by Lacey Silks
I had to be here for my parents. And thank God my professor agreed to postpone my last exam.
Home....
I didn’t have a home. The only remaining structure was the barn, fifty feet to the side of the ashen square, the pigsty, and an old patched-up house a hundred yards out back. We lived there before my parents built the new house—the one that had just burned. After we’d moved, we used the one out back as storage. Maybe I should have gone to Eric’s ranch when he offered? But I had to see this for myself. I had to be here.
Blinking, I looked around once more. The sewn wheat fields already had a sprinkle of green mesh. This had to be the second round of crops the land would bear this year. Which also meant there wasn’t much to do until the harvest. Most of the land had been leased to farmers, while my parents only tended to the pigs and the few acres they’d left for themselves. These four months while the corn and wheat grew, my mother usually took care of her vegetable garden in the back of the house and enjoyed reading on the front porch.
And I didn’t dare think what I’d do with those pigs needing constant care. Mrs. Fields said the neighbors and family had been cleaning and feeding them since the accident, but I knew I couldn’t let them do so forever.
“Thank you.” I lowered my head and closed my eyes. There were no more tears left inside me.
“Come sweetheart, you need to rest.” Mrs. Fields took me under my arm. Knowing my father was still on the brink of death, I wondered how I would live through the next few weeks. I hardly knew my own name, and it surprised me I’d driven here on my own, over two thousand miles, with no sleep.
The straight rows of cherry trees at the side of the road were full of blooming flowers. The pinkish petals overwhelmed the green leaves. I’d recalled picking the cherries with Blake. We laughed, our mouths stained burgundy from the juices, as the buckets full of fruit swayed in our hands. Later we’d sell them at the local market.
Steering in silence, I drove down the single-lane dirt road in my red pickup. If someone else were to come from the other side, I’d need to pull over so they could pass by. The roads around Ogden were definitely in need of an upgrade. Waves of heat shimmered beyond the windshield from the noon sun, and dust swirled behind the car. The town needed a week-long downpour if any crops were to survive. This odd summer weather made it feel like we lived closer to the equator.
“Everything is taken care of, darling. Your parents had a good insurance policy. Don’t worry. We’ll all get through this.”
Of course they had. My mother lived by the “better safe than sorry” motto. Even both their funeral arrangements had been made long before I moved out. A will was filed with the local attorney, and while my parents had survived John Huntz’s vicious attack, they were not yet in the clear. Thank God he was dead.
But now, apparently my mom was insisting on transferring the farm to me, all two hundred and fourteen acres of it. My brother had already received half the family’s estate from our grandfather—the ranch he was currently living on—so I knew that this was coming, I just wished my mother had held off on the transfer plans. This was definitely not a good time for me to have anything in my name. Besides, once my parents recovered they were supposed to come back here, right? Yet where would they live? Where would I live?
I moved my hands over the steering wheel with instinct. It was as if the turns in the road had been imprinted in my mind as I drove around the small curve toward Mrs. Field’s house.
The path underneath the car’s wheels softened, and my attention jolted back to the present. The Fields’ old country home in front of me was just as I remembered, with a porch similar to ours. A white picket fence with a gate that swung open, luscious brushes of crimson peonies blooming in healthy clumps.
A tall willow tree in the side yard swayed its branches to the breeze. Some of their ends tiptoed along the grass. The remains of Blake’s tree house showed through; faded boards and rusted nails stuck out between the leaves. I’d climbed up the ladder so many times, twelve rungs under my feet. On one night, when I’d reached the final step, dozens of candles lit the space. Blake surprised me on Valentine’s Day and under the cover of the night, for the first time we fooled around. Things were awkward the next day, and so we made a pact to never ruin our friendship that way again. Although, I wasn’t the same girl that had left town, and Blake, well, I was sure that he had grown up to be a handsome man now. Would our pact hold? Something tightened in my belly as I wished for time to rewind. Everything seemed simpler when we were just kids. Maybe I could have avoided the mistakes I’d made. Perhaps I wouldn’t have gotten myself into so much trouble.
