by James, Marie
When I’m jolted awake as the plane tires make first contact with the tarmac in Colorado, I smile, determined to let the dreams replace the real memories of what the summer was really like.
Chapter 27
Zeke
“Appreciate it,” I mumble to the man shaking my hand.
“He was a great guy,” the next guy says.
“Thank you.” I nod my head, urging him on so the next person can mutter some random fact about Dad or offer their condolences.
Mom and I have been at this for the last hour as what seems like the entire town lines up. We still have the graveside service to sit through.
Don’t get me wrong, Dad deserves all of this and more, but I’m raw and bitter, flayed right down my center over the last couple of days. The funeral was all but planned, the details set into motion long before Dad took his last breath, as normally goes with hospice my mom assured me.
So instead of being busy, instead of forcing myself to leave Frankie in the barn, I could’ve stayed, could’ve let the sunrise wake her in my arms. I could’ve told her everything, could’ve whispered my confessions and begged her to feel the same.
But I guess it’s good that I thought I had more to handle at home than I actually did, because two short hours after leaving her, I returned to the ranch to find her gone. An hour after that, Mrs. Jacobson returned from dropping her off at the airport, unsurprised to see me waiting for them on the front porch.
My anger was lost to grief when I had to tell her that Dad had died just twelve hours before. Like the kind, generous woman that she’s always been, she urged me to take time off to help Mom and to grieve, promising that the work would be there waiting for me when I was ready.
Then Rowdy showed up, and even with my dad at a funeral home awaiting burial preparations, I went to the barn and got to work. Rowdy had already replaced my father on the ranch, and I’d be damned to let him do the same to me.
The next two days however, I didn’t show, unable to let the pain of losing Dad and Frankie mingle together. The ranch is a constant reminder of all that I’ve lost. Mom has been quieter than usual, and she’s starting to make me nervous. She has spent several hours on the phone in the last couple of days, whispering too quietly for me to hear, alone in her room. She cries constantly, and she doesn’t seem too interested in eating. All hours of the night I can hear her up and down from the couch as she’s been refusing to sleep in her room, even though the hospital bed has been removed and the room set to rights.
“Gone too soon,” a woman I don’t recognize says as she pats the top of my hand.
“Yes, ma’am,” I tell her. “Thank you for saying so.”
The next twenty minutes is filled with quick nods and weak smiles because I can’t focus on any of these people. I’m tired, literally weary down to my soul with no end in sight. Looking over at Mom, I can tell she feels exactly the same way. Maybe she’ll sleep better tonight.
Even as I have the thought, I reject it. I don’t think either one of us will sleep well again. The house is too quiet without Dad’s boisterous voice. The entire structure seems empty without him there.
“If you guys are ready, you can get into the town car,” the funeral director says as the last person walks out of the chapel.
I take Mom’s hand, leading her to the side door and through the people milling around outside. The sun is shining, hot and bright like the world isn’t laying to rest an amazing man today. People who just shook our hands give us tight-lipped smiles and sad eyes as we walk past them to climb inside of the black car. I’m grateful for the blacked-out tint covering the windows because it not only keeps the cool air from leaking out, but it also keeps prying eyes from peeking in.
“Are you okay, dear?” Mom’s voice is weak and brittle, so I grip her hand tighter.
It’s so hard being strong for her when I just want to crumple to the ground like a child and refuse to do a damn thing until God gives me my dad back.
“I’m okay, Mom,” I assure her.
We haven’t talked much since his passing. I don’t think either one of us know what to say to ease the pain in the other, or maybe we both realize that there’s nothing that can be said to make things better.
“I hate funerals,” she mutters as we make the short drive from the funeral home to the cemetery. Dad had voiced his opinion about having a church service, and even though I could tell Mom wasn’t happy, she respected his wishes. Of course, no one on my mom’s side of the family showed up. I don’t even know if she called them to let them know. Since I’ve never met a single person on her side, I doubt she made that call.
“Today sucks,” I mutter because I don’t know what else to say, but she must agree because she doesn’t chastise my language or the negativity in my voice.
“It’s almost over,” she says.
“We still have that thing at Mrs. Jacobson’s,” I remind her.
Her head starts to shake before I finish. “This is the most I can do. I can’t go over there.”
I sigh, hoping my irritation is low enough that she didn’t hear it. I don’t want to go either, but it’s clear she’s made up her mind. How shitty would it be if neither one of us showed up?
As much as I’d like to just drive around or hide in my bedroom, I know I can’t do that to Mrs. Jacobson. She’s allowing me to keep my job even though I’ll only be able to work part-time hours when school starts next week, and I don’t want to do anything to upset her. She knows my mom has never worked outside of the home since she married my dad and it may take a while to find work.
“I’ll go,” I tell my mother.
The graveside service is a misery of its own. With the heat and no breeze to speak of, I’m sweating through my suit before it’s over. I have to walk away before they begin lowering Dad’s casket into its final resting place, not strong enough to watch it. Mom doesn’t leave until after the final attendee walks back to their own car, and I think she’d stay forever if it weren’t for the funeral director urging her back to the town car so the remainder of the dirt can be filled in.
