The farm is not for profit. They grow enough to provide for those living on it and to stock local food banks. They also barter for other goods or services like work on the trucks or new tires. Everyone knows how to knit, including any men or boys living on the farm. The entire philosophy is about giving back to the community. They receive private donations as well.
“So that’s why my grandmother was sending money every year,” I mumble, more to myself than him.
“Say what?” he asks as we pull up to the cabin.*
“Part of why I came out here was to figure out why my grandmother was sending money every year. I couldn’t remember the name of the farm, but when I saw it in an email from her estate attorney, I looked it up online and I knew.”
His hand pauses on the door handle. “She never told you?”
“Told me what?” His question confuses me. “The name of this place? That she kept in touch?” I pause. “Did she keep in touch?”
He nods then tilts his head as if he might change his mind. “Yes and no. She came out here once, probably two years after you left. I don’t remember much except that it was a surprise and I couldn’t understand why you weren’t with her. Other than the donations, as far as I know, we never heard from her again.”
My mouth drops. “She came here?”
He hesitates. “It’s just weird to me that you didn’t know. I was pissed at you when I was a kid.” I suck in air through my nose, ready to blow steam out my ears. He sees my expression and continues, “I know it wasn’t your fault. Shit, you lost your mom and your dad. I just was angry that I lost my friend. When your grandmother came, I was angry you didn’t come as well. I was a kid, a kid who missed his partner in crime.”
The air within me cools. “I didn’t even live with her. She sent me away to live with people I had never even met before. Trust me. I wish I could have come back here.”
“We can ask my parents if they remember anything else about her. It was a long time ago, and I was little.”
I nod. “I’d like that.”
The cabin is a smaller version of the one I’m staying in. Just looking from the outside, I wonder if it even has a loft. Beau’s mom must hear our approach. She opens the door before I’ve made it up the stairs.
“Hey, darling,” she greets, opening her arms.
Just as when I had seen Bess at the airport, I remember Mrs. McIntyre once I see her. When I was little, she loved to brush my hair. Beau was their only child, and she had always wanted a girl. I was such a terror, climbing trees and roughhousing with Beau. My hair usually resembled a bird’s nest. I could remember how gentle she had always been brushing out any tangles.
I step into her embrace, exhaling as her arms folded around me. The smell of homemade soap with honey takes me back to my mom. They didn’t always make soap, but when they did, they liked to add honey to the mix. Only Mrs. McIntyre and my mom did that. Her hug smells just like the ones my mom used to give me.
“Joe is taking a little nap, but I promised to wake him up once you got here,” she explains, tucking her arm through mine and leading me into the cabin.
“Is he feeling okay?” Beau asks, following us.
My eyes trail hers to rest on the figure sleeping in an armchair by the wood stove. “He didn’t sleep well last night. We’re just going to stay here for dinner tonight.”
Beau nods, his forehead creasing with concern.
“He’s just tired, honey,” Mrs. McIntyre says, dropping my arm to squeeze his before walking over to the armchair.
I glance up at Beau while she gently shakes his dad. “Sawyer is here, sweetie.”
The armchair has the footrest up. Once she’s sure he is awake, Beau’s mom pulls the lever and pushes down on the rest to lower his feet. He rubs his eyes and blinks a few times before looking over at me. He looks nothing like I remember. Time and his health issues have not been kind to the man who was once my father’s closest friend.
He makes no move to stand so I walk over to him. “Hello, Mr. McIntyre.”
He squints at me and lifts his hand to shake mine. “Call me, Joe.” He squints again. “Am I seeing things, or do you have pink hair?”
I laugh, my hand in his. “I have pink hair,” I confirm.
His face breaks into a smile, and for the first time, I see the man who sometimes carried me on his shoulders around the farm.
“My eyesight isn’t the best, little girl. I wanted to make sure I didn’t need to add whatever the opposite of color blindness is to the list.”
Beau’s mom motions for me to sit in the chair across from her husband. I glance at Beau as I lower myself into my chair. His eyes are locked on Mrs. McIntyre’s in some silent exchange.
Wordlessly, he follows her to the other side of the room. They each grab a chair and walk back over to where we’re sitting. Beau sits closest to me, his mother on the other side of him. We make a semi-circle around the wood stove.
“It’s good to see your face,” Beau’s dad says as he winks at me.
“It is,” Mrs. McIntyre agrees. “You are the image of your mother.”
“Thank you,” I smile.
They want to hear about my life after the farm. As I fill them in, I can tell they’re just as surprised as Beau had been that I had not lived with my grandmother. I try to sell how happy I am, how many good friends I have, and what I did to my wrist.
“Any boyfriends?” Mrs. McIntyre asks, glancing at Beau.
I hesitate. “I am seeing someone. I’ve never been that into labels, Mrs. McIntyre.”
“Sawyer, call me Lynn, please.” She puts her hands on her hips. “So tell us about this young man. Is it serious?”
I don’t even know I’m smiling until after Lynn remarks that my face lights up talking about him. “It did?” I ask.
