FarmBoy

by Kayt Miller

“Let me walk you.” I do my best to get out of the beanbag chair with some dignity, but it doesn’t work out that way. On my hands and knees, I look up to see a small hand with dirty fingernails held out to me. I take her hand and do my best not to bring her down with my own weight. She’s strong though.

  “Thanks, Andi.”

  “No problem, Miss Harmon.” We both turn to the door as she says, “You may want to get yourself a rocker instead of one of them bean chairs.”

  “Oh? Why’s that?”

  “Easier for older people like you to get out of one of them.”

  I giggle as I reach for the door. “I’m about your daddy’s age.” Two years younger, but that’s close enough.

  “I rest my case.”

  I laugh this time as I hold the door open for little Andi to walk out first. “You’re funny,” I say, hoping she meant that as a joke.

  She stops in her tracks and turns to look up at me. “I am?”

  “Yep. Funny and smart.”

  “My daddy says I’m a handful.” She hesitates before adding in a soft, sad voice, “I get in his way a lot.”

  When we reach her classroom, I pull open the door. “I’m sure he loves you and that you’re a big help on the farm.”

  Andi doesn’t reply, so I step in behind her. Nicole looks at both of us and smiles. “Sorry, Mrs. Edwards. Andi was helping me for a few minutes.”

  “No problem.” Nicole steps over to Andi. “We’ve just started math. Can you get your book out?”

  “Yay. Math,” Andi chirps.

  Nicole smiles. “She loves math.”

  “Talk to you after school?” I ask quietly.

  “Sure. I’ll stop down.”

  I nod and wave at the kiddos as I leave.

  3

  Isabelle

  “She just needs more practice,” I say, handing Nicole a bottle of water from my mini fridge. “And it doesn’t seem as though Nash has the time.”

  “Hmm….” She sips from her bottle.

  “She can sound out her words, but it takes her a lot of time.”

  “I noticed that too. So, we need to talk to Nash?” Nicole’s face is probably the mirror of mine. My brow is arched, and I have a weak smile on my lips.

  “Should we talk to him together?” Please say no. I hold my breath waiting for Nicole’s response. Tell me you want to do the talking.

  “Aren’t you old friends?” Nicole smiles sweetly.

  “No. I saw him at Open House, and he barely acknowledged me. I don’t think he recognized me.” Heck, it was the same at Isaac’s wedding.

  Her eyes give me a once-over. “That’s possible, but he’s best buds with Isaac. Maybe Isaac could call him?”

  “And Isaac lives in Omaha now with his wife, Kelly. I won’t be able to use my brother for this anyway. Student confidentiality. Remember?” I snort. Nerves.

  “Right.” She taps her short, red nails on my table. “We can’t wait until conferences. That’s two months away.”

  “True.” Man, she is really doing her best to avoid talking to Nash. “Nicole? What’s going on? Why don’t you want to talk to Nash about this?”

  I watch her breathe deep and release a gust of air as she lets her head fall back on her shoulders until she’s looking up at my ceiling. “Cute.” She points up. I’ve put paper planets and stars up there for fun classroom decorations. She’s avoiding the question. Looking down at me, she bites her bottom lip. “She and I used to be best friends.”

  I know who she’s talking about. Ivy. “I know.”

  “He doesn’t blame me or anything, but he never looks me in the eye.”

  “Why would he blame you?”

  “I encouraged her talents. I supported her dreams.”

  “As a best friend should.”

  “I swear to you. I didn’t think she’d leave. Especially like that.”

  “Nobody saw that coming.”

  “Honestly, I can’t believe he didn’t ask for Andi to be changed over to Emma’s classroom.”

  “I’m not.” He’s not the kind of person to flex his muscles that way. “He’s busy with the farm now that he’s running it on his own.” His dad died a few years back and left everything for Nash to run.

  “God.” She runs her fingers through her short, dark hair. “He got so screwed.”

  “He got Andi. I’d say he was pretty lucky.”

  Nicole eyes me warily. “He’s such a broody asshole. Nothing like he was in high school. He was a fucking blast back then. Star quarterback and an amazing pitcher on the baseball team. He was the best-looking guy wherever he went, and he had Ivy on his arm. The most beautiful girl this town has ever seen. They were perfect together.”

