder and says, “I appreciate you making the time for me. I apologize for having to bombard you like this, as I’m sure you two are jet-lagged, but I have family matter that’s pulling me out of town tomorrow and I won’t be back in time to take this meeting.”

  “Of course. It’s not a problem,” Mom says.

  “I think we should get right down to business. Bernie left a letter for each Marley, Porter, and Paul.” Mr. Earnshaw hands them out. “I’m unsure of the contents, but what I do know is that he wrote them to let you know how proud he is of all of you.” Mr. Earnshaw pulls out another stack of letters and hands them to Uncle Paul. “These are for Savannah and the girls. Within the cards for your daughters, there is paperwork for savings accounts Bernie made in their names. It’s not an influx of cash but something he thought they might want to use for college loans or building the next chapter in their lives.”

  “Thank you,” Uncle Paul says, already tearing up.

  “Now, I’m to read a note from Bernie. Please bear with me as my eyes are old.” Mr. Earnshaw puts on a pair of round reading glasses and then picks up the folder. “‘Hello, family—that includes you, Hazel.’”

  I glance at Hazel but can’t read her. Her head is turned down and her hands are in her lap. One look would tell me everything, but she’s giving nothing away.

  “‘Thank you for being patient with my will. My intentions were to have it read to you right away to make the transition easy, but it mattered to me that Hazel and Crew went on their trip before the will was read. Now that they’re back, we can get down to business. As you know, an investment group has been very interested in the farm. They’ve offered quite a hefty sum for the property and the land. But the decision to sell isn’t on me.’”

  I watch as Hazel visibly tenses. I want to reach out to her, hold her, let her know I’m there for her.

  “‘The decision is on you. The four of you all share twenty-five percent ownership of the land and the property.’”

  My head snaps to Mr. Earnshaw. “What? Who’s in the four?”

  Mr. Earnshaw says, “Porter and Marley count as a single group since they’re married. The four would be them, you, Paul, and Hazel.”

  “Me?” Hazel says, looking up. Her eyes are glazed over with tears, her face almost unrecognizable as she tries to comprehend what’s happening.

  “Yes, you, Hazel. Bernie not only saw you as a granddaughter, but as a business partner. He made a note of that in the files in case you questioned. You have done a lot for the farm and he wanted you to be recognized for it.”

  “As she should be,” Mom says, offering a kind smile.

  “You’ve always been part of the family, kiddo,” Uncle Paul says, giving her a good shake and side hug, causing her welled-up tears to spill over her cheeks. She quickly wipes them away, though.

  “Shall I continue?” Mr. Earnshaw asks. Dad nods. “‘I’m giving you equal shares because this farm has meant something special to every one of you and I want to give you an opportunity to decide what to do with it together. If you decide to sell, the money should be split four ways. If you decide to keep the farm, you’ll become a board of directors with Hazel as the CEO of operations. She knows the most about the farm at this point, and I’ve taught her everything she knows. She’s the one who has helped grow this farm to the destination it is today, and I have confidence that she’d continue to grow it. The other jobs—well, that’s up to you. All or nothing. But, if you can’t come to an agreement by the fifteenth of February, then the farm will be sold to the investment firm, a stipulation I’ve already had drawn up.’”

  “Wait.” Dad stops Mr. Earnshaw. “I don’t understand. If we don’t agree on what, precisely? Are we supposed to move out here and help with the farm?”

  “According to the stipulation, he wants at least two out of the five of you to be present on the farm in order for it not to sell.”

  Fuck.

  Mom and Dad exchange glances. Uncle Paul’s eyes widen, and more tears stream down Hazel’s face.

  Before I can ask her if she’s okay, she pushes away from the table and says, “Excuse me.” Then she walks away, out the front door.

  “Is she okay?” Uncle Paul asks.

  I shake my head. “Probably not.”

  “How much are the investors willing to pay?” Dad asks.

  “Right now, the offers stands at 2.2 million dollars.”

  “Holy shit,” Uncle Paul says. “What are we waiting for? We should sell.”

  “Paul,” Mom chastises. “This is our home.”

  “I understand that, but he wants two people working the farm. Can you tell me which one of us plans on staying here? I can’t move. Savannah was just promoted, and the twins are in high school. You two have to live in California for the business, and Crew is going to play professional football. Tell me how this is going to work.”

  “There’s one more thing,” Mr. Earnshaw says. My brain is already overwhelmed.

  “Please continue,” Dad says in an even tone.

  “‘If you don’t decide to sell, the two or more people who decide to stay and run the farm gain a higher percentage of the farm, depending on how many people, so they hold the weight in stock, while the others split the rest of the shares. Mr. Earnshaw has the numbers, and he’ll keep those private until a decision has been made. Until then, please give this great thought. If you decide to sell, know this won’t hurt me. I saved this decision for you, because you’re the ones who grew up here, and this is your home now. I love you all.’”

