by Sienna Parks
Chapter Nine
MADDOX
The sun climbs above the horizon, as bright and as beautiful as every other day. That’s the strange thing about death – the world keeps turning like nothing has happened. Billions of people go about their day, none the wiser. Life here on Mustang Ranch is anything but normal. The past five days have been the hardest of my life. When my mom left, I didn’t understand the gravity of what that meant for me. Now, I know exactly what has happened – my dad left me before I had a chance to make him proud. And worse than that, he died without knowing that I loved him.
Pops always tried to encourage the old proverb: Never go to bed on an argument. He and my grandma had a happy marriage based on those seven words. It was something my dad never adopted in his own life. That man could hold a grudge like no one else I’ve ever met. Until the day he died, his disdain for my mother clouded every decision he ever made. I know I’m like him – the past fourteen years of my life are case-in-point. I thought I was over A.B. I believed I was happy with my life. Don’t get me wrong – Rae is the single greatest thing I’ve ever done, and I wouldn’t change that for the world. But, since A.B. showed back up in town, I realize just how much of my life I’ve wasted, trying to prove a point to myself.
Sam was a mistake from the moment we met. I knew that, but I just wanted to mess around. I hated to admit that no one would ever come close to A.B. If I had been mature enough when she left, I would have gone after her and demanded an explanation. To this day, I still have no idea why she left without so much as a kiss goodbye or it was nice knowing you. Even now… if I hadn’t been so consumed with anger after our moment in the barn, I would have been baling hay in the field when my dad had his heart-attack. If I’d been there, I would’ve been able to get him help sooner. I could have saved him. If that’s not a wake-up call to get over my bullshit and move on with my life, then I don’t know what is.
The town has rallied around us this week - every meal provided in abundance, the ranch taken care of, our house cleaned from top to bottom. Rae has been kept busy with all kinds of games, treats, stories, and love from everyone who sets foot through our door. Under normal circumstances, I could think of nothing worse than my house being a revolving door of Kingsbury Falls residents, but I don’t know what I would have done without them. I haven’t slept more than an hour a night, haunted by the image of my dad as he took his last breath; tormented by our final conversation.
Pops has withdrawn from everyone, including Rae. He eats in his room, refuses to come out or talk to visitors offering their condolences, and spends most of the day in bed with the drapes closed. I’ve tried to talk to him, but he doesn’t even acknowledge I’m in the room. It’s as if I lost him, too. Today is the first day he’s showered, shaved, and dressed since it happened. Pops has always been my grounding force. The person I go to for advice when life gets tough. There’s so much going on right now, but I can’t go to him. He’s been through enough. A.B. has come over to check on him every day this week, and has respected our final conversation, keeping her distance from me, but all I want right now is to lose myself in her, if only for a night.
Today is my dad’s funeral.
Rae is wearing a black dress today – which just seems wrong for a three-year-old. She’s always dressed in pink or yellow, reflecting her sweet, sunny personality. As we make our way to the church, the eulogy I wrote yesterday plays over and over in my mind. What do I say about a man I hardly knew? He never opened up to me. If anything, I think he blamed me for my mom leaving. If they’d never had me, maybe they would have been happier. As I read the words I’ve written, it’s as if I’m talking about a stranger – not my father. I wish things could have been different between us, but if this week has taught me anything, it’s that you don’t always get the chance to right your wrongs.
The service was nice… as funerals go. There was music, bible verses, and tears – tears from people that wouldn’t stop shoveling their breakfast down their throat at Ellen’s to say two words to my dad. And yet, we sat in stoic silence. Rae sat quietly, holding Pops’ hand. He was almost catatonic. I’ve been sitting, staring at the stained-glass windows that depict the life of Christ, trying to make sense of all this. I’m painfully aware that all eyes are on me as the priest welcomes me to the front to deliver the eulogy.
