by D. L. Roan
She pressed her foot against the gas pedal as she sped past the ‘Thank you for visiting Grassland’ sign. Four lanes merged into two and Breezy navigated the winding country road that unfolded before her. As she approached the intersection that had claimed her brother’s life, anxiety squeezed her chest until it was hard to breathe.
She hadn’t planned on stopping, but the closer she’d gotten to Grassland the heavier the urge became. As the intersection approached, she slowed and pulled the car onto the grassy shoulder. She stared through the dusty windshield at the patch of grass and weedy summer blooms, recalling the memories of that night; a night that had changed her life forever.
It had been nine years since she’d been back, but her memories were forever frozen in time: the police officer’s young face and the pity in his expression as he fought for the words to tell her about the accident, the sounds of the machines keeping Ford alive, the rancid smell that wafted through the air as Pa stood inside the rusty trailer and denied his only son, the condemning contempt in Carson’s eyes, the snarl that twisted his handsome face as he blamed her for Charlotte’s death. She could still feel the sharp pain that stabbed through her chest before everything had snapped away.
Numb and disconnected, her legs had moved in a stilted rhythm as she’d been guided through a maze of halls into a sterile room where a nurse instructed her to wait. Wait for what? Her brother was dead, and the only other people in the world who cared that she was alive thought she was the scum of the earth. What was there to wait for? Her pa? She’d rather die than go back and live with him.
A few hours later, a woman she didn’t know walked into the room and began asking questions. She shook her head and nodded in all the right places. No, her father had never hit her. Yes, he had hit Ford. Yes, he drank. Yes, he drank a lot. No, she didn’t want to go back.
She’d been incredibly naïve and even more blessed when, a few months after Ford died, she was placed with the most amazing couple who lived on the other side of the county, just outside of Clarkston.
Henry and Olivia Brighton had welcomed her into their home with more acceptance than she was comfortable with at first. Still reeling from all that had happened, she’d found it difficult to trust in that acceptance. Judgment and disappointment, yes. Acceptance, not so much.
She’d never forget that first day when Olivia had escorted her up the stairs to her new bedroom. So unlike the dark cramped space at the end of their trailer, there was a huge bright window trimmed in lace curtains overlooking the large front yard covered in vivid autumn leaves.
“We weren’t sure what your favorite color was, so we painted the room yellow,” Olivia had said as she opened the closet to reveal an eclectic collection of new clothes. She’d never had new clothes before. “If you decide to stay, we can paint it whatever color you like.”
Yellow had been perfect. It had been the first time since her brother died that Breezy felt as though she could breathe. The Brightons offered her everything they had, including the one thing she hadn’t even known she’d needed, time to grieve her brother.
Their only son had joined the Army right out of high school and was killed in battle in Afghanistan. Olivia had later revealed to her that yellow had been his favorite color. Breezy had been glad she’d decided to keep the room as it was.
Living with the Brightons had been like a dream, a grand adventure that had taken her far away from the world in which she’d grown up. The feel of clean clothes against her skin, the scent of the latest brand name shampoo that wasn’t even on sale, the tastes of the first home-cooked meal she hadn’t had to cook herself, each of those memories were forever seared into her soul.
It took a year for the weariness and trauma of her past to fade, but once it did, she’d thrived on life with the Brightons, soaking in every experience like it was her first and last all rolled into one. Even her chores weren’t like chores at all. She never complained about helping with the dishes or raking the leaves or feeding their dog, Haley. She loved Haley to the moon and back.
Olivia tutored her after school and before she knew it, she was at the top of her class and even graduated early. Before graduation, she received a letter from Montana State University stating that she’d been accepted.
To say she’d been surprised would have been the understatement of the century. She hadn’t even applied. There was no way, after everything Henry and Olivia had done for her, that she was going to ask for money to go to college. She hadn’t even considered community college an option, much less a state university.
