“Yeah, well, I have the caretaker thing down pat.” She looked more than a little weary, and I remembered her mother and the depression she struggled with.
“Come here. You’ve had a rough day.” I opened my arms and she moved into them, crushing herself against me. “Want to go to my place and lie on the couch and do nothing?”
“If I go to your house, you know we’ll do way more than nothing.”
“We could have ice cream and try.”
She stepped back. “As tempting as that is, I think I just need some alone time tonight. Is that okay?”
“Of course.” She kissed me and headed to the car, looking like the weight of the world rested squarely on her shoulders. My heart clenched as I drove her home in silence.
“Are you going to be okay?” I asked her, when we arrived back at her house.
She placed a hand on my cheek. “If I have you, Maggie, I will always be okay.”
“Well, that’s a promise I can make you,” I said, and covered her hand with mine.
“Good night, Maggie. I love you,” she said and placed a tender kiss on my lips.
I smiled at her. “I love you, too.”
She climbed out of the car, and just before closing the door, she paused and looked back at me. “Do you ever think back to that first day? To Abraham Lincoln?”
I laughed. “I do, actually.”
“My life was never the same. From that moment forward, you’ve made everything better. Brighter. I’m very lucky.”
I looked up at her. “Nope. That’s my line.” And because I just didn’t want to say good-bye, “You sure you don’t want to come home with me?”
She laughed. “Not at all sure. Good night, Margaret Beringer. I will see you tomorrow.”
*
Boxes stacked, and ready to ship? Check. Suitcase packed for the short term? Check. Last-minute admission to DePaul University? Barely. Transfer of all my credits? Not exactly, but we’d work that out.
With three days left before Courtney and I were set to head to the Windy City, I slipped into a simple black cocktail dress and checked my reflection in the mirror. I lifted my hair away from my face and then let it drop again, deciding to go with it down tonight. I added the Northern Star necklace that my mother had given me for Christmas and struggled with the fastener.
I was looking forward to tonight. My parents were taking us all out to Gardell’s as a farewell meal. I realized regretfully that this might be the last time I saw my family all together before we left.
“Hey, there, beautiful girl. You have that faraway look in your eye,” Courtney said from the doorway of the cottage. I turned and grinned at what I saw. She radiated, wearing a blue dress that was surely from a well-known designer I’d never be able to name but would bet a million dollars she could.
“And you are gorgeous,” I said back.
“Thank you. But I’m afraid we have to make eyes at each other later. We’re already late.”
“Right behind you, just as soon as I get this necklace—there. All set.” I followed Courtney onto the porch.
“I just came from the big house. Your parents and Berta are ready. We’re just waiting on you and Travis.”
I raised an eyebrow, realizing now with Travis also being MIA, we had a moment. I grabbed her hand and gave it a little tug. She looked too good to resist in that dress. “I hear it’s fashionable to make people wait.” I stole the kiss I’d been longing for, and our lips lingered for an extra perfect moment or two.
“It is,” she whispered. “Unless they’re your really nice future in-laws.”
I shook my head. “There you go with the early proposing again.”
“I’m a determined woman.” She kissed me soundly. “I told you I’m going to marry you, and I am. But first, dinner.”
“Fine,” I said in mock exasperation. “We can go out for a fancy dinner.”
We drove the short distance to the big house and found Berta waiting out front with Timothy. She shrugged at us apologetically. “I don’t know where Travis is. He was supposed to meet me here twenty minutes ago. I apologize on his behalf.”
“Boys are trouble,” Clay said, and scooped Timothy from her arms. He wore a sport coat and tie, and I had to admit, my brother cleaned up nicely. I snapped a photo of him and Timothy. “Want me to see if I can rustle him up? I saw him near the barn an hour ago. Might have lost track of time.”
Berta smiled. “If you don’t mind, Clay, that’d be great.”
It was a nice night out and my parents joined us in front of the house. We laid down a blanket in the grass for Timothy and watched as he attempted to demonstrate his ability to roll over. I took a million photos because everyone was dressed up and looking sharp. That’s when we heard the yelling. It was one voice at first, and then several. My father took off in the direction of the barn. I was hot on his heels until he turned back to me.
“Stay here.”
“No, I’m coming with you.”
“Did you hear what I said?” He turned back and pointed authoritatively, his voice loud. “Stay put. I mean that.” It went against every instinct I had, but he was my father and the final word at Beringer’s, so I stayed. I looked back at my mother and then Berta, who had lost most of the color from her face.
“I have a bad feeling,” she said to me quietly. “A very, very bad feeling.”
“I’m sure it’s fine. Dad will help, whatever it is.” There were still sounds of a commotion, but the voices were so far away it was impossible to make out the words.
Berta shook her head. “No. Something’s definitely wrong. Look.” She held up her arm, displaying the goose bumps that had formed.
Then the yelling stopped. All of it.
An eerie silence emerged, and it felt like time ticked along at an excruciating pace as we waited for some kind of information. It must have been five minutes. Then seven. When we heard the sound of a siren in the distance, my blood went cold. I exchanged a worried look with my mother, who stood with her hands on Berta’s shoulders. When it grew louder and then louder, I knew it was headed our way.
