Page 163 of We Redeemed the Rain

“What? Why?”

“It’s how he copes, Bea.”

“You mean when he’s done this before?”

“Yeah, he’ll work like a mule over the next few days, maybe weeks. I’ll have to…be more aware about details, make sure gates are closed, stuff like that. Then he’ll start feeling better.”

“Weeks? I’m so damn confused. I don’t understand what just happened. Tag seemed like he was in a freaking trance!”

“Look, I don’t have answers for you. I’m just explaining what usually happens. When he has an episode, he works it off after a while.”

“He needs rest! He needs to be with people, not animals, and see a doctor.”

“Tag doesn’thavepeople.”

“He has you and me.”

“I’m his employee and you’ve been in his life a grand total of three weeks. That’s a far cry from having people you know and trust to help you in a crisis. This ranch and the horses are all he’s ever had.”

Jesse seemed soresignedto this. How could I possibly leave? Go home with him like this? Would he be better tomorrow? Would he smile before I left? My heart was imploding, panicking so hard I thought I might faint.

My voice wobbled. “Weneedto help him.”

Jesse turned toward me and grabbed my shoulders. “Bea, listen to me. You’re freaking the hell out and you need to calm down. I suspect Tag has dealt with this the majority of his life. I agree he needs to see a doctor, but if you think you’re going to be able to follow him and twist his arm into an ER trip, you’re mistaken.” Jesse’s usual relaxed smile was gone, his lips a serious line on his face. “Let him be. If he wants to work himself into the ground to find purpose, let him. This is what he loves.”

I don’t understand.

More tears stormed my eyes, and I stamped my foot in frustration. “This is insane. We should be treating whatever glitch Tag just had like a medical emergency.” I turned on my heel to exit the corridor.

“Bea!” I turned back to see him approaching me. He gave the barn doors a sideways glance and lowered his voice. “I’ve been working onthis ranch almost three and a half years. In all that time, not one person has showed up for Tag. Not on holidays, not on his birthday, not to celebrate his success, not to help him when he needed it. No one. Cooper only comes around when he’s in trouble or needs a hand-out. His cousin is the only person who at least picks up the phone to make sure he’s still alive now and then. Tag has zero concept of beingsupportedby other people. If you go out there”—he pointed to the pastures—“and try to mother him, you’ll push him away.”

Like a vacuum, his words sucked the determination from my spirit. Jesse wasn't wrong. The little things I’d done for Tag throughout my time here were novelties to him—firsts. Having someone put a sandwich on a plate was brand new.

My words were hardly a whisper. “What do I do then?”

“Nothing. You let him cope his way, let him work, and then maybe, when he’s feeling better, you talk to him about things like seeing the doctor.”

“How will I know when he’s feeling better?”

“Trust me. You’ll know.”

FORTY-THREE

Bea

Sunday night went by and all of Monday. Tuesday morning was upon us, my bags were packed, and we had the rental Prius ready to go. I’d seen tiny evidences of Tag, like a tea bag in the trash bin when I woke up, but he was completely elusive. I’d caught glimpses of him and had a few awkward conversations, but Jesse was right. I would know when he was back.

He wasn’t yet.

His gaze was still asleep, no fire or presence behind his gray irises.

Since Sunday, I’d become an expert in post-traumatic stress disorder. I read articles, ran Google searches, and watched pros talk on YouTube until my phone screen blurred and my eyes felt swollen from crying. I learned so many things I never wanted to learn and read personal testimonies that made my heart feel like solid lead in my chest. My new knowledge couldn’t diagnose Tag, but it did bring me some understanding of what happened in the truck.

I was pretty sure he did something calleddissociating.

Meaning, he essentially lost touch with reality, stuck partially or fully between a painful then and the present now. It was the brain’svery normal response to stimuli that was too terrifying to cope with. The brain sent him “offline” to get him through the moment.

And sometimes, when that happened, it took people a while to find their way back into the present.

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