  Until they weren’t.

  “Still….” She pauses. “I think it’d be better coming from you. You are our Title I reading coordinator.”

  “I suppose.” She’s right. It’s sort of my job to talk to parents about this type of thing. I just don’t want to. Not to Nash.

  Nicole isn’t letting this go. “She doesn’t ride the bus. He picks her up.”

  “Why doesn’t she ride the bus?” We all rode the bus.

  “Something about a bully teasing her about Ivy.”

  “God, kids can be jerks.”

  Nicole nods. “So, maybe you can catch him after school tomorrow?”

  “I’ll try.” I don’t want to talk to Nash, not about this, because she’s right, Nash Watson is a cranky ass. I’m pretty sure the last time he smiled was at Isaac’s wedding, and the photographer made him do it. On second thought, what am I worried about? He doesn’t even know who I am.

  Nicole isn’t finished reminiscing. “He had it all.”

  “No. They had it all.”

  Nicole scoffs. “Until she got knocked up senior year. Then, shit got real for the golden couple.”

  “It changed things, that’s for sure.”

  “She never got over the fact that she wasn’t nominated for prom queen again her senior year.”

  I remember something about that. “He was on the court, though, right? The prom king?” I vaguely remember the controversy. She was too far along, showing quite a bit. They didn’t think it would be appropriate to have a pregnant prom queen. “Pretty sexist, if you ask me.”

  “Absolutely.”

  Then it hits me. “Hey, weren’t you the prom queen that year?”

  “Yes. Don’t remind me. It took me months to get her to speak to me. That woman could hold a grudge. Our friendship was never the same after that.” She sighs and crosses her first and second fingers. “We used to be so close.”

  I’d heard things about Ivy DeLucas being somewhat high-maintenance, but I’d never witnessed it firsthand. She visited our house once, with Nash, before her pregnancy. She seemed nice. Not to me, personally. She didn’t even look at me, but to my parents, she was polite. Her hand was always touching Nash. I remember that distinctly. I was jealous of her hand. And the rest of her, to be honest.

  “Ivy wasn’t the only one who lost in that deal. Nash was supposed to go down to Texas to play baseball. He had a full ride waiting for him.”

  “He could have gone.” I mean, lots of people have kids and still go to school.

  “I remember him telling DJ—” She looks at me. “You remember my high school love, DJ?”

  “Vaguely.”

  “Anyway, DJ said that Nash wanted to support them all. He wanted to take care of everything.”

  I remember Isaac saying the same thing.

  “That’s when our happy Nash went away,” Nicole says with a sigh.

  “Not at first. After Andi was born, he seemed happy. Then Isaac said he changed overnight. When Ivy….” The minute Ivy DeLucas ran off in the middle of the night for Los Angeles, seeking fame and fortune. I know that story is cliché as heck, but it happens more than you think. Now she’s Ivy DeLuna. She’s doing okay out there; I mean, she’s been in one commercial for dish soap and an extra in a horror movie. I watched the movie twic
e and never saw her. I even stopped it several times and searched for her in the crowd scenes. Maybe she was cut.

  “Last I heard, she was dating another actor.”

  I’d heard that too. “Has she ever called you?”

  “Nah. I’m pretty sure the only contact she’s made was to her mom to tell her she was fine and not to worry. And that was right after she left. I think she’s been radio silent ever since.”

  “Poor Andi.”

  “I know, right?” Nicole says, standing. “Let me know what Nash says.”

  I guess I’m doing this. “Will do.” I’m dreading it already.

  4

  Isabelle

  Pushing open the front doors, I watch as our kiddos line up to step onto the bus that will take them home. I hated taking the bus. I did it until my junior year in high school when my dad got me an old Dodge Ram pickup. It had two hundred thousand miles on it, and it was rusted clear through in several spots, but I loved it. I hung pink, furry dice from the mirror and glammed it up with pink and purple accessories. The inside was in good shape, especially after I made a seat cover out of an old thrift store quilt I found in Des Moines. I loved that truck. It died a tragic death after I went off to college. Dad claims it was an accident, the blast from Isaac’s shotgun right into the engine. I know better. It was like he was putting it down.

