He put his pizza slice down. “Here’s the whole story. Addison Ridge Swan was born three years before you. We both blame our drug use in our teens for him being born with a rare disease that causes constant seizures. The doctors said it was genetic, but we still feel responsible. He was a beautiful baby.”
Peter dug his wallet out again and extracted a faded photo that he slid across the table for her to see. The two-year-old in the picture was nearly identical to her at the same age.
“During the three years he lived, his medical bills were huge. We didn’t mean for your mama to get pregnant when she did. We both believe every woman should make her own choice, but ours was to take responsibility. When Ridge was born, his illness took all our time and money. We were nearly at the end of our rope when your grandpa on your mother’s side died and left her some mountain land. He’d moonshined up in those hills, but we grew cannabis.
“It wasn’t legal, but it was hard to hold jobs when you had to constantly be with your baby at the hospital. That shack we lived in was close to the land. We wouldn’t risk living on it because of you. If the feds saw the plants from the sky, they could cut it down but couldn’t charge us with anything unless they caught us on the property with the plants. That’s why we didn’t live there, and why we sent you to stay with my mama every summer when we had to harvest. It was a risky time of year, and if we did get caught, you’d be safe with Mama instead of social services putting you in with a bunch of juvenile delinquents until she could wade through all the paperwork.”
Gabe took the photo Autumn put back down on the table and scrutinized it. “He looks like the pictures Mama had of her brother.”
“They were cousins,” Peter said, patting Gabe’s arm. “Anyway, our biggest mistake was the one we made after our little princess was born. Mary was so depressed over Ridge’s death that I had to step up and take care of you. Doctors told us later that not forcing her to bond with you right after you were born damaged her relationship with you from the get-go.”
“So that was your big mistake?” Autumn was still skeptical.
“No. Some research was finally being done on medicinal uses for cannabis. Before it was illegal, it was the poor man’s medicine because you could grow your own instead of going to the drugstore. Your mama had become obsessed with finding some cure for Ridge’s disease, and when she read in The New York Times that some doctors were finding cannabis might help other kids with the same disease, she wrote to the doctors. You were two years old. To shorten the story, we began to raise a certain type of cannabis for those researchers, and we also donated every penny we didn’t absolutely need to their cause. Every time I tried to keep more for us and you, your mama would sink into a deep depression. You probably don’t remember the times when she was in the hospital for months after trying to take her own life.”
“Mama tried to commit suicide?”
“Three times. You were Gabe’s age the last time. But it was in the late spring, and she was out of the hospital by the time you came back to start the school year.” His eyes began to fill with tears again. “Giving more of ourselves to our dead son than our living daughter was our biggest mistake. I knew it was wrong, but you were so strong, and your mama was so fragile.” He straightened his shoulders and held her gaze. “I should have stood up for you, but I didn’t. I’m not making excuses or asking to be forgiven. That’s something I have to live with.”
Autumn didn’t think she could forgive him. “So why are you telling me all this now?”
“Because if you throw Catherine away and drive a wedge between her and Gabe, you’re the one who’ll suffer the most.”
Autumn pushed her chair back and went to the window at the other end of the small dining area, turning her back to him. She didn’t want him or Gabe to see her struggling against new tears. When her throat loosened, she spoke without turning around. “Are you Catherine’s supplier? Is that how you know her?”
“Not exactly, but that’s the other part of the story.” He sipped the water, then put a couple of pizza slices on his plate and slid it out of Gabe’s reach. “Just so you don’t eat it all before I’m done. I swear you’re growing like a weed.”
“I was going to save you some,” Gabe said around the big bite she had in her mouth.
He smiled, then turned back to Autumn. “Catherine bought the property next to Mama after the army gave her her walking papers. She was still in pretty bad shape. Her last tour in Afghanistan ended very badly, but that’s not my story to tell. Their doctors healed her physical injuries, then honorably discharged her when they couldn’t fix her mental wounds as easily. She came to the farm to hide out, but you know Becki. She wouldn’t let such a young woman turn into a hermit. Still, Catherine was losing her battle with PTSD when Becki read somewhere that they were experimenting with medical cannabis to treat PTSD and depression. So, she got in touch with me and introduced us. We began to haul in a pretty good income right when you left home because the kind of cannabis we grew showed the most potential for medical uses. That’s how I set up the scholarship once we tracked you down.”
“Cat started growing cannabis for you?” Gabe asked.
“No, honey. I suspect she has a few plants tucked away somewhere on her three hundred acres, but I never asked. The medicinal cannabis saved her. Becki’s death seems to have triggered her flashbacks again, but they’ve been rare for several years. She’s seeing her therapist again to get back to that point, and he’s unofficially endorsed her cannabis prescription.
“Anyway, because of Catherine’s concern for lots of other soldiers dealing with PTSD and getting addicted to opioids, she put together a blind consortium of investors from her military and family contacts. Although Catherine won’t have anything to do with them, her family is very rich and has connections all over the world. Anyway, the consortium invested in a guy who was sure Colorado was going to legalize cannabis and had plans for a big farm and laboratory to research and produce medical cannabis. She let me into the group and ante-upped for Becki, who later paid her back. She’s way more than a farmer. She’s a financial planner. A very good one. We’ve all made millions. That consortium is still pouring money into Gabe’s trust every quarter.”
