by Vera Quinn
“Don’t worry your pretty little head dear. That has nothing to do with you and everything to do with an old man that grew attached to a young fellow—who reminded him of his son—that was only passing through.” Haddie is shaking her head. “Now let’s get you inside and in the room that you reserved.”
“Thank you, that would be nice.” I walk to the front screen door and pick my bag up.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t like a cookie or two? They’re snickerdoodles and pecan swirls.” I don’t want to be rude, but a shower sounds much better. I guess the look on my face shows my resolve of just wanting to get in my room. “It’s alright dear, I’ll put you one of each up from the ones I have still in the kitchen.” I feel bad now.
“I’m sorry, but after three days on a bus my only thoughts are on a hot shower and a soft bed then after a little rest some hot food.” I feel comfortable with this lady. It doesn’t happen very often. I have been on guard against letting people get close for too long. If I want this place to be my home, the first step is making friends, so I need to let my guard down just a little.
“That is completely understandable. You must have traveled a far piece and all alone. Heaven forbid what could have happened to you traveling that distance by yourself. Listen to me go on like an old mother hen.” Haddie walks over to the screen door and opens it for us. I walk in behind her. When I step inside, it’s like walking into a time gone past as far as my eyes can see. The floors are hardwood that shine from being waxed to a smooth luster. The drapes are the heavy long tapestry ones that they used to have in the old movies. There is a fireplace in the front room that I can see from the entrance. It’s not the new kind with an insert. I can almost feel the history in this place. It’s too beautiful for a bed-and-breakfast; it looks more like pictures from historical journals of the old plantations or manors. I see Haddie has stopped in front of a door off to the side. I am in awe and I have only seen what has been in my path. I think I could spend a few days taking in the antiques and listening to the stories that go with each one. History of any kind has fascinated me from when I was very young. My dad used to say that I was an old soul stuck in a young body wanting to soak up all the stories of times gone by. I guess he may have been right. “Come along dear, I need to get back to the kitchen to get dinner prepared for us tonight. You have plenty of time to familiarize yourself with my little place after you’re all checked in.” That snaps me out of my gawking and brings me back to the task at hand. “Do you have your credit card and identification card ready?” I almost feel comfortable enough to tell Haddie the truth, but the only thing I know is that I have a good feeling around her. I don’t know anything about Haddie and I don’t know if she would run straight to the media to sell a quick story. I’m close enough to twenty-one now that it couldn’t make a difference, but I know my mom, or her boyfriend, would show up and try and pressure me. I don’t need that right now. I have been running from my mom for four years and if I can help it, she will not see me again until the day I need to show up to sign the papers to get what is rightfully mine. That is the reason I want to have my roots planted in a place I can call home before that day. I have a plan and I hope I can make it work in the next six months or at least see that it’s feasible. I reach into the front of my backpack and take out the fake identification card I bought after I left Dallas with the help of my attorney, along with my prepaid credit card that I have for just these occurrences. No one deals in cash these days. “How long will you be staying? I know you reserved a room for a week, but do you think that you will be staying longer? I only ask because the room you’re staying in is one of two rooms that we have that has a half bath in it. All our other guests have three communal bathrooms. The two rooms that are updated are the ones most requested and I try to give those to either people with families or ones that are staying here more than one night.” I think for a second and then give an answer I hope will bring me a little information from an insider of the town. I want to ask questions to get some leads on a place to buy but I don’t want very many questions asked about my background.
“I know I will be staying a week but maybe longer as I am looking for a place to buy. I was thinking an old farm or just a farmhouse with a rustic look and feel. Something I can buy and renovate.” Haddie looks at me as if she is trying to size me up.
“I didn’t get the feeling that you were a farm girl. Don’t take that as an insult because it wasn’t meant as one, but farm living is a lot of work. Have you ever lived on a farm before?” I see I may have a problem convincing these people I am serious. Haddie is running my credit card as we are talking. She’s already copied my identification card.