“Travis,” Berta whispered. I took her hand and she gripped it with everything she had. Courtney put an arm around her. My mother took the baby. I couldn’t stand it anymore. We needed to know.
“Mom?”
She nodded at me. “Go.”
By the time I reached the barn, there was no sign of anyone. The big doors had been slid open, but the dusty structure stood uncharacteristically empty. I ran around to the back, and that’s when I saw a cluster of people, and the ambulance approach from the perimeter street. It cut across the field and stopped near a ditch. That’s when I saw it, my breath catching in my throat. An overturned tractor, one wheel exposed from the ditch. My father stood with both hands in his hair. Louis was there. His eyes were bleary and he was apologizing over and over again as he staggered from person to person. I tried to piece together what had happened, but it was like my brain was two steps behind. Louis made a beeline for me when he saw me there. His shirt was torn and there was blood coming from his nose. “Maggie, I just wanted to take it for a drive. They never let me.”
I seized the chance for clarity and grabbed Louis by the arms. “What happened?”
“He tried to pull me off, but I fought him.”
“Travis wouldn’t let you drive the tractor?”
He nodded. “I should have listened to him. I didn’t know what I was doing and then it flipped over, so I got out.” He continued to ramble, no longer making much sense. I turned to my father.
“Dad?” I asked. “Dad, what is it?” But he stood there wordlessly, staring at the ditch, his eyes haunted like nothing I’d ever seen. “Dad, is Travis okay? Do we know?” Two of the paramedics jumped into the ditch. My father turned to me as if not expecting to see me there but said nothing, turning back to them, walking to the ditch. I felt a hand on my shoulder and I turned to see Travis looking down at me, which had me confused at first and finally
flooded with relief. “Oh, thank God. Thank God.” He wrapped his arms around me tight.
“I’m sorry, Maggie.”
“Why? Why are you sorry?” I glanced around. “Travis?”
Travis shook his head, choked up now. “He was just trying to stop Louis from hurting himself.”
“He who?” I asked. I whirled around in the direction of the tractor, and I knew. The world came to a stop and all sound drained from the movie playing in front of me. It had to be a movie because this wasn’t real. I couldn’t have moved if I’d wanted to, my body now completely paralyzed with abject fear. Please don’t let it be. In that moment, I knew for certain who had gone down with that tractor, and I knew that from this moment on my life would never be the same again. While I’d held out hope that Travis was going to be okay, I understood in my heart that Clay, my big brother and best friend, would not be.
I was screaming, or trying to, but no sound left my throat. I watched the workers assessing the scene. I watched someone pull Louis away and sit him down. I thought of my mother and watched as my father was physically pulled away from the edge of the ditch by a police officer. But it all happened as if I were underwater. Until, that is, it all came rushing to the surface and the guttural, bone-chilling scream filled my ears. It was mine. I screamed until my throat was raw, until I had nothing left in me. I fisted the dirt, clenching it in my hands as I continued to scream and scream and scream until all was quiet.
I’d taken a photo of him just minutes before.
Just minutes.
Chapter Fourteen
Sometimes you just go through the motions. You have to because they’re the only part of your life you recognize.
I did that. Was still doing it.
It had been two weeks since the funeral when I decided to sit on the front steps of my cottage. Up until that point, I avoided looking out over the farm for any longer than it took to travel to and from the cottage. The farm made me think of Clay and how much he loved it, and when I did that, it was hard to come back.
Today felt different.
Today, I needed the farm.
The rain that hit shortly after Clay’s death had finally stopped after a never-ending string of pretty intense downpours. It was as if the Earth knew, and mourned his loss right along with the rest of us.
But the sun broke through that September morning and beckoned me out of the house. I padded barefoot with my coffee out onto the front step and just stared. The feelings, the opinions, the hopes, and dreams I had always carried inside me were noticeably absent now. In their place was a hollowed-out numbness. A void. I took in the expanse of the land all around me, the plants that would soon hold the robust fall fruit. It didn’t seem possible without Clay. It somehow was.
The air was cold all around me, but then I wore only a T-shirt and running shorts. I couldn’t have cared less about the uncomfortable chill.
I didn’t care about anything.
Courtney was back in Chicago. She’d stayed in town an extra three weeks. She’d tried her best to be there for me. I just wanted space. From everyone. And really, what could she have done to help? Nothing would bring my brother back at this point. There was no rewind button. So when it was time for her semester to begin, I told her to go. I thought the time on my own might help.
“I don’t want to leave you,” she said and ran her finger across my temple, then tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “I’m going to take the semester off. I think that’s the best decision. I can work at the store here.”
“Honestly? That sounds like a horrible idea. What are you going to do? Sit around and watch me try and exist? I don’t want you here for that.”
She looked crushed. “I feel helpless. I don’t know what to do for you. I’m so, so sorry, Maggie.”
I nodded. “I know. The one thing you can do for me is go back for the fall semester. Give me some time on my own, okay?”