As I looked toward the tree house I had the urge to climb to it and stay locked up there.
“Blake will be back from his trip in a few days, but you can have his old room for as long as you need, honey.”
“You shouldn’t have worried him, Mrs. Fields.”
“Don’t be silly, sweetheart. You know that he never stopped caring for you. He’ll help you get through this.”
Of course he would. Blake was just like his father. Mrs. Fields—Clark back then—met her husband-to-be when they were kids and never looked back. Mr. Fields was a one-girl type of a man. Before our pact, Blake thought our future would be just like his parents; always together.
Part of me, the one that longed for some sort of comfort of the known, couldn’t wait to see him. Another part was nervous of his expectations. We were older now. Four years away from a person can change your perspective, and as much as I missed his warm embraces, constant support, and the shoulder I could cry on, I’d learned to live without him. I’d learned to survive, and I could only pray that I could continue the friendship I’d had with Blake.
Stopping, I pulled on the handbrake: a reflex reaction I kept from parking uphill in San Francisco. I got out of the car just as Mrs. Fields lifted my only suitcase of belongings from the trunk and I’d wondered whether I’d been lost in my thoughts too much. Holding onto my photo tightly against my chest I followed her quick steps. Her arms appeared much stronger than her petite frame would suggest. The purple rectangle wobbled behind her along the path.
Inside, she helped me up to Blake’s room. It smelled the way I remembered when we did our homework on the floor. The scent of a young boy who used his dad’s cologne after shaving the few bristles scattered across his jaw lingered in the air. I lay down on his bed, and Mrs. Fields covered me with a quilt. I couldn’t even find the strength to shower.
“Don’t worry about anything, Anna. Just sleep, sweetheart.”
I closed my eyes before she left the room.
CHAPTER 2
Derek
The door slammed behind me when I entered my parents’ house.
“Derek Jason Fields! We have a guest sleeping upstairs.” My mother scowled.
“It’s only seven.” Though frustrated, I immediately regretted the tone of my voice. The past few days had been difficult on my entire family. The Waters’ had been my parents’ best friends ever since I could remember, and any harm to one of them was as if it had happened to one of us. “I’m sorry, Ma.”
“Anna drove over two thousand miles in tears, and we’re the only family in this town she’s got now. Are the pigs fed?”
I knew very well about driving the distance between Ogden and San Francisco. I done the trip myself only three weeks ago when my best friend had asked me to check up on his sister. It was a trip I remembered too well, because I’d been dreaming about Annabelle Waters every night since.
“Yes, they’re fed. But I don’t know how long we’ll be able to keep all this up. I mean, it’s a full-time job.”
“The town has come together before and it will do so again to help the Waters family as well.”
My mother was right—as she always had been. Ogden was known for its close-knit community. Sometimes too close for my liking. And I thanked my lucky stars that I, along with my buddy had been drafted to the Navy SEALs for a few years. Whil
e the time away had changed me for the rest of my life, it had also opened my eyes to what was important, and family was it.
“Hey, buddy,” I rubbed Kyle’s head, disheveling the overgrown hair. “My offer to give you a cut still stands.”
“No way,” my younger brother replied.
“Would you rather Ma does it?” I asked quietly.
“What’s wrong with my cuts?” My mother turned around with one hand on her hip. Sometimes I wondered whether she had sonar for ears.
“I want to grow it. Like yours,” he said.
Here I was, trying to save my eleven-year-old brother from what we called the “if it’s more than two inches, it’s gone”, cut, and he threw me under the bus. I’d need to watch it; otherwise, my mom would chop mine as well. It didn’t matter whether I was a grown man, I’d always be my mother’s son.
“Nothing’s wrong Ma. I just like mine this way.” I pulled my fingers through the mess on my head. Yeah, maybe I should cut it a bit.
“Annabelle’s pretty.” Kyle smirked up at me.