“I’m not insulted, and I can understand your disbelief. I have never worked on a farm for a lengthy period, but I want to learn, and I thought maybe with a little neighborly help I could manage it.” Who am I kidding? I would need a lot of help, but I am willing to put in the work. I want a home that supports itself but is homey when I come home at night. I know it would take a few years to get it where I want it. Haddie looks like she is thinking about what I’ve told her. “I know most of the farms and ranches here have been handed down through generations but there are a few that have been listed with a local real estate company.”
“You are correct about that somewhat. The sellers here are picky about who they sell to because they have known their neighbors for years and they won’t sell to people they think will not fit into the community. They will be selective. My advice to you would be to talk to someone that dislikes their neighbors.” Haddie hands back my cards and then moves her head to the side like a thought has come to her. “Your best bet would to be to talk to Mr. Styles. He moved to town a few years back when his farm got too much for him to handle by himself. He keeps it mowed around the house, but the place needs a lot of work. It may be too big a job for you by yourself. It’s twenty acres where he grew produce plus the house, but he has thirty more acres he cuts hay from that joins the land at the back. I don’t know what you have in mind to do with a farm like that, but you would need to look at it first and I can guarantee you he doesn’t have it listed with that real estate office. They want twenty percent to sell someone’s property. That is highway robbery for doing nothing but showing the place.” Haddie looks skeptical but I understand that.
“Where does Mr. Styles live now if he isn’t living in his home, you said in town, right?” I ask the first question that pops in my head
“He lives in his son’s house here in town. Marcus was killed in an accident out in the hayfield with a baler. It was just awful. Marcus was only twenty-five years old and Mr. Styles just lost his will to want to be on that farm. He couldn’t handle it anymore by himself. That man has lost too much in his life and it has left him a bitter man.” I am caught up in the story and I realize how easy it is to get sucked into this small-town lifestyle. I already know more about Mr. Styles life than I have anyone’s in the last four years and I want to know more.
“I’m sorry he lost his son. Maybe it would be too painful for him to discuss the farm,” I tell Haddie.
“No. I think it’s what he needs. He needs to let go of all the bad memories, so he can hold on to the good ones. People our age need those good memories. He lost his two sons, a daughter, and his wife in that house and it’s time for him to let it go so it doesn’t drag him down. Yes, he needs to let go.” Haddie says it like the subject is closed. “I’ll set you up a talk with him in a couple of days when you’ve had time to rest and settle in. I don’t mean to intrude into your business, but it will be better if I talk to him first. He won’t be as hostile.”
“Haddie, he’s not really that grumpy especially since I know how much he has lost. He’s just trying to deal with his own pain every day while still being able to function. Sometimes when you lose someone it will cut a person all the way to their soul and nothing is ever the same again. Where you see a sunny beautiful day, they will only see the light as something that makes their ey
es hurt. It’s like you can’t breathe without everything in you hurting and you just want it to stop, the hurt and the day.” I know I’ve said too much. I hate making myself looking so vulnerable in front of people, but it just slipped out. I know the rawness that Mr. Styles must feel every time he sees his farmhouse without his family there.
“I understand Sage and maybe someday you will know me well enough to share your pain. I am here and will listen anytime you’re ready. I also will keep my trap shut about your business. That’s a promise and I never break my promises. Now I need to show you upstairs or we are never going to eat tonight.” She smiles at me and I give her a small smile in return. I know Haddie and I are going to be good friends. I let my guard down around her which I need to watch just a little while longer.
“Thank you for everything, Haddie. I think I am really going to like it here.” Haddie walks around her desk and she stops in front of me and she pulls me into her so fast I can’t stop her. She gives me a big hug and I relax in her arms. I don’t know why but I feel tears come to my eyes. I haven’t been hugged like this since the last time my dad hugged me. I feel like a burden has been lifted and I feel like this could be the place I have been looking for. Haddie releases me and steps back. I swipe at my eyes to make sure no tears have escaped.
