She’s Gone Country

by Jane Porter; Jane Porter

  “What’s up?”

  “Bo.”

  “Is he having academic problems again?”

  I sit on the edge of the kitchen table, my sadness weighting me down, making me feel as if I’m made of lead.

  “The depression’s returned and I’m looking for a good children’s psychologist. The school gave me some names, but I’m going to check around and get some other recommendations.”

  “How do you know it’s depression?”

  “Bo’s talking about dying.” I say the words swiftly because there’s no other way to say them. This isn’t something you ever want to say at all.

  “I’m coming out.”

  I nod. I expected he’d want to. “Do you want me to pick you up?”

  “No, I’ll get a rental car. You stay with Bo. I don’t want him left alone.”

  “He doesn’t know that you know.”

  “Well, you better tell him.”

  “What about Hank?”

  “I’ll just bring him with me.”

  “Do you need me to book the tickets?”

  “No, we can handle it here. But I’ll forward you our itinerary as soon as I get the flight booked.”

  We hang up, and I sit on the edge of the table with my heart on fire. It burns. It burns something fierce.

  I love my son. Nothing can happen to him. Hit me. Hurt me. But leave my boy alone.

  Bo still sits at the kitchen table, helping me decorate the rollout sugar cookies I made earlier today. Cooper was helping us until half an hour ago, when he got bored and wandered away. But Bo’s still carefully applying the icing and sugar sprinkles.

  “Thanks for your help,” I tell him, putting the last sheet of cookies in the oven to bake. “This wouldn’t have been fun without you.”

  “It’s nice to be with you.”

  “It’s nice to be with you, too.”

  I fill the mixing bowl with hot, soapy water and drop in the spatula and mixer’s beaters. I’m wondering how to broach the subject of his father coming out when Bo brings up the subject himself.

  “Have you talked to Dad?” he asks.

  “This morning.” I turn to face him. “And he’s concerned about you.”

  Bo stares at me without any emotion.

  “He’s flying out tomorrow,” I add. “He’ll be here by eleven.”

  “Erik can spare him?”

  I’m surprised by his sarcasm. Bo has never said anything about his dad and Erik until now. “Why do you say that?”

  “Because Erik’s totally jealous of us. They had a big fight on Thanksgiving about the amount of time Dad was spending with us. Erik walked out and Dad was really depressed all day, although he kept trying to act like everything was fine.”

  Coop had said almost the same thing, and it troubles me because the boys don’t need more chaos in their lives. But then again, merging families isn’t easy.

  “Do you not like Erik?” I ask.

  “I’m sure he’s okay on his own. But I don’t like him with Dad. It’s weird seeing them together, you know, like a couple. Makes me feel weird. Doesn’t seem normal.”

  I study his face, reading the fatigue in his eyes. “Do you want to go back to New York?” I hate having to ask but realize it’s what I might have to do. Send him back to New York. Send him to a place where he’s happier. A place where he’s safer.

  “No.”

  “But you weren’t so lonely in New York—”

  “Not if it means living with Dad. I can’t live with Dad. I want to be with you.”

  I dread the next question but have to ask. “Do you want us all to move back?”

  He drops his gaze to the table. “I don’t think it matters anymore.”

  “Why not?”

  “You and Dad aren’t going to get back together, and you like it here. You like being with your family.”

  I study his profile. His features are changing. Growing, thickening on the way to adulthood. “You are my family. You, Coop, and Hank.”

  “But Uncle Brick, Aunt Charlotte, and Uncle Blue, they’re all your family. They’re all here, and you never saw them when we were in New York.”

  “I know, but that’s what happens in life. You grow up and go to school and move to where you can get a job, and sometimes it means you don’t see as much of your family as you’d like.”

  “I’m not going to be that way—” His voice cracks, and he lifts his head to look at me. “I’m going to see my brothers. I’m going to live near them and see them all the time.”