My steps are slow and measured, attempting to delay the inevitable for a few more moments. As I turn to face virtually everyone in Kingsbury Falls, my eyes immediately find A.B. She’s sitting alone in the back row, her eyes wet with tears. She grew up at the ranch, and I know this is hard on her – she did everything she could to save my dad. I focus on her, deriving the courage to get through this.
Most of you knew my father as Bobby Hale – successful rancher, and a bit of a loner. To me he was...
I scan the crowd of mourners, and something inside me just can’t lie today. I set the cue cards I had written for myself down on the stand, scrubbing my hand over my face – the clean-shaven feel of my skin, unfamiliar.
He was my dad, and I loved him. He was a great granddaddy to Sally Rae, and I couldn’t have asked for a greater legacy to pass on to her one day. Mustang Ranch was my father’s greatest achievement, and I know how tirelessly he worked to build it for me and for Rae. He died doing what he loved – working the land. I understand how hard his life was – being a single parent isn’t an easy job. He loved my mom, and when she left… a part of him died with her. Was he an amazing dad? Honestly, no. I have very few memories of happy family moments with him. But, I realize now that he was just playing the hand he was dealt; trying to make the best of a bad situation.
Dad lost the love of his life when he was younger than I am now. He had to deal with knowing the person he chose to start a family with, left her son behind. That weighed heavy on his shoulders. Kingsbury Falls isn’t exactly somewhere you can hide your heartache. But he did the best he could, and I never got the chance to tell him that. To say that I appreciated all the sacrifices he made for me. That I could never thank him enough for staying. He didn’t abandon me. He may not have always had his priorities straight, but he did what he felt was best for me in the long-run.
I take a moment to make eye contact with A.B.; hoping she’ll understand what I’m about to say next.
I know better than most what it feels like to lose the love of your life – to have them choose a path that doesn’t include you. It’s not something you ever recover from. I now find myself as a single dad to my beautiful Rae of sunshine – and I wouldn’t have it any other way. But, I know that I couldn’t have done it without Pops, and my dad. They welcomed me back to this town with open arms – no questions asked. That is an acceptance I never expected. I didn’t have to beg or prove myself – they took Rae and me in and made us a dysfunctional, functioning family. I wish I could have told him how much that meant to me, but I always thought there would be time… another tomorrow.
For me, his legacy isn’t just the ranch. It’s his willingness to love, and to have survived loss. His strength to continue on and live up to his responsibilities, no matter what. His acceptance that everyone makes mistakes, and if you love them, you make it work. I only hope I can live up to that legacy.
What will I try to do differently? I will endeavor to repair my broken heart. To forgive, and to move forward with my life. This week was a huge wake-up call for me – life is short, and tomorrow is never a guarantee.
Thank you, Dad – for everything. We will never forget you. I pray that your heart is finally at peace.
I look to the back of the church to see A.B. – her head bowed, hands covering her face, and the smallest movement of her shoulders that tells me she’s sobbing. It takes everything inside me not to go to her. I walk back to where Pops and Rae are sitting in the front row, aware that I can feel her torment from a distance.
Dad wanted to be cremated; his ashes to be spread over the fields of Mustang Ranch. The sound of muffled sobs and rustling Kleenex fills the s
ilence. I feel my body relax as the priest says a final prayer for my father, and for the family he left behind. And I can’t help but wonder – will my mother know that he died; wherever she is. Did she cut off any possibility of knowing about our lives, the way Annabeth did with me?
I lift Rae into my arms, seeking solace in her sweet innocence. Letting myself breathe in her loving acceptance. She snuggles against my neck. “I miss Ganddaddy. Do you think he misses me?” She whispers as I carry her from the church.
“I know he does, Sunshine. You lit up his life like no one I’ve ever seen. He loved you so much.” She smiles up at me, melting my heart and the sadness that’s been crushing my chest for days. “I love you, Rae. You know that, don’t you?” I feel a sudden urgency to let her know just how much she means to me. “You are my world, baby girl. Never doubt it, okay?”
