Hoping for Hawthorne

by Ericson, Tara Grace

  Hawthorne murmured in her ear, “I missed you,” before capturing her lips in a kiss. Breaking the kiss, he picked her up and spun her around. The flying sensation in her belly was due to more than the spinning and Avery let out a joyful laugh.

  With her feet firmly on the ground again, Avery said, “Well, good morning to you, too.”

  Hawthorne gave a sheepish smile, “Sorry. It’s just good to see you.”

  Shaking her head, Avery replied, “No, it’s perfect.”

  Hawthorne had been up since before six helping his sisters with the chores that needed done. He must have already showered though, since Avery only detected the lemon soap and the faintest hint of the barn on his coat.

  The sun was shining and although the air was brisk, the usual biting wind was still this morning. Gloved hand in gloved hand, they walked from the old homestead to the barn, about a ten-minute walk. A vehicle approached from the other direction and Avery considered pulling her hand from Hawthorne’s, but he gave her hand a quick squeeze. The simple action settled her nerves, and as Poppy drove past in the UTV with a friendly wave, Avery responded with one of her own.

  Hawthorne saddled horses for them and with a brief hello to Rose, the two of them took off along the fence line. As a kid on the farm, they hadn’t been allowed to ride the horses alone, and Avery had only explored the property from the seat of a UTV. They were mostly for work and she remembered the stern lecture they’d all received when Keith caught the girls joyriding across the pasture.

  There was something different about seeing it from horseback though. She said as much to Hawthorne, and he smiled in understanding. Releasing the reins, he spread his arms and waved to the wide-open sky. He let out a loud yell into the space and his horse started, causing Hawthorne to wobble and lower his arms to catch his balance on the saddle horn. He laughed, and once Avery’s heart recovered from its missed beats, she was able to shake her head in amusement.

  “Doesn’t it just make you feel insignificant?” he mused.

  Avery looked, finding the horizon across the plains. A formation of geese crossed their view in a lopsided V. She nodded, “It does, but it also makes me think of how Jesus said God feeds the birds of the air and how much more He cares for us. It’s humbling to realize how small we are but yet, how much God loves us.” Afraid to look at the man next to her, she spoke to the pasture instead. They’d touched on other deep subjects over the phone, but she hadn’t spoken so openly about her faith to Hawthorne yet.

  Hawthorne sat silently, the padded fall of hooves on grassy dirt the only sound. Then he spoke, “I was reading a psalm this morning that talked about how God created everything and then put man over it all. The birds, the fields, the whole earth. All of it was created by God and then given to us to care for. It’s incredible.”

  Avery felt love for Hawthorne bubble over inside her as she listened to him speak of their Creator. Until now, it had been simmering and slowly building—waiting for permission to crest into something she could truly embrace. The gentle rocking of Avery’s horse seemed too slow, too tame compared to the pure, unadulterated joy she felt when she watched Hawthorne study the land, poised tall on the horse next to her. He was honorable, thoughtful, and kind. She’d seen how he cared for his family and heard him speak of the plans and love for the farm. He was steady and strong. And, oh, she loved him!

  “Want to race?” The boyish grin crossed Hawthorne’s face, replacing the contemplative look she’d seen there moments before.

  Instead of answering, Avery nudged Cappuccino with her heels and lowered herself toward the horse’s mane. It wasn’t long before she heard the thunder of hooves behind her as Hawthorne gained ground. Kicking again, she urged Cappuccino faster as the wind whipped through her hair and stung her chilled nose. A glance back revealed the grinning face of Hawthorne pursuing her, just as he had since he walked back into her life.

  Slowing to a trot and then a walk, they ended their horseback ride back at the barn and brushed down the horses. Hawthorne pulled apples from a bag on the wall along with a scoop of oats for each animal. Avery was petting her horse on the nose until Hawthorne turned to her and grabbed her hand. Pulling her close to him, he wrapped his hands around Avery’s waist and looked down at her.

  “Thanks for coming over early. I wasn’t ready to share you with my family quite yet.”

  Avery felt a blush, despite the stiffness of her cheeks, still frozen from their time outside. “About that…” She struggled for the words to ask what she needed to. “What do we tell your family?”