Autumn was stunned. “The money Becki willed to me, that I’ve been investing in AA Swan LLC, is drug money?”
“Pharmaceutical profit. There’s a difference. If you’d bothered to check, you’d know that your mama and I have lived in Colorado for a while now. We don’t grow anything but the petunias in the front-yard flower bed. I work as a lobbyist for the National Hemp Growers Council. A lot of children like Ridge live in states that won’t approve medical uses for cannabis. I intend to change that in as many states as possible before I head off to the afterlife.”
“I need some time to digest all this,” Autumn said, her head spinning.
“Listen to your heart, Princess. Your head will spend years overthinking this. Your heart already knows what’s right. Catherine Daye not only found a way to survive, but she’s spent her time since she got out of the army saving a lot of other people—other victims of PTSD and depression, poor folks like those in Shady Grove who needed land to grow their own food, and every stray dog and horse that gets dropped off there. She patches them up and helps them find a new home.”
“I miss Elvis,” Gabe said, staring down at her empty plate.
Peter reached across the table and grabbed Autumn’s hand, holding tight when she tried to pull back. Then he took Gabe’s in his other one. “Both of you listen to me. Autumn, if you never do it again, you need to try to see past the walls you’ve built. If you don’t, you’re going to damage more than just your life. Gabe needs you, and you need her. I want you to tell her about what you suffered as a kid. And, Gabe, I want you to listen. It’ll help you understand why Autumn reacts the way she does.”
Gabe scowled. “You mean why she freaked out over Cat’s medicine and fucked everything up for all of us?”
“Languag
e,” Autumn and Peter said at the same time. Autumn shared a smile with him for the first time since she was very small.
“Y’all both sound like Grandma Swan,” Gabe said.
“Where do you think we heard it?” Autumn said, poking Gabe’s arm. Gabe smiled…a little.
Peter looked at his watch. “Well, I’ve got a plane to catch. An Uber’s picking me up out front in about ten minutes.”
Gabe jumped up and grabbed his plate of uneaten pizza. “I’ll put this in a bag, and you can eat it on the way to the airport, Uncle Pete.”
“Thanks, Gabe.”
Autumn followed him to the door while Gabe ducked into the kitchen. Peter lowered his voice. “Catherine will fry my ass if she finds out I told you, but she’s been trying to work up the nerve to come see you since you won’t take her calls. The city has a lot of triggers for her, but you can bet she won’t bring any of her medicine with her, just because of the way you feel about it.”
“She shouldn’t have that stuff around Gabe.”
“Have you heard nothing I’ve said?” He leaned in nose to nose with her, his whisper fierce. “Your stupid blind spot about cannabis has devastated her. I’m worried. Becki’s not there anymore. She’s out there working both farms and spending every night alone. Ed tries to get by there every day to check on her, but that’s too much time alone with her flashbacks and night terrors. Thank the stars for Elvis and Gabe. Right now, they’re her only two reasons to keep living.” He grabbed her hand and slapped a small breath mint tin into it. “If she does try to come here and shows up in the middle of a flashback, you see if you can find at least a shred of humanity in yourself and give her this chewable. If she hasn’t shown up by New Year’s Day, you can flush it.”
He took the bag of pizza and the bottled water Gabe held out for him. “I’ll be checking on you, Gabe. I feel like this is all my fault, but if Autumn doesn’t come around and tries to cut Catherine out of your life, I will hire the best lawyers I can find to fight for what’s best for you and Catherine.”
Autumn was stunned. Would he really shut her out?
He met her and held her stare. “I’m sorry, Princess. Sorry for messing up your life. If I can’t save you, then I’ll do what I can to save Gabe—to keep you from making her as bitter as you are.”
Chapter Seventeen
Autumn sulked and drank herself into a sure hangover after her father left. His news and her feelings were too tangled to sort.
When she reached the bottom of the bottle and had nearly drowned in her pool of pity, Gabe came out of her bedroom and picked up the empty bottle. She looked at Autumn in disgust, then got a soda out of the refrigerator and went back to her room.
Autumn had never felt so low—like the carcass of an animal too slow to dodge that first car, then continually flattened into the pavement as more and more tires crushed her out of existence.
She’d never felt so lost. Her father’s side of the story shed a whole new light on her childhood, Autumn had grown accustomed to the emotional baggage born from her perspective as a child. She wasn’t ready to give up her anger. It’d been the force that drove her to be better, more successful than she’d perceived her parents to be. What would propel her now?
***
Catherine’s warm exhales were wispy white puffs as she broke the ice on top of the watering trough in the lower pasture. She had to take her gloves off to open the small lock on the battery housing of the trough’s warmer—the device that was supposed to keep the water from freezing—and cold almost instantly numbed her fingers. “God damn it.” She cursed the cold and the cow that’d sloshed mud over the solar panel so the batteries couldn’t get enough light to recharge. She’d cleaned off the panel, but the batteries were depleted, and the trough would freeze again before they could recharge, so she had to change them out. “I don’t know what the hell I was thinking when I bought these warmers. Just another stupid thing in a long string of stupid things I’ve done.”
