As the thought crosses my mind, a truck turns down the quiet road leading to my home and stops out front of the workshop. Aiden and his new bride hop out.
“Dominic!” he calls out, raising his hand in the air.
I nod to them. “Aiden, Maddy,” I say. It’s the first thing I’ve said all morning, and the words come out as a growl.
“We wanted to stop by to say thank you for yesterday. Your speech was beautiful. Here,” Maddy says, handing me a small box.
I shake my head. “You didn’t need to get me anything,” I say.
She smiles. “Open it.”
I lift off the cover and pull out a thick frame around a small wooden figure of a bear. The corners of my mouth lift up and I start to chuckle.
“My first wood carving,” I say, shaking my head. I look at the two of them. “Where did you find this?”
“Found a box of Dad’s things in the attic,” Aiden responds. “He kept it all those years. Maddy thought it would be nice to frame it for you.”
I feel my chest get heavy, and a wave of guilt washes over me. I shouldn’t have been jealous yesterday, or upset at them. Maddy has lifted Aiden’s spirits and made him into a new man. He’s laughed more in the past year than he did in the whole decade before it. She’s always thinking of all three of us brothers. My eyes prickle, and I nod as I look at the carving.
“At least I’ve gotten better since then,” I say with a grin. “Workmanship isn’t the greatest.”
“Dominic,” Maddy chides with a laugh. “You were nine years old.” She pauses and smiles at me. “Do you like it?”
“I love it,” I say. This time my voice is choked with emotion, but I hide it with a cough. I look at the wall where I hang all my hand tools. Dad’s old tools are in the place of honor in the middle of the wall. I walk over and put a hook in the pegboard, and then hang the framed carving beside Dad’s favorite chisel. I take a step back as Aiden and Maddy appear at my side. Aiden puts his hand on my shoulder and nods.
“Looks good,” he says.
I can only nod in response. I don’t trust my voice. It does look good. I can’t believe my father kept that stupid little bear all those years. I think of all the hours and days he spent teaching me the craft and I shake my head.
I need to keep this business going. If not for myself, then for his memory. I stare at the frame for a few more seconds before turning to my brother and Maddy.
“You guys heading off now?”
They look at each other and smile. “Yep,” Maddy says. “Honeymoon, here we come!”
“Take care of yourself,” Aiden says as he extends his hand to shake mine.
I grunt. “You keep saying that to me,” I say. “Are you worried I won’t?”
“Just take care of yourself. I’ll see you in a couple weeks.”
I watch them get back into their truck and drive off. A small cloud of dust follows their car down the gravel road, and I watch it until the pickup disappears around the corner. I turn back towards the pegboard and look at my first wood carving one more time. The memories that I’ve tried so hard to push aside start flooding in.
I think of the hours that my father spent with me. The patience he had. The encouragement he gave me. I stare at the bear for an eternity before shaking my head and looking at the chair on my workbench. All I can do is make this chair the best chair I’ve ever made. All I can do is try to do my best work, and hope that people start noticing again.
Chapter 4 - Mara
“Mara! Let me help you with those bags!”
“Thanks, Mom,” I say, hauling the last of my suitcases out of the car and onto the sidewalk. She wraps me in a hug and I can’t help but feel like it’s all an act.
I’ve played this moment over and over in my mind for the past two days. How should I react when I see her? What should I say to her?
I’ve thought of a thousand different monologues that I could say to my mother and father. I could tell them that I see them for what they are – that I don’t appreciate being treated like a bargaining chip. I could tell them that breaking off the engagement with Vincent has torn me up inside. I could tell them I blame them for putting me in that position.
Now that I’m here, though, I don’t know what to say. My mother’s arms are around me and I stare at the town’s hotel over her shoulder.
My childhood home.
My room was on the ground floor, all the way down at the back. I never wanted for anything. I got sent away for private schooling, and was able to go to school as an interior designer. My career got put on hold when I met Vincent, but they still gave me everything I needed.
I shouldn’t be mad at them, but I am.
I should be grateful for all they gave me, but all I can focus on is what they held back.
Their love.
I remember when Aiden Clarke and I were dating. He was my first boyfriend, and I was head over heels in love with him. It was practically an arranged marriage, the way our two families were aligned. I remember seeing the way his father looked at him – the way he’d ruffle his hair and put his arm around his kids. I remember the sharp pain in my heart when I’d see that, knowing that I’d never get it from my own family.
When Aiden’s father died, I felt responsible. I still feel responsible. Based on his reaction last time I saw him, Aiden definitely still blames me for it. All three brothers do, I think. After all, it was me who fell in the river that day. It was me that Mr. Clarke jumped in to save. It was my fault he got pneumonia. At the end of the day, it was my fault he died.
My parents bought out the Clarke’s trucking and transportation business to ‘help pay for hospital bills.’ Like a fool, I believed it. It wasn’t until it was my turn to be the victim of their vulture-like behavior that I realised what they’d done to the Clarkes.
They benefited from Mr. Clarke’s death, just like they would have benefited from my wedding to Vincent. They didn’t need me to marry Aiden anymore when they got the trucking business. That, and Mr. Clarke’s death made our teenage relationship fall apart.