Her eyes glisten with tears as she climbs inside with me, but she doesn’t say a word. Not when we grab my truck from the funeral home parking lot. Not when I drop her back home, only staying long enough to change into some jeans and a thinner shirt. Not when I ask her if she needs anything before heading over to Mrs. Jacobson’s. She doesn’t even smile when I bring home enough food to feed three families a couple of hours later.
She needs time. We both do, but that doesn’t keep my heart from hurting a little more when her silence follows me to my room.
I was right when I voiced my concerns out loud to my father even though he couldn’t hear me. I don’t know how we’re going to do this without him. It’s only been three days, and we’re already broken beyond repair.
Chapter 28
Frankie
“This is weird.”
“It’s not weird,” Piper argues as Dalton pulls her closer.
We’re in her bedroom, them sitting on her bed and me on the floor in front of her bedroom mirror.
“So this is real then?” I wave my arm back and forth indicating the two of them.
Piper looks over her shoulder at the guy who treated her like shit for more years than I can count, but instead of vitriol and pure hatred in her eyes, they shine with love and passion. Just the sight of them looking at each other makes my stomach turn.
“So real,” Dalton whispers, but I can tell he only has eyes for her.
He hasn’t said a word to me other than a quick hello when I first arrived.
“Tell me about Utah,” my best friend urges when she finally takes a break from ogling her new boyfriend.
“I’m not talking about Utah.”
Now I have her full attention. Piper doesn’t hide the look of worry on her face. “What happened?”
“I’m not talking about Utah,” I repeat.
“Not talking about Utah or not talking about Zeke?�
�� she clarifies.
“Neither. I’d ask what you two have been up to all summer, but I don’t want the details.”
Piper’s cheeks heat, turning a rosy pink the way they always do when she’s embarrassed, and that’s all the confirmation I need. Seems I’m not the only one to have given up my V-card this summer. Only Dalton has his arms wrapped around my best friend like he never wants to let her go and Zeke couldn’t get away from me fast enough.
Regardless of the light shining in his eyes, I can’t bring myself to fully trust him. I can’t wrap my head around the possibility that one single car accident took away all the evil that was put on display often from this guy. He tortured both of us, Piper more than me, and I’m sure there are numerous times he or his shitty friends did something and she didn’t tell me about it.
But even as I think these thoughts, I know Zeke was worse. Until the accident, Dalton never had a kind word for either of us. He stayed true to his torture like it was his life’s mission.
Zeke, on the other hand, would draw me in with kind words and soft touches before shattering me with malice and pain. Until recently, Piper knew what she was getting from Dalton. I never knew which hat Zeke was wearing, and even though I should’ve predicted how that last night was going to happen, it still hurt more than I want to admit waking up alone in that cold barn.
“You seriously don’t have any of your memories?” Just the notion is a little too far-fetched for me to wrap my head around.
“None,” he says, but he isn’t frowning when he answers.
“Not a single one?”
“Nope.” He shakes his head for emphasis.
“You don’t remember tripping her at prom last year?”
He swallows, looking down at Piper before answering, “No, I don’t.”
“It’s in the past,” Piper says when I open my mouth again.
“He ripped the dress you worked so hard for. The entire class laughed at you. They put a picture of you on the floor crying in the yearbook,” I remind her, like she could ever forget such an awful night.
“Piper?” He looks down at her, and my mouth snaps shut before I can serve up another memory because the guy looks genuinely crestfallen. It hurts him that he hurt her.
Like I’m not even there, she turns in his lap so she can face him fully. “In. The. Past.”
“But—” She presses her fingers to his lips.
“Leave it there,” she tells him before moving her fingers to his cheek and kissing his lips. “We’re moving forward, remember?”
He nods, but it’s clear he isn’t happy with the person he used to be. Maybe he has changed. Maybe she has forgiven him for all the ways he used to torture her. Is it my place to judge him, to still keep him at arm’s length because of what happened in the past? If she’s letting it go, then I need to do the same because it doesn’t seem either one of us are going anywhere anytime soon.
“What happens if you get your—”
The shrill alarm on his phone interrupts my next question.
“Already?” Piper whines.
“Sorry, babe.”
Babe? Gross.
He kisses her, chastely at first, but after a couple of seconds, I’m left wondering if I should excuse myself and let them have some time alone. My fingernails become very interesting for the next minute or so.
“See you later, Frankie.”
My eyes follow Dalton out of the bedroom, and I don’t speak until the sound of the front door closing makes its way up the stairs.
“Did he just call me Frankie?”
“Yep. I tried to tell you he isn’t the same guy.”
Dalton, as well as all the jerks at school have always called me Frank, seeing as I’m small and don’t resemble a woman at all. It’s given me all sorts of body complexes.
“What if he gets his memories back and realizes he likes being that mean guy again?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know.”
“You know it’s possible though, right?”
“I know, but I guess I just hope that he never gets them back, but if he does? He’s been honest about how he feels and he doesn’t want to lose me.”
