Tiller

by Shey Stahl

  I don’t doubt for a moment that you love River, Alexandra. I don’t doubt that you would protect her with your life, but it’s Amberly who I know will allow her to become exactly who she was born to be. Whether that’s a housewife who stays home to raise her children or a professional motocross racer who travels the world looking for the next big rush.

  Amberly, you have stumbled more than once and have the scars to prove it. But you also have strength from picking yourself up again. Sometimes you have to walk a long way in the wrong direction to know where you’re going. Please look after my girl with the same ferocity and loyalty that you live every day. I trust you to. I believe in you, and in a way you will never truly understand, I am incredibly jealous of you. You get those moments now. Treasure them.

  Love, Ava & Cullen

  Tears roll down my cheeks, my eyes blinded by their presence. My focus drifts to River.

  Sometimes saying goodbye to someone is saying hello to something new in your life. I have no idea what I’m going to do, or how I’ll raise this little girl in the way Ava would have wanted me to, but nothing will stop me from trying.

  “We’re going to have to sell the house,” my mother says, shaking her head.

  I can honestly say, and mean it, I’ve never liked my mother. You should never love anything more than you love your children, but Regina, she loves material possessions.

  I’m sorry I’m not the daughter you want.

  When I was fourteen, I went a year convinced I was adopted. After a DNA test—I stole hair samples from them and Tiller knew a guy who knew a guy—my theory was wrong. Sadly, they are my biological parents and I wasn’t birthed by a gypsy family, which is what I had been hoping for.

  I even told myself somewhere out there my real mother existed and she sold me to Regina. And now look at her. . .. Someone like her, obsessed and consumed by the material things money can offer is probably saddened only by the fact that something this beautiful won’t stay in the family. And personally, my parents have the money to pay off the remaining mortgage, but they won’t.

  “Which is why it makes sense for River to live with me,” Alexandra points out. “Amberly’s apartment is too small. She doesn’t even have a bed for her.”

  “She has a bed,” I add meekly, knowing nothing I say really matters anyway. My presence here is nonexistent in so many ways.

  Does your stare drift to Alexandra like mine does? Do you see her distaste for me like I do? Is it strange that even as sisters, we can be both saviors and strangers, and sometimes both?

  My belly knots, my stomach heavy with regret. For the day, for the moment, for the life they’re discussing with absolutely no regard to what she might want. What’s wrong with them? How can they even discuss this? They’re ignoring Ava’s wishes. They’re. . . blinded by what they think is right regardless of the parents’ wishes.

  My pulse pounds in my ears. I sit at the table long after Mitchel leaves. I sit because maybe I’m in shock to think me, Amberly Sky Johnson, twenty-three years of age, has a three-year-old little girl to take care of now. Okay, I’ve managed for five days, but what about when I have to go to work? Who do I leave her with? And if she gets hurt. . . what happens then? I have medical insurance through Jett Industries, but how do I add River? Will I need to? What if she gets a cavity? And school. . . what school do I send her to?

  What if she runs and trips and hurts herself? Should I bubble wrap everything?

  And we can’t sleep in the same bed forever. I’ll have to move her bed into my apartment. Or maybe get a bigger one eventually. I think the only reason these few days have gone as smoothly as they could, is because I’ve gone with the flow of everything at her pace. Truth is, she hasn’t showered since then because she refuses to, and I can’t bear to make her.

  Can you hear my thoughts? The way they come one right after another. They’re firing like rounds of ammunition inside my head and the only person I can think to ask these questions to is Tiller. Despite him being unreliable and childish most of the time, he’s surprisingly savvy at figuring things out. He always knows what to do. It’s hard to explain my relationship with him, but I suppose at some point, I need to, or you’ll never understand why it is I think I need him for things like this.

  River touches my hand. I hadn’t noticed her return in the house, but her presence captivates my soul, and I move, twisting to face her. “Hey, you done outside?”