  Searching the front of the school for Andi, I spot her sitting on the grass to my right, next to the front steps. “Hey, Andi,” I say as I approach her.

  “Hi, Miss Harmon.”

  “Whatcha doing?”

  “Waitin’ on Daddy to pick me up.”

  “No bus today?”

  “Nah, Daddy brings me and picks me up. Mostly.”

  Mostly? What does that mean? “Mind if I sit with you?”

  She eyes me warily. “Why?”

  “I wanted to say hello to your dad.”

  “You know my dad?”

  “Do you know Isaac?”

  “Yeah?” She smiles brightly. “He’s my godfather. And he’s funny.”

  “Well, Isaac’s my big brother.”

  Her eyes grow double the size. “Really? I didn’t know he had a sister.”

  Uh-huh. I don’t know why, but that hurts a little. “Well, he does. I’m two years younger.”

  I’ve said the right thing. She pats the grass next to her and says, somewhat energetically, “You can wait with me. He might be late.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Truck was givin’ him fits this morning.”

  “Oh, I see. I can drive you if you need a ride.”

  “Nah. He’ll be here.”

  So, we wait. And wait. The busses have all gone, and a few of them have returned to the bus barn by the time Nash Watson pulls into the school parking lot. His truck does look a little worse for wear. Not as bad as my old Dodge, but close. “There he is,” she says, standing. “Thanks for waitin’.”

  She picks up her backpack and walks toward the sidewalk. I step with her, which causes her to look up at me. “He’s here.”

  “I know. I want to say hi.”

  Andi rolls her eyes. “He ain’t gonna date you.”

  I feel my face blush immediately and release a snort. “I know.”

  “He said he ain’t ever datin’ again. Women are trouble.”

  “I just want to say hello, Andi. I promise not to ask him to date me.”

  She rolls her eyes and huffs, “Fine.” It makes me smile.

  Nash’s truck pulls up right in front of Andi. I watch him lean over to the passenger side and push the door open. “Come on, peanut. Hurry up.”

  “Um, Nash?” I say, raising one finger to get his attention.

  “What?” he snaps.

  “Can I talk to you for a sec?”

  He glares at me, and I want to curl up in a little ball and roll away. Far, far away. “What do you need?” he says in a steely voice. He hasn’t said my name, which leads me to believe that he has no idea who I am.

  “It’s about, erm, school.” I walk around to his side of the truck.

  “What about school?”

  I lean in to whisper. “Reading.”

  “Reading?” His voice is loud—loud enough to get Andi’s attention. She’s stopped herself as she’s about to buckle herself in. “What about reading?”

  “Erm, I’d like to read with Andi.”

  The next question isn’t from Nash; it’s from his daughter. “What for?”

  “Well, Andi”—I feel myself grow even more nervous than I was before—“I thought it’d be fun to read together since you don’t have time at home.”

  “Fun?” Nash asks. “Is that what school is now? Fun?” He’s practically sneering. “We don’t have time for fun….”

  “Miss Harmon,” Andi helps him out.

  Nash glares at Andi, then at me.

  “That’s Isaac’s sister, Daddy.”

  He turns to Andi; then his head moves back slowly to me. As he stares down at me, I can’t decide what his expression means. It’s not happy, that’s for sure. “I know who she is.”

  If he knows, then why does he pretend I don’t exist?

  His army green eyes are staring straight into my baby blues. “We done?”

  “No, I—”

  “Yeah, we’re done. We’re late.” He puts the truck into gear and adds, “Watch your toes. Wouldn’t want to dirty up those fancy college-girl shoes.”

  I stare down at my cheap Target wedge sandals. Cute, yes. Fancy, no. And college girl? What does that even mean? When his tires start to roll, I step back far enough away that he won’t run me over when he turns the corner.

  Watching his truck move down the road, I can’t help wondering what I ever did to that man to make him dislike me so much. Heck, he used to talk to me back when he’d hang out at our place. Well, okay, it’s not like we had lengthy conversations or anything, but he’d at least acknowledge my existence back then––say hi, ask me how school was, that sort of thing. I can’t figure out what changed. Why, after all these years, does he treat me like I’m the enemy or, worse, a stranger? I’m tempted to ask Isaac about it, but he’ll just call Nash, and that will end up being a whole thing. I don’t want that. No, what I want is a chance to read with Andi. She’s bright. It won’t take her long to get the hang of things. She just needs the time and just a little help.