  I nod, swallow, thinking I’d love that more than anything. No black sheep. No lost children. “But I thought Cooper drove you crazy.”

  The corner of Bo’s mouth lifts, and it’s Brick’s small, wry smile and I love it. “Yeah, of course he makes me crazy, but that’s because he’s my brother.”

  “So you kind of like him.”

  “No. Yes. Well, of course I love him. I just don’t always like him. But I don’t have to. He’s my brother.”

  Chapter Twenty-one

  John hasn’t been to the ranch since Pop’s funeral, but with the help of the rental car’s GPS, he finds us without much trouble.

  I’m anxious about seeing him and even more stressed about having him here. I haven’t seen John since last June when after the kids got out of school I packed up our apartment and moved us to Parkfield. I’m nervous as his car appears in the drive but excited to see Hank. It’s been four weeks since he left for his dad’s, but it feels like so much longer with everything that’s been happening here.

  Hank’s the first one out of the car. “Hey, Mom,” he says, giving me a tight hug. “Missed you.”

  Hank’s now several inches taller than me, well on his way to six one, and I don’t think he’s done growing. “You’re so tall,” I say, reaching up to touch the back of his head.

  John’s out of the car now and walking toward me. He looks like the former model he is. Tall, dark-haired, tan, handsome. There aren’t many men as handsome as John, and I feel so many different emotions as he leans down to kiss my cheek. “Where’s Bo?” he asks.

  “In the house,” I answer, stepping out of the embrace. I still don’t quite know how I’m supposed to feel when I’m around John. I remember his body. Remember our life together. Remember how well we got along. It’d be easier if we’d fought or had a stormy marriage, but we were happy. I always thought we were one of the lucky ones.

  “Did you find a therapist for him?” he asks, hands on his hips.

  I nod. “We have an appointment at four-thirty today in Weatherford.”

  “Good.” He glances at the house and then toward the barn. I know they’re looking dilapidated, know they could both use paint and the yard could use tending, but I’m putting all my energy into the kids right now. There isn’t time to give TLC to everything.

  “I’m going to paint the house as soon as it warms up,” I hear myself announcing, “maybe enclose Mama’s screened porch and turn it into a sunroom. Charlotte has a sunroom overlooking her rose garden, and it’s lovely.”

  “This place needs more than a coat of paint.”

  My gaze skims the oak-lined driveway, the corral and pasture. “I don’t know. I like it.” From inside the house, I hear a whine and a scratch at the door.

  John turns his head. “What’s that?”

  “Lacey. Our German shepherd puppy.” I go to the house to let her out, but John stops me.

  “She’s a cutie, Shey, but you better not. I’m allergic. Remember?”

  Now I remember why we never had dogs in New York. “I’m sorry, John, I completely forgot. I better call the Mineral Wells Hotel and see if they can’t get you in there tonight.”

  Hank and Cooper wander around the Weatherford Mall while John and I take Bo to see the child psychologist. John and I are allowed to stay for the first part of the appointment and then are asked to wait out in the waiting room while Dr. Crosby meets alone with Bo.

  We sit across from each other in the wait
ing room, tense and uncomfortable after listening to Bo describe his life to this stranger.

  My parents separated last year after my dad decided he was gay. My mom then moved us to Parkfield, where we live in my grandma’s house on the ranch. My older brother, Hank, now lives with my dad and his boyfriend in New York, and my younger brother and I live with Mom. The kids at school don’t like me. They say I’m a freak of nature and call me a ginger. I’d move back to New York, but I won’t leave my mom.

  “You know it’s not my fault,” John says finally, breaking the silence.

  My eyes had been closed, and I open them to look at him. “I never said it was.”

  “But he makes it sound like all his problems start with me.”

  I’d like to tell him that a lot of our problems do start with him, but I don’t know that that’s fair. And the blame game isn’t going to help anyone. What I want is for Bo to feel better. “He’s always been our sensitive one,” I say. “He cares what people think, and wants others to like him. It leaves him open to be hurt.”