“How pretty?” I asked. “Aren’t you too young for her?”
“Maybe she likes younger guys.” He shrugged.
I hoped he was wrong.
“Kyle, do I need to wash your mouth with soap?” My mother scolded.
“I’m sorry, Ma.” He lowered his head, sinking further into the chair.
As my mother shuffled her feet closer to the sink, I sat down beside my brother. “What’s so pretty about her?” I asked selfishly, wondering whether my brother saw what I’d seen three weeks ago. Had she changed? And more importantly, was that boyfriend of hers still in the picture?
“She has freckles.” Kyle scrunched up his nose.
“Do you like freckles?”
He nodded.
“Can I tell you a secret? I like them too.” In fact, I’d made a promise to myself to count every single one covering her body as soon as I could.
“You like her.” Kyle’s eyes opened wider.
“Maybe. Do you think she’d like me?”
“I don’t know. Women can be difficult to read sometimes,” he said as if he’d had years of experience under his belt.
“You’re absolutely right, Kyle. Hey, you wanna be my wingman?”
“What’s a wingman?”
“A buddy who helps you get the girl. You know, you’d drop a good word about me once in a while. Make sure she bumps into me and thinks only about me. This way she doesn’t think I’m coming on too strong.”
“Sure, I can do that.” He perked up. I loved my little brother to death, and although my parents had him late in their lives, Kyle was everything to us.
“What are you two scheming about now?” My mother came back to the table. Kyle stuffed his mouth by biting into an apple. This kid was too smart for his own age.
“Ready to make supper for your favorite son on his last night home?” I grinned, taking in the smell of fresh beef stew and potato latkes.
“I am, but Blake’s not here,” she teased.
“I meant your other favorite son.” I squeezed her tightly as she leaned over and set the orange juice on the table, kissing her on the top of her head.
“I know what you meant, and you know I don’t like playing favorites games.”
“It’s all right, Ma. Blake’s not here yet. You can say it.” I gave her my most adorable grin ever, the one I was sure reminded her of me as a young boy.
“Well, you have been my favorite for at least four years of your life.” She winked.
Yup, I still had it. I could charm my mom better than a precious diamond could charm a robber—not that she was into jewelry—but if she had a favorite gemstone, I’d be the one hanging closest to her heart. Before my younger brother was born, I was the center of her world.
“And then you left me and your father,” she reminded me of when I decided to serve our country. She didn’t even know that’s where we’d gone. Under the pretense of building houses in Haiti, I, Eric, Brad, and Hunter had been drafted by the Navy SEALs for a special project. We called ourselves the Four Musketeers.
“One day when you’re married, I’m going to make sure your wife knows how difficult it is to keep you at home.”
“Was difficult,” I corrected her. She was right, though. If I could leave, I probably would. But now I had no choice. I had a promise to keep, and staying in Ogden was it.
“Oh, Derek. I know you’d rather go back. But it all worked out for the best. I finally have all my sons close to home.”
“I’m glad to be here, Ma.”
While in reality I would have loved nothing more than to go back and help my brothers-in-arms, I couldn’t. And so here I was, stuck in Ogden like a rat in a flooding sewer. I made the most I could out of my life now, but I was no longer the free man I used to be, fighting for our country.
“Do you need any help with these?” I asked her as she knead the dough by hand. My mother baked the most delicious bread in this town, if not the entire state. If there was one thing I’d missed when I was away, it was her baking.
“I’m all done for today. Anna’s staying in Blake’s room. I was hoping you could help her ease back into Ogden tomorrow.”
That was definitely my plan. I thanked my lucky stars she didn’t end up staying at Eric’s ranch, and I’d do everything in my power to keep it that way. Hopefully that boyfriend of hers was out of the picture. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to keep my hands to myself either way. Since the moment I saw Annabelle three weeks ago, the gorgeous woman hadn’t left my mind. The little girl I remembered before I left for the military wasn’t that little anymore, and she certainly wasn’t a girl. If Eric knew the thoughts I’d had about his sister, he’d shoot me.