  “Well, that makes the decision clear. We sell and all take equal parts of the investment,” Uncle Paul says. “What about Dad’s assets, like life insurance and savings?”

  “That will come with the decision.”

  “And we have until the fifteenth of February to make a decision?”

  Mr. Earnshaw nods and closes his folder. “I hate to drop this on you and run, but I have to get home, as it’s late. I left a few cards in the middle of the table. Please feel free to text, email, or call at any point if you have questions.”

  Dad stands and shakes Mr. Earnshaw’s hand. “Thank you so much for talking with us. We appreciate you making the trip.”

  “Of course.” Mr. Earnshaw pauses and looks at us. “Maybe the letters he left you will help. Or any letters you’ve received prior to tonight.” Mr. Earnshaw makes eye contact with me and then takes off.

  What the fuck, Pops?

  * * *

  “Want to talk?” I ask Hazel
, taking a seat next to her on the porch stairs.

  Her head is buried in her arms, and she’s shaking. “No.” Her voice comes out all choked up.

  “Haze—” I place my hand on her back and she scoots away.

  “Don’t. Okay? Just don’t.” She lifts her head and wipes at her eyes. “Please don’t try to talk to me and tell me that it’s all going to be okay. I’ve heard it, Crew. I’ve heard you tell me that over and over again for the past eight days. It’s not going to be okay. Maybe for you, but not for me.”

  “Hazel, you don’t know that. You didn’t hear how much the farm is worth. 2.2 million dollars. That’s a lot of money split four ways. That’s a new start. You could go to college, find your passion—”

  “You don’t get it,” she says, her voice rising. “This is the only comfort I’ve ever had. This land, this porch, these steps that I’m sitting on. You have a loving mom and dad to fall back on if you need them. You have a safety net. This farm has been my safety net ever since I can remember. This life I have, it’s all built around this land, and I’m just supposed to give it up?”

  “You’re asking others to give up their lives, too, to move here,” I say.

  Her head jerks up and she turns toward me. “Wait, so they’re actually really considering selling? It’s not just a possibility? They’re leaning toward it?”

  “What do you expect my family to do? My parents have to be on the West Coast with their business. Uncle Paul can’t move because he has a family to worry about.”

  “And you?” she asks.

  “I . . . I don’t know what I’m doing.”

  “I see.” She lifts from the stairs and starts walking away, so I chase after her.

  “What do you expect me to do, Hazel? Give up everything?”

  “I don’t expect you to do anything, Crew. Just like I didn’t expect you to do anything about us.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, getting in front of her so she can’t walk away anymore. “I told you I was working on figuring out a solution.”

  “You were pulling away, and don’t tell me you weren’t. I felt it with every mile we traveled home. You realize the last time you kissed me was in Germany? You haven’t held my hand. You’ve barely even looked at me since the castle.”

  I push my hand through my hair. “Because I’ve been trying—”

  “If you say ‘to figure things out,’ I’m going to punch you in the face.” She calls me out. “You can figure things out and still be affectionate, still show that you care about me.”

  “I do care about you, Hazel.”

  “You have a weird way of showing it.”

  Growing agitated, I say, “What do you want me to do? Waltz into the house with you and start making out with you in front of my family? Would that make you feel better?”

  “Don’t be a prick, Crew.”

  “Well, I don’t know what you want. I’m trying here. I have a shit ton of things on my mind, and then this was just dropped on top of it all. I’m sorry if I’m not the perfect boyfriend at the moment.”

  “You were never my boyfriend,” she says, looking away.

  “What? Yes, I am. You’re my girl, Hazel.”

  “I’m your vacation fling, Crew.”

  “The fuck you are. I told you, you’re my girl. That I need—”

  “If you needed me—truly needed me—then you’d be leaning on me right now rather than pushing me away. There’s more to a relationship than just sticking your dick in someone, Crew.” Her words ring sharp, branded with malice. “Relationships are about give and take, the good and the bad, and working out problems together, not pushing them further and further away and trying to do it on your own.” She folds her arms.

  “I don’t know.” I grip the back of my neck. My body is boiling with uncertainty, anger, irritation. Why did Pops have to make that stipulation? Why can’t Hazel just run the farm on her own? “I thought . . . maybe we do long-distance for a bit, and then if I get drafted, we can figure out a visiting schedule or something, and when I’m not in season anymore, I can be with you.”

  “So, I would only see you a few months out of the year?”

  “The football season isn’t that long.”

  “It’s long enough,” she counters. “You’re not going to want a part-time girlfriend. You’re going to get tired of waiting around, and it’s not as though I can just pick up—”

  “You can,” I say, hope blooming inside of me. “When the farm is sold, you can go wherever. You can come with me.”