  John rubs at his forehead. He looks tired. I imagine he didn’t sleep well last night. “I always thought Cooper was the emotional one.”

  “I think Coop’s our strongest son. He’s tough, John. Surprisingly fearless.”

  “I just don’t see him that way.”

  I think about the two fights Cooper had in New York, fights to defend his dad. I think about how Cooper wants to be able to protect Bo. “He’s growing up.” I look at John. “They all are. And that’s what we want.”

  He studies me for a long, uncomfortable moment. “You are coming back to New York, aren’t you?”

  I hold his gaze even as I search my heart. And then I give my head a slow, decisive shake. “No. I’m not.”

  “But the boys—”

  “Will have to decide where they want to live, and we’ll both have to be fine with that.”

  “How can you do that to them? How can you force them to choose?”

  “You were the one who wanted out, and moved out. You left me to pick up the pieces, and I have. Here.”

  “But you hate the country! You hated growing up on the ranch—”

  I flash back to my life in New York, a life dominated by the demands of the fashion industry and John’s interest in art, culture, and photography. John was the sophisticated one, not me. John loved the arts. I tried to love them for John’s sake. “No, you told me I hated the country. You tried to convince me that I hated life on the ranch. The truth is, I’m a total country girl. I’ve always been a country girl and have always been in love with a country guy.”

  “You’re just saying that.”

  “I’m not. I love Texas. I love being back in my boots and jeans.”

  “So who’s this guy you’ve always been in love with?”

  “Doesn’t matter.”

  “But it does. You always told me I was your one and only love.”

  I glance down at my bare hands, hands that once wore his wedding ring. “There was someone before you. My family didn’t approve and sent me off to boarding school.”

  “How old were you?”

  “Sixteen.”

  “Jesus, Shey!”

  “Nothing happened—”

  “Because your parents sent you away.”

  “—but I always loved him, and I never wanted to leave Parkfield. This was my home. This is where I was happy.”

  “And this guy you liked. Is he still around?”

  I shrug. “It doesn’t matter. Because I didn’t come back for him. I came back for me. And it’s been bumpy these past few months, but I’m starting to settle in now and this is where I want to stay.”

  “Even if the boys hate it here?”

  I feel a prick of pain, because no, I don’t want the boys miserable. They mean too much to me to have them upset. But Coop… I don’t see him wanting to go back to New York. He’s more Callen than Darcy, and he likes it here. And Bo… well, Bo’s another matter. I’m not sure what he wants.

  “I guess we have to ask them what they want,” I answer.

  “And what if they don’t want to be here?”

  I’m resigned. “Then they can do what Hank’s doing, and live with you.”

  I see from his expression that he doesn’t believe me. “You’d really let all three come live with me?”

  I picture Bo and Cooper and how much I love having them around the kitchen table. It would be a pretty lonely house without them. But I’d still have Lacey for company. Brick and Char are just up the road. And Blue’s just ninety minutes away. “The boys aren’t little boys anymore. They’re growing up. Beginning to think about college and moving away. I think it’s important for them to decide what they want, and where they want to live.”

  John is mistrustful. “But you’ve always wanted them with you.”

  “I have. I’m their mom. They’re the best part of my life. But they’re not toddlers, or little boys on bikes with training wheels. They’re boys who will be driving soon and boys who like girls and boys thinking of colleges and careers.”

  My job when they were little was to protect them and nurture them so they could be confident adults. And while that’s still my job, I also have to teach them to think for themselves and make good decisions and learn to stand on their own two feet. As much as I love them, the boys can’t always live with me. They’re not supposed to always live with me. The goal is to make them strong and loving and independent.

  “And because I love them,” I add quietly, “I realize it’s time to support whatever it is they want to do.”

  After Bo’s appointment ends and we’ve set up a series of appointments for the next month, we pick up Hank and Cooper from the mall and discuss where we’re going to go for dinner.

