My voice cracked, and I had nothing more to say.
I hadn’t even planned to say that.
But it’d spilled from a place that held a lot of hurt, and I was done.
I couldn’t take it back.
And right now, I didn’t really care what happened.
“Here.” Shoving the plastic bags of horse minerals against his chest, I hissed, “Pay for those. I’m going to walk back to Cherry River. I’ll see you later.”
He bowed his head as if I’d cut him with a thousand knives.
And maybe I had.
But I was done worrying about his feelings.
He wanted to prove he had none?
He’d just succeeded.
“Goodbye, Jake.”
This time, it was my turn to leave and not look back.
* * * * *
Lying on my back in a freshly baled field, the stars above were my friends.
Wisps of clouds formed grey ribbons over glittery orbs, soaking up my frustration and pain.
I’d been out here for an hour. The muggy summer air had cooled, and my thin pyjamas didn’t protect me from a slight chill. The prickly stalks of harvested grass weren’t nearly as comfortable as lush meadow.
But I didn’t want to be in bed. Definitely not in his bed.
I couldn’t sleep.
I hadn’t seen him since I’d walked back from the feed store, taking my time to meander down local streets and cut across another farmer’s land who raised alpacas. The funny animals had mobbed me, searching my pockets for snacks, all while their woolly coats gave me something to hold onto while I tortured myself with memories of what’d happened.
Why had I said what I did?
Would he ask me to leave?
Was having him love me more important than staying at Cherry River?
Who am I kidding?
It wasn’t as though I could stay here indefinitely. This wasn’t my home as much as I liked to pretend it was. I didn’t belong here. I didn’t belong anywhere. But I’d trespassed enough, and time waited for no one.
Regardless if I left tomorrow or next year, I would leave eventually.
There was no other conclusion to contemplate.
“Hope.”
I flinched as my eyes left the patchwork galaxy above and focused on the blonde-haired shadow beside me.
My heart raced as I propped myself up on my elbows. “Della. Um, what are you doing out here?”
“I could ask you the same thing.”
“Couldn’t sleep.”
“Me either.” She smiled. “Do you mind?”
I shook my head, scooting into a sitting position. “Not at all.”
With a small nod, she lowered herself beside me, sighing as the ribbony clouds dissolved, giving a glimpse of a crescent moon.
For the longest while, we didn’t speak. Our silence was companionable and soothing. I guessed our minds were on similar things. The love she’d lost and the love I’d yet to find.
Finally, with her arms wrapped around her knees and silver starlight making her look more my age than my dad’s, she said, “You’re very brave to love him, you know.”
I stiffened.
Words escaped me, and I shivered, not knowing how to respond. Stupid tears welled for no other reason than my affection for this woman. This wonderful woman who’d taken me in, shown me what it would’ve been like to have a mother who actually wanted a daughter, and cared for me as kindly as she cared for her son.
She hadn’t judged me, ridiculed me, or scolded me for making Jacob’s life harder. She’d stayed out of the way, her comforting presence there but not prying.
She glanced at me, tucking blonde waves behind her ear. “He’s too much like his father.” She smiled with a sad shrug. “And I’m sorry for that. I’m sorry he’s hurting you.”
I sighed, plucking a piece of stalky grass. “He doesn’t mean to hurt me. He’s just…”
“Stubborn.” Della smiled.
“Yeah.” I nodded, sighing again.
“Just like Ren, he’s a loner at heart, but he has so much love to give to the right person.”
“Are you sure?” I didn’t have the guts to ask if I was the right person or not.
“Am I sure?” She raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
I daren’t look at her. “Are you sure he’s capable of loving? I mean…he seems pretty adamant that he’s not.”
She shook her head sadly. “Ah.” Looking at the moon, she murmured, “I’m afraid that’s my fault. Our fault.”
“Yours?”
“Ren and me.”
I waited for her to elaborate, but when she merely kept staring at the spider web of stars above, I understood there was nothing more to be said.
I spoke instead. “He knows how I feel about him. But he refuses to admit he feels something, too.” It wasn’t awkward discussing this with Della. She’d become my friend over the past weeks. Besides, her sad calmness and loving hopefulness spoke to something smarting inside me. “He refuses to see the truth.”
“And he’ll continue to refuse.”
My heart sank to the dirt below. “Forever?”
She shrugged, never taking her eyes off the dark horizon. “Depends.”
“On what?”
“On how much pain you’re willing to go through until he does.”
“And if I don’t know if I’m strong enough?”
She turned to face me, her blue gaze wise and understanding. “Then that’s Jacob’s loss.” Reaching out, her soft touch grazed my cheek. “If he can’t see how brave and beautiful you are, then he doesn’t deserve you. I’m not talking ill of my son. I love him more than I can bear, but seeing him push away happiness, all because we stupidly taught him that happiness causes so much suffering, breaks my heart. Don’t let him break yours too, Hope.”
