FarmBoy

by Kayt Miller

  I stare at Rose again. She’s right about one thing. This is about Andi. I squeeze my eyes shut and shake my head. “I know this is about Andi, but I can’t be suddenly responsible for whatever is happening between Nash and Ivy.”

  Rose stands up and walks a little closer to me. “I absolutely agree. This is between them. He should never have put you in that position.”

  I nod, but I know she’s just trying to appease me. Now I can’t think of anything else to say on the matter. When a horn honks, I reach out and hug my friend. “Thanks for letting me vent. I’ll talk to you later.” I open the door and see my mom’s minivan parked at the curb. I give Rose a little wave. “Bye.”

  “Bye, Izzy.”

  I’m barely in the front passenger seat of Mom’s van when she says, “Isabelle, what the hell’s going on?”

  Like it’s on repeat, I tell Mom the entire story from the beginning. Of course I leave out the part where Nash wants to do it with me––once. Mom’s don’t need to hear the sordid stuff. The surprising thing, though, is Mom just listens. She doesn’t interject at any point in the story. It’s a tad disturbing because that’s not Grace Harmon. When I’m done, I release a sigh and look over at her. She’s staring straight ahead as she drives back to our place. “Mom?”

  “Hm?” she says absently.

  “Aren’t you going to say anything?”

  Still silent as she pulls into our long driveway and into the garage, I watch her slide the car into park. After she turns if off and pulls out her key, she turns her body to face me. “I’m at a loss for words, Isabelle.”

  I look at my mom but remain silent. Even though she’s at a loss for words, I’m confident she’ll find some. I don’t have to wait too long.

  “Let me ask you some things before I give you my unbiased opinion.”

  I roll my eyes, because there’s no way my mom will be unbiased. “Okay.”

  “Do you think Nash was serious? Do you see him planning a wedding and going through with it?”

  Where is she going with these questions? “I don’t know.”

  “Maybe you’ve got this wrong. Maybe he wants to marry you, but this is his backward way of doing it. Maybe he loves you.”

  Leave it to Grace Harmon to think like a romantic. “He doesn’t love me. Heck, Mom, I’m not sure he likes me that much.”

  “Oh, he likes you. He always has. Remember Isaac’s wedding, he—”

  “He didn’t say one word to me at the wedding. It was like I was invisible. Then at the open house—”

  “Oh, no. I saw him when you arrived at the rehearsal. His mouth fell open when you walked into the church.”

  “No. Mom—”

  “Yes, honey. He was smitten.”

  “Well, then, it makes no sense. Why did he pretend he didn’t know me at school?”

  She lifts her shoulders and lets them drop. “Who knows? Men are stupid sometimes. He’s probably scared of his feelings.”

  This time I snort and roll my eyes. “You’re deluded, Mom. Nash isn’t scared of anything.” Except maybe losing Andi.

  “Honey….” Mom reaches out and pats my knee. “Just talk to him. See how he really feels.”

  I don’t need to do that, but I’m tired of talking about Nash. I’m tired in general. All I want to do is get into my squeaky bed and sleep. Then, tomorrow I’m going to get up and go kick the crap out of a boxing bag. That will make me feel better.

  23

  Nash

  It’s been over a week and Isabelle hasn’t replied to any of my text messages. Hell, I’ve left three voice messages and still no response. I’ve been tempted to drive out to the Harmon’s place to talk to her, but I really don’t feel like dealing with Bruce right now. No doubt he’s heard everything. Hell, everyone’s heard everything. After the scene at the bar last week, the news of our impending nuptials went viral. And people aren’t shy about telling me how they feel about the match. Example: Mrs. Billings, a woman from church, was the first to say something the day after the announcement. “Congratulations, Nash. You made an excellent choice. Isabelle Harmon is quite a catch.”

  There’s that stupid fish analogy again. Isabelle isn’t a damn fish. And I’m no fisherman.

  I smiled and nodded at Mrs. Billings that day, but since then, it seems everyone has the same notion––that I’m one lucky bastard. Hell, one of my dad’s oldest friends even patted me on the back and said, “Hot damn, Nash, I can’t believe that Harmon girl is gonna marry your sorry ass.” I know he was joking, not about Isabelle but about my “sorry ass.”