“Now let’s get you upstairs so you can get into that shower.” Haddie walks out the door and I follow her. “Dinner may be a bit late tonight, so I would say about six-thirty. You can come down anytime you want and keep me company in the kitchen if you like.” We reach the staircase and walk up the stairs.
“I won’t be down to eat tonight. I am going to take my shower and then go ahead and turn in. It has been three days since I slept in a bed and I will sleep soundly tonight.” I don’t want Haddie waiting on me to eat.
“I don’t like it but alright. If this old body had to stay awake in a bus for three days, I would be hurting for a week if not longer. You’ll need a big breakfast in the morning and I don’t want to hear any backtalk young lady. You are a slip of a thing and you need some meat on those bones.” I laugh at that. We make it to the top of the stairs and Haddie turns to me and hands me a key. “It’s the last door on the right. The bed is turned down and I hope you sleep well. Welcome home.” Haddie turns to go back to the stairs.
“Don’t you mean welcome to your home?” I ask the woman.
“No, you had your mind made up before you got here. You are home and I am your welcome wagon.” I don’t have a chance to say anything as she makes her way down the stairs. She’s right though, I did have my mind made up.
Chapter Two
Sage…
I have been here a week today and though the town is lovely; I can’t call the people welcoming. They stare at me walking the streets of the town as I’m trying to familiarize myself with where things are located; they stare at me eating at the diner, and they stare at me when I sit on the front porch with Haddie and Mr. Styles enjoying the scenery in the late evenings. I don’t know why Mr. Styles says these people are nosey they never speak to me unless I ask a question. Haddie says to not take it personally, they just need time to warm up to me. I don’t know why I even care. I don’t want anyone in my business anyway.
Haddie spoke with Mr. Styles and he is thinking about talking to me. I mean he talks to me —okay—mostly grunts but we communicate. He just won’t discuss the farm until he trusts that I am made of strong stock— whatever that means. I don’t know how to prove it to him and he is my last option. One property is tied up in probate court and the other two sellers suddenly have contracts on them. It is a waiting game now. Seems like I am always waiting. Waiting for time with my dad, waiting on the perfect time to make my escape to freedom, waiting until I turn twenty-one, and now waiting on my dream to own a farm and find my peace of mind.
I have been sitting on the porch taking in the beautiful weather today and going over my plans for the next few months. It all hinges on me finding a place of my own to call home. It sounds simple even in my head but in Comfort, Texas it’s a bit complicated. I could get my map out and find another place to go but I can feel in my bones this is the place I should be. I knew it the minute that I found this place on the map and then when I did more research the idea was not only planted in my mind but deep in my heart as well. I am too stubborn to let a few road blocks stop me. I just need more patience.
“Mr. Styles is coming over to talk with us.” I look up in surprise. I didn’t hear Haddie come out the door.
“Is he ready to talk about the farm?” I know I sound like a broken record.
“Sweet girl you are going to need to let Mr. Styles think it’s his idea to talk. He is an old man set in his old ways and everything is on his timetable. He seems to like you but with him you never know.” Haddie sits beside me on the swing and pats me on the leg. I don’t know why but this calms my worries a little. In the little time I have been here, Haddie has become important to me. My guard comes down a little more every day.
“How can you say he likes me? All he does is grunt at me or stare. I can’t ever figure the man out or get a read on him.” Mr. Styles is hard to get a word out of. The only person he talks to a lot is Haddie.
“Maybe you should just come out and ask me the questions you have for me instead of picking them out of my head by reading me.” Mr. Styles comes up behind us from the neighbor’s yard. I don’t know what to say to that. He’s right but I didn’t even think he would answer my questions. I start to apologize but Haddie speaks up.
