Page 36 of Hometown Girl

“I’m here, Jess! I’m right here.”He stepped down off the ladder and onto the floor of the barn.

Then it all went to black.

It always went to black. Cut off, like his memory had been sliced in two. There had to be more. A smell. A voice. Something.

“Do you remember anything else, son?” They’d asked and asked and asked, but the answer was always the same. For a little while, he’d thought about making something up, just so he’d have something to give them. But even at ten he knew that was a bad idea. He’d disappointed everyone—let everyone down. Let Jess down.

Had he forgotten something important? He’d been reliving that day for twenty years. Where were the missing pieces?

His pulse quickened as he let his eyes refocus, panning the old barn, the remnants of life inside. A shovel hung on a rusted nail. Next to it, a large broom leaned against a weathered wall. Years ago, this barn had housed horses. They’d been out to pasture that day, but their presence was always known.

He picked up the broom and started sweeping the floor, kicking up dirt and pushing down memories. Distraction was the only way to keep himself sane.

Stay busy. Don’t think. Just work.

It was what he’d always done to quiet his mind.

After he swept out the barn, he made his way back to the main parking lot, where Roxie waited for him in the truck. He let her out, commanded her to stay, fished out the toolbox he kept in the back, and then went to work.

For hours, he kept his head down. He cleared away debris, picked up sticks, hauled garbage. He checked off jobs that weren’t even on the list, and he did it all without saying a word to anyone.

Around what had to be lunchtime, the smell of burgers on the grill stirred the emptiness in his belly. He finished repairing the back door on the main barn, then swung it open and closed to make sure the hinges were tight.

When he reopened the door, Beth stood in the doorway, looking at him.

“I don’t think you’ve stopped working since you got here,” she said.

He stuck his hammer back in his tool belt. “I came to work.” And to remember. One of those things he’d mastered; the other continued to haunt.

She straightened. Something about him made her uneasy, he could tell. As if she hadn’t made up her mind about him—but then, why would she? He was a stranger on a farm full of friends. He remembered the camaraderie of Willow Grove. The community had always been close-knit, bound together by something he hadn’t understood as a child. It was even clearer now that he was older. Businesses that relied on tourism and local support gave them something in common.

But as a child, when he’d spent his summers here, he had always felt like he belonged. They’d been accepting, going out of their way to draw him in.

Exactly the opposite of how he felt now.

“I just wanted to thank you. And tell you to get some food before the vultures come in from the fields.” She motioned to the grill, where a tall guy about their age flipped the burgers.

“Thanks. I can wait till everyone else has eaten,” Drew said.

“Don’t be silly. No one else is working half as hard as you are. I’m paying in food, so please.” She started to walk away but stopped, turned back and regarded him for a few long seconds. “Why are you here?”

He wished he could tell her he was helping out of the goodness of his heart, but he knew better. He didn’t do it to help anyone but himself.

“Guess I just wanted to be of some use,” he lied. He had no real interest in restoring the farm. Not really. If he had his way, they’d bulldoze the thing and start over, burying every memory.

“But you work like a machine. Where are you from?” Beth’s tone interrogated.

“I live in Colorado. Work on a ranch out there. I guess this is just my usual pace.” Not a lie. Whenever his mind had something to work out, he used his hands to do it, and since he’d been working out distant pain for years, he’d become quite adept with his hands. He could fix almost anything. His pace was just a by-product of his desire to forget.

“Well, thank you.”

Roxie edged forward, as if they’d been ignoring her too long.

“Does your dog want some water?” Beth looked at Roxie but didn’t touch her.

Roxie whined.

“I guess she does,” Drew said. “Do you have a hose?”

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