“Will do, Ma. I’m gonna catch up on my paperwork upstairs then turn in. It was a long day today and will probably be a long one tomorrow as well.”
“Thank you for helping out with the farm, sweetheart.”
“That’s what families do. Help out one another.” I smiled, kissing her on her forehead.
After eating supper, I washed the dishes and swept the kitchen floor. If some of my friends saw me in an apron, I’d never live down the embarrassment, but this was my mother. I’d do anything for her. As I passed my brother’s room, I peeked through the slightly open door. On his bed, half-covered, Annabelle slept with her mouth open. I tiptoed inside and she didn’t even stir. My breath caught in my lungs. She was just as stunning as I remembered, but sadder. I would have been too if I’d just found out that my home had burned and someone had tried to kill my parents.
The hourglass curves of her perfect silhouette as she lay on her side drew me closer. Her breasts were squished, filling the top of her shirt, and for a moment I felt like a frickin’ pervert staring at her cleavage so much. I adjusted my tightening crotch, trying not to think about her that way and I pulled the quilt to cover her. A photograph was lying face down on the floor. I picked it up and propped it on the side table by the bed.
The girl holding her mom’s hand in the picture was the one I remembered. The bright smiles on both her and Eric were contagious, and I couldn’t help but feel the corners of my mouth curve upward.
She took a quick breath in before settling further into the pillow. Her pursed lips reminded me of plush, ripe fruit, slightly swollen and so plump. I’d never seen lips like hers. The strawberry-blonde hair folded over her eyes and I gently tucked the curl back to reveal her puffy eyes and long, wet lashes. Her cheeks were sprinkled with the most perfect freckles, bringing out that innocence I’d remembered about her. Sleeping here, with the last streaks of light filtering into the room, she looked absolutely breathtaking, and I could imagine myself staring at her for eternity. The sadness enveloping the curves of her delicate face was profound. My heart ached at the thought of how much pain she must have been in, and in that single moment I vowed I’d make an effort to brighten up her day tomorrow and perhaps a few days after then as well.
At this mo
ment, lines of worry and exhaustion creased under her eyes and over her forehead. What Annabelle needed now was rest and to move on as fast as possible. If she didn’t, she’d be stuck in the kind of oblivion I’ve been in. I knew what it was like to see someone you cared about writhe in pain from injuries. And sometimes, no matter how hard the doctors tried, there were injuries that wouldn’t heal. I prayed for Annabelle and Eric. I hoped their parents would survive the tragedy.
It was up to me to ensure that Annabelle could avoid the hell of losing someone close to you that I was familiar with. It was up to me to fix her world. The question was whether she would let me.
CHAPTER 3
Annabelle
My flesh burned. It was getting hotter. Smoke filled the room, and my lungs began to ache as I struggled to breathe. The soot was heavy. At first I tasted it on the tip of my tongue, but then it spread to cover every nook of my mouth, flew into my windpipe, and filled my lungs. On the next sucked inhale I opened my eyes.
I heaved, letting air wheeze into my tightened chest. The nightmare was more vivid this time. I’d felt like I was back home, in my parents’ house as everything burned—as they burned. My mom’s scorched hand had reached out to me and I couldn’t grab it. Her skin had slowly turned from pink to red with blistering bubbles and then black.
I shivered.
My clothes were drenched in sweat and smelled as if I’d worn them for days straight. Actually I had worn them that long. The sun streaked between the shut drapes. A rooster crowed outside, and I looked at the clock: six in the morning. I’d slept over fourteen hours and my body was in need of a shower.
The family photo I brought was propped on a night table, and I smiled thinking how kind it was of Mrs. Fields to check up on me.
A water hose sprinkled outside. I peeked through the window. Mr. Fields watered the garden in the back the same way my father had when my mother was too busy in the kitchen preparing breakfast.
Food!
As my stomach made noises that put grumbling to shame, my nose lifted higher, taking in the sweet smell of pancakes.
