The Son & His Hope

by Pepper Winters

  “Friends, Jacob. Everyone needs at least one. We’re different, but we’re the same too. We’re both lonely.”

  I stormed around her, only to find her in front of me again. “I’m not lonely. Have you met my family? I have lots of company.”

  “I have met them, and they’re all afraid of you.”

  “Afraid?” I flinched. “What the hell does that mean?”

  “They all want to love you, Jacob, but you don’t let them.”

  “This conversation is over.” I cut to the side. If she kept blocking the way to my cabin, so be it. I’d just head to Forrest’s paddock and sleep beneath the willow instead.

  Hope didn’t chase me, but her voice dug claws into my back, slamming me to a stop. “I give you my word, Jacob Wild. I will never ask for more than what you can give. I won’t touch you. I won’t hug you. I won’t pry into your mind or demand to know more than what you tell me. I also promise not to like you very much. I’ll be honest when you’re being a jerk, and I’ll be your friend even when you are my enemy. But for the rest of the time, I’ll just be there. You can yell at me, talk to me, or ignore me completely, but at least you know you don’t have to try with me. You’ll be free to just hang out with no expectation or obligation. And then, when I go home to my dad, you won’t have lost anything. You won’t even care when I’m gone.”

  I couldn’t breathe.

  It took every drop of willpower to turn and face her.

  She stood in shadows thanks to clouds obscuring the moon, and the meadow no longer looked magical. It looked like a wasteland, and she was some angel of death, giving me an offer that came with eternal damnation.

  “I told you once, and I’ll tell you again.” I balled my hands until my nails dug into my palms. “I’m. Not. Lonely.”

  Very slowly, almost as if she floated rather than walked, she came toward me. “You might not be. I might have that completely wrong. But I am. Can’t you see? Your letters hurt me, Jacob. Your indifference when all I wanted was someone to talk to made me feel like dirt.”

  “You want an apology for that too?” I sneered. “You didn’t get the hint then, and you’re not getting it now. I’m not looking for a friend.”

  “You’re looking for something.”

  Everything inside me turned ice cold. “I’m done.” I pointed for the second time at Mom’s house. “Leave. I won’t ask again.”

  “You’re not asking now. You’re ordering.”

  “Yet you’re still here, so my orders aren’t working.”

  “That’s because you haven’t given me an answer.”

  “Because there is no answer to give!”

  She sighed as if her patience had run as thin as mine. “I’m not asking you to like me. I’m asking you to accept me. That’s all.”

  “You’re our guest. I’ve already agreed to be nice to you while you’re here.”

  “Being nice is just another form of indifference. I want more.”

  “You just said you wouldn’t ask for more.” My eyes searched hers, trying to understand this strange creature. She was willing to have a friendship with someone who honestly couldn’t cope with such a thing. “Why are you doing this?”

  She smiled sadly. “Because ever since I saw you on set, I’ve wanted to know you. I’m not afraid of you, Jacob. And you need someone who isn’t afraid of you.”

  “I don’t need anyone.”

  “Are you honestly so sure about that?”

  My heart pounded, making me shake with violence. “Deadly. Now get out of my way.”

  I no longer cared if she was out here until dawn.

  I didn’t worry she might get hurt.

  All I cared about was getting the hell away from her.

  Immediately.

  Right now.

  Before she pushed me too far, and I did something I’d regret.

  Hurt her.

  Kiss her.

  Fall for her.

  They were all as terrifying as the last, and none of them could be permitted.

  I left Hope alone.

  And with every step I took, the knowing, condemning breeze of my conscience chased me all the way home.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Jacob

  * * * * * *

  THE WEEK ONLY grew worse.

  Hope’s presence infiltrated every inch of the hundred acres I was responsible for, hounding me, judging me, punishing me.

  I barely slept. I hardly ate. I existed on frustration, resentment, and rage.