  “So, I’m just supposed to follow you around?”

  “You say that as if it’s a bad thing.”

  “Crew, don’t you think I should have a career too? Since I was twelve, I’ve worked. I’ve built up a work ethic that I’m proud of. Am I just supposed to throw that away and follow you around?”

  “Stop saying follow me around. You make it sound like a bad thing. You can still be your own person; you just refuse to be.”

  “Excuse me?” She rears back.

  “Come on, Hazel. You’ve attached yourself to this farm—you’ve identified yourself as this farm. You don’t even know who you are at this point.”

  “I have loyalty to this farm. There’s a difference.”

  “We have loyalty, as well, but we also know who we are. We have separate lives. You’ve dabbled in woodworking, but why aren’t you doing more with that? You’re clearly talented.”

  “Because I don’t have fucking time, Crew. You might not understand what it’s like to work hard for a dollar because your parents have an endless amount of money, but I know what it’s like to work. I know what it takes to keep my head above water. I don’t have the opportunity to just dabble in woodwork for fun, because I’m working sixteen-hour days sometimes, and I’m too exhausted to even make myself dinner at night. I don’t have options.” She points to the farm. “That’s my option, end of story.”

  “You have other options, Hazel,” I say, my voice lowering. “You have me.”

  “You aren’t reliable,” she shoots back.

  “Is that how you really feel, or are you saying that in anger? Because you’ve said some pretty shitty things tonight.”

  She tilts her chin up and she looks me in the eyes. “It’s how I really feel.”

  “I see,” I say. My voice sounds weak, even to my own ears.

  “Tell me how I’m wrong. You went years without messaging me, and then as things start to get tough, you pull away.”

  “You’re the one pulling away,” I yell, flinging my arms out wide. “You’re the one who’s trying to push me away right now. You have no fucking clue how much I’m dealing with.”

  “I’ve a pretty good idea.”

  “Do you?” I ask her, taking a step forward. “Do you really? Because I could guarantee you, you don’t.” I push both my hands through my hair and take a few steps back in frustration. “Do you know that while we were in Germany, I realized that I’ve been so fucking in love with you for as long as I can remember that it shook me to my core?” Her reaction remains stoic, unfazed. “And I’ve been wracking my brain to figure out how to make this happen. How to make us happen.” I step forward and brush my hand over her face. “When I said I needed you, I fucking meant it. If I seemed as though I was pulling away, it’s because I was trying my hardest to find a way to keep you in my life. You aren’t in this world alone, Hazel, so stop acting as if you are. You have me, and I’m not going anywhere.”

  I reach for her but she steps away.

  “That’s where you’re wrong. You are going. You’re leaving.”

  “Did you not hear what I said? I love you, Hazel. I fucking love you.”

  She looks down, and my heart nearly tumbles out of my chest. It takes her a few seconds, but when she finally looks me in the eyes, she says, “Tell your family to do what they want with the farm.” And then she pushes past me, leaving me in the dark by the big oak tree we used to spend countless humid summer days under.
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  I sink against the firm trunk and rest my elbows on my drawn-up knees.

  “Fuck,” I say, my voice choking up.

  I told her I love her.

  And she didn’t even blink an eye.

  What the hell am I supposed to do with that?

  * * *

  “Are you sure you want to leave?” Dad asks, helping me with my suitcase.

  “Yeah.”

  It’s been two days since we’ve been here. New Year’s Eve is tomorrow, and I just want to get back home. Get away from all of this, from all the memories, because being here is doing nothing for the progress I made while in Germany.

  I haven’t talked to Hazel since our conversation by the oak tree, and not by my doing. She’s been moving around on the farm, getting chores done, and every time I try to speak with her, she brushes me off with work.

  There’s no point. She’s done with me.

  “I want to get home to train.” Training—it’s the only thing I can fall back on. It’s what I know how to do.

  “If that’s what you want, we can do that.” Dad looks over to the barn. “But you need to say goodbye to Hazel first.”

  “Was planning on it. It won’t take long.”

  I jog to the barn, where I know Hazel is tending to the horses, and slip through the large door, shutting it quickly behind me to keep the cold out.

  Hazel is brushing Midnight when she looks over her shoulder and spots me. She takes one glance and then returns to Midnight. With that one icy look, I know where I stand.

  Hands stuffed in my jeans pockets, I say, “I’m, uh, I’m flying home today.”

  Her hand pauses for a second before it keeps brushing. “Okay.”

  “Are you going to say bye?”

  She looks over her shoulder. “Bye, Crew.”

  “So, that’s how you’re going to leave it? I tell you I’m in love with you and you’re just going to shut me out?”