Her eyes were sad. There was nothing I could do about that. “If that’s what you want.”
“It is.”
Needless to say, I didn’t go back to Chicago with her. My parents needed me and I needed them. I couldn’t imagine being anywhere else. Plus, there was a lot that had to be done. So while Courtney didn’t take the semester off, I did. With the breakthrough of sunshine that morning came a breakthrough in my resolve. New plan. I’d take up the slack on the farm. Keep myself busy. Jump in and help any way and every way I could. I’d work until my brain and my body were so worn down that I’d fall into bed each night and drift away without a moment to think or feel or remember.
It was a good plan.
It worked for a while.
Thanksgiving came and went with little fanfare. Thank God for Timothy, who gave us all something to focus on instead of what was so obviously missing. My mother ended the day in tears and my father in silence, sitting in his chair, staring at the wall.
I was beginning to understand that things weren’t getting better or easier or simpler. Instead, we were all fractured humans struggling to hold it together on our own, when in fact, maybe we should have been helping to prop each other up. With Christmas looming, Courtney returned to Tanner Peak and brought with her a sense of lightness that I so desperately needed, but I still kept her at arm’s length, where I kept everyone.
She wore a Santa hat and carried an armful of presents when she arrived at the big house her first night back. I’d heard her enter and walked from the kitchen where I’d been putting the finishing touches on the garlic mashed potatoes for the dinner we would share with my parents.
“It smells amazing in here,” she said to my mom, who pulled her tight and held on. She released Courtney but kept her hands on her shoulders, marveling.
“Look at you. More beautiful than the last time I laid eyes on you.”
“You doing okay?” Courtney asked.
She nodded, the light dimming from her eyes. “I hope to get back to writing soon. Occupy my thoughts more.”
“I think that’s a fantastic idea.”
Courtney turned and saw me standing in the doorway. She didn’t say a word. She didn’t have to. I moved into her arms and closed my eyes at the safety and warmth they provided, even if I knew the feeling was temporary. I’d missed her more than I’d even realized. The warm scent of vanilla took me back to simpler times, and the tears hit fast and hard at the memory.
“No crying,” she whispered, though tears now pooled in her own eyes. My mother stepped away to give us a moment alone. “So hey, you,” Courtney said, and wiped my tears away with her thumbs. “And what’s the deal with dodging all my calls, huh? You’re too important for me now? Too busy?”
The truth was that I hadn’t been up for talking much and I’d dodged the world, not just Courtney. “I’m sorry. It’s been really rough lately. I haven’t been on my phone much.”
She smiled. “It’s okay. I understand. But I’m here now, and it will be so much harder to ignore the live and in person version,” she said adjusting her Santa cap as if reporting for duty.
How was she able to still make me smile? I didn’t think it was possible, but I did just that. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“Good, because I need to kiss you.”
I sank into warm and wonderful and tried to remind myself what life could be like if I could just figure out how to let it. It was a tall order. Courtney was caring, and sophisticated, and funny, and stylish, and wonderful, and that made her seem a million miles away from where I was.
But I decided to try and let her in. Just try.
Over the next few weeks, however, it proved harder to reach right out and grab her, to ask for what I needed. Our nights together, while familiar and comfortable, didn’t come with a ton of conversation like they used to. My fault. I caught her watching me a lot, making sure I was okay. It was equal parts endearing and unnerving, as I felt like I was falling short. Sex was a welcome distraction that I clung to, as it allowed me to pretend that everything between us was as it always
had been, when how could that be the case?
“Hey, Maggie?” she asked one night as we lay in bed, my back to her. “You awake?”
I turned. “What’s up?”
“I just wanted to tell you about something that happened at the store tonight.”
“I’m kind of tired. Can you tell me later?”
She nodded and stared at the ceiling. “Sure.”
I turned back to the wall. The sound of the clock was my only comfort. That sound meant that life was moving forward. One day, maybe I’d be able to jump back on.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
I drifted off clinging to its predictable melody.
Chapter Fifteen
The fifth summer
The month of May brought with it the promise of an unusually hot summer. Forecasts had me worried and wondering how much of our crop we’d be losing to the toxic hot and arid temperatures. In response to the forecast, my father had invested in the latest technology, a motorized tractor that would expedite the summer harvest and take the pickers off their feet, eliminating exhaustion and a great deal of missed berries.
After a long day, I’d just finished taking my nightly shower and fell into an exhausted heap on the bed. Courtney had been back for the summer for only a few days, and we hadn’t really been afforded much time together. I threw most of my time into the farm, which left us the evenings. I watched from the bed as she riffled through my dresser for a T-shirt of mine to sleep in, which had long become her tradition.
“So you’re telling me that this tractor is going to drive twelve people, who will all lie on their stomachs and pick strawberries? I’m trying to picture it.”
I shifted onto my back. “Think luxury strawberry picking. It’s supposed to really cut down on worker fatigue.” I watched as she unbuttoned her shirt and laid it out on the dresser. I never tired of the way Courtney looked in a bra, especially this particular red and black one. It was my kryptonite.
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