  For seven nights, I made excuses for why I couldn’t go over to Mom’s place to make dinner like I usually did. I stayed out on the tractor for far longer than normal, and when I dragged my weary ass into bed, my mind only raced faster, repeating everything Hope had said.

  “I will never ask for more than what you can give.”

  “You won’t even care when I’m gone.”

  Hope believed I was some shallow, cold-hearted bastard who destroyed anyone for getting close to him. She thought I didn’t need their love. That I’d shut myself off from feeling. She wouldn’t have been able to make such an offer if she didn’t.

  However, if she knew me, truly knew me, she’d understand that if I let her become my friend, there was no way I wouldn’t care when she was gone. That I wouldn’t miss her, want her, and be miserable in her absence.

  I kept people at a distance because I loved too much, not too little.

  I’d worshipped the ground my father walked on. I’d looked up to him, adored him, and tried to be him to make him proud. I was like any kid—totally infatuated with his idol—only to learn the hardest lesson a kid could learn.

  Love—no matter how deeply it was felt—was not enough to stop death.

  In the end, you were helpless.

  Utterly, ridiculously helpless.

  That was what I was afraid of.

  Not love.

  God, love for me? It was a drug I was addicted to. I’d grown up drunk on it with parents I adored. But the blind belief that my world would always be perfect was chipped away piece by piece every time Dad coughed until all that remained was a bleeding heart and the stark understanding that it was simply better not to care. Saner not to bother. Less agonising not to fall.

  Just like an addict, I could handle being around the substance I wanted by not giving in to it. But Hope was there, offering me tiny morsels, lying to me that it wouldn’t tear me apart if I partook, just a little.

  But I knew better.

  I knew if I bowed to her deal, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself, and I’d tumble from a place of function into one that would be total, awful chaos.

  So no.

  Hope was not permitted.

  Friendship was banned.

  Mom and Aunt Cassie could keep her loneliness at bay, and I would protect all of us by staying far away.

  And so, I kept going to work, kept living my life, kept keeping my promise all while Hope slept in my bedroom and borrowed my mother for her own.

  For seven days, I grew more and more exhausted, fighting the desire to be part of whatever was going on in the house where I’d been raised and reminding myself all over again that I shouldn’t care.

  Until one day, the ramshackle world I lived in came crashing down, and Hope got her wish.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Hope

  * * * * * *

  I COULDN’T BELIEVE I was about to admit it, but I could only do so much horse riding before I became itchy for other things.

  Della had been beyond amazing to me—the true opposite of her short-tempered son. She’d shown me where all the tack lived, the horse feed and vitamins, the trails that were safe, and the perfect picnic spots to sit with a good book and enjoy.

  Most mornings, she’d ride with me, but by the afternoon, she had her own life to attend to. Chores to complete, errands to run, and an extended family to take care of without worrying about some random actor’s daughter.

  I spoke to Dad every other day and had a few e
vening Skype sessions with Keeko to assure her I was completing the lessons she’d sent me via email.

  All in all, life found a new rhythm, keeping me occupied and content at Cherry River Farm. The loneliness and searching for something other than the paparazzi-filled make-believe life I’d lived had paused, and even though I spent large chunks most days on my own, I wasn’t sad like I’d been in Scotland.

  The earth kept me company.

  The sky was my friend.

  The forest listened to my tales of woe, and the grass was a perfect mattress to nap in the golden glow of warm sunshine.

  For seven days, I stayed away from Jacob. Not that that was hard. If I hadn’t caught glimpses of him here and there, I would’ve thought he ran into the trees and never returned.

  Most nights, I went for a walk once Della was asleep and I could sneak out unnoticed, but I didn’t bump into him again.

  His cabin remained dark.

  His deck empty of night-time watchers.

  Our fight lingered in the air, but I didn’t let it chase me back inside. I’d become familiar with the grotto, creek, and even gone to see Forrest one evening.

  I hadn’t dared go into his paddock, but he’d come to investigate me hanging on his fence. I’d earned a hand sniff followed by a warning snort before he raised his tail and trotted off like any proud stallion.