Her hand dropped away as she pushed upward and stood over me, blocking out the moon and stars. “I meant what I said to your father. You’re welcome here, for however long you want. With Jacob or without. I hope you know that.”
My heart fisted around a nucleus of agony, but I nodded gratefully. “Thank you. That means a lot to me.”
“The fact that you’re trying to help my son means the world to me. It’s the least I can do.” She laughed softly. “Besides, the past has a funny way of repeating itself. I was once in love with a boy who didn’t love me the same way, and it was the hardest thing I’ve ever done to make him see otherwise. But it was worth it in the end. You’re a wonderful girl, Hope. If anyone can put up with Jacob, it’s you. You’re the best daughter anyone could ask for.”
I blushed, choking on a sudden wash of tears. Tears for a mother I never truly knew. Tears for a father who was so far away. Tears for true love broken by stubbornness.
Della smiled, hearing what I couldn’t say. Knowing how much she meant to me. How much all of this meant to me.
“Goodnight, Hope.” Blowing me a kiss, she headed back to the house where soul-mates had lived, death had visited, and heartbreak continued to haunt them.
Jacob had moved from that ghost-filled house, but his heart still carried them regardless.
I didn’t belong in either home.
So I stayed in the field.
Neutral territory.
An island of confusion.
A girl blanketed by midnight.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Jacob
* * * * * *
“YOU’RE HURTING EVERYONE, Wild One. Didn’t I teach you to be better than that?”
I hung my head, slipping back into the child I’d been when I lost my father. The child who still dictated a lot of my fear. The child petrified of love.
Dad moved around the small clearing where trees canopied and protected us. The trunk I’d carved Dad’s tattoo and our initials into was already so much higher than that awful day of his funeral.
Funny that I knew this was a dream.
Funny that I knew he was dead and this was ju
st a figment of my sleeping unconsciousness.
Funny that none of that mattered.
I was still being scolded. Judged. Condemned.
Dad moved to sit on the log in front of me. The fire that was always the heart of our campsite blazed with orange flames.
“Didn’t I tell you to look after her? Didn’t I tell you to keep her happy?”
I nodded, thinking of Mom and how I’d hurt her, thinking of Hope and how I’d broken her, thinking of my family and how I’d only caused them pain. With heavy regret and burning anguish, I dragged a stick through ash and cinders. “You did.”
“Didn’t I tell you not to be afraid? That death isn’t the end? That nothing ever truly dies?”
“You did.”
“Then why are you resisting, Wild One? Why can’t you give into life? Into love?”
“Because…you lied.” I dared look up. Dared stare into the eyes of my imagination and study the father who was no longer real. He looked healthier than I’d ever seen him. Bronze hair glowing, dark eyes knowing, a face full of immortality.
“How did I lie?”
“You lied when you said true love never dies.”
“I didn’t lie.”
“Tell that to Mom. She’s dying every day without you.”
Dad shook his head sadly. “She’s not dying. She’s waiting.”
“Waiting to die.”
“Perhaps. Or waiting for another to make her live. Or waiting for you to be happy.”
“I am happy. I don’t need love to be happy.”
He scoffed, throwing me a beer that magically appeared in his hand. Icy cold, dew decorated, and straight from the hands of a ghost. “You’re saying you’re happy?”
“I’m saying I have everything I need.”
“That wasn’t what I asked.”
My eyes narrowed as I twisted the lid off the beer and swigged the cold liquid. “I’m keeping your promise. I’m watching over her. I’m keeping her safe. I promised I would never leave her, and I won’t. What more do you want?”
Dad drank from his own beer, his throat working as he swallowed. “I was wrong to ask such a thing of you. Consider this an ending of that promise. You’re free to do whatever you need.”
“I don’t need anything.” I glowered, getting angry with the one person I never should.
“Wrong.” He grinned with annoying fatherly wisdom. “You need her. The girl who’s fighting for you.”
Hope.
My fingers clenched around the beer bottle. “I need nothing.”
“If that were true, your subconscious wouldn’t be trying to convince you otherwise.”
“You’re saying I’m choreographing this dream?”
He laughed. “If that isn’t the case, then are you willing to concede I might be talking to you from the grave, and I was right all along?” He leaned toward me, smelling of wood-smoke and childhood and loss. “That even gone, I’m still here. That there is no end.”
“I don’t know what to believe anymore.”
“That’s a start.” He stood, and the fire swirled into dust, drenching us in darkness. “Give in, Wild One. Just give a little and see where your heart guides you. Perhaps that compass was meant to lead you to Hope all along. Now wake up. Wake up and—”
I soared upright.
Sweat drenched my back. My lungs couldn’t catch a proper breath. My heart pumped manic blood through terrified veins.
Shit, that felt so real.
So strange and crazy and real.
And the strangest part was, I knew what Dad was about to say before I woke. His voice rang in my ears as if he spoke in the quiet stillness of my room.
“Wake up and apologise. Wake up and be brave. Wake up and accept life in all its gifts and glories, all its sadness and suffering.”