“Wove you, Daddy. You won’t weave me, will you?” Kids may not be able to process death and sadness the same way as adults, and if anything, it makes it more confusing for them. But, they should never be dismissed – the tears that well in my daughter’s eyes, tell me she feels this loss just as keenly as I do. She doesn’t know how to put it into words, and my heart hurts at the thought of her confusion; questioning why her granddaddy left without saying goodbye; worrying that me or Pops might disappear, too. My dad was a stable part of her life and she adored him. They understood each other in a way that he and I never did.
“I’ll never leave you, Rae. I promise. My world doesn’t work without you.” I squeeze her tight, trying to avoid the crowds. I know they are all going to gather at my house, so I don’t feel bad about getting Rae out of here as quickly as possible. It’s going to be a long day, and if we can grab a few quiet moments together before the ruckus, then I’ll take them.
Rae, me, and Pops, take a few quiet moments to walk down into the field where my dad passed, three blue balloons in hand. This is our way of saying goodbye without the eyes of the town upon us. Pops still hasn’t said a word to me, but he grips my hand so tightly, I can feel his utter despair. Clutching Rae in my other hand, we say a prayer. Rae lets go of her balloon, and we do the same. She watches it float up and into the clouds with a smile on her face. “Here’s a bawoon for you, Ganddaddy! I miss your snuggles. Come back soon.” Her words are like a knife twisting into my soul.
Tears begin to fall as Pops looks to the sky. “You’re with your momma now, son. Take care of her until I get there, you hear me?” Every word is a struggle as he attempts to hold it together for Rae, wiping his silent tears with the sleeve of his suit jacket. I wrap my arm around him, Rae cuddling in for a family hug.
“We’re going to get through this. I promise.” Not even I believe myself in this moment. As I watch the balloons dance together, up and up until they disappear behind a white fluffy cloud, never to be seen again – I feel like a mere speck in the universe. Can I really affect change in any way? I don’t know if I believe in fate or destiny, or even luck. If God is up there looking out for me, he’s either dropped the ball, or he has a sick sense of humor. He hasn’t given me the chance to say goodbye to anyone in my lifetime. Not my dad, Sam, even A.B. I’ve spent so long just scrambling to make the best of the situations I find myself in, and I wonder – in his final moments – did my dad have any regrets? Did he wish that he had done things differently? Was he angry with me? Did he know we were there with him?
Trucks begin to pull in through the gates, a long line visible down the road, waiting to come and pay tribute to a man who was woven into the fabric of this town, whether he wanted it or not. As soon as A.B.’s truck comes into view, my spirits lift, and then plummet to the pit of my stomach. I’ve gotten used to her being around this week. Her presence in the background, a constant source of comfort that I can’t shake, as hard as I try. I don’t want to feel like this – I can’t.
I’ve said over a hundred hello’s, thank you’s, and shook as many hands. Pops found a spot in the corner of the chaos. I hate to see him so withdrawn; life continuing on around him as he just exists. The old biddies of the town have surrounded him, offering food and advice. He has at least three plates of food piled on the table next to him, uneaten. His peers try to offer any words of comfort they can think of, but nothing breaks through his barrier. He slowly sips a glass of bourbon, staring out of the window… his eyes fixed on the field that took his son.
I search the room for Rae; her tiny ball of energy lost in the crowd of people around me. I walk through the house, checking all of her favorite hiding spots before heading to her room. She’s not one to miss out on visitors being in the house, so I doubt I’ll find her there. The door is open ever so slightly, just enough for me to peek through the crack, and there she is… and my breath catches in my throat.
A.B. is lying on the bed with Rae sound asleep in her arms. I’m mesmerized as she gently sings one of my dad’s favorite songs, stroking Rae’s hair to lull her into a relaxed slumber. I don’t want to disturb them, but I couldn’t step away from the door even if I wanted to. I rest my head against the doorjamb, her voice a soothing balm. I’ve never seen her like this before. She was never the babysitting type in high school. She never understood her friend’s fascination with kids. But, watching her now, she is so natural and nurturing – and it dawns on me just how much Rae has missed out on these past few years since Sam left. I like to tell myself that I give her everything she needs, but deep down, where I don’t like to think about it – it’s there. I know she will grow up missing out on so many daughter-mommy moments.