  Hank suggests the Kountry Kitchen Café, and the other boys agree since they love going there for dessert.

  I’m disappointed when en route to the restaurant John suddenly announces to the boys that they can move back to New York with him. “Your mom’s agreed,” he says, darting me a swift glance while I drive his rental car.

  Bo unbuckles his seat belt and leans forward. “You want us to go live with Dad?”

  “No—”

  “Shey, you agreed,” John insists, interrupting me. “At Dr. Crosby’s, you said the boys could come live with me—”

  “If they wanted to,” I reply. “I don’t want them to move away, but I said I’d support their decision if that’s what they wanted to do.”

  John looks over his shoulder at the boys. “And it’s what you want, right? You told me at Thanksgiving that you didn’t like living here. Well, now you don’t have to live here. You can move back with me.”

  “I’m staying.” Cooper’s voice is flinty. “I like Parkfield. I like the ranch. I want to be with Mom.”

  John turns to face the backseat. “Bo, I know you’re not happy here.”

  I glance at Bo in the rearview mirror. He’s looking out the window, forehead wrinkled, jaw clenched. He looks so worried, so stressed. This isn’t the time to be pressuring him. He needs to unwind, settle down, start feeling better again. “Maybe Bo needs some time to think about it,” I say, keeping my tone friendly, nonconfrontational.

  “I think Bo knows,” John says. “He’s said he doesn’t have friends here. He’s clearly bottoming out—”

  “I’m staying with Mom,” he speaks up, cutting his father short.

  John shoots me a sharp glance. “What if your mother moved back to New York? Would you like that?”

  Bo looks from John to me and back again, clearly confused. “Mom doesn’t want to move back…”

  “She would, though, if you wanted her to.” John gives him a smile. “You just need to tell her what you want her to do.”

  Something snaps in me, and I exhale in a short, painful rush.

  Men are still trying to make decisions for me. First Brick, now John. But I’ve had enough. I don’t need a man to pressure me or push me. I’m smart and t
ough and grounded and I can make good decisions, great decisions, if given the chance.

  “Bo’s right,” I say firmly. “I don’t want to move back. I like living in Parkfield near my family. And I like having the boys here with me, but the boys are old enough to decide where they want to live. It’s time we let them decide. That way we can tell the lawyers we’ve amicably worked out a custody plan, and we can settle this once and for all.”

  The boys are quiet the rest of the way to the restaurant. I park on the street, and as the boys head inside, John stops me. “You’d really give up the boys?”

  “I’m not giving them up. I’m letting them decide where they’d want to live—with you, or me.”

  Inside the restaurant, I see the boys talking to Traci and I wonder if this is why Hank chose the Kountry Kitchen.

  Traci’s delighted to see Hank, and once John and I are inside, she leads us to a big booth, chattering animatedly about the end of the Rams’ football season and the start of the basketball season.

  John’s still upset over our conversation, and the décor of the restaurant isn’t helping his mood. As we sit down, I see his gaze lingering critically on the yellowed walls, the brown vinyl booths, the long, lemon-colored Formica counter. It’s not a cool or trendy place, and I’m sure the menu won’t be to his liking, either. John’s a sushi or Thai guy and almost never eats meat.

  Traci’s still talking as she passes out the menus. “I thought you moved, Hank,” she says with the faintest of blushes.

  “I did,” Hank answers. “But I’m back for Christmas.”

  “You went to New York?”

  He nods.

  “When did you get back?” she asks.

  “Just, uh, today. This afternoon.” He flushes a little and glances down at his menu before looking back at her.

  She only has eyes for him, and she smiles at him, dimples flashing. “Isn’t New York a lot later?”

  “A couple hours ahead.”

  “Gosh, you must be hungry.”

  “A little,” he admits. “More tired than anything. We got up early to catch the flight.”

  “Let me get your order in, then.” She tugs on her ponytail, rattles off the dinner specials, and then heads off to fill the drinks.