If I had scripted that entire illusion, then I was seeking absolution from my promise—searching for a way to be free of looking after my mother—which made me an awful, terrible son.
But then again, I’d descended into an awful, terrible person.
I led Hope on by growling at Carter, refusing to let her find joy with anyone else, and trying my hardest to make her as miserable as me.
I couldn’t handle the feelings she invoked in me.
I couldn’t handle the dominating desire when she spoke to other guys or the gut-sinking realisation that I wanted to be the one to take her to the waterfall.
Why the hell was I so screwed up?
Why couldn’t I get past this?
Why couldn’t I just do what Dad said and let my heart guide me instead of my mind ruling me all the goddamn time?
Dad was right. My dream was right. I was right.
This was no way to live.
I couldn’t keep doing this anymore.
But I didn’t know how to break free.
Round and round my thoughts went, fighting a heart that was brave and cursing a soul that was pitifully fearful.
I wasn’t ten anymore.
I’d survived death. I had a family who loved me. I had a girl who put up with my bullshit even though I went out of my way to be cruel.
I didn’t deserve them.
I’d never deserved them.
And this wasn’t the man I was meant to become.
I was supposed to be better than this.
I wanted to be better than this.
I just didn’t know how.
How did I stop fighting life?
How did I stop battling everything that made me human?
The answer?
Give in.
The simplest notion.
The hardest thing.
Give in.
Accept.
Trust.
And…apologise.
* * * * *
I left them letters.
I used a tip from my old man and penned letters to my loved ones.
One to Aunt Cassie, Uncle Chip, and Cousin Nina.
One to Grandpa John.
One to Mom.
I hadn’t figured out how to be the son Dad expected me to be, but my dream had slapped me awake enough to see the error of my ways. So what if I struggled? I shouldn’t take it out on those who cared for me.
I wasn’t strong enough to say it face to face. Words stuck in my throat at the very thought of admitting I loved them. Just the image of such a thing made me want to run into the forest and never come back.
But letters I could do.
Letters could be my starting point. The first step in my rehabilitation to being normal.
However, just as words strangled my throat, they clogged up my pen too.
I sat for hours, searching for the right ones to apologise for my coldness, my remoteness, my lack of love. I sat in the glittery golds of dawn and wrote the shortest but hardest letters of my life.
I didn’t want to push them away anymore.
I needed their help if I stood any chance of solving the riddle in my heart and finding the courage to be vulnerable.
Vulnerable to their sickness and suffering.
Defenceless to their eventual death and burial.
Life would mess me up and leave me with yet more scars, but I would no longer be this freak who couldn’t afford the cost of love.
Before they were out of bed, I dressed in my jeans, steel caps, and a green T-shirt, and snuck into their respective houses. A letter was left on the table in Aunt Cassie’s place, and one was left on the kitchen bench in Grandpa John’s.
Was it weak to let written words do my apologising for me or brave to leave such permanency on paper? I couldn’t take this back. I couldn’t pretend I hadn’t woken with a new determination and the undeniable need to be more.
I needed their accountability to ensure I didn’t slink behind well-constructed walls and gates.
Crossing the paddock between my grandfather’s home and my mother’s, my head whipped up as the front door opened and Hope appeared. Freshly showered, brown hair wet and glossy, she stretched out he
r spine before stooping to slip on well-used, dirty boots.
I broke into a jog.
She couldn’t leave.
Not yet.
“Hope, wait.”
She stilled as her eyes flew up, catching mine. The sun already painted her in a buttery softness that made my heart kick and body twist and all manner of courage evaporate.
“Jacob. Wha-what are you doing here?” She scooped her long hair back, pulling an elastic from her wrist and securing it around her ponytail. “I was heading to the barn. Didn’t you say we’re selling the extra hay we don’t need? What time will people arrive?”
My boots sounded loud and punishing as I climbed the steps to stand before her. “They won’t be here for another hour or so.” She never looked away. The anger she nursed for me. The hunger she cursed for me. The messy complications between us. My skin prickled with nerves as I looked at her mouth and swallowed hard. “Can you, eh, wait here? I just have to do something, but then I’ll be back.”
Her gaze widened. “Wait where? On the deck?”
“Or in the meadow. I don’t mind. Just…don’t go anywhere too far.”
“Okay…” She frowned as I brushed past her and darted into the house. I held her stare as I closed the door, sucking in a breath and doing my best to calm my panicked heartbeat.
Hope would be the last person I would apologise to, but first…there was someone else of utmost importance.
Striding through the family home that filled me with such comfort and tragedy, I slipped down the corridor to my parents’ room.
I found Mom making her bed, curtains open to sunshine, life beginning a new day. She fluffed a final pillow, smiling as I entered. “Jacob, what a lovely surprise.” Moving around the neat bed, she came toward me but stopped before giving me a hug. Even though every part of her screamed to be affectionate, she respected my differences.
One of these days, I’d be strong enough to yank her into a hug without thinking. But today, it took everything I had just to stand there.
The Son & His Hope Page 30