No wonder everyone paints me with the same brush as my parents. I can’t believe I’ve been so blind.
My mother pulls away and looks me in the eye. She frowns, with that fake smile still painted on her lips.
“Are you okay, pumpkin?”
I blink a couple times and force a smile. “Fine. Just tired, Mom.”
“Let’s get you inside. I had your old room prepared for you.”
All the monologues that I’d prepared disappear from my mind. Now that I’m here, I don’t know what to say to her. My father appears in the doorway and grabs my suitcase from my hand. He puts his arm around my shoulder and kisses my temple in a stiff movement. I nod, and try to smile again as the three of us head towards my childhood bedroom.
After what seems like an eternity, they finally leave me alone. I close the door and look at the stack of suitcases in the corner. I flop backwards onto the bed and stare at the ceiling. My chest feels heavy and my eyes are prickling with tears.
Even after all this, I still haven’t had the courage to stand up to them. I’ve walked right back into my old room and I haven’t said a word to them about anything.
I feel like a coward.
I feel like a fraud.
When I was leaving California, I was pumped up full of courage. This was my chance to finally stand up to them and tell them what I think. This was my time to be my own person and to take back my life.
And yet, here I am. I’ve come straight back to my old room without saying anything to them. I’ve let them take me in, and I haven’t even told them that I’m mad at them.
It makes me feel like an absolute coward. I take a deep breath to try to relieve some of the pressure in my chest. I squeeze my eyes shut.
I’m almost 30 years old, and I’m living with my parents again. I’ve run back home after a failed engagement, straight back to the people that used me as p
art of their business deal gone wrong.
When I open my eyes back up, the tears start streaming down my face. I can’t help it. All the pent-up emotion from my breakup, and from the series of realizations about my family and about myself – it’s all coming to a head.
I’m alone. I’m truly, completely alone.
I take a deep breath and blow it out of my nose. I sit up and wipe my face, shaking my head and making a gargled noise as I stand up.
When I fell in the river that day, over a decade ago, Mr. Clarke fished me out and stood me up on the bank. He wrapped me in a towel and looked me in the eyes.
“Are you okay, Mara?”
I remember seeing the little rivulets of water streaming down his cheeks. His hair was plastered to his forehead and his lips were turning blue. His hand were on my arms, rubbing up and down to warm me up. I remember seeing the concern in his face and feeling like his words had real meaning.
Are you okay, Mara?
I can still see his face, as if he was right here in front of me. When he said it, it sounded like he wanted to know the answer. When my mother asked me if I was okay earlier, it was like she was trying to avoid an inconvenience.
No, I’m not fucking okay. I’m very, very far from being okay.
I grab my jacket and slip out through the sliding glass door at the back of my room. I glance back across my room and I can hear my mother’s voice calling for one of the housekeepers. I turn the other direction and slide the door closed again.
As soon as the cool mountain air fills my lungs, my shoulders relax and I close my eyes. I take another breath and let the air cleanse my mind until I can open my eyes again. I look out towards the mountains and feel my heart beat a little bit harder.
I might be alone, but I’m in my favourite place in the whole world. I set off towards the little dirt path behind the hotel and start walking.
I’m alone, and I’m not okay, and I feel like a coward and a failure – but I’m still standing. I glance up the path towards the hill in front of me and I take a deep breath. The crisp air breathes new life into me, and I start putting one foot in front of the other. I tuck my chin into my chest and follow the trail until my mind is clear.
I’m still standing. I’m still walking. I’m still here.
Chapter 5 - Dominic
“Did you hear who’s back in town?” my brother Ethan says as he walks through the workshop door. I put down my chisel and look up at him with an eyebrow raised.
“Who?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
“Mara McCoy. Without her fiancé, apparently.”
“Huh,” I say. “She missed the wedding.”
Ethan snorts and walks over to my workbench. He leans against it and crosses his arms casually. “Don’t think she’d have been invited.”
“Aiden’s moved on, I think,” I reply.
“Not sure you can move on from something like that,” Ethan replies.
I grunt and turn back to the chair I’m working on. Ethan watches me for a few seconds before clearing his throat. “How are things with you? Has business picked up at all?”
I raise an eyebrow and look at him. “Not since you asked me that a couple of days ago, no. Why?”
He shakes his head. “Nah, nothing. Sorry. I just thought you were worried about it.”
“Well, yeah,” I say. I don’t know what else to tell him. Of course I’m worried about my livelihood! I’ve worked my whole life to be an expert woodworker and furniture maker. Over the past year, I’ve watched all that work wither away.
“Are you…” Ethan hesitates. “Do you regret it? The hotel, I mean.”
I take a deep breath and put my chisel down. I glance up at my brother and sigh. Before answering, I walk over to the mini fridge by the door and pull out two cans of beer. I hand him one and open my own as I consider his question.
“I don’t know,” I finally answer. “I think it’s better for it to be gone. I just didn’t expect this kind of backlash.”
Ethan makes a noise in response as he takes a long drink of beer. He finishes his sip. “I didn’t think people outside of Lang Creek even knew we existed,” he says. “Seems like the news travelled a lot further than we thought.”