Olivia had been the one to apply for her. She’d even secured a scholarship from the state’s continuing education program for foster care children, telling Breezy that as long as she studied hard and kept her grade point average up, the scholarship would cover whatever she needed. Breezy had believed her, until she’d received another strange letter in the mail four years later.
Someone in the university’s registration office made a mistake and sent a receipt of tuition payment to her, instead of the payee’s address, where the last three years’ receipts had been sent. Apparently the scholarship she’d received had only covered a third of the cost of her classes. When she’d asked for information about who’d been paying the remaining portion, they’d said it was paid with a cashier’s check every semester and only had an address, a post office box in Grassland.
Olivia and Henry assured her they didn’t know anything about it, but that made less sense than the Grassland address. She’d felt awkward pushing them on the subject and finally let it go, but the mystery was never far from her thoughts. A free ride to a state university was a lot of money. Money she could never repay. Money she honestly didn’t believe the Brightons had.
The only people in Grassland who had that kind of money were the Grunions and the McLendons. The Grunions were less than charitable to the people they liked, even less so to people like her. The one person who hated her more than Carson McLendon was her great uncle, Tom, who she’d seen in one of her internet searches had died not too long after Ford in some sort of hunting accident. His son, Dirk, had hated her father more than Tom had. That only left the McLendons. Though she couldn’t figure out why, they had to be the ones who’d paid her tuition.
Despite what happened the night Ford died, her memories of the McLendon family still ranked up there with epic fairy tales and rainbows. They were, and always would be, her picture of perfection. They’d been nothing but kind to her when there was so little reason to be. She’d never forget Mrs. McLendon’s father—she didn’t even remember his name—holding her after Ford died. There was no judgment, only two strong arms that held her together when she thought she’d shatter into a million tiny pieces.
She wasn’t even angry with Carson for everything he’d said to her. Time and experience had helped her see that he’d been grieving a loss he was too young to comprehend. After the pain of her father’s betrayal and Ford’s death had faded, that secret place inside her heart still held a special kind of love for both of the twins. She’d denied it, even managed to convince herself it wasn’t real long enough to get engaged to a man she’d met during her junior year.
Justin was a good man. He was going to make an even better doctor, but she hadn’t loved him the way she should and had been relieved when he’d ended their engagement.
Even when she still thought she might be in love with Justin, Breezy found herself daydreaming about her summers at the creek, or even searching for the latest gossip about her twin rock star crushes on the internet.
She’d followed Connor and Carson’s success throughout the years. Her early days in foster care hadn’t come with too many opportunities to watch television, but she’d managed to sneak in a few episodes of The Big Break and even cried when they won, but she never once told anyone she knew them. In her dreams, they belonged to her and her alone. They would never be hers, of course. They were only dreams.
Three months from her twenty-fourth birthday, there she sat
in a rented car, remembering her brother and torturing herself with masochistic memories and ideas that would only serve to break her heart. Again.
“They won’t even be there,” she reminded herself as she put the car into drive, checked her mirrors and carefully pulled back onto the country road. On her last stalker trip to their website she’d noted they were playing Madison Square Garden in New York in a week. She didn’t know much about the music business, but even she knew that no one canceled Madison Square Garden, especially with such short notice.
“I love you, Ford.” She blew a kiss at the tiny cross that marked the spot where her brother and Charlotte had died. She wasn’t sure who’d put it there, but she was grateful someone from Grassland had cared enough to remember them.
As the road twisted ahead, she shrugged off the guilt of not having visited sooner and made another mental note to bring some flowers with her tomorrow. Please let there be a flower shop near the Bed and Breakfast. She didn’t want to have to return to the Land of McLendon Oz that was the drugstore anytime soon.
The knot in her stomach twisted tighter as the McLendon’s driveway came into view. Seeing the name on the mailbox ignited another ache in her chest and she sucked in a sharp breath.
Several clumps of tall trees arched over the gravel entrance in a humble bow to welcome all those who entered. She’d never driven on McLendon land. She’d been but a shadow of a girl, stealing rays of sun from their family Sunday outings. It felt strange going through the front door.