  Hawthorne gave her an amused smile. “I was thinking about telling them that I’m in love with you.”

  Avery felt her mouth fall open, her eyes wide in shock.

  “Don’t look so surprised, beautiful. Surely, you knew that’s where we were headed?”

  Avery closed her eyes to fight the tears. She nodded, “I did. But—”

  “No buts. Let’s go see what’s going on at the house.” Hawthorne released her and tugged her hand toward the exit.

  Avery’s feet were cemented to the floor, though, and she found herself unable to follow. She wasn’t done having this conversation, and she wasn’t about to let him walk away without hearing what she had to say.

  “Wait,” she tugged on his hand. “You didn’t let me say anything.”

  Hawthorn raised an eyebrow at her. “Okay, go for it.”

  Avery swallowed, “You love me?”

  He chuckled and stepped in close to meet her gaze. Grabbing her hands and rubbing them with his own, he spoke softly, “Avery Gabrielle Chase, I love you. Desperately,” he added. Then he looked back down at their joined hands.

  Avery nodded. “Good. Because I love you, too.”

  Hawthorne’s movements froze and he looked up sharply. “What did you say?”

  “Surely, you knew that’s where we were headed?” she teased. She squeezed his hands and flashed a smile.

  Dropping her hands, strong arms wrapped around her as he spun them around with a loud cheer. When her feet finally found the ground again, he pulled off her stocking cap and reached behind her neck with one hand to pull her in for a breath-stealing kiss. Happy to get lost in the moment, she melted into him, focusing entirely on the feel of her lips on his and the warmth of his arms around her.

  The sound of someone clearing their throat broke the spell and Avery buried her face in Hawthorne’s shoulder, afraid to see which member of his family had caught them. Hawthorne’s voice rumbled in his chest against her cheek as he spoke. “Hey, Dad. What’s up?”

  First Miss Laura in the hallway and now his dad? Avery stepped back and smiled shyly.

  “Hey, son. Avery. Good to see you.” A small smile twitched on Keith’s face, but was gone in an instant. “Just thought I heard…” He trailed off, looking around in confusion.

  “Are you looking for Rose?” Hawthorne asked.

  Keith took a few steps, looking behind him and then into the horse stall with a bewildered look on his face. “What? I’m look…unngh.” The words began to sound heavy and slurred, he tried again. “Whaa- ramm?” he mumbled and one eye drooped closed, his tongue lolling to one side.

  Avery looked on in horror as Keith wobbled, falling to the side and crashing into the doorframe as one leg buckled under him. She felt the cold race to fill the empty space beside her as Hawthorne suddenly released her and rushed to his father’s side.

  Garbled syllables were all that emerged when Keith tried to speak and Avery had a flash of recognition. “A stroke. He’s having a stroke,” she said, her voice firm and urgent.

  Hawthorne looked up at her with a fierce look. “Get help,” he ordered.

  Avery took one last glance at the strong man, crumpled in a heap on the barn floor, then stumbled outside. Numb fingers retrieved her cell phone and managed to punch in Daisy’s number. No answer. With a desperate prayer, Avery called 911 as she hopped on the four-wheeler.

  14

  Hawthorne rested his head
in his hands, then ran them through his hair for the thousandth time before sitting back up. The quiet drone of the Thanksgiving Parade coverage filled the otherwise silent waiting room. He watched his mother hug her upper arms and pace the small room, muttering to herself. Praying?

  After the adrenaline rush of watching his father collapse before his eyes, Hawthorne couldn’t do anything. Even a simple prayer felt like a monumental task he didn’t have the energy to tackle.

  A stroke, Avery had said. The minutes from when she walked out to when his mom and sisters arrived at the barn felt like hours. Hawthorne had never felt so helpless as he did watching his father struggle, confused and unable to stand or speak. For endless minutes, he’d listened to his father try to form words without success. Hawthorne attempted to settle and reassure him, but his father’s limp hand in his own had been disconcerting, and, unsure of what to do, Hawthorne had covered his father with a nearby horse blanket and waited.