I snort and lift my eyebrows in response. I glance at the progress I’ve made today – I’m almost done all the chairs. Pretty soon I’ll be out of work.
I lean against the bench, and Ethan and I drink in silence. He glances over at the wall and nods his chin towards the framed carving of the bear.
“They showed me that bear the other day. Maddy did a good job framing it. Looks good.”
I glance over at it for the hundredth time today and nod my head slowly. “I had no idea Dad kept all that junk. Aiden was saying there were boxes of it in the attic.”
“Yeah. He was proud of you, you know. Dad, I mean. All this?” He sweeps his arm across the workshop. “He’d have loved this.”
I look around the room at the tools and stacks of wood. I’ve got half-built projects that I’ve designed myself in the corner – a rocking chair, an antique-style side table, a headboard.
“Don’t know how proud he’d be to know that I burned it all down along with that hotel,” I say. The bitterness is clear in my voice, and Ethan shakes his head.
“We did a good thing, Dominic. The town would have been filled with tourists. They would have trashed the hotel grounds and ruined the forests. Think of how many endangered species there are in this valley alone! We did it for good reason. Everyone in town agreed.”
I grunt and Ethan takes a deep breath.
“All that bullshit about bringing trade to the area was just the McCoys trying to get their money out of it. That’s why they didn’t tell anyone they owned part of the hotel. One McCoy hotel in town is more than enough. Dominic, you know that, right?”
“Yeah, I know,” I snap. I take a deep breath and put my head in my hand. “Sorry. Look, Ethan, I know all that. I know it’s for the best. I know everyone except the McCoys were happy about it. I know that. But look around you,” I say, pointing to the chair I was working on. “That’s the last fucking chair I have to make. After that, I’ve got nothing. No income. No projects on the horizon. Nothing. And for what? Maybe if that hotel had been built, business would be booming!”
“You don’t know that,” Ethan starts.
I shake my head. “I know. I know! But then again, I don’t know anything! My head is fucking melted.”
“Look, what’s done is done,” Ethan says a little more gently. “The whole town was on our side. We did nothing wrong. The hotel company, the McCoys, the construction company – they all walked away with insurance money in their pockets.”
“Well, they’re the only ones with money in their pockets,” I say with a snort. Ethan grins and shakes his head.
“It’ll work out.”
“I know. And I know that I can go work for Aiden, or I can find work somewhere else around here. I just…” I look around at my workshop and take a deep breath. The smell of sawdust fills my nostrils and I exhale loudly. “I just really wanted this to work.”
“It will,” Ethan says. He stares at me straight in the eye. The dark cloud over me lifts ever so slightly as my brother puts his hand on my shoulder. “It’ll work out.”
I nod, and then crumple my beer can and toss it in the garbage. “I’d better get this chair done.”
Ethan follows my lead and finishes his beer. “You coming down to Harold’s tonight?”
“Yeah,” I grunt. I have no interest in going to the pub tonight and talking to the same people about the same things as last week, but I know that’s not what my brother wants to hear. Ethan nods and walks out the door. It’s not until I hear the workshop door close and his engine rumble to life that I let out a sigh. Usually my workshop is peaceful and undisturbed. It’s where I come to clear my head. Today, it just seems to be making me more confused and more conflicted.
; I think of Ethan’s words as I pick up my chisel again. It’ll work out.
I wish I had his confidence.
Chapter 6 - Mara
By the time I’ve made it to the top of the hill behind the hotel, my cheeks are flushed and my heart is pumping. I’m tired, but it feels good to breathe deeply and to get my blood moving. I stand on the crest and look out over the town of Lang Creek. I can see Harold’s Pub, just a few streets down from my parents’ hotel. People are milling into the pub already. It’s Friday, and Harold will have a live band on later.
My eyes drift down Main Street towards the edges of town. There’s a small tendril of smoke coming from the cabin just on the edge of town.
It’s from Dominic Clarke’s workshop.
I stare at the smoke as it curls and sweeps upwards, finally dissipating into the sky.
Dominic Clarke burned down the new luxury hotel that was supposed to be built last year, and in the process he ruined my chances with Vincent. I watch the smoke, mesmerized by the wispy streak in the sky.
I should be mad at him. Or at least, I should resent him. But as I watch the smoke curling into the sky, and I imagine him working on the gorgeous furniture he makes, all I feel is gratitude.
He didn’t ruin my chances with Vincent. Instead, he saved me from a loveless marriage. He exposed my parents for who they really are.
I take a deep breath of fresh mountain air and stare at the smoke for a while longer.
I wonder what Dominic is doing right now? I wonder if the sweat is staining the back of his shirt, and if he’s pushing his thick hair off his forehead. I imagine his face, as best as I can remember it, and something shifts inside me.
This feud – whatever it is – between our two families… it’s ridiculous. It’s silly. For the past ten years, ever since Mr. Clarke died after saving me, it’s split the town in two.
For a long time, the Clarkes were the outcasts. My parents own the local hotel and the trucking company that dominates the area for a hundred miles. They have a lot of pull in town.
Swear to Me Page 2