“You love him.” It’s not a question. Anyone who spent time with them could see it from a mile away.
“And he loves me,” she adds. “I don’t know how to explain it, but I know I’m not being played. I know he’s being honest with me every day.”
“I can see it,” I begrudgingly confess. “Why did he have to leave?”
I’m not upset he’s gone. He’s had her undivided attention all summer long, and it’s about time I got some alone time with my bestie.
“Well,” Piper looks to the open door, “my parents aren’t very happy with him.”
“Because of the wreck?”
“That and when I went to the hospital the second time, they went through my things.”
“Oh, God. They read your journals?” Piper is devoted to her journals. She writes in them constantly. I do the same, but just not to the level that she does. I usually save my journaling for when I’m stressed or upset. I see myself spending quite a bit of time later this week with my own journal.
“Yeah. They know how mean he was to me, and they don’t care that I’m willing to look past it. There’s also the wreck.”
“They’re pissed he was driving drunk? Because I can tell you that’s bad, but at the end of the day you chose to get in that car with him.”
She grins. “Tell it like it is, why don’t you?”
“Am I wrong?”
“Sort of.”
I tilt my head in confusion as she wrings her hands in her lap.
“What’s going on, Piper?”
“You’re my best friend, right?”
“Of course.”
“I have to tell you some things, but I want you to stay calm.”
“I’ll do my best,” I wager.
“Calm, Frankie,” she urges.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath, ready to hear what she has to say when I open my eyes again.
“I was driving that night.” My jaw practically unhinges. “He was drunk and I wouldn’t let him leave, but then we started arguing on the way home.”
“Oh, God, Piper, tell me you didn’t wreck that car on purpose.”
“No.” She shakes her head almost violently. “Truthfully, I thought about it. I just wanted him to shut up, but I was so wrapped up in those thoughts that I wasn’t paying attention. We drifted to the shoulder. The car was overcorrected, and we ended up going off the ravine.”
“Does Dalton know?” If not, this could change everything for them.
“He does. I told him all of it. I haven’t hidden anything from him, not even the cutting.”
“Cutting?” Cold chills rush down my spine when she nods.
“Sometimes the pain from being humiliated was too much. I would get tired of people hurting me, of causing me pain.”
“So you hurt yourself more?” I look to her wrists, but I don’t see any scars.
“I controlled my pain,” she explains. “I cut the insides of my thighs, not my wrists. I didn’t want anyone to know.”
Tears begin to fall down my cheeks.
“Please don’t cry.”
“I didn’t know you were hurting that much.” I should’ve known, right? What kind of best friend am I, if she’s tortured enough to cut herself and I didn’t have a clue? No wonder her parents hate him. Even if she loves him, after hearing all of this, I don’t think I have it in me to not despise him either.
“No one did. I hid it very well. Dalton flipped out when he saw them. He wanted to walk away from me, Frankie. I need you to know that. Even without his memories, he was so upset from what he’d done in the past, he was willing to give me up because he didn’t think he deserved me.”
“He doesn’t,” I interrupt.
She gives me a weak smile. “I love how fierce and loyal you are, but I want you to try to look past all of that. I’m
not saying to forgive him, but if you could try to see him the way I do now, really watch him and see that he’s not the same guy, you’ll understand why it was so easy to fall in love with him.”
“Piper,” I groan. She’s asking a lot. She’s asking for more than she realizes after the hell I went through myself this summer. How is it so easy to look at her situation and know in my gut what’s the right thing for her to do, but when it comes to my own situation, I’m twisted up in knots over it?
“Please?”
I hate the pleading in her voice, but it’s the soft look in her eyes that does me in.
“Fine. I’ll reserve judgment until I get to know the new-and-improved Dalton better.”
“Thank you.” She climbs off the bed and tackles me in a hug. “You’re the best.”
“I know,” I tell her playfully. “Now get off me, cow.”
She squeezes me harder before finally letting me go, and like a million times before, we lie on our backs and stare up at the ceiling.
“Tell me about Zeke.”
“Not a chance.”
“I made numerous confessions today.”
“I didn’t realize it was quid pro quo,” I mumble.
“Is he cute?”
“Extremely.”
“Did you fall in love?”
My heart clenches with the question because if I didn’t have such strong emotions for Ezekiel Benson then why does it feel like I left my broken heart back in Utah?
“He hurt me,” I tell her instead.
She doesn’t say a word as she turns on her side and wraps her arm over my stomach.
“I’m so sorry.”
She holds me while I cry, but most importantly she doesn’t drill me for answers. She knows I’ll talk when I’m ready. The only problem is, I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready to discuss Utah.
Chapter 29
Zeke
Unable to stay away any longer, I'm back at the ranch the day after my father's funeral. Mrs. Jacobson met me outside the second I pulled up with a small smile and a quick pat on my back. She didn’t say a word, so I let the silence hang around us until I felt tears begin to burn the backs of my eyes. I had to walk away from her, but I don’t think she was offended. I know the woman has dealt with a ton of loss in her life, and she must know what I’m going through.