  His attitude reminded me a little of Jacob’s. Bluster threaded with danger and full of warnings—a show of strength when, really, there was so much fragility beneath.

  On the eighth day of being a guest of the Wilds, I waved goodbye to Della as she and Cassie hopped into the horse truck to collect more rescues and ensured I bathed Stardust and Cody who’d kindly taken us for a gallop that morning. I fed them, led them back to their paddock, and swept up the hay mess left in the stable.

  Once I’d finished my tasks, I ambled home to Della’s house, conscious and overly aware that I hadn’t seen Jacob today. I hadn’t heard the grumble of his tractor or caught a fleeting glance as he shot by on the quad.

  I wasn’t at ease not knowing if he was around or okay.

  Entering the Wild’s house, I headed to Jacob’s room—that had swiftly become mine—and changed from my horse-hair-covered leggings and into a comfy pair of grey yoga pants. Slipping into a pink T-shirt with gold flecks, I braided my hair, used an elastic band I found on Jacob’s dresser to secure it, and made my way to the kitchen.

  There, I created a veggie sandwich with the leftover roasted vegetables from the night before, squirted a generous amount of mayonnaise, then tucked it into a bag along with a packet of salt and vinegar chips and a Mars bar I found in the pantry.

  I remembered everything I did with explicit detail—more so than any other morning. It was as if I knew something was coming, and my brain was preparing itself by centring in the now, calming itself in the present, and existing in the serenity before the storm.

  It took me fifteen minutes to hike up the gentle hill that overlooked Cherry River’s houses and out-buildings. Another fifteen to cut across the ridge, weave around the apple orchard that Jacob’s father planted (according to Della), and spread out the picnic blanket that I’d often used for my afternoon lunches alone.

  I sat down.

  I placed my sandwich, chips, and chocolate bar just so in front of me.

  I turned on my e-reader and prepared to lose myself in a world of villainous vampires and angelic witches, only for my entire body to shiver with fear.

  Coldness. Dread. Panic.

  Had someone died?

  Was Dad okay?

  Why did I suddenly—

  I looked up at the sound of thundering hooves.

  A blur of roan and grass and Jacob as Forrest shot from the woodland, galloping below me through wildflowers and meadow. There was no glint of bridle or sign of saddle and stirrups. No tack between horse and rider.

  They moved effortlessly together.

  Jacob leaned forward, and Forrest ran faster. Jacob tipped to the left, and Forrest followed in a sweeping arc as if he had wings.

  Forgetting about my lunch, I stood on shaky legs as Jacob urged Forrest to fly quicker, straight toward a post and rail fence. A fence that wouldn’t be forgiving if he messed up the stride or didn’t clear it.

  My eyes wanted to close as they approached the obstacle at breakneck speed, only to soar and leap, seamless in their perfection, landing softly and just as fast on the other side.

  Jacob’s seat was unmatched. He didn’t bounce riding bareback. He didn’t hang onto the mane or cling for purchase. His legs were his ballast. His back strong. Core engaged. He was utterly insane as he removed his fingers from the roan’s neck and sat up tall. Spreading his arms wide, he gave all faith and existence to the horse who took his rider’s trust and ran ever faster.

  Faster and faster.

  Nimble and quick and crazy.

  A fallen tree that’d lain on the ground for years by the way nature had reclaimed it loomed in their path. The dead root system shot to the sky, the trunk itself weathered and massive.

  Jacob kept his arms spread, making it seem as if he was part element himself—a man made of air with a sorcery over animal and land. His messy golden hair streamed behind him. His face resolute and determined.

  And he kicked Forrest with an urgency that looked tangled up with the need to run, fear of life, and the weight of whatever madness he lived with.

  It only took a second.

  A brief second to watch the most horrifying thing.

  Forrest reached the fallen tree.

  Jacob leaned forward into jumping position, his arms still spread wide.