  The fact of the matter is everyone is right. Isabelle is a catch. She’s too damn good for me. The fact that she got wise to my bullshit the second it left my mouth should tell you something about her. I know I mentioned how sweet and kind the girl is, but did I also mention her backbone? She’s got one, and it’s strong as steel. Even though I wish she’d talk to me, I respect the fuck out of her for standing her ground. I mean, if a woman pulled that kind of shit with me, I’d have gone ballistic, and I wouldn’t have waited until after we left the place. Nope, I’d have nipped that shit in the bud right then and there.

  So, yeah… I get it. I just wish she’d talk to me. About anything. I miss her. I miss hanging out and going to dinner with her, and fuck… Andi keeps asking where she is. Sure, she sees her at school, and according to my kid, she’s always smiling and pleased to see my girl, but that’s just Isabelle. She’d never take her anger out on my daughter.

  Did I mention how much I miss her?

  “Thanks for meeting me, Nash.” Ivy smiles. “You look great, by the way.”

  I’m pulled from my thoughts about Isabelle by the woman seated across from me. Ivy called asking me to meet today “to talk.” Honestly, I wanted to tell her to fuck off, but that’s not gonna do anyone any good, so I agreed to meet––not at my place like she suggested, but at the diner where everyone in town could see. I’d rather be out in the open with this Ivy shit than let the townspeople make shit up when it’s reported Ivy’s car was at my place. Believe me, it would happen. I know this because the buzz about Janine’s car being at my place took a couple of weeks to die down. Since I’m now engaged to Isabelle, everyone seems to believe that Janine is just trying to make my place nice enough for my woman. Fair enough.

  The second I walked into the place, I knew to keep my guard up. She’s especially sugary-sweet. “Uh-huh, what do you want, Ivy?” I take a drink of my iced tea and wait. This ought to be good.

  “As you know, I’ve been spending every waking moment caring for my father.”

  Lies. Word on the street is she’s been everywhere but at her folk’s place.

  “Now that he’s feeling a little better, I think we need to make arrangements for Andrea.”

  “Andi.”

  “I’d like to spend time with her.”

  “No.”

  “Nash, you can’t say ‘no.’”

  “Yes, I can.”

  “You owe me.”

  No, she didn’t just say that. “I don’t owe you shit. You deserted us––your kid.”

  Ivy leans back in her chair, placing her hands on her lap. Her legs are crossed, revealing long, bare legs peeking out from the shortest fucking skirt I’ve ever seen. With a sigh and a hair flip, she says, “I was afraid you’d say something like that.”

  I stare at her and wait for the other shoe to drop. She’s got something up her nonexistent sleeve. Her tank top is nearly as revealing as her skirt.

  Bending down, she reaches for something, probably her purse. When she rises back up, she has a business card in her hand. “I’ve got an attorney.” Placing the card on the table, she slides it closer to me. “She says if you deny me my right to see my child, we’ll take you to court.”

  Throwing my napkin down on the table, I push my chair out and stand. “Well, my lawyer calls you a deserter, and I’m way ahead of you.” I pull my wallet out and grab a twenty and toss it on the table. Raising my hand, I give her
a two-finger salute. “Guess I’ll see you in court.”

  Her mouth is opening and closing but only for a minute or two. She gathers herself quickly and turns her shock into a bright smile. “Nash, babe—”

  “I’m not your babe.”

  “Let’s not do this. Let me see Andrea.”

  “It’s Andi. A-n-d-i.” God, that pisses me off.

  “Doesn’t Andi want to see me? Have you told her I was home?”

  “No.” I haven’t mentioned it, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t know. Even little kids gossip around this tiny town.

  “She’s my child. I want to see her.”

  I scratch my scruff of a beard. “I’ll think about it.” And I will, after I hear Isabelle’s thoughts on the matter. Fuck. I wish she’d talk to me. “Later,” I say, stepping toward the door. I don’t look back as I exit. Why would I?