  She nods but doesn’t say anything and takes my hand in hers, tugging and pointing to her playroom. I stand willingly, because I can’t bear to hear them dissect River’s future with no regard to her.

  We’re in a room together, just us. This room, with the pale pink walls and chunky white molding, it was once a den, before they had River, and now it’s home to a princess castle mural and hundreds of books. Inside, she points for me to sit and hands me her favorite. The one we’ve read and re-read over the past five days. Beauty and the Beast.

  I’m not sure why she’s clinging to this book suddenly. I don’t know how she hasn’t broken down and cried a thousand tears since losing her parents. I know I cry, but River, she hasn’t yet.

  “You want me to read to you?”

  Again, she nods and points to her bean bag. I sit first. Then she crawls on my lap. I hate to say it, but I think I need to force her to take a bath tonight. She’s starting to smell like dirt and chicken nuggets. Probably because there’s one stuck in her hair.

  I pull it out, toss it aside, and then open the book. Kona, who also hasn’t left River’s side, eats the day-old nugget like I’ve been starving him.

  Crap. I forgot about the dog. I’m assuming this means I have custody of him too. They didn’t say, but the dog’s River’s so he probably goes with her, right?

  Should I tell River I’m taking care of her now?

  No, not yet. Ease into it.

  River takes the book from my hands and opens the first page, running her fingers over the artwork on the prince. When I kiss her temple, in the distance I notice Alexandra and my mother watching our interactions together, but I turn away from them.

  On my lap, on a velvet bean bag with a little girl in a lace and lilac princess dress, I read Beauty and the Beast and recite a tale as old as time. “Once upon a time, there lived a young prince in a beautiful castle. . . .”

  Hours later, when Mitchel and everyone else are leaving, I find it hard to breathe let alone process the news I’ve been given. We’re standing in the foyer of Ava’s home, one she no longer occupies, but in moments like this, and since her death, I feel her presence here more than ever. Maybe that’s why I’ve kept it together? Because though she’s gone, I’m not entirely sure she is from my life.

  The room is too hot, too intense, heat licking my cheeks. With each movement of my body, it shifts the heat in overwhelming abundance like the deep red paint of the door making it seem that much warmer.

  My eyes eventually drift, finding others in the room. The faces and voices around me hold pain. We’re by the door, soft chandelier lighting, stray shoes, and worn coats.

  Before Mitchel leaves, his black leather briefcase in hand, I want to reach out and run my fingers over the bulky stitching. I love colors, bright and bold, fabrics, leather, silk, buttons and the way touch has a way of evoking even the smallest of reactions inside of you.

  Mitchel catches me alone, leaning in, our eyes level. I’m wearing my bright green dress, the one Ava loved, and my mother said was hideous for a funeral. I wore it anyway, and still today, the day after, I’m wearing it again. Something inside me doesn’t ever want to take it off, like River and her dress.

  Mitchel breathes out slowly, his wrinkled olive skin stretching over high cheekbones. “Your sister left you something else,” he whispers, words he only wants me to hear, tucking a letter inside my hand. “You’re a strong woman, Amberly. Take care of that little girl.”

  Mitchel Robinson has been a friend of the family for years and our family lawyer just as long. I’ve known
the man my entire life and trust him with it just the same.

  I take the letter, tucking it away in my cardigan. Do you notice the way Alexandra’s standing at the door? She shifts her weight from one foot to another, sweeping her hair behind her ear. Her dark brown eyes move from the door to the letter I hide from her.

  Do you think she’s wondering what it says? She’s dying to know. When I was twelve and she was fourteen, her boyfriend at the time asked me out in a letter. To this day, anytime I’m handed a letter, I think she thinks back to that letter Quincy Sadler gave me. For the record, I didn’t go out with him. It wasn’t in my nature to steal my sister’s boyfriends. I can’t say the same for Alexandra.

  Mitchel leaves, and I’m left standing in the foyer with my mother and Alexandra. Terrance reaches for the door handle. “Alexandra, I have a meeting I need to get to in LA. Are you staying here?”

