Page 8 of The Lilac River

“This power trip of his needs to end.”

“This is more than that,” Gunner said, voice flat. “I overheard him on a call. He’s trying to sell the lavender farm.”

My heart stopped. I turned sharply, eyes locking on the lavender field.

Three acres of rolling purple. A sea of scent and memory. Lemon balm and lavender. Sunshine and sorrow.

We used to lie in that field. Lily and me. Back when life still felt infinite.

“No. Fucking. Way.”

“That was Mom’s farm.”

“It’s not just land,” I said quietly. “It’s her. It’s us.”Me and Lily.

“And he’s selling it to some city idiot,” Gunner bit out. “You have to stop him.”

“Does he know you heard?”

“Yeah. Told me it’s none of my business. Said I have no power on this ranch.”

Typical.

“Bastard,” I muttered. “I’ll talk to Dougie. Maybe the lavender farm isn’t technically part of the ranch deed.”

Dougie, Harry Douglas, was the lawyer I’d hired when I took over day-to-day operations. My gut told me years ago that Dad wasn’t playing fair. So far, my gut had been right.

Gunner muttered something under his breath, kicking at the porch rail.

“Why’d he change the damn house too?” he said suddenly, looking up. “This porch roof’s got a leak. I’ll check it tomorrow.”

“Speak to Dad. He’s the one who blew a million bucks making this place look like a Yellowstone set.”

“It’s not home anymore,” he muttered. “You’re right, it’s a damn movie set.”

I looked around. He wasn’t wrong.

This porch used to smell like cedar and coffee. Now it smelled like varnish and money.

“So?” Gunner asked after a beat. “What do we do?”

“I’ll figure something out.”

“You’d better. Mom planted the first lavender when she was nine. If that bastard sells it, she’ll roll in her grave.”

“I’ll call Dougie first thing.”

The lavender field stretched across the land like a memory I couldn’t quite reach. I could still see her there, Lily, laughing as the wind swept through her hair, bare feet trailing purple dust, arms flung wide like she belonged to the sky.

I closed my eyes.

I could still hear her voice there.

"Promise me something," she'd whispered once, her head in my lap, eyes full of stars. "Promise you won't forget this. Even when I'm far away."

I won't let you be far away,I’d said.

I’d been wrong.

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