  When my phone rings on my way back to the farm, I’m tempted to ignore it, but when I see it’s Isaac, I quickly answer. “How’s California treatin’ you, asshole?” Isaac and his wife, Kelly, are in San Diego this week looking for a place to live. God, it sucks. I’ve missed the hell out of him, and he’s only been in Omaha, Nebraska. Now he’ll be halfway across the country.

  “Shit. Thank fuck, Nash….” There’s panic in his voice, something I’ve never heard before, and it scares the shit out of me.

  24

  Isabelle

  “Isabelle!”

  I hear someone shout my name as I walk back to my classroom after lunch. The voice sounds urgent and familiar, so I quickly turn around and see Nash rushing toward me at a fast clip. It’s not just the voice that’s urgent. It’s written all over his face.

  I haven’t seen the man for over a week. Sure, I’ve been ignoring his messages, but honestly, I expected him to try a little harder to talk to me after the whole Sisters debacle, but I guess Nash isn’t the kind to make that kind of effort. Or maybe it’s me. Maybe I’m not the kind of girl worth the trouble. It certainly seems to be the case so far. In twenty-two years, no one has ever made an effort.

  I look up and see that Nash has started to jog closer. He’s scaring me. “Nash? What’s wrong?”

  When we reach each other, Nash wraps his fingers around each of my upper arms. “Isabelle,” he pants, “it’s your dad.”

  My dad? “What about my dad?”

  He doesn’t really answer me. “Get your things. They flew him to Iowa City on Life Flight.”

  “Life Flight?” That’s the emergency helicopter that we see now and then.

  “But—”

  Nudging me, he says, “Go. Get your stuff. We’ll talk in the car.”

  I’m in a fog. “B-but my classes.”

  “I’ll run up to the office and let them know what’s happening. Hurry, Isabelle.”

  My God, his voice. I feel burning behind my eyes. “Hurry” is the word that scares me the most. I turn and run to my room, push my door open, and scan the space. I’m attempting to figure out where my purse is when Rose walks by my room. With a chuckle, she says softly, “Hey, your boyfriend is here.”

  I turn to face her, and my expression must look something like Nash’s because her demeanor changes. “What’s wrong?”

  “M-my dad. Nash….” I don’t know what I’m saying. “I need my purse.”

  Rose scrambles through my door and makes her way to my desk. Opening my bottom right drawer, she pulls out my purse. Next she turns, searching for something. When she bends to her right, I see my computer backpack. She shoves my laptop in first then the cord. With my purse and backpack in hand, she moves toward me, handing me my purse and ushering me out the door. “Come on. I’ll walk you up to the front.”

  “My kiddos….”

  “I’ve got them. We’ll cover for you. Don’t worry.”

  Out in the hallway, I look up to see Nash and our principal, Nan Bass, next to him. I pick up my pace until I’m jogging toward them. Rose hands off my backpack to Nash, and without a word, he turns, jogging next to me out the door to his truck that’s parked at the curb.

  As soon as we’re both in the truck and he’s got it started, I ask, “Andi. What about Andi?”

  “Mom’s going to pick her up.”

  “Okay.” I take in a big breath as he pulls out of the school parking lot. “My dad. What happened?”

  Nash turns his head. When our eyes meet, I know it’s bad from his eyes alone. “There was an accident.”

  I gasp at those four little words. Farm accidents are scary.

  “They were getting ready to start harvesting. Isaac said one of his crew found him next to the combine.”

  “Isaac? You talked to Isaac? He’s in California.”

  Nash nods. “He tried calling your cell. So did your mom. When they couldn’t reach you, he called me to see if I could find you at school.”

  “Oh.” I quickly open my purse and search for my phone. It’s at the bottom. “I turn my phone off at school.” I start to sniffle. The second it’s on, I hear numerous dinging noises. “Shit.” I could have known sooner. There are voice messages from Isaac and Mom. There are also several texts from Isaac asking me to call him. I’m afraid to listen to the messages, but I need to hear from Mom, so I hit that one and place the phone to my ear.

  “Izzy, it’s Mom. I need for you to head to Emmetsville County Hospital. It’s your father—”

  Emmetsville? I pause the recording and turn to Nash. “Mom’s message said Emmetsville.”