“And how would Sage know you would answer her? Since the first day she arrived here you have had her under your microscope. You two have a lot in common the way you both keep people at arm’s length.” I look at Mr. Styles and he is looking at me. I don’t say a word. I look from Haddie’s face to Mr. Styles’ face and they look like they are having a stand-off between the two. Haddie raises her eyebrow and Mr. Styles nods. I don’t know what the private conversation with just expressions is about, but I continue to watch with fascination.
“Haddie, unless you want your gawking neighbors to know all our business, do you think we can go in your office to talk this out?” Mr. Styles asks Haddie and then he looks at me with sharp eyes. I feel like he is trying to see inside my head to see if I am going to be honest or lie. “Sage, I am going to tell you what my farm means to me and why it’s difficult for me to sell. I am going to be nothing but honest and forthcoming with you and I expect the same from you. I am going to ask you questions and I expect truthful answers. If you can’t answer my questions to my satisfaction, then this talk is over. It’s important to me so if you can’t agree to this for whatever reason then this talk is useless,” Mr. Styles says in a calm muffled voice. If I agree to this, I can buy the farm I’ve dreamed of but if I refuse or am not honest then I will need to start over. I am tired of always giving up my dreams. It’s time to decide if I can trust Haddie and Mr. Styles. I can do this. If there are any consequences, I will just face them.
“I understand. If I can’t be truthful, I will tell you.” Mr. Styles nods and Haddie gets up and leads us inside the house to her office. I don’t say anything else, lost in my own thoughts. Mr. Styles says nothing else either. When we reach Haddie’s office she opens the door and steps in and shakes her head as she stands by the door.
“This is a friendly talk not the dentist’s office. Just relax. You two can use my office as long as you need to.” My stomach has a knot in it at the idea of Haddie leaving. I’m not scared of Mr. Styles, but he can be moody.
“No, Haddie, I think Sage would probably be more comfortable if you stayed. I thought I made that clear on the porch you would be included in this conversation. I might need your memory to help me if Sage has any questions and for me to remember what I agree to.” This makes Mr. Styles and Haddie both laugh.
“We are all in trouble if you rely on my memory. Your mind is as sharp as a tack.” Haddie shuts the door and moves to her desk chair. Mr. Styles sits in one chair and I
sit in the other.
“Haddie, please stay. You have helped so much while I have been here, and you deserve to learn a little bit about me. I just ask that whatever you learn, you will please keep it between us,” I ask the two of them; looking at both their faces.
“We would never gossip about you dear,” Haddie tells me. I believe her. I look at Mr. Styles and he nods in agreement.
“Let’s get down to the nitty gritty. I have the farm that my wife, Christine and I, were given from my folks when we married. I later paid them full price for the property when I made the money from the land. That place has our tears, our joy, our sweat, and our blood in it. Our family cemetery is on that land. It has most of my family in it. We raised our babies, our crops, and our animals there. If the walls of the house could talk it would tell the history of five generations of the Styles family and when I take my last breath I want to be laid to rest by my Christine and the rest of my family. Our family bloodline is coming up short. The ones that are left want nothing to do with farm living even if I could find them.” Mr. Styles hesitates, and I see the unshed tears in his eyes. This man is sharing his memories and his pain is evident. “I can’t handle the farm anymore and it’s a challenging thing for me to admit that to anyone. I have a hardware store that makes my living now, but I won’t sell to just anyone and I have special stipulations.” I wait for him to go on because I see he’s having a tough time. “I need to know the person that buys the place will honor my stipulations and I need to know the person I sell it to is a good person that wants to grow a family there. That is tradition for my family and even though the person buying it won’t be blood I want it to still have a like thinking family there. I don’t want someone buying it and then turning around and selling it within a few years. You just don’t come across to me as a farm-living person. If I’m wrong, then change my mind. Do you have any idea of the amount of work that goes into daily farm work and what kind of farm are you wanting?” Mr. Styles finally sits quietly. I look at Haddie and she smiles at me. I know she’s trying to calm my nerves and encourage me at the same time.