  I cross my arms over my chest and stare off in the direction the truck just went. I’m not giving up on this, on Andi. She needs help, and I’m going to give it to her no matter what that stubborn mule says. “I’ve got news for you, Nash Watson. It’s my job to help these kids, and I’ll be darned if I’m going to let some broody jerk stop me from doing just that.” Even if I have to drive out to his farm after school, I will help Andi.

  5

  Nash

  “Well, that was weird,” states my way-too-smart kid.

  I don’t bother looking over at her. I already know she’s got her hands clasped in her lap, her legs crossed like an adult, and those eyes that don’t miss shit are on me. “What’s weird?”

  “You actin’ like you didn’t know her when her brother is your best friend. And don’t her folks just live down the road from us?”

  “So?” Again, I keep my eyes on the road.

  “So, why are you pretending like you don’t know her? She’s nice.”

  “She’s Isaac’s little sister. She was a pain in the ass—I mean butt. She was always following us around, annoying us.”

  She’s quiet for a long time. Too long. When she finally says something, her voice is half as loud as before. “Do I annoy you?”

  I reach my right hand out and squeeze her knee. “Nah, Andi. You’re my bud. If anyone is annoying in this duo, it’s me who annoys you.” I look over at her and wink. “Am I right?”

  She snorts then giggles, and it’s the sweetest fucking sound in the world. “That’s true.” We drive in silence for a few miles before she sighs. “Still….”

  “
Still what?”

  “You know everybody. You say hi to most of them. But, her, you pretend you don’t know her.”

  I shrug and put my right arm on the back of the old bench seat of my rusted out ’84 Ford F150. “Nothing there to fret over, Andi. Don’t let that imagination get the best of you.”

  Turning down our gravel road, Andi has one more thing to say. “I’m not good.”

  “Of course you’re good. You’re the best.” I look over at her and smile just as she rolls her eyes.

  “I mean at reading. It takes me a long time to read stuff. Everyone gets done before me.”

  “Ah.” I nod. I wasn’t the best student either. I got by, but mostly because I was a star athlete. But my Andi? She’s smart as a whip. I guess I shouldn’t just dismiss Isabelle. “You want to read with Miss Harmon?”

  She shrugs again. “I don’t know. I don’t want to be one of those kids who has to leave my room to go to the special teacher. I’ll miss out on stuff.” She huffs, adding, “Like math.” Then she looks over at me, “And recess.”

  “Your favorite class?” I ask, messing up her mop of dark curls—one of the more distinctive things she inherited from me. That and her green eyes. She got her nose from her mother, a little turned up, but hopefully that’s all she got from Ivy. The rest of Andrea Bonnie Watson is all me.

  After we pull onto our long, gravel driveway, I park the truck in front of the big farmhouse that’s been in the Watson family since the 1920s. I think I remember my dad telling me his grandfather built it after winning the land in one hand of poker. I’m not sure I believed that story, because whenever my dad told it, it would change a little each time. No matter, it’s a great story and one my dad loved to tell.

  I look left and see the small bungalow that also belongs to my family farm. I lived there for a few years after Andi was born. Ivy lived there too. Until she left. Then, when Dad died suddenly and Mom moved to town, Andi and I moved into the main house. I was hesitant to move at first, but in the end, I did it because Mom insisted. Andi and I could have lived in the two-bedroom place forever. It was small, but we spent most of our time outside anyway. The bungalow was a place to sleep and hang out when I just wanted to be with my little girl. We’d still be there too, if Dad hadn’t had a heart attack out in the field. He was alone because I was dealing with Ivy bullshit. Mom didn’t start to worry about him until sundown. After that, she called me. When I found him, he was already gone. The only comfort I got out of the entire thing is that he died doing what he loved. Farming. I miss him so much. He was my rock. My hero. Nobody worked harder than my father. And now I want to make him proud. As I step out of the old truck, I look up at the sky. I know he’s up there looking down, keeping an eye on me and Mom and his “Little Peanut,” Andi.