Strange turned into foreboding as she approached the elder McLendons’ house. The muscle truck that had so rudely passed her in town sat in the driveway. That meant the driver who’d given her such a warm welcome was somewhere close by as well. Lucky me.
A man she recognized from the stroke center ducked through the front door and ambled down the steps. Nathan McLendon was Hazel McLendon’s third husband. Polyandry was a way of life, not only for Connor and Carson’s parents, but also their grandparents.
“Hello there, Miss Youngblood. You’re late.”
“I’m sorry,” she cringed as she glanced at the time on her car stereo. Nathan stepped up and opened her door before she could roll up the window.
“Oh, sorry,” he apologized when he saw her fumbling with the switch. He pushed the door closed so she could finish the task, knocking her in the head with the door as she leaned to step out of the car. “Shit, I didn’t see—”
“That’s okay,” Breezy offered quickly, pulling her leg back inside and rubbing the spot on her head before cranking the car back on. “It won’t roll up after the car shuts off if the door is open. Took me a few tries to figure it out, too.”
Nathan nodded and offered her a shy, apologetic grin. She guessed she wasn’t the only one nervous about today. “I’ve had that truck over there for the better part of a year,” he said, pointing to the maroon pick-up truck parked beside the rude driver one from town. “I still can’t figure out all the bells and whistles.”
Well, at least she knew he wasn’t the one who’d flipped her off. “I’m sorry I’m late, Mr. McLendon,” she offered again, this time getting out of the vehicle without incident. “I made an unexpected stop along the way. I hope I didn’t inconvenience anyone too badly.”
“Not at all,” Nathan reassured her with conviction. “I was teasing, and please call me Nate,” he said, the thick greying hair on his head flapping in a gentle breeze as he motioned her toward the house. “You say Mr. McLendon inside the house and you’ll confuse everybody. Believe me, at our age confusion is...wait...” he paused and scratched his eyebrow. “Who are you again?”
“Breezy Youngb—that’s mean,” she said when she caught the teasing look in Nate’s eyes.
Nate laughed. “Gotta keep you on your toes around here. Trust me,” he winked. “You’ll thank me after a day with Joe. He can be a real pisser whenever there’s a pretty woman in the room.”
“Don’t you dare listen to a word that man says.” Mrs. McLendon’s warning traveled through the screened door before she appeared from inside and pushed the door open for them. “He’s the one you gotta watch, honey.” She winked at Nate and swatted him on the backside as he walked in ahead of her. “He can charm the leather off a bull.”
“I’ll show you a bull, Hazel,” Nate said with a naughty promise in his tone as he disappeared down the hall.
“A castrated one,” Hazel mumbled under her breath as she took the canvas bag from Breezy’s outstretched hand.
“I heard that!” Nate shouted, his voice muffled by the many walls that separated them from whatever part of the house he’d disappeared into.
“I doubt it,” Hazel said with a roll of her eyes. “He’s not wearing his hearing aids. He couldn’t hear a freight train if it were rolling down the driveway.”
Breezy grinned, a giggle bubbling out at their sharp-witted banter.
“I can so hear a freight train,” Nate said as he popped around the corner. “If we had a freight train that ran through Grassland, I’d hear it.”
“So you chose not to hear me ask you eight times to fix the sprinklers in the garden this morning?” Hazel propped her fists on her tiny hips, her squinty eyes sparkling with mischief that made it difficult for Breezy not to laugh.
“What?” Nate finally replied, cupping his hand around his ear.
“You’ll see what when you don’t have any of those little potatoes you like with your next ham dinner,” Hazel said with a devious smile and a wink.
“Papa Nate, do you have a...oh! Sorry.” A young girl plowed around the corner like a bull in a china shop and stopped short when she saw Breezy.
“Dani, you remember Breezy Youngblood,” Nate nodded in her direction. “She’s going to be helping Papa Joe for a while.”