  Terrance is a music producer and spends the majority of his time working while Alexandra spends his money.

  Nodding, Alexandra purses her lips, her focus on me. “What did he give you?”

  I breathe in slow and deep, in search of calm. I knew it’d come to this. Now look, both her and my mother are staring at me like they want to burn my body and take the letter I’m hiding. Do you see the look on Alexandra’s face? Do you think she’s looking at it, and me, and reminded of Quincy and the love letter on the back of a Taco Bell receipt? I bet she is.

  I ignore, deflect, distract her with telling River to give her a hug. River hasn’t willingly hugged anyone in the last four days, unless it’s me and Kona. She wouldn’t even go to Papa Taylor and she’s always loved Cullen’s grandfather. But can you really blame her? She lost her parents. Nothing about the last four days since she witnessed her parents die has been comforting. Even a hug won’t change that.

  Alexandra forces the hug, as does my mother.

  “Are you sure you’re going to be okay with this? Maybe until we figure this all out, River should come stay with me,” my mother suggests, straightening her wrinkled light pink blouse. I don’t like light colors. I like bold and distinct because if you’re going to wear color, be anything but ordinary.

  I shake my head, straightening my posture, hold my determination. Our eyes catch and I stand strong. I usually don’t when it comes to her, I can’t, I want to please my parents, though I seldom do. “River’s better off here, for now. I’ll figure out something and if and when we have to sell this place, I have an apartment.” My words sure and decided, and for once, they don’t feel foreign coming from me.

  “We have to put it on the market,” Alexandra adds, adjusting her bag on her shoulder. Her perfectly manicured, acrylic nude nails stand out against the white leather bag. “It’s not a matter of when, Amberly. We have to and immediately.”

  We don’t have to, and she knows it, but to distract, deflect, I nod and reach for River’s hand beside me. I hold the chubby baby-soft hand, my fingertips tracing the scar on her palm where she fell a year ago and a stick stabbed her. Three stitches later and now the raised skin feels puckered and edgy, like the way two pieces of metal feel when joined together.

  I look down at her, but the familiarity of her eyes doesn’t match Ava’s, and I’ve never seen Cullen in her features. She’s unique in her beauty, dark eyes framed by thick black lashes. Tender touches of golden freckles sweep over her nose and cheekbones. Her hair, unwashed, unbrushed, wild and free, falls in her eyes and catches in her pink pouty lips.

  “Ava wanted me to take care of her,” I breathe out, letting River hear those words. She watches me as I speak, and I wonder, does she understand? “We’re going to be okay.”

  Do you see it? Do you notice the way those pink pouty lips pull at the edges and the gentle lift at the corner? Did she smile?

  My heart soars, constricts in both sadness, and happiness.

  My mother hugs River, says her goodbyes and tells me she’ll be in touch. This means, she will be, probably more than I want her to because she can’t not meddle in my life. Why can’t she be like my father and never care? I’m surprised he found time to come to the funeral.

  Alexandra lingers at the door and then on the front porch. Terrance is in the car, waiting impatiently, staring at his fiancée, willing her to get in the car. But the fact that I have River, and a note she wants to read, keeps her from moving.

  “What did Mitchel give you?”

  “Phone numbers for her doctors and emergency contacts,” I lie, and it’s not something I do very well. My face heats with the words. I look at her, internally begging her to approve of me, and I don’t think I’ve ever realized just how much she looks down on me until this moment. And even through my hazy thoughts, I see how much I don’t need it.

  She folds her arms over her chest. “Why did he give them to you like it was a secret?”

  I shrug. “I don’t know.”

  River tugs on my hand. “Juice?”

  Instinctively at her touch, I glance down at her, nod and smile. “Thank you,” I mouth.

  “I should get her some lunch. She hasn’t eaten since breakfast.”

  With his patience running thin and his time pressed, Terrance honks his horn. Alexandra snaps her eyes to his. “I have to go. Call me if you need anything at all. I’m more than willing to come and get her.”