She nods then looks back at Beau. “If only Beau could meet someone. He’s not getting any younger, and someday—”
“All right, Mom. I know, I know.” He looks at me. “My mother likes to remind me it’s tradition to pass the farm on to the next of kin, and I’m currently lacking.”
Hearing him talk about family just reminds me that if I never have kids that’s it for both sides of my parents’ families. It would all end with me. It reminds me that I also don’t know why my grandmother visited the farm.
Clearing my throat, I ask, “What made my grandmother come here?”
Joe’s eyes flick to Lynn before he replies, “I guess she was curious. I don’t think she fully understood what your parents were doing living here.”
“She thought we were a cult,” Lynn adds.
“Excuse me?” I gasp.
Joe nods. “Your grandmother, Agnes, was a piece of work. I guess somewhere in your dad’s will, he asked that some money go to help keep the farm going. My best guess is she wanted to make sure we weren’t up to no good before any money came to us.”
“She also seemed to think we’d come after you when I told her how much we missed you. It took her some time to change whatever opinion she had of this place,” Lynn murmurs.
I shake my head. “Seriously? A cult?”
Joe shrugs. “Cult may be a strong word. From the outside, we seem like a bunch of hippies, and looking back, we kind of were.”
Lynn laughs at my expression. “We wanted to live simple lives, live off the land, help those around us. To a certain extent, it’s still that way.”
I tilt my head. “Like how?”
She leans back into her chair, resting her hand on Joe’s arm. “Have you seen any TVs since you’ve been here? Any iPods, or pads, or whatever those game things are called?”
I glance around, feeling silly once I remember this cabin has no electricity. I think back to my cabin and the living room of the main house. I don’t remember seeing any electronics. I also didn’t have to talk over a device when I sat with the kids in the kitchen.
“But you have a website,” I look at Beau.
He nods. “We do need a website for a virtua
l link in the community. We also have radios to keep us posted if there are any storms. Depending on how they’re doing in school, sometimes the kids get to watch a DVD on my computer.”
“What do their classmates think? Do they have any issues at school?” I ask, curious.
“They’re all homeschooled,” Beau replies.
I gape. “Don’t they get bored?”
He shakes his head. “There are tons of kids that are homeschooled nowadays. Besides, there’s plenty to do and learn on the farm.”
“How do they keep up with their grade level? Can they go to college?”
Beau grins at my questions. “You’re looking at one kid who did.”
“You were homeschooled while you lived here too, Sawyer,” Lynn adds.
My forehead wrinkles. “I was?”
She nods. “What did you think you were doing?”
I shake my head. “I just remember being free-range and playing in the orchard.”
She smiles. “The secret to the best learning is when you don’t know it’s happening.”
This condo is so empty without her. For someone so small, she really fills up the place. I miss her. I knew I was going to, but I don’t understand the full impact of just how much until I have to fall asleep without her. I’m sitting here, on the sofa, eating a bowl of cereal. Each bite I take and chew sounds louder than possible.
I flip on the TV so there is some illusion that I am not alone. I wish she‘d let me come with her. Will distance be all it takes for her to have second thoughts about what we’re doing? It’ll kill me to lose her.
Just sitting here doing nothing is fucking with my head.
I’ve been thinking about doing something ever since we went through her grandmother’s house. It could backfire big time, but it’s better than doing nothing at all. I carry my unfinished breakfast to the kitchen and dump it in the sink.
Then I grab my cell phone and call the East Coast. It takes four calls to set my plan in motion. As I head to take a shower to get ready for work, I feel more energized than I have since she left. Now I feel like I have an ace in my back pocket. I just can’t wait for her to come home so I can play it.
I have a class of beginners first thing today. We keep them in a fenced off area for most of the lesson. There are six kids total. One requirement is that they wear helmets. It only makes sense, and it’s fun to knock on them when they aren’t paying attention.
It’s the lessons with the littlest kids that always remind me how close I was to being a dad. Sawyer would run so fast and so far if she had any idea that I’ve pictured her having my baby. From what little we’ve talked about kids, I’m pretty sure she doesn’t see them in her future.
I’m cool with that, but I don’t think she saw me in her future either. Maybe, once I know she isn’t going to bail, I can ask her if she’d even think about it. If it isn’t something she wants, I’ll just have to play Uncle Jared to someone else’s kid. I would be a badass uncle.
I glance down at the kid who just face-planted in front of me.
“Dude, you okay?” I ask, helping him up.
His toothy grin is infectious, and I laugh as he hurries to board down again.
Joe seems tired by my visit so Beau and I leave not long after that with Lynn’s promise to come visit me at my cabin. I still have so many questions for her. Beau and I are quiet as we drive back to the main house.
Before getting out, I turn to him. “I’m sorry about your dad.”
He fiddles with the keys, looking straight ahead. “It’s hard to see him like that. It just seems like he’s winding down.”
“Don’t say that. Now that he can rest, maybe his health will improve.” I try to comfort him.
“That’s the goal. I’m lucky for the time that I have with him. I can’t imagine what you went through.”
“You can’t?” I ask. “They acted like a second set of parents to you. I remember thinking of your parents that way.”