  His family arrived and the paramedics came shortly after. Now, they all sat in the bleak waiting room. He hadn’t seen or heard from Avery since she’d run out of the barn, a look of determination on her face. His phone was still back at his house.

  A doctor stepped into the waiting area and found his mother, so Hawthorne stepped close and put his arm around her. She felt small and frail as she leaned into him.

  The doctor was kind but matter of fact in his explanation, “Mrs. Bloom, your husband had an ischemic stroke.” Hawthorne felt his throat go dry. “We did a CT scan upon arrival to rule out hemorrhaging and have started a drug that will target the clot and break it up. We won’t know what the lasting impact is until a few days have passed.”

  His mom clutched Hawthorne’s arm and asked, “Can we see him?”

  The doctor nodded, “One at a time for now.”

  Hawthorne squeezed his mother’s hand and motioned for her to go. His sisters were all waiting, anxiously standing next to their chairs on the other side of the room; he would tell them what the doctor said. Pinched, worried faces stared back at him as he approached.

  “Well?” Lavender spoke timidly, her arm around Rose and fresh tear tracks still wet on her face.

  He looked at his sisters and relayed the message from the doctor. “Now, we wait.”

  “We need to call Andi,” Daisy said.

  Hawthorne nodded, “That’s a good idea.” He glanced at his watch and said, “It’s nearly 9 p.m. there, maybe you can catch her before she turns in.”

  Daisy shuffled out of the room with her phone in hand, reminding Hawthorne again that his own was back home. He felt a tap on his shoulder and when he turned, Poppy placed her phone in his hand, Avery’s contact info already pulled up on the screen. Taking it, he sent his sister a grateful glance and followed Daisy out of the room as Lily gathered the remaining group.

  “Come here, Rose, Lavender. Prayer is the best thing we can do. Poppy, why don’t you start?” Lily’s calm voice faded away as the he turned the corner.

  Avery’s voice met his ears, “Poppy? Is everything okay?” Hawthorne sagged against the cold concrete pillar at the sound.

  “It’s me,” he said, his voice thick with unexpected emotion.

  Relief filled her voice, “Hawthorne, how is he?”

  After relaying the doctor’s words, Hawthorne paused. “Are you okay?”

  “Me? I’m fine,” Avery sounded confused, but understanding filled her voice when she continued softly, “Are you?”

  “I don’t know, Aves. I—” his voice broke, “I’ve never seen him like that before, you know?” His dad had been so helpless. As long as he could remember, his dad was a giant, loud and full of life. Memories of playing catch or riding around on his shoulders disintegrated into the vision of his dad, ashen and weak on the floor. “What am I supposed to do without him?” Then, the gravity of the potential future hit him, “What is our family supposed to do?” Dad had always been the foundation on which everything was built. Without Keith Bloom, what would become of Bloom’s Farm?

  Avery spoke quickly, her voice soothing and reassuring. But instead of providing comfort, her words sent his heart racing and his head swimming. “It’s going to be okay. You and your sisters are more than capable of running the farm. Your mom needs you to be strong and so do your sisters. You can do this, Hawthorne. I believe in you.”

  They needed him? That was the terrifying part. Sure, Avery believed in him, but did he believe in himself? People had needed him to be a leader before and he’d ruined their lives and wrecked his business. What was to say he wouldn’t do the same thing to Bloom’s Farm given the chance?

  Avery was still talking, “I’ll keep praying for your Dad, okay? He might be totally fine!” Hawthorne made a few noncommittal noises and ended the call, sinking onto the bench in the main hospital atrium. He wasn’t ready for this. If his dad wasn’t okay, Hawthorne couldn’t be the one to take on more control. Wouldn’t.

  He wasn’t ready. Only two months ago, he’d been out every night with his friends and actively avoiding additional responsibility on the farm. Hawthorne felt the acid rise in his throat, his stomach cramping in refusal at the thought of taking charge. It had been awful when the company he built had collapsed, his friends out of work and his own time and energy all for naught. Visions of Bloom’s Farm with a giant For Sale sign and his sisters packing their belongings into cardboard boxes harassed him when he closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the cold, concrete pillar. However irrational it seemed, Hawthorne couldn’t shake the certainty that if he were in charge of Bloom’s Farm, it would go under.

