Page 107 of Townshipped
We stare at one another, an uncharacteristic stiffness on both our faces.
“Are you packed?”
“Mostly.”
“Okay. Well, I’ll be in my office if you need me.”
“Sounds good,” Em says with a half-smile.
I walk to my office, but then keep walking right past it and out the back door to check on the goats. Two of them are in labor as of this morning, so I separated them into a birthing pen. I’ll continue to check them throughout the day. Usually they don’t need my help dropping kids, but I’ll need to keep an eye on them in case they have complications or reject one of the newborns.
That’s one more reason going with Em to the East Coast wouldn’t have made sense. Besides, it would only prolong the inevitable. She’s moving on, going back to her life in Boston.
I’ll move on too—somehow. I need to shift my focus to my niece and nephew and the farm. And maybe I’ll go to an ice hockey game. It’s all about distraction.
I’ve hit a new low if Duke’s prescription for enduring a broken heart has become my antidote.
Em and I eat a quiet meal together, and then just after lunch, the sound of cars crunching down the gravel filters into the house. We walk onto the porch to watch the vehicles pull in, neither of us saying a word as we stand side by side.
What can be said? Nothing will change the past three weeks. And nothing will alter the fact that she’s leaving.
Em’s parents arrive in a black Mercedes-Benz Maybach—with a driver who exits the car and opens their doors for them. Their entrance is like nothing I’ve seen before. Behind them, Jesse maneuvers up my driveway in his patrol car. And finally, a blue Toyota Corolla trails after the other two vehicles.
You’d think I’d be used to cars overtaking my property with the monthly bonfires I throw from spring through fall. This cavalcade is entirely different. Everything about their arrival feels like I’m entertaining dignitaries.
Em walks off the porch as if she’s in a trance. I hang back, giving her space. Once her parents have stepped out of the immaculate leather-lined seats, they exchange somewhat restrained hugs with Em. Her mom dabs at an invisible tear, her face soft with emotion, but she shows no other evidence of having missed her daughter.
Her father’s hug seems more demonstrative, but then the first words out of his mouth when they separate are, “Sorry, darling, you will have to ride up front with the driver on the way back to the airport. All the larger for-hire vehicles were spoken for.”
“Oh no she won’t!” the woman from the Corolla shouts out as she bounds from her car and nearly sprints over to Em.
The young woman is a splash of color on the post-winter landscape. Her outfit is all reds and oranges and her personality seems as colorful as her clothing.
“She’s coming with me,” this woman says to Em’s father. “And don’t you argue with me, Jack. I haven’t seen my bestie in weeks. We’ve got a ton of catching up to do.”
Em’s face lights up and transforms from the stiff, almost nervous formality she seemed to assume with her parents to the relaxed woman I’ve come to know over the past month.
“Gabby!” she says, a smile splitting her beautiful face.
“Mal!”
The two women fall into one another’s arms and rock back and forth, tears streaming, and their combined squeals of happiness filling the farm. My goats sense something’s up and they start bleating along.
I step down off the porch and walk toward the group gathered on my driveway.
Em’s mom looks past me toward the enclosure. “Goats?” she asks as if she’s never seen them in person.
Maybe she hasn’t.
I nod even though she’s looking past me as if I don’t really exist.
Jesse ambles over to my side. “Well, that’s settled. She’s back with her people.”
Her people.
I nod again, wondering if this whole experience will turn me into some sort of human bobblehead. Nodding seems like the safest response right now.
“Aiden,” Em shouts over to me. “I want you to meet Gabriela, my best friend since childhood. Gabby, this is Aiden. He’s the one who … well, he saved me and gave me a place to stay.”