Jax’s voice echoes down the hall. “Mad! Can you come and say a few words? Pops isn’t up to it, and people are getting ready to start leaving.” My eyes flashing between them, I watch in horror as A.B.’s open, finding me staring through the crack in the door like some creepy stalker. I don’t wait, or try to help her extricate herself from Rae’s nighttime death-grip. In fact, I take the opportunity to make a quick getaway, catching up to Jax. “Rae in there?”
“Yeah. She crashed out. It’s been a long day.”
“You want me to go sit with her?”
“No! She’s fine.” I don’t want him to know what I was doing. He’d jump at the chance to encourage me to be friends with A.B. I hate that he feels stuck in the middle; we were all so close when we were young, and I would never expect him to choose between us. Maybe that’s because I know, me and Rae are family to him, and he would never jeopardize that. “Let’s just get this over with and have a stiff drink.”
“Sounds like a good idea.” He plants his hand reassuringly on my shoulder. “You can do this, Mad… all of it. I’ve got your back – whatever you need.” I didn’t realize how badly I needed to hear that today.
“Thanks, man.” I step into the living room; a sea of people staring back at me.
“Can I have everyone’s attention, please?” A.B. slips past me and into the crowd. The knowing look I get from Jax makes me feel sick to my stomach. “I’d like to thank you all for turning out today to pay tribute to my dad. He would have hated this!” They all laugh in unison. “Seriously though, he would’ve been happy to see how the whole town has rallied round us this past week. It means a lot to me, Rae, and Pops to know that y’all care enough to take time out of your lives to bring us food, and visit with our family at this… really difficult time. Now, I’m gonna stop talking before I embarrass myself and start crying like a prom queen. Thank you, for everything.”
I feel my muscles relax as the house begins to quieten. Pops blindsides me with a tight embrace before heading to his room. “Your daddy would’ve been proud of how you handled yourself today, son. I’m proud of you.” It’s the most he’s said to me all week, and a lump builds in my throat.
“Thanks, Pops. That means a lot to me.” He slaps Jax on the shoulder as he makes his way slowly down the hall. “This place is in good hands with you boys.” Tears prick at the back of my eyes, and I don’t want him to see any sign of weakness.
“I’m going to check in on Rae.
Make sure she’s down for the night.”
Jax says goodbye to the last of the guests, and as I gaze at the miracle of my daughter, asleep and safe in her bed, I hear the back door swing shut. I sit with her for a while, memorizing every line of her face, like I’ve done a thousand times before. The subtle changes that happen daily, a new memory to add to the collection. She has so much ahead of her, and my dad won’t be here to see it. That simple realization is my undoing. I let the tears that have threatened all day, fall in the darkness of my baby’s room; my hand wrapped around her tiny fingers.
When I finally tear myself away from Rae, I loosen my tie (the one I had to buy for today,) grab a beer, and head out onto the porch. I follow the sound of Jax’s laughter, assuming that Kirby stuck around for a while. I barely got to speak to him today and thank him for all his support this week. He and Lottie have been a great help with Rae.
“Fuck. I really need this dri…”
A.B. looks up at me with a questioning smile. “I hope you don’t mind. I was just about to leave when Jax insisted I keep him company for a while. We were just reminiscing.” Her sentence tapers off, and I know they were talking about when A.B. and I were together. She sets her beer on the table and stands to leave. “I’ll let you guys relax. It’s been a long day.”
“You don’t have to go. You’ve been a good… friend… this week.” I can see that my choice of words hurts her. That wasn’t my intention. In all honesty, I don’t know what to call her.
“Thank you, but I really should go. Thanks for the beer.” She quickly makes her way into the house, and as much as it pains me, I let her go.