  It had to be Poppy. Or Lily. Both were more than capable, already managing their own branch of the farm with ease. He, on the other hand, had only stepped beyond his role as handyman a month ago. Who was he kidding? If the panicky feeling in his chest was any indication, he was nowhere near equipped to handle the responsibility of managing the farm. No way.

  * * *

  Avery put away all the food Laura left behind in the chaos, wrapping untouched stuffing and pies in foil and storing potatoes and green bean casserole in plastic containers. She let the turkey finish cooking, then pulled it out and carved it into slices before packing it away as well. After she heard from Hawthorne and finally admitted no one was coming back here anytime soon, she wiped down the counters and cleared the table.

  To fill the eerie silence, and because it was the best thing to do, Avery prayed—not only for Keith’s health, but for Laura and each of the Bloom siblings. Especially Hawthorne. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but he hadn’t sounded like himself when they’d talked. Chalking it up to the stress of the day and fatigue or worry, she tried to push away her own concerns. But the nagging feeling that something wasn’t right with Hawthorne continued to eat at her, and she repeated her prayers again and again.

  When there was nothing left to do in a kitchen that didn’t belong to her, Avery flipped off the lights and locked the door behind her. She walked back to the old homestead, bracing herself against the wind that had picked up as the day grew older and the sun started to sink down.

  She called her sister on her way home. “Hey Brie,” she said with little enthusiasm.

  “Avery! Happy Thanksgiving! Just a second, let me get Mom and Dad!” Her sister’s carefree voice sang through the receiver, discordant against the heavy anxiety of Avery’s own mood.

  Soon, she heard a chorus of hellos from her parents. They chattered excitedly about the snow and the tree lighting ceremony coming up on Sunday. The tourist town of Freedom, Colorado embraced Christmas with wide open arms, and ski season was in full swing.

  “How was dinner with the Bloom’s?” her mother asked.

  Avery started to tear up as she recounted the day’s events. “It was awful. I just feel terrible for their whole family.”

  “Oh dear, I’m so sorry. Poor Laura,” her mother exclaimed, “We’ll need to send flowers, okay Drew?”

  “Sounds good, dear,” her father replied, almost
automatically.

  Avery smiled at the familiar lilt of their conversation. She pulled into her apartment parking lot and started to say goodbye. “I just wanted to let you know I’m thankful for all of you, and I miss you.” She squeezed the steering wheel and pressed her eyes closed against the threat of tears.

  “We miss you, too! Come visit us again soon, okay?”

  The burning in her throat made it difficult to respond, but she choked out an acknowledgment and hung up the phone. Today had been a rollercoaster of emotions, from the joyous laughter of the horseback ride to the tender thrill of declarations of love. Followed, of course, by the unparalleled shock and fear of watching Keith Bloom transform from perfectly normal to a confused shell, robbed of speech. Then to the loneliness of being the only one left behind when the family followed the ambulance to the hospital.

  Not that she expected to be remembered in the chaos. Nevertheless, it was disconcerting to walk into the kitchen bustling with activity and have it completely cleared with a handful of words. Lily, ever the responsible one, had stayed behind trying to turn off the stove and burners before Avery had waved her out. She still felt her small contribution was a tangible way to show love and help the family while they navigated this crisis. But oh, how she’d much rather be there in the waiting room with Hawthorne, letting him lean on her. They were a team now, right?

  She’d sent him several messages throughout the day, but his calling from Poppy’s phone was a pretty good indication that he didn’t have his own. Which didn’t stop her from checking for a message notification every thirty seconds.

  Avery dropped her bag next to the door and kicked one boot off in the entryway, the other a few steps later. Collapsing on the couch, unable to even complete the few steps further into the bedroom, she immediately fell asleep, still in her coat.

  Hours later, the sound of ringing and buzzing pierced the silence and she opened her eyes groggily. She reached frantically for the phone, knocking it off the coffee table and fumbling for it on the woven rug. Poppy’s name flashed on the screen before it went dark. One missed call.