  I step back toward the door, River still holding my hand. “I know.”

  Alexandra sighs and you’d think by her reaction, I’m forcing her to leave her three-thousand-dollar bag on her shoulder at a bus stop, not the life of her only niece in the hands of her seemingly irresponsible, hardly employed, nearly friendless little sister.

  But if Ava was comfortable with it, why shouldn’t Alexandra and my mother be?

  Because they have to be in charge and control everything. And they’ve never been able to control the wild yet habitually cautious little sister. I’m a walking contradiction.

  And then Alexandra gives me a warning, one I suspected would come at some point and whispers in my ear, “Don’t go to Tiller.”

  Sudden silence bears unflinchingly on me. My heart races, uneven and desperate, tripping my thoughts. My family doesn’t approve of my unhealthy relationship with Tiller. Bigger than life, harshly thrust in the spotlight at a young age, he’s not exactly a good guy, but he’s always there for me, aside from now, when I need help. Or maybe it’s that he can’t tell me no because he hopes I’ll eventually sleep with him. Again, probably the latter.

  “Would you like some yogurt or a sandwich?”

  River’s eyes shift to mine, letting go of my hand. “Sandwich. Only peanut butter.”

  I kneel down, brushing her hair from her face. “You know, I never liked jelly either.”

  She smiles, so tender, so cute. “Are you gonna leame soon?”

  My heart drops to my belly. “You mean am I going to leave you?”

  She nods.

  “No. We’re gonna be staying together from now on.” Pausing, I watch her face as I ask, “Are you okay with that?”

  The corners of her mouth lift before she nods and wraps her arms around my neck, squeezing me. I’m guessing that’s a yes.

  It’s when I have River at the breakfast nook, tucked in the booth next to the windows that overlook the back terrace full of rich vegetation and shades of green, I open the letter. River reaches for her iPad, her organic, naturally sweetened strawberry banana juice in one hand and the soothing tones of Chris Stapleton fill the room. She’s obsessed with his music and since her parents died, I’ve enjoyed four days of “Tennessee Whiskey” on repeat.

  I don’t know what it is about the song, but she loves it.

  Taking out the letter, I peel open the edges of the thick creamy-white paper to find Ava’s handwriting stretching vastly over the page. I run my fingers over the paper, the softness, her words, and without reading them just yet, I know this is her explanation for leaving River with me. Her reasoning’s that were meant for me to hear, and maybe not Alexandra.

 
; Tears roll down my cheeks even before my eyes focus on my name at the top. It’s not that I’m sad that she’s gone, though I am, and I think in some ways, my brain is holding on to the fact that she’s not, and I have River still. But in other ways, these tears, they fall because she had to write letters like this and think of a future without her presence in her daughter’s life. She had to imagine someone else raising her daughter and prepare for a future she’d no longer be a part of.

  That’s why the tears flow. Sadness for my sister and sadness for River. She’s three. She will barely remember the beautiful, caring, unbiased human being her mother was. Never in my life had I met a stronger, more capable, loving and witty woman as Ava Anabel Taylor was.

  My skin heats, warmer than the sun shining in on us. Knots and nerves plague my body, my pulse rushing like the rapids of a wild river. My tear-stricken blurry stare moves to the letter and it’s Ava’s voice I hear reading it to me, not my own.

  Amberly,

  I’m sorry. I’m sorry all of this is being thrown at you while you’re grieving, but I know you, and you’re being strong. I bet you haven’t cried in front of anyone yet, have you? I picture you reading this, twirling strands of your beautiful lilac hair, or maybe it’s deeper purple now, or even blue. . . you always seem to match your moods with your hair, and I love that about you. Everything you are is written so clearly in your beauty.

  I’m sorry your life is about to change forever and most of all, I’m sorry for taking away your freedom to live life on your terms because now you have a little girl to take care of, but honestly, Amberly, I can’t think of a better person to lead River through life.