“Nice to meet you,” Dani said, extending a polite hand.
“Oh wow,” Breezy said. “You’re all grown up, too.” Jonah’s teenaged twin was beyond beautiful. Long, chocolaty hair like her mother’s hung in a ponytail from the back of her pink camouflage ball cap, her coveralls peppered with a myriad of dirt and grease stains. She was every bit as much a tomboy as Breezy had been in her youth, but far prettier.
Dani squinted at Breezy, studying her face with a puzzling expression. “Where do I know you from?”
Before she could answer, Hazel spoke for her. “Breezy used to live over the hill in the Grunion’s old hunting trailer,” she said.
The girl’s mouth dropped open in a silent ‘O’, her eyes softening with pity as her memories filled in the blanks. “I do remember you, now. I’m real sorry about your brother.”
“Thanks,” Breezy nodded. “It was...a long time ago.” Unsure of what to make of Dani’s mixed response, Breezy didn’t offer more. She was still unsure of how she’d be received by the McLendon siblings. She was technically part of the Grunion family, after all—the lowest part, in fact—but so far nothing had gone as she’d imagined. They’d all been gracious and welcoming, and she felt like she was waiting for the other shoe to drop.
The awkwardness that had crept into their stilted greeting was broken by the sound of a car door slamming. Breezy looked over her shoulder in time to see Jonah gallop up the front steps.
“Dang it, Dani!” he said as he opened the screen door. “I’m not your personal errand boy, you know. You could have given me a heads up before I left for town. I could have dropped that pump off on my way.”
“Well if you’d told me you were going, I would have,” Dani shot back.
“Hey, Breezy,” Jonah said before he turned back to his sister. “Well, go get the darn thing. I don’t have all day. I have plans tonight, ya know.”
“Oh please,” Dani said with a dramatic roll of her eyes. “Fishin’ with Pryce Grunion is not plans.”
Breezy tensed at the mention of her only cousin. Had the McLendons and the Grunions settled their generations-old dispute in the nine years since she’d been gone? Would she get to see Pryce? She’d thought of him so man
y times over the years. Like Jonah, he’d been a child the last time she’d seen him.
“Dammit! Go get it already,” Jonah barked.
“Language!” Hazel hissed. “We have company!”
“That’s okay.” She hurried to assure Hazel she wasn’t offended, and gave Jonah a reassuring look.
“I need help carrying it to the truck,” Dani said and Jonah fell into step behind her as she stomped out the front door. “Nice to see you again, Breezy!”
“Nice to see you, too.”
“Already too big for their britches. Both of ‘em,” Nate grumbled.
“Oh stop,” Hazel shooed Nate away. “You’re in more trouble than those two have ever seen.”
“Hanging out with that Grunion boy is trouble,” Nate warned.
“I think it’s good that he’s become such close friends with Pryce Grunion,” Hazel interrupted.
“The boy ain’t the problem. It’s his daddy I don’t trust.” Nate plucked his hat from the row of hooks beside the door. “I’ll be in the garden fixing the sprinklers,” he said, kissing Hazel on the cheek before heading out the door.
“Sorry about all that,” Hazel said with a sigh as she came back inside.
“Looks like I caught you at a busy time,” Breezy said, motioning to the bag still clutched in Hazel’s hand. “I brought you some reading material. You don’t have to read it right now. I thought it may help you understand what Joe will be facing in the next few months.”
“Oh, that’s right! See? I forgot I had it already.” Hazel pulled the bag open and peered inside. “Let’s take this into the kitchen and have a look. You can tell me how your trip went.”
“Sure.” She turned with Hazel and walked down the bright and airy hallway. Shiny, white wainscoting lined the walls, accented by dark moldings with lovely scrollwork that had to be hand carved. Decades of rich, warm history eased the knot in her stomach and her shoulders relaxed as she allowed Hazel to guide her through the tall doorway into the heart of the house.