  Forrest jumped.

  His legs tucked. His body arched.

  But it wasn’t enough.

  The horse’s knees whacked against the root system, breaking twigs and debris, interrupting the flow of such a gigantic jump.

  Forrest tripped mid-air, his feet kicking as if he could reconnect with earth, but it was too late. The horse somersaulted, throwing Jacob over his head, catapulting him into the thick grass.

  I gasped, heart hammering, hands clamped over my mouth while I waited.

  Waited for horse and rider to stand, brush off their catastrophe, and continue.

  Only…the horse got up and not the rider.

  The horse trotted around, tossing his head, telling the tree off for making him fall.

  But Jacob didn’t get up.

  For four eternally long heartbeats, I waited.

  Please, get up. Please, get up. Please!

  Nothing.

  I ran.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Hope

  * * * * * *

  “JACOB, CAN YOU hear me?”

  I cradled his head on my lap, my fingers fluttering over his forehead like they had for the past five minutes since I’d slammed to my knees beside him.

  He was breathing, but the angle of his back sent terror infecting my heart. I didn’t want to move him. I’d heard the stories that you shouldn’t move someone with suspected spinal issues. But as I’d kneeled next to him, he’d woken just long enough to try to sit up. With a tortured expression, he’d groaned and fought.

  I’d caught him as he’d passed out again.

  Even unconscious, his forehead furrowed and jaw knitted tight in pain.

  “Come on. Please, wake up.”

  Forrest pranced around us, splitting my attention between his dangerous hooves getting too close to my patient and doing my best to keep that patient alive.

  Why, oh why, didn’t I bring my cell phone? Why did I have to be the one to witness such a disaster? How long would Della and Cassie be gone? Where were John and Chip and all the rest of the damn family living on this farm?

  Bending over Jacob, I pressed my forehead to his, hoping he’d hear my thoughts if he couldn’t hear my voice.

  “Please wake up,” I silently begged. “I’m not equipped to deal with this. You can’t die. You know I have issues with people dying, and I
don’t have enough answers about where souls go to let you leave. So…you have to stay.”

  Pulling away, I searched his pained face for any clue he’d heard me.

  “Come on, Jacob. Please, please wake up.” I tapped his cheek lightly, earning another heart-wrenching groan. His body seized as he sucked in a gasp, his spine soaring upward.

  “No! Don’t move.” I clamped my hands on his shoulders, keeping him as still as I could.

  His eyes flew open. Wild and hazy, they danced over me, the sky, everything and nothing.

  “You’re okay. You fell off Forrest. But I’ve got you. Just don’t move, okay? Just…get your bearings. That’s it. Relax.” I stroked his cheek with the back of my hand, heart racing for help.

  His eyes hooded again as whatever blow to his head tried to drag him under for the third time.

  “Hey!” I yelled. “Wake up. Helloooooo!” My stroking turned to tapping again, and his gaze shot wide. This time, they focused, locking onto mine.

  A film of sweat covered his forehead. Sweat caused by injury, not by the sun. He must be in a lot of pain for his system to perspire so quickly.

  My nerves skyrocketed. All I wanted was someone to come racing over to tell me what to do. To take responsibility. To fix what I didn’t know how to fix.

  “You’re okay. Just…don’t move and let me figure this out.”

  He winced as he disobeyed me and moved anyway. Just a shuffle in the grass, a wriggle on my lap but enough to send my heart scrambling out of my chest.

  “Ca-can you feel everything?” I bit my lip, eyes zooming down the length of his body, skipping over his blue T-shirt, faded denim, and scuffed-up boots.

  He nodded, frowning deeper. “Yeah.” He moved his right leg, then his left. “See?”

  “I don’t think you should be doing—”

  “Let me go, Hope.” His gaze landed on my face, looking up at me from where I had his head cradled in my lap.

  “You should probably stay where you are.”

  “I’m not lying like a cripple in the grass.”

  “You’re not a cripple.”