Page 24 of Time For You
Aspen licked some of the gooey icing that dripped down her fingers. “Thought you promised Dad you were going to stay for a month.”
“I did. And I plan to. I just want to make sure that I have some applications floating around, just in case.”
Aspen’s elfish features hardened as she turned her attention away from the pastry and onto me. “So, you’ve been here a full week, and you’ve already decided that you’re going to up and run away again when the time is up? Have you even tried to give the town a chance?”
“I. . .I. . .Aspen it’s not like that,” I tried to explain, but I couldn’t get the words out.
“It’s exactly like that. What’s so terrible about this place that you won’t give it a fair shot? What did any of us do to you but beg you to stay?” Aspen stood rapidly, the feet of the chair scratching against the hardwood floors. “Instead of pretending like you care and want to be here, why don’t you just leave again?”
She retreated quickly, and I stared at her disappearing back before turning my attention to the pile of crumbs she left scattered on the table. My heart felt like those crumbs after listening to what Aspen had just said. I never wanted anyone to think that I hated living here or growing up here. It was the opposite. I just thought I neededmore.
An image of Aspen as a young girl clinging to my waist as I packed my car to head off to college popped into my mind and I couldn’t shake it free. Did she feel like I had abandoned her? Did my entire family feel that way?
I scooped the crumbs she left behind into my hand and carried them over to the trash can, where I dumped them into the stainless steel can that still squeaked whenever the lid opened.
There had to be a way to make her see, to make everyone see, that I had dreams bigger than Ashfield could handle. The more I considered the barn on the west field, the more I questioned the decision to turn it into something more. The venue was large, but how much use would it actually get? Locals may inquire, possibly a few couples from surrounding counties, but there was no way it would be marketed the way it needed to be successful. Aspen had been right about one thing; I was just wasting my parents’ money.
Walking down the hall, I popped my head into the small office my mother had converted into a personal library. She sat in her leather chaise reading a book I was certain she had read a dozen times already.
“Hey, Mom. I wanted to talk to you about something.”
Not sparing me a glance, she turned the page of her book while saying, “Is this about the venue and your leaving?”
“What? How did you know?” I asked, perplexed. With all the confusing conversations going on today, the lines between my eyebrows were going to form permanent creases.
Finally drawing her eyes over to me, she delicately marked her spot by lying the book face-down on her lap. “Did you forget how everything echoes in this house?”
I had. It used to drive me nuts as a teenager. There was no use in trying to sneak anything past my parents or sisters. Someone always knew. The walls had eyes and ears.
“I heard your conversation with Aspen. And though her delivery left a lot to be desired, it did leave me thinking. What is your intention, Autumn? You know your father and I are always happy to have you at home. But if you’re so unhappy with staying here, I’d rather loan you money to get yourself on your feet than to invest it in something you won’t see through.”
“I said I’d give it a month.”
“You did, but if you know in your heart that you’re not going to stay, then don’t get our hopes up. We’d be happy just to have you home while you look for a job. We know you love the city, but we’d hoped that you’d find something here to love, too. Your sisters have missed you. We have missed you.”
I wanted to tell her that people change. That our ideals and wants were always shifting. In reality, it was because I wanted to be in a place where no one knew me. No expectations. No set path designed for me. I could be anything when no one knew me.
Here, everyone had already decided my fate.
“I’m sorry, Mom. I just. . .I feel out of sorts, you know? Like I don’t feel like I fit in here.”
Tapping the edge of her chaise, Mom beckoned me to sit beside her. “I remember when I moved here with your father. I thought no one would welcome me and I was prepared to fight tooth and nail against small town living. I knew how crazy it could be. But this town has a way of making people feel like outcasts when instead they’ve opened their arms to them. You’ve always stuck out, Autumn, and I could see how that would make you feel like an outsider. But think about all the great things you got to experience here. I mean, how many of your friends in New York climbed a water tower with their father and had their first beer?”
My eyes widened in shock. “It wasn’t a well-kept secret, sweetie. Your father did the same with all of your sisters when y’all turned eighteen.”
“I’m not sure I’m following, Mom.”
Chuckling, Mom patted my thigh and said, “I kind of lost my train of thought, to be honest. But just remember how much fun you had growing up. Not just here on the farm, but in the town. All the festivals, all of the people celebrating even the tiniest of things, the way everyone came together when someone was in need. You don’t find that everywhere.
“I know how much your independence means to you, but that doesn’t mean you have to desert the people closest to you.”
“You’re right. And I’m sorry about the venue thing. I do want to pursue it. I just haven’t quite wrapped my head around living back here again. I think I got excited about the project, but not all the fine details it would entail, especially if I ended up involving everyone.
“I’ve also thought about looking around Knoxville for a place to live. Andrew seems pretty content there.”
“That’s a good start and I’m happy to hear it. And maybe apologize to your baby sister. She missed you the most when you left and never really came back often.”
“Yeah, I will.”