She muttered more to herself than Elvis, who was keeping the thirsty cows at bay until she could finish.
She usually liked the crisp cold of winter because it was so opposite from the hot desert. The fields lay fallow, recharging the soil’s nutrients for spring, so she only had the animals to tend. That left her lots more time to read in front of the fire. She’d always liked the solitude of the season and the quiet of a snowy day. But this winter was too lonely, the days too quiet.
Today was especially bleak.
Ed Cofy had come by earlier to give her the summons. Autumn was making good on her threat to sue for full custody of Gabe, and worry gnawed at Catherine. Each nightly communication found Gabe growing more and more bitter. She begged Catherine incessantly to let her come home to the farm, but Catherine could only implore her to be patient and give Autumn time to think things through. Two nights ago, Gabe declared that if Catherine didn’t want her anymore, she’d rather live in a foster home rather than stay with Autumn. Last night, for the first time since Thanksgiving, Gabe hadn’t called or answered Catherine’s invitation to connect via her tablet.
Shoving the batteries into place and relocking their housing, Catherine watched the underwater heating element flicker, then glow. She wished the rest of her life could be fixed so easily.
“Come on, Elvis. Let’s let ’em have a drink.” She headed for the gate, and the cows edged tentatively up to the trough as Elvis turned and followed her.
Catherine was so tired. Her nightmares had returned. Last night, when one young soldier turned toward her, it was Gabe’s face she saw peeking from under the helmet. And when she drew back the blankets with her baton, it was Autumn, not the old lady who stared at her in terror. Elvis had been her anchor through each dream, each night. But Gabe needed him more. She might be a lost cause, but Gabe wasn’t.
“Elvis, how do you feel about becoming a city dog?”
***
Autumn squinted against the diffuse midday sun that penetrated the cloud cover and lit her bedroom. The pounding in her head and queasy stomach was a stern rebuke of her pity party the night before. She groaned and clutched her stomach when she sat up too quickly, then waited for her head and stomach to stop spinning. Shower, then coffee. It was time to face the world again, along with the problems still waiting.
After two glasses of water, aspirin for her headache, and a long shower, she ventured out into the apartment. Gabe was watching television and eating some two-week-old chips.
“Aren’t those stale? I was going to throw them out,” Autumn said.
Gabe stared at the television. “Nothing else to eat.”
Autumn sighed. Teens were so dramatic. Surely there was something better than stale chips. “I’ll make some dinner for us.”
She slogged into the kitchen and began opening cabinets. They were empty of anything that could make a meal. So was the refrigerator. She closed her eyes against flashes of searching for something, anything to eat while her mother hid in her dark bedroom, sleeping for days. Then she sat down at the table and began to cry.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. This is what my mother did to me. I can’t do this to you. God, I’m glad Becki isn’t here to see me treat you like this.”
Gabe looked over at her. “What are you talking about?”
“There’s nothing in the house to eat. Not even stale bread you can toast and pour catsup over.”
“Yuck. That sounds nasty. I wouldn’t eat that anyway.” Gabe clicked the television off and got up from the couch. She walked over to the table where Autumn sat but propped against the wall on the other side, like Autumn was a wild animal that might lunge at her. “Is that what you ate when you were a kid?”
“That’s all that was in the house. Sometimes not even that.”
Gabe shrugged. “So why didn’t you order pizza or something?”
“There was no money. When Dad went on trips, Mama would stay in her bedroom for days. I don’t know how she survived. At least I got to eat at school. I use
d to swipe food that kids didn’t eat and left on their plates, like yogurt cups or an apple. Until one of the mean girls saw me and everybody started calling me DD.”
Gabe sat down across the table from her. “DD?”
“Dumpster diver.”
“Man, that’s harsh.”
Autumn should have been embarrassed, but the more she told Gabe about her childhood, the lighter she felt.
“No wonder you weren’t that happy to see Uncle Peter.”
“It’s hard to find out things weren’t the way you remembered them. I can hardly wrap my mind around it.”
“Well, Grandma Swan would say, you can’t drink your problems away. They’ll still be there the next morning, and you’ll have to deal with them while your head’s pounding and your stomach wants to come up.”
“Why didn’t you order some pizza instead of eating those stale chips? You know my wallet and debit card are in my purse right over there.”
Gabe looked at her. “I didn’t have permission. I wouldn’t go through your purse, much less use your credit cards, without permission. Mama taught me better.”
Autumn stared at her, but Gabe stared back with the same truthful calm she’d seen in Catherine’s eyes so many times. It made her want to cry again. “Gabe, if I ever get too busy or too self-centered to keep food in this kitchen for you, I’m giving you permission to use my credit card to order takeout or visit the grocery store for whatever you need.”
Gabe studied her, then nodded. “I could go for some Chinese right now.”
Autumn stood and went into the kitchen to get a menu from the take-out drawer. “That actually sounds good.” She spied the empty liquor bottle on the counter and dropped it into the trash chute after handing the menu to Gabe.
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