“Your leaving hit me harder. I would wake up every morning thinking it had just been a bad dream and that you would come back.”
“Those days were so confusing for me. I didn’t even know what to think, but I was lucky I had Jared to lean on. Who became your Huck?”
“No replacing you, Huck. Time and getting more responsibilities around the farm are what did it. Come on. We should head inside. It’s about time for dinner.”
I follow him into the house, my heart breaking for the boy who lost his best friend when I left the farm. He seems no worse for the wear, so I do my best not to dwell on that thought. Besides, the smells coming from the kitchen cannot be ignored. I glance into the dining room and see the table has already been set.
I trail behind Beau into the kitchen. “Can I help out with anything?”
Bess waves me over. “Wash your hands, and you can help slice the bread for dinner.”
After I carefully wash my hands, avoiding my wrist guard, she sets me up with a warm loaf of freshly baked bread. My stomach grumbles as I slice it. We all move to the dining room not long after. Beau hollers up the stairs for a couple of kids to come down.
Once everyone is seated, Beau turns to me and raises his glass. “To old friends.”
“To old friends,” everyone repeats clinking glasses.
The meal is a simple one: pot roast. Large chunks of roast mixed with potatoes, carrots, celery and a beef broth. The fresh bread is perfect for dipping in the sauce. While I lived with Will’s mom, I convinced her I was a vegetarian. I don’t eat a ton of meat at home. I basically live off of processed foods. It’s clear this meal was made from scratch, though.
“This is delicious,” I sigh.
“Comfort food,” Bess smiles at me from across the table.
“I feel extremely comforted,” I joke.
After dinner, I jump up to help Beau clear the plates.
“I’m on dish duty tonight,” he explains as I follow him to the kitchen.
“I’m a pro at dishes. You wash, I dry?” I offer.
“Works for me, but dishes can wait until after dessert,” he says, setting his stack in the sink.
Two of the kids from earlier hurry around us to collect the dessert and dishes for it.
“What are we having?” I ask as I try to see what one kid is carrying.
He grins and lifts a mouthwatering chocolate cake.
“Is that my piece?” I tease, “What are the rest of you going to eat?”
He laughs. “No, silly. This is for all of us.”
I pout. “Well, I suppose I can share this one time.”
Beau comes up behind me. “Note to self: Sawyer is still a fan of chocolate cake.”
I nod, and we follow the cake bearer back to the dining room. Conversation is light over dessert. Once Beau mentions to the group that I’ve done some traveling, that’s all they want to hear about. Seeing the younger ones’ expressions as I describe some of the places I’ve been is too much fun.
“You’ve actually ridden on an elephant?” The cake bearer, whose name turns out to be Trevor, is suspicious.
“I have. I spent a month staying at an ashram in India.” I try to keep my expression serious so he won’t think I’m teasing him again.
It hits me then that, minus the meditation, this farm is not unlike the ashram where I stayed. It had a community feel where we would all pitch in to make sure the chores that needed to be done were done. No matter who we were or where we came from, we all worked together.
After dessert, Beau and I head back to the kitchen to tackle the dishes.
As he hands me a plate to dry, he pauses. “I’d like to take you someplace tomorrow if that’s okay.”
I hesitate. “What time do you think your mom will stop by?”
He reaches out for the next plate. “Probably early, we can go after you’re done talking with her.”
“That sounds good. Where’re you taking me?”
He leans his hip on the counter and shakes his head. “You’ll just
have to wait and see.”
“No fair,” I grumble, flicking my index finger in his direction.
He dabs his cheek with the dishtowel. “Now, I’m really not going to tell you.” He empties the sink and refills it when we get to the pots and pans.
“Might need to let these soak overnight,” I say, peering into the pan that the roast was cooked in.
Beau argues with a laugh, “You just need to put a little muscle behind it.”
I watch as he works on the pan. He definitely has me beat in the muscle department.
“Other than dishes, anything I can help out with around the farm while I’m here?” I ask as he passes the now clean pan to me.
“I’m sure we can find a way to keep you busy,” he jokes before flicking suds at me.
I manage to get the towel up in time so the water hits it and not my face. Peeking out from behind it, I stick my tongue out at him before lowering it.
“I still don’t get her,” I confess.
“Get who?” Beau asks, turning off the water.
“My grandmother. She visits this place, but she never attempts to see me. Who does that?”
He eyes me cautiously. “Do you wish you would have reached out to her before she died to talk about this?”
I shrug, setting the plate down and turn to lean against the counter. “This might sound awful, but I never thought about her. I missed my parents, but I spent such a short amount of time with her. Maybe I’m only curious now because she’s gone. Does that make me a bad person?”
He pulls the towel from my hands and loops it over the handle of the stove. “Bad for what? Not staying in touch with her? As far as I’m concerned, the lines of communication go both ways. You were so young when your parents died; I think she should have made the effort then to stay in your life.”
“I get what you’re saying. I do. I just feel like maybe I wouldn’t have so many questions now if I would have tried to have a relationship with her.”
“Coulda, shoulda, woulda, Sawyer. Time for second guessing yourself is over.”
Sawyer Says Page 13
