Page 6 of Unstable

“No!” I push him off me with adrenaline-fueled force. “Don’t touch me, I mean it.”

“Alright,” he holds up his hands in apology and scoots back with an audible sigh.

After a few moments, my heavy breathing settles and he continues.

“She did what she thought was best for you at the time. No one could reach you. We could see you, touch you, but you weren’t there. We were all afraid of what you might do to yourself. And then you cut us off, put us on that list where you wouldn’t take our calls or visits. And when you turned eighteen and checked yourself out, you didn’t come home. All anyone wanted to do was help you, Henley. You wouldn’t let us.”

“I couldn’t face this town again after everything that happened. Come back here, the crazy murderer of Ashfall? As much fun as that sounds like, I took a pass.” I smile cheekily. “She could’ve shown up at my door, she knew where I was. She didn’t.”

I’m just lashing out now, releasing pent-up rage and projecting blame as far away from myself as I can get it. I can’t possibly blame her; so many unanswered letters and calls, my number changed countless times, I’d probably give up too. Hell, what am I saying? I did give up.

Truth is, I could’ve picked up the phone or found my way to her door too. I didn’t. Instead, I undoubtedly caused her further pain by, in my own misdirected way, trying to protect her.

If you don’t get too close to the monster, it can’t hurt you.

So I didn’t let her get too close to me, the monster— that way I couldn’t hurt her anymore.

Made sense to me at the time. But now…

“I don’t know what to say to that, Henley. Like I explained, I didn’t know that you two never spoke again. I do understand your hesitance to come home, but no one thought you were crazy. What happened would’ve been hard for anyone. And you’re not a murderer. Even you know that’snot true.”

“So she told you where I was? That’s what you just said, right? Did you ever once think about coming to look for me?” I long to rip back the words no sooner than they’re spoken, disgusted at myself for the slip-up, airing my agony and anger-fueled curiosity. I shove both hands in my hair and tug, letting out a frustrated growl. “Never mind, don’t answer that.”

“Henley—”

“No, I mean it, forget I asked.” I shake my head and the thoughts away, reaffixing my arctic expression. “So, knowing I didn’t want to come back here, my mother thought it’d be a good idea to leave me a six-hundred-acre farm…here? What the hell am I supposed to do with it? I can’t run a farm that big! Even if I could, I don’t want to. And you said something about being her estate planner? What’s that mean, why’d she need that?”

“Henley, it’s a working farm. If you work it, right, you have enough for your monthly payment, savings for floating expenses, and a decent profit. You know how all that runs, you did grow up there, and you haven’t been gone that long. Yes, there’s a bank note, equipment that constantly needs replaced, and she had a bad calving season a couple winters ago, fast-acting pneumonia, but this inheritance is nothing to sneeze at. Your mother handed you a very nice life, if you want it.”

“Merrick!” I pinch the bridge of my nose and let my head drop to my chest, exasperated. “I was a kid. I don’t know all the financial stuff. I wouldn’t think I’d need to point that out, and again, I can’t work a farm that big!”

“No one expects you to. You hire help, just like your mother did. And you can sell off some calves, or cows. You could start charging a stud fee on your Angus, that’s a fine bull. Maybe sell or rent part of the land to another farmer, then pay off what you want to keep. There’s several options, Henley, so please, just calm down and take your time to weigh them all.” His mouth turns down in what I’m sure he thinks is sympathy, but smacks me like condescension. “Why don’t we do this? You need to go down to Nelson’s and make the funeral arrangements first, I can go with you. Then, go home, Henley. Take a look around, some time to think about it. Whatever you decide, I’ll help you with all that too.”

Again with that charming, concerned disguise of his, but all I heard was the patronization in his voice. I stand, grabbing the papers and head for the door. “I can go to Nelson’s by myself, I’m a big girl now. And whatever I decide, it won’t be to enlist your help. Don’t think I’ve forgotten, Merrick. I loved you. I gave you everything, and when Ha—, when I needed you more than ever,” I take a deep breath and force back the hint of a tremor in my voice and the sting behind my eyes, “you had to be at football practice, or a game, or a party that you just knew would get my mind off things. And Krista?” I scoff. “I’m glad to see that you at least ended up with her, so cheating on me wasn’t a total loss.”

There—I finally said it. No back-handed sarcasm or spiteful tone, just the truth—how he crushed me.

“I was just a kid back then too, Henley. I did the best I could. But I never,” his timbre plummets to an intimidating level as he crosses the room in two long strides and presses his hand to the door, holding it closed, “ever, cheated on you. After you put me on your ‘not allowed to visit’ list, and then disappeared into the wind, it took months before I’d even go to lunch with Krista.”

“Convenient.” I roll my eyes.

“No, it wasn’t convenient at all. It crushed me, actually. But you tell yourself whatever you want. It’s done, and I’m not gonna fight with you, especially now, but it’s the truth. I know you didn’t mean to, and I was never mad, but You. Left. Me. I never left you. I loved you more than anything in the world. If I could’ve reached you, pulled you back from whatever dark place it was you went, hell, even gotten you to answer when I begged you to talk to me, I’d have taken you and run away. Anywhere you wanted. You’d have never gone to that place.” He leans down and presses his lips to my hair, sending a wave of irritation through me. “I loved you too, and would’ve done whatever you needed, anything you asked, but you no longer knew how to love anyone. Least of all yourself. But, I never left,” he whispers, then moves his hand to let me open the door and run from the building, but manages to add before I flee, “None of us walked away from you, Henley. We were pushed.”

THE DRIVE TO NELSON’S was a bit hazy, my mind processing the many years’ worth of information just delivered all in one shot. Luckily though, I made it safely, because no streets or buildings in this town ever change, so my truck pretty much drove itself.

The bells chime out a jingle far too cheery for a funeral home as I walk through the door, and Donna Simms, perhaps the nicest woman in the entire world, appears from around the corner. Her daughter, Emily, was in the rodeo club with us and a good friend. So seeing Donna’s face, even given the circumstances, is a sentimentally welcome sight.

“My sweet little Henley Calvert, get yourself over here for a hug, you pretty thing.” She smiles and holds open her arms, which I accept…run into really. She smells like old lady perfume and cookies. I can’t recall the last time I willingly let someone hug me, but she smells wonderful, and I want to stay right here forever, soaking up the scent, and the comfort of her arms.

“I’m so sorry about your Mama and Jack, honey. If there’s anything I can do, you don’t hesitate in letting me know.” She pulls me back by my shoulders to look in my eyes. “I mean that, anything at all. Being brave doesn’t mean being alone. The good Lord doesn’t give us more than we can handle, he gives us family and friends to carry a handle on our load for us.”

“Yes ma’am. Thank you.” I nod, fighting back any useless tears. “Um, so, what do I need to do?”

“Well, your mom already had her headstone and plot taken care of, so I really just need you to instruct me on any specific details you want. We’ll need you to write an obituary,” she stops, giving me a sympathetic smile, “unless you want us to take care of that for you. And we’ll need a burial outfit, any date or preferences you have for a memorial service, things like that. But one thing at a time, I don’t want you to feel like you have to do all of this at once or get overwhelmed.”

I waver on my feet, her hands gripping my shoulders lovingly tight and keeping me upright. I don’t know what my mom would want to wear. I have no idea what to say in an obituary. I’m unsure if I could, or should, receive guests at a memorial service.

I do know I suddenly feel as though I’m undeserving of any sympathy, or to stand as her daughter. I didn’t think anything could ever make me feel more ashamed than the first tragedy in our family.

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