  “They made the change en route to the hospital. The ambulance met Life Flight halfway there.”

  “Oh.” My God. The tears have started in earnest now. I can’t stop them, and I don’t want to. “Is he going to be okay?”

  I feel Nash’s warm hand on my leg, and I’d love to tell you that it’s soothing, but I can’t think right now. “I don’t know, babe.” Nash is looking at me now, and it’s not helping. “I don’t know any specifics.” I’ve never seen the man look so serious in my life. “Give Isaac a call. He’s been in constant contact with your mom.”

  “Right.” But I don’t want to call. I’m so freaking scared to hear something bad about my dad. God, my dad.… I hit Isaac’s number, and it goes straight to voice mail. You’d think I’d feel relief, but I don’t. It amplifies my worry. I leave a message. “Isaac, I’m on the way to Iowa City with Nash. Call me as soon as you get this.” I hang up and try my mom’s phone. The same thing happens. “Mom, I’m with Nash. We’re on our way. Call me when you can.” I end the call and keep the phone in my hands on my lap so I’m ready when they call back.

  We’re quiet for a long time. Nash’s hand has remained on my upper leg. He squeezes it from time to time, my guess is it’s his attempt to reassure me. It does. The drive to Iowa City normally takes about two hours, but Nash is driving fast so we make it to the city limits in one and a half. Pulling up to the main doors of the hospital, I open the door and jump out and turn. “I’ll park the truck and be in,” he says.

  “I’m not sure where he is. I’ll start with the E.R.”

  “Sounds good, Isabelle.”

  I slam the door shut and run into the Emergency department doors. There are two other people talking to the man at the info desk, so I wait my turn impatiently, moving from foot to foot. When it’s my turn, I’m directed to emergency surgery on the lower level. I send a quick text to Nash and make my way to the elevators. As I wait for the doors to open, I feel a warm hand on my back. I sigh with relief knowing he’s with me. “I’m scared, Nash.”

  “I know, honey.” He rubs his palm up and down my back. “I know.”

  The doors ding open, and we both step on. I press the button, and the doors quickly close. We’re down to the surgery level in seconds. Taking my hand in his, Nash leads me right, then left, down a long corridor to double doors. Pushing those open, I follow him through until we come to a large waiting area. I see Mom immediately. She looks terrible. Pulling my hand from Nash’s, I rush to her. “Mom!”

  She looks
up at me and smiles, but it’s fake. Of course it is. “Izzy.” She stands and moves toward me with open arms. I hurry into them and wrap mine around her, hugging her tight. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

  “How is he? What happened?”

  Pulling back, Mom returns to her seat, taking my hand along with her. Sitting next to her, I look over at Nash who’s standing near the entrance. Pointing to the seat next to me, I say, “Nash, sit here.”

  He looks relieved at the invitation as he moves to sit next to me. His hand is on my back in seconds, and it gives me strength. Looking back at Mom, I wait for her to speak.

  “Mom, what happened?”

  “Well, they were harvesting the corn and the auger....”

  I gasp at that one word. Auger. On a combine, the auger is what is used to cut the cornstalks. It rotates and forces the seed corn back into the grain tank.

  Mom pauses, and I want to ask a million questions, but I wait. “His arm….” Mom wipes a tear that started to roll down her cheek. “He went into shock. They, uh, had to do CPR in the ambulance. That’s when they called for the helicopter. They said he needed to get to a trauma center.”

  I can’t think about shock and CPR right this second. It’s too much. “You rode in the helicopter?”

  She nods. “They took him right to surgery. They said they’d come out and talk to us as soon as they know more.”

  “How long has he been in there?”

  “Oh….” Mom looks around the room for a clock then down at her wrist where she usually has a watch. “I don’t know. Several hours?”

  I wrap my arm across her shoulder and pull her closer. “He’s going to be okay, Mom. I know it.”

  “Yep, he’ll be fine.” Her voice betrays her. It sounds flat and defeated.

  “He will be. Dad is the strongest, bravest man I know.” I feel warm tears slide down my cheeks. Doing my best to keep it together, I sniffle and add, “He’s got to be okay, Mom.”