Page 87 of The Surprise

“Beth, come. Right now. We can buy you new clothes once we get there.” She grabs my arm.

She has always liked to shop.

Looking back, I see some of it in a new light. Was she always running, running, running? Was Dad always being the jerk. . .for her? It was misguided, clearly, and it didn’t fix anything. But did he think he was being a white knight?

I shake her off. “I’m staying.”

17

Beth

When I was fifteen, we went to Seattle to celebrate Mom’s birthday. Grandma and Grandpa took us out on a boat to celebrate with some friends who had just upgraded their boat. I haven’t thought about that trip in years, but lately, it keeps coming to mind. Grandpa spent a lot of time talking about Mom’s photography skills, her gallery of photographs that won critical acclaim, and the amount of money she made from her sales. Usually Grandpa didn’t talk about money, so I noticed that he kept using numbers.

He told his friend about seven times that I was just like her.

I’d never thought of it as Grandpa showing off, but after my talk with Dad I realize that he was.

That was also the trip where I learned about rudders. A rudder’s a tiny little thing, compared to the size of the boat, but without it, the ship can’t turn. It directs where the boat moves very simply and very completely.

Life’s like that, sometimes.

Our lives are these huge strings of moments, but then one small decision can dramatically alter the direction our life takes. Mom could have stayed with her parents, but she chose to marry my dad over their objections. I could have gone with my mother, but I stayed with my dad.

And I can tell my dad to jump off a cliff when he asks me for help.

Some choices we make.

Others are taken from us.

I wanted to go to my graduation and walk the stage in my robe while Ethan and his family clapped. I wanted to be Ethan’s date to his mother’s wedding. Heck, I wanted to be his date way back when, before Dad stole their ranch.

But even when other people—like the currents of the ocean, or the winds on the sea—shove us in one direction or another, we still have choices to make. Our choices set us down a path, just like that tiny little rudder changes the boat’s direction, even on a storm-tossed sea.

And I made a choice on the day I was supposed to be Ethan’s date.

Several, really. I canceled our plans. I skipped my own graduation. I told Ethan I was terribly ill. I told him I didn’t want to see anyone. He dropped off soup on my front porch. But really, I just didn’t want to ruin his week, his mother’s wedding, or his life in general.

One thing Ellingsons do quite well is ruin other people’s futures.

First, my dad’s dad. My grandmother was the sweetest lady in the world, but she never stopped him from dictating everything. Then my mom’s dad who never seemed nearly as bad to me, but might have set my mom on her path to the cycle of misery her life has become.

And then my mother herself. Even if her parents shoved her down the path she took, she never broke free. Finally, my dad. He tried to be different from his father. He tried to be a good husband in all the ways his dad never was. His patience and care for his own wife was like a love letter to his own mother, I realize. He treated his wife the way he wished his father had treated Granny.

But even that wasn’t enough.

They all tripped and fell right into the same traps. They were dragged down in the same ways. Because I recognize them, I know they’re the same ways I’d wreck Ethan, if I let him love me.

My dad made a fake will. He wants me to testify in court that my grandpa gave it to me. He wants me to perjure myself in front of God and witnesses, swearing that Grandpadidmean to leave everything to Dad after all. He wants me to save him from the mess he’s made at the expense of his own sister—again. He still thinks he can fix a lie with another, bigger lie. When at first you don’t succeed, up the stakes and go again.

But I’ve been studying rudders. You can’t change the course of the boat unless you change the way your rudder turns—your own behavior. So on the day of the wedding, I tell him my decision. “No,” I say. “I won’t do it.”

“But if you—”

“Dad.” I shake my head. “I’ve heard you out, and I even considered it, as sick as it made me, but it’s wrong.” I shrug. “I know you’d sacrifice me a million times over to save Mom, and I’ve known that for a long time, I think. I’ve come to terms with it even, but it doesn’t mean I’ll help you do it.”

“You’ll go down when we do,” Dad says. “When your aunt takes over, we’ll be homeless. That means you’ll have nowhere to live. Did you consider that?”

“Homeless?” I ask. “Did you become terribly crippled while I slept last night? You can get another job, something other than ranching. I can do the same. Most people aren’t born with a ranch, you know. Most people start with nothing and make something for themselves instead